Mistaken Identity (11 page)

Twenty

As Lucinda drove to her apartment, two phrases pounded in her head:
Pamela in the
Sterling
bed
,
Parker not Freddy’s father
– the repetition too relentless to allow her to concentrate on either one. If she did manage a momentary banishment of one, the void filled in an instant with a melange of thoughts about the day at the funeral and the past it resurrected.

Chester
diverted her attention from all of that the moment she opened her apartment door. First she heard strange, muffled chirps that sounded more like a bird than a cat. The gray tabby marched toward her in apparent pride, his tail stiff and straight, and he high-stepped like a majorette, his mouth full of something unrecognizable. He laid that something at her feet.

She remembered the little yellow mouse she gave him that morning. Now its pink ears were gone, its goggle eyes departed, its leather tail non-existent. Only shreds of its yellow, tufted skin remained and a trail of its stuffing ran through the kitchen and disappeared down the hall.
Chester
sat, looking up at her, expectant and quite pleased with himself.

She laughed as she scooped him up in her arms and snuggled his warm body against her face. “What a fearless hunter! What a courageous protector! What a consummate warrior!”

Throughout the praise, the sound of Chester’s purr increased in volume and the vibrations of it thrummed against her arms and chest. She rewarded him with a bowl of his favorite canned food and listened to his snarls of delight as he gobbled it all down. She settled into the sofa with her list of suspects and a smile still on her face. She added Pamela Godfrey to the top of her list and then wondered if it made any sense. She couldn’t envision Pamela wielding a chainsaw.
Did you have an accomplice? Or perhaps one of your other lovers was a sole perpetrator?

Although Lucinda knew neither scenario was impossible, they didn’t seem to fit with the evidence at hand. Neither one explained the reverential treatment of Jeanine’s body.
If it was a crime of jealousy by one of Pamela’s sexual partners – why was Jeanine dead?

Lucinda could not locate the logic that would provide answers to those questions. But still, she had the note on Pamela’s car, her feigned ignorance of the address and the DNA in the bed. She knew it couldn’t be coincidence and she was certain that Pamela had lied about her relationship with Parker Sterling.

At five thirty the next morning, Lucinda rang the doorbell at Pamela Godfrey’s apartment. She pressed the button two more times without getting a response. She raised her fist and pounded three times in quick succession.

An eye popped into sight on the other side of the peephole. A chain rattled, a deadbolt clicked open, the door knob turned and a two-inch gap opened. “Do you know what time it is?” Pamela demanded.

Lucinda lifted up her wrist and looked down. “I’ve got five thirty-two. Could be off by a minute or two either way but that’s close.”

“Come back at a more civilized hour,” Pamela snarled, slamming the door.

Lucinda’s finger hit the bell and held it down until Pamela jerked the door back open. “What the hell do you want?”

“I’d like to talk with you.”

“It’s not a good time. Come back later.”

“Not an option, Ms. Godfrey. If you’d like your neighbors to know the police are at your doorstep that can be arranged.”

Pamela flung the door open. “Can’t stop the Gestapo, now, can we?”

“I’m surprised you know that term at your age, Ms. Godfrey,” Lucinda said, stepping into a contemporary living room dominated by black and stainless steel. She thought the decor generated less warmth and comfort than a crime scene.

Pamela planted her feet in the middle of the room and crossed her arms over her blue silk dressing gown. “The Gestapo may be history but you are living proof that their tactics are eternal. I will be filing a complaint.”

“That is your right, Ms. Godfrey. May we sit down and talk?”

“I don’t want to sit down and I don’t want to talk. I imagine that your idea of ‘talk’ is more my definition of ‘interrogation.’ I believe I should call my attorney before I say another word.”

“That is your right, Ms. Godfrey. Please call him and tell him to meet us down at the justice center.”

“I am not going down there. You have no right to make me.”

“Fine, Ms. Godfrey,” Lucinda said, pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

Pamela dropped her arms and stepped backwards shouting, “You have no right to arrest me. I’ve done nothing. I have rights.”

A head covered with tousled gray and black hair poked around the corner, followed by an attractive barefoot man wrapped in a terry bathrobe and sporting the shadow of a beard. “What’s going on here?”

His voice was authoritative and tinged with menace. His face bore an expression of distaste when he looked at Lucinda. She knew that look – the gaze of someone who assumed that no one as disfigured as her could possibly be up to any good.

Lucinda turned her attention to Pamela. “I thought you lived alone.”

“I do. But what business is it of yours?”

“Is he a client?” Lucinda asked, nodding her head in the man’s direction.

The man stepped toward Lucinda, thrusting his chest into her space, his hands forming loose fists. “Who the hell are you?”

Lucinda whipped the wallet containing her badge and identification out of the waistband of her skirt. “Pierce. Homicide. I’m here to speak to Ms. Godfrey.”

“Keep out of this, Todd,” Pamela snapped. “This is none of your business.”

“None of my business? I have a reputation to protect.” He turned from Pamela to Lucinda. “What is this all about? Is she a hooker?”

“How dare you!” Pamela shouted.

“Whether or not she is a hooker is irrelevant to me, sir,” Lucinda said. “I am investigating a double homicide.”

His jawed dropped. “Murder?”

Lucinda nodded.

Todd turned back to Pamela. “Murder? You’re mixed up in a murder?”

“A double murder,” Lucinda corrected.

“Two murders, Pamela. How could you expose me to a situation like this? What have you done?”

“I have done nothing, you idiot. This is police harassment. Get your clothes and get the hell out of my apartment.”

“Gladly,” he said as he disappeared down the hall.

Pamela glared at Lucinda and tapped her foot while the two women waited for him to gather his belongings. He emerged from the bedroom, a loose tie looped around his neck, his shirt tail hanging out unevenly from his hurried lopsided buttoning. He turned as he reached the door. “Our lawyers will call your office later this morning to arrange for the cancellation of our contract.”

“Don’t expect it to be easy or cheap,” Pamela snarled at the slamming door. She turned to Lucinda. “You’ve cost me money now. You’re going to pay for this.”

“Could we sit at your dining table and chat?” Lucinda suggested.

“Chat? Sit and chat? Have you lost your mind?”

“Have a seat, Pamela; and, if you please, we will need a piece of paper and a pen or pencil?”

“You want me to fetch something for you to take notes? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You are going to need to write things down, Ms. Godfrey. Not me.”

“You know, you’re right. I should keep notes to give to my attorney to file harassment charges against you.”

She stomped down the hall, returning with a legal pad and a pen as Lucinda slid into a chair at the table. Pamela sat across from her and, with pen poised over the paper, she said, “Okay. Go.”

“Please write down the names and contact information for all your sexual partners in the last six months.”

“I will not.”

“Fine,” Lucinda said. “We already have your client list. We’ll call them one by one and inquire.”

Pamela’s nostrils flared and her lips disappeared as she clenched her mouth tight. Lucinda suppressed her amusement at the woman’s reaction.
If she were a spitting cobra, I’d be on my way to the emergency room now.
“Your call, Ms. Godfrey. Give me a list and we won’t instigate a conversation about sexual matters unless necessary. Or, we’ll call them all and ask upfront.”

Pamela bent over the pad, her pen nib digging deep furrows into the paper. She paused from time to time to think. Then she spun the list around to face Lucinda. “There.”

Lucinda scanned down the dozen names but remained silent, hoping to provoke a response. Pamela didn’t disappoint her.

“Having trouble reading that with just one eye?” Pamela taunted. “Want me to read it to you?”

Lucinda pushed the pad back to Pamela. “This is not a complete list.”

Pamela turned bright red from her hairline down past the V-neck of her dressing gown. “How do you …?” she began and then pursed her lips and rotated the pad in front of her. This time, the pen tore holes through the paper in two spots. She shoved it back across the table.

Again, Lucinda studied the three new names without looking up at Pamela or making a comment. After a minute, Pamela broke the silence. “Is that all, Lieutenant?”

Lucinda pushed the pad back. “The list is still not complete.”

“Yes, it is.”

Lucinda pulled out her cell. “Pierce here. Are you in the parking lot?” After a pause she added, “Come on up.”

“Who was that? And what right do you have to invite someone into my home?”

“A forensics tech is coming up here to obtain buccal swabs from you.”

“What?”

“A DNA sample. It’s simple, painless and quick. She’ll swipe something that looks like an oversized Q-tip on the inside of your cheeks.”

“No, she won’t,” Pamela said, rising to her feet.

“She is also bringing a search warrant authorizing her to take the sample. If you do not cooperate, you will be arrested and charged.”

“This is outrageous.”

“My thoughts exactly, Ms. Godfrey, but for entirely different reasons,” Lucinda said as she rose to answer the ring of the doorbell.

Lucinda handed the document to Pamela, who scanned it, balled it up and tossed it in the general direction of the trash can. After that petty act of defiance, she followed instructions without saying a word until the tech departed. “There. I cooperated. Now, I have a right to know why you wanted my DNA.”

“Tell me, is there anyone on this list who has expressed jealousy about your other lovers?”

“Please give me some credit. I take great pains to keep them from encountering each other. I deserve an answer to my question.”

“Is there anyone on that list who you think would do anything for you, Ms. Godfrey?”

Pamela smirked. “Most of them, Lieutenant.”

“Any who would kill for you?”

“Kill for me? What the hell are you talking about now? Kill for me? That is a stupid question. And you still haven’t answered
my
question: why do you want my DNA?”

“Well, Ms. Godfrey, we believe that your DNA will match the sample we found on sheets belonging to someone who is not on your list.”

Pamela blanched. She sucked in her cheeks in a vain attempt to still the quivering in her chin.

“Do you have an explanation for that, Ms. Godfrey?”

“I … I … I need to talk to my attorney.”

“Fine, Ms. Godfrey. You do that. We’ll need to talk again real soon.”

Twenty-One

Ted spotted Lucinda the moment she walked through the office door. “I heard back from
Texas
,” he said.

“What did they have to say?”

“It’s not good news. They ran down their list of Jason Kings in the state but none of them seem to be our guy.”

“Did they talk to his mother?”

“By phone. She claims she’s not his mother. Said she didn’t have any sons. And she doesn’t know anyone named Jason King.”

“Did they get anything from her to verify or dispute Victoria Whitehead’s story about him?”

“Actually, the detective seemed a bit disgusted – went so far as to call our request ‘a wild goose chase.’ When I pointed out that was a pretty stale metaphor, he said, “Your request didn’t merit any creativity.” When I attempted to ask for additional assistance, he cut me off and suggested I call back when I had a real person for him to locate.”

“Bastard.”

“Want me to go over his head to the Texas Rangers?”

“No, not yet. They’ll listen to their local guy, not us, unless we find more. It’s obvious Jason King is not his real name. We need to figure out what is. Could you put someone on it? Right now, I’d like you to focus your attention on finding some solid dirt on Pamela Godfrey. I need something I can use to apply more pressure.”

“You think pressure is going to work on the daughter of a high-powered attorney?”

“Dammit, Ted, I need something. You dug up some vague rumors – now find some solid piece of personal garbage. I don’t need anything criminal – just a little tidbit of information that she wants no one to know. Just find something. I’m going to see if I can get a search warrant for her condo.”

Lucinda rode the elevator up to the sixth floor. She poked her head in District Attorney Michael Reed’s doorway and said, “Hey.”

“What do you need, Pierce?”

“A search warrant.”

“And why do you think that requires my personal involvement?”

“I want to search the condo of Pamela Godfrey, the daughter of Malcolm Godfrey.”

“Did you sit up at night thinking of ways to make my life more difficult?”

“C’mon, Reed. Equal justice for all, right?”

The District Attorney stared at her for a moment, then sighed. “Why, Pierce? Why do you want me to lie down on Malcolm Godfrey’s sacrificial table?”

“We found Pamela’s DNA on the sheets on the bed at the Sterling double homicide.”

“And why is that important?”

“I can’t believe you even asked that question.”

“Okay, I give. You’re right. Work with one of the ADAs on the paperwork – I don’t care who. But I recommend you find one with no aspirations to go into private practice in the near future.”

“Could you jot a note so the lucky lawyer knows I’m not just jerking his chain?”

“Sure,” he said and reached for his memo pad and a pen. As he wrote, his phone rang. “Reed.” After a brief pause, he said, “Yes, she’s in here with me. Send the call to my extension.” When the phone rang again, he handed the receiver to Lucinda.

“Lieutenant Pierce.”

“Lieutenant, this is Edwin Prager of Drummond-Godfrey. My client, Pamela Godfrey, is in my office and we would like to speak with you. Could you join us here?”

“I’m at the justice center. How long will it take you to get here?”

“Lieutenant, my office is a lot more comfortable and the coffee here is far better.”

“I’m busy right now preparing a search warrant but I can give you a few minutes of my time. When will you be here?”

“Is the search warrant related to my client?”

“If you don’t bring her over here, I’m going to have to send someone to pick her up.”

“An arrest is premature, Lieutenant. You do not have all the facts.”

“I never said ‘arrest’. I do, however, have strong grounds to pick her up for further questioning.”

“We will be there within the half hour.”

“Make sure you are,” Lucinda said and hung up the receiver.

“That was Pamela Godfrey’s attorney?”

“Yes, Edwin Prager of Drummond-Godfrey to be precise.”

“And you couldn’t go to his office? It’s less than a block from here.”

“I’m not a diplomat, Reed. I’m a cop.”

Reed shook his head. “Fine. But let’s wait on that search warrant until we hear what they have to say.”

“I call that wasting time. But you’re the DA. It’s your call. I just hope we’re not giving her the opportunity to go home and destroy evidence.” Lucinda spun on her heels and returned to her office.

Arriving at her floor, Lucinda went straight to Ted. “Anything on Pamela Godfrey yet?”

“Good grief, Lucinda, it’s only been ten minutes since you asked.”

“Sorry. But she’s on her way here with her attorney.”

“What’s his name?”

“Edwin Prager.”

“If I find anything, I will get it to you immediately.”

Twenty minutes after Lucinda took the phone call in Reed’s office, Pamela and her attorney arrived. The stunned and shaken woman of this morning’s encounter was replaced by an über confident professional in Jimmy Choo shoes and a teal suit that would never fit in Lucinda’s budget. The price tag for Prager’s attire rivaled that of his client. Lucinda was not impressed.

She led them down the hall to the bare walls and fluorescent lighting of an interrogation room. They sat in uncomfortable chairs on opposite sides of a cheap, scarred table. “You have something to tell me?” Lucinda asked, looking at Pamela.

The other woman turned to her attorney. “My client,” he said, “can explain the DNA match on the sheets. She was, as you suspected, having an affair with a resident of
6423 James Landing Drive
. However, she had nothing to do with the homicides committed there.”

Lucinda turned back to Pamela. “How long were you having an affair with Parker Sterling?”

“My client was not having an affair with Mr. Sterling.”

For a split second, Lucinda was perplexed by what sounded like a contradiction. Then it clicked and the realization made sense of the care given to the female victim’s body. “Pamela, are you claiming you were having an affair with Jeanine Sterling?”

Pamela stared at her but did not say a word. A barely perceptible smile twitched across her lips and she swiveled her head to her attorney.

“Lieutenant Pierce, please address your questions to me. But, yes, my client Ms. Godfrey was involved in an affair with Ms. Sterling. I urge you, however, not to jump to conclusions. My client has an iron-clad alibi for the morning of the murders.”

“Iron-clad? Is this closing argument-speak or can you provide corroboration?”

Prager slid his briefcase on the table, opened it and removed a piece of paper. “Ms. Godfrey arrived in her office at nine thirty a.m. on the morning in question. Here is a statement from her secretary, who witnessed her arrival.” He slid it across the table and pulled out another document. “Here is a list of other members of her staff who are certain they saw her that morning. Included are each of their extensions. Ms. Godfrey received a phone call minutes after her arrival – you’ll see that documented in her secretary’s statement – and she left immediately afterward – also verified by multiple staff members.”

They were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Lucinda rose and opened it a crack. Ted slipped her a piece of paper. Before returning to the table, she read it: “Prager was divorced six months ago because of an alleged affair with Pamela Godfrey.” She made sure her smirk was hidden as she sat back down.

The attorney began, “That leaves us with two hours before the nine-one-one call, as you well know.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Prager. I have an ethical question for you. Is it appropriate for an attorney to be sexually intimate with his client?”

Lucinda saw Pamela’s head twitch ever so slightly as her eyes widened. Prager’s face turned to stone. Twice he appeared ready to speak but changed his mind before he opened his mouth. Finally, he continued. “As I was saying, Lieutenant, it took Ms. Godfrey approximately ten minutes to drive to her client’s office, arriving just before ten a.m. She remained there until just before eleven forty-five.” He pulled out another sheet of paper. “Here is the name of her client and the receptionist, along with their phone numbers. We trust you will be discreet when you contact them. Ms. Godfrey is a professional woman with a reputation to maintain.”

“Really?” Lucinda said, and then turned her concentration to the documents, looking for holes. None were obvious. She raised her head and stared at Prager. “That still leaves an hour unaccounted for. I hope you’re not going to tell me she was with you.”

“I will not dignify that question with a response.”

Lucinda had seen the crime scene; she knew the time frame was impossible. Nonetheless, she turned to Pamela and said, “Where were you between seven thirty and nine thirty that morning, Ms. Godfrey?”

“I was at home.”

“What was the reason that you arrived late to work that morning?”

“I had something to deal with at home.”

“And what was that?”

“Lieutenant, you do realize that my client is not a magician. Travelling from her home – or from the Sterling house – to her office in rush hour traffic would easily consume a half hour. If she went straight to work, staff would have seen blood on her clothing. That means she had to go home first, taking another half an hour away, along with an additional thirty minutes to drive from home to work. When you factor in the time from the Sterling house to her condo and the time required for her to change her outfit, that leaves us with a half hour or less remaining. Not even a professional assassin could kill two people and clean up in that short window of time.”

“Are these my copies?” Lucinda asked, lifting the papers from the table.

“Yes, Lieutenant, they are.”

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” she said as she rose. A part of her wanted to pretend she never saw the paperwork in her hand but she did what she needed to do anyway. She went up to the sixth floor and presented it all to the District Attorney.

Reed read them over and said, “Fine. Check it out. You find one lie or distortion of fact and the search warrant is yours; otherwise it’s a no go. Do you need me down there?”

“No, sir,” she said.

“Pierce. It’s time to play nice, now.”

“Yes, sir,” she said and returned to the interrogation room. She thanked both of them and shook their hands. Then, she scurried off to check out Pamela’s alibi.

By the time the day was over, Lucinda had confirmed all but the mysterious gap of time between when Freddy left for school and Pamela arrived at work. Even if she operated at the assumption that Pamela was already at the Sterling home watching when Freddy left for school, the time frame seemed too tight – squeezed down close to impossible unless she had an accomplice. But a jealous lover doesn’t usually have one. She dropped Pamela down to the bottom of her suspect list, for now. She wasn’t ready to eliminate her yet. She knew any alibi could be obtained with money, threats, promise or pressure. But for the moment, she would shift her attention to the new star of her list – Jason King.