Twisted Reason (A Lucinda Pierce Mystery) Page 15

  “But then, there are the acorns.”

  “There are a lot of oak trees in this old neighborhood.”

  “Tree DNA? That means a forensic botanist. I hope I can find one who isn’t too squeamish. Better get someone on that right away. But still – how can all of these deaths be caused by one doer? Killing family members and killing strangers?”

  “It’s too soon to have anything from toxicology on the three elderly folks?”

  “We should have some preliminary results in today. Let’s go talk to Blankenship’s daughter. I sure hope she answers more questions than she asks.”

  Thirty

  The home of Sarah Hodges was a townhouse in one of those new residential/retail communities that seemed to have popped up all across the country overnight. Her place looked out on a large green space. On the far side of the expanse of grass were two bocce courts across the sidewalk from an Italian market and restaurant.

  Sarah answered the door with a smile. She was a petite blonde in her forties with an armful of gold bracelets and large gold hoop earrings. Lucinda felt like a freak of nature towering over her.

  After Jumbo made the introductions, she asked, “When you said you were bringing another detective, I expected to see the man who interviewed me when I reported my father missing.”

  “Unfortunately, ma’am, he passed away last year. Lieutenant Pierce is working on another case that seems to overlap because of Gary Blankenship.”

  “My stepbrother is crazy – in fact, I think everyone in my stepmother’s family is nuts, except for her. She was a little eccentric but very nice. After I learned she had Alzheimer’s, I wasn’t certain if the oddnesses I saw in her were early symptoms or if she was just a little different from the rest of us.”

  “In what way?” Lucinda asked.

  “She was very superstitious. The number thirteen really bothered her. When the license plates for her new car came in the mail from DMV, the last two digits were one and three. Boy was she upset. She took them in and demanded a new set. 666 made her nuts, too. Once we were shopping together for Dad’s birthday – she picked up those gold toe socks he liked and the total came to $6.66. She gave the woman $7, told her to keep the change and refused to accept the receipt. She was strange, too, about black cats, broken mirrors, all that usual stuff.”

  “Did you notice anything else?”

  Sarah laughed. “She had the most peculiar fascination with acorns.”

  “Acorns?” Lucinda and Jumbo said in unison.

  “On the one hand, she thought they were the most powerful force in the universe. But then, she’d take them and make silly things with them.”

  “Silly things?” Lucinda asked.

  “Yes. She’d paint faces on them – say they were wearing little berets. Sometimes, she’d create little scenes using construction paper, cardboard, pipe cleaners and balsa wood. The most detailed one I remember was a classroom. Rows of tiny desks with acorn-headed children in chairs. Their caps were off and their berets all hung on a row of hooks on a cardboard wall. She’d glued on little bits of yarn for hair on all the acorns – except for one. That little boy was bald. She said he had leukemia and was undergoing chemotherapy. It was really odd. When she passed away, I helped Dad clean out her clothes and stuff. I found a whole drawer-full of acorns – some with painted faces, some still blank.”

  “Do you know if Gary shared her fascination with acorns?”

  “If he did, I never noticed. But I tried not to spend much time around him. As I said, he was crazy – dangerous crazy. He became particularly malignant towards my dad when my stepmother’s illness became apparent. He ranted and raved about drugs causing the problem, insisting nothing was wrong with his mother. He shoved Dad around a few times – never seriously hurt him but he was a real bully.”

  “What about Gary’s children? Do you know them?”

  “A little – most of them were living at home still when my dad went missing. I think the oldest, Don, had gotten married and moved out. The youngest boy, Derek, was in his last year of high school but the other two were in their twenties. They all seemed normal most of the time. But, at others, it was apparent that they swallowed their dad’s world view whole. It made me wary of them.”

  Jumbo asked, “I read the report, but I’d like to hear from you about the last time you saw your dad.”

  Sarah sighed and sunk a little deeper into the chair. “When Dad and I were cleaning the house, he had me set aside some things for Gary. Some of it made sense – like a ruby ring Dad thought Donna should have and the little incense-burning log cabin that Derek loved. Lots of other little mementoes like that.” Sarah smiled softly and sighed again. “But there were also these stacks and stacks of papers about pharmaceutical company and government conspiracies, the evils of the drugs used to slow down the progress of Alzheimer’s and diet and nutrition as the answer to the disease.

  “I said, ‘Dad, just throw this crap out.’ But he said that wouldn’t be right. Gary gave it all to him and he really should give it back. When I left his house that day, it was the last time I saw him. But he called the next morning and said he was going over to Gary’s to give all the stuff to him. I offered to help him and he pointed out that it wasn’t a good idea since Gary and I didn’t get along. He was right about that so I dropped it.

  “I’ll never forgive myself for that.” A tear slipped from Sarah’s eye and rolled down her cheek. She wiped at it and sighed. “I never spoke to, or saw, my dad after that morning.”

  “Did you ask Gary about that?” Lucinda asked.

  “Yes. He said Dad never came by that morning. In fact, he started accusing me of stealing the ruby ring that he claimed his mother promised to Donna. He called me over and over threatening me over that piece of jewelry. When I had enough, I changed my phone number. Then, he started sending me nasty letters. I moved here about 19 months ago and for a couple of weeks, I marked all his mail ‘return to sender’. And then it stopped.”

  “Did he mention anything about your dad in those conversations or letters?”

  “Not much, but when he did, he talked about him as if he were dead.”

  Lucinda and Jumbo exchanged a glance and Lucinda said, “Do you think he was?”

  “Not at first,” she sobbed. “But I came to believe, and I still believe, that Gary killed Dad.”

  Jumbo stood up and put an arm around her shoulder. She sniffed hard, straightened up and said, “Thank you. I’m okay now. Anything else?”

  Lucinda asked, “Do you know how your dad and stepmother met?”

  She grinned. “Oh yes. At a covered dish supper at the church. He fell in love with her corn casserole and then he fell in love with Mary Agnes. They dated for a while until Dad was able to convince her that the family would get along just fine if she lived a few miles away.”

  “The family?”

  “Gary and his kids. She’d moved in with them when Gary’s wife ran off with another man. It worked fine while the kids were still little. She shared a room with Donna for years. But it became uncomfortable when Donna became a teenager – every 13-year-old wants her privacy and like most girls her age, her stuff was consuming every inch of available space. Still, Gary wasn’t happy when Mary Agnes told him she was getting married and moving out. He tried to force her to stay there and Dad had to intervene.”

  “What about the kids – how did they react to her leaving?”

  “There were a lot of tears. Donna was happy about getting her own room but when the reality of Grandma moving out actually hit her, she was devastated. They called her every day, even after they were grown. Never forgot a birthday or a Mother’s day. They adored her and she cherished them.”

  “Were your dad and stepmother happy together?” Lucinda asked.

  “Oh yes. They were very much in love – it was cute to see them together. That is, until Mary Agnes started losing it. And even then, she always recognized Dad, called him her ‘Alvinator’. But by the time she went into the
lockdown unit, she didn’t seem to understand their relationship any longer. He was simply ‘Alvinator’, that man who visited her.”

  “And when she died?”

  “My dad was devastated. Putting her away was the most difficult decision he ever made. He visited her every single day – no matter how angry she got, no matter if she ignored him. Those days broke his heart but he never stopped going to see her. And never stopped worrying if he’d made the wrong decision.”

  “What about Gary – how did he react to her death?”

  “He made me so angry. My poor dad was dragging around an undeserved bucketful of guilt and old Gary just had to pour more into the pail. The funeral service was a disaster. The minister was talking about Mary Agnes and all she had done for the church and how she touched so many lives when Gary let out a wail. Herding his kids in front of him, he rushed to the front and threw himself on top of the casket moaning and crying. He made all the children kiss their grandmother. All three of the kids were crying – but it didn’t seem like tears of grief. It looked more like terror, as if they were afraid of their father and what he was doing.

  “It got worse at the graveside. The minister was reading scripture as he stood beside the casket sitting on a metal frame above the grave. Gary walked up, knocked the Bible out of his hands. It hit the dirt and slid down into the hole under the coffin. Gary went into a rant about how my father, the doctors and the government killed Mary Agnes. He paced back and forth waving his arms, bumping into people and he just wouldn’t shut up. They police were called. They cuffed him and put him in the back of the patrol car – but I don’t think they arrested him. I think they let him go after the service was over and everyone else had left the cemetery. Like I said, Gary is crazy.”

  “One more thing, Miss Hodges,” Lucinda said. “You mentioned that Sadie Blankenship abandoned her family to run off with another man. Do you know that to be a fact?”

  “No. Not at all. That’s just what Mary Agnes told me.”

  “Did she give you a name? Did she offer any proof?”

  “If she had any proof or knew who it was, she never mentioned it to me, I don’t think. Why? Do you think something happened to her, too?”

  “I don’t know, Miss Hodges. At this point, I simply don’t know anything with certainty.”

  Back in the car, Jumbo said, “Are you having doubts about Sadie Blankenship?”

  “No. That was just my answer for public consumption. I am certain Gary killed her. I need to figure out what he did with the body.”

  “The acorns—from finding them in the home where Sadie died to discovering them in Edgar’s pockets—it all comes together with the acorns.”

  “But we still have the same problem,” Lucinda said. “How do these disparate deaths all tie to one perpetrator?”

  “Maybe it’s not one. Maybe these three recent deaths and disappearances are the responsibility of one of Gary’s kids – or all of them.”

  “Yeah, that thought had crossed my mind, too. I had Research do a background check on the three children, but they found nothing. Not even a speeding ticket.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time that a criminal was never caught until he committed murder.”

  “True. But here’s what doesn’t make sense to me. There is every indication that the kids loved their grandmother and if they loved her, why would they kill someone just like her? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Neither do the acorns when you really get down to it.”

  Lucinda’s cell rang. “Pierce.”

  The voice on the line said, “She’s taken all the money out of our joint checking account, she’s changed the locks on the doors, she won’t answer the phone.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Sorry. Kendlesohn. Eli Kendlesohn. And I’m pretty sure my wife killed my mother.”

  Thirty-One

  Earlier that day, Eli Kendlesohn sipped coffee in the kitchen while he read the newspaper. He didn’t speak to his wife when she came into the room. He didn’t acknowledge her when she sat down across from him at the breakfast table.

  She placed her hand on top of the newspaper and pressed down. “Eli, we need to talk.”

  Eli looked at her and then back at his newspaper. He pretended to read but they both knew that it was now far too crumpled for him to decipher a word.

  “Eli. Look at me.”

  Eli picked up his coffee cup and took a gulp without lifting his eyes.

  “Merciful heavens, Eli. You are a stubborn man. My mother warned me. God rest her soul.”

  Eli couldn’t continue his self-imposed silence any longer. “Oh, God rest your mother’s soul but mine can just be burned to ashes and dumped into the ocean.”

  “Don’t get hysterical, Eli. It was just an expression. But now that you are paying attention, I want to inform you of the dinner party Saturday night.”

  “A dinner party?”

  “Yes. Just a small one. I’ve invited three couples.”

  “Three couples? Saturday night? Here?”

  “I could add a fourth couple if there’s someone at work you want me to invite.”

  “My mother’s funeral is on Friday.”

  “Oh, good. Then it won’t interfere.”

  “We can’t have a dinner party the day after my mother’s funeral.”

  “Oh, don’t be old-fashioned, Eli. I haven’t been able to entertain in my home for months because of your mother’s behavior and then for even more time because she was missing and you didn’t feel up to it. And we have racked up a long list of social obligations as a result. We need to get started as soon as possible.”

  Eli jerked to his feet and backed away from his wife. “You are evil. You did it, didn’t you?”

  “What’s wrong with you? What are you talking about?”

  “You killed my mother.”

  Rachael rose to her feet. “Don’t be ridiculous, Eli. You are acting like a child.”

  “Was I next, Rachael? Did you plan to kill me before or after the dinner party? Maybe over dessert?”

  “I can’t believe you would dare to speak to me this way. Just get out. Get out of this house. I can’t bear the sight of you.”

  “Fine. Just don’t expect me at your dinner party.”

  “You’re no longer invited.”

  “Fine,” Eli said, walking out of the kitchen and into the garage.

  The drive to the office calmed Eli. Once at his desk, he called the director confirming that everything was in order for his mother’s funeral. He asked about the death certificate and autopsy report. The director referred him to the pathologist in Norfolk.

  He reached in his pocket for his cell phone to make the long-distance call. It wasn’t there. He checked all of his pockets, his briefcase, and the top of his desk. He went down into the parking garage and searched in his car. Back in his office, he called home. His wife didn’t answer. He called her cell but got no response on that phone either.

  He gave up and called the morgue using the office line. “The death certificate has been released,” he was told. “The cause of death was drowning. However, the autopsy report is not ready yet.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “For one, we are running toxicology tests – all the standard ones as well as analyzing for the presence of her prescription medications. Secondly, there are concerns about the water in her lungs. Preliminary results indicate that it was not the same as the water in the pond where her body was found.”

  “What? What does that mean?”

  “She died somewhere else, Mr. Kendlesohn. We are analyzing the water to attempt to learn where that happened.”

  Rachael did it – I know she did it. Did she drown Mom in the tub? The pool? Where? That heartless bitch. I’ll make her tell me. I need to go home for my cell phone anyway. I’ll make her tell me now.

  On the way home, he stopped at the ATM outside his bank to replenish his cash. He was irritated when the machine insisted that the account was close
d. He parked the car, walked inside, filled out a withdrawal slip and stood at the white line waiting for the first available teller.

  When he stepped up and handed over his slip, the clerk tapped into her computer and said, “I’m sorry, sir. But this account is closed.”

  “Impossible.”

  She checked again. “Yes, sir, Rachael Kendlesohn closed it this morning. She transferred the funds in this account over to another bank.”

  “What about the savings account?”

  “It’s not in your name, sir. Doesn’t appear it ever has been. I can’t withdraw any money from an account that does not have your name on it.”

  He stared at her, struggling to maintain his composure. He knew it wasn’t her fault but he still had the irrational urge to yell at her. He exhaled deeply and said, “No, of course you can’t. This is not your problem, it’s mine.”

  “I’m very sorry, sir.”

  He nodded at her and spun on his heels and left the bank. Back in his car, he pounded a palm against the steering wheel. “Damn it! Damn it! Damn that bitch to Hell!”

  He tore out of the parking lot, squealing his wheels as he turned onto the road. Pulling into the driveway of his home, he got out of the car, leaving the door wide open as he strode up the sidewalk. He slid his key in the lock but it wouldn’t turn. He pulled it out, looked at it and stuck it in again. He tried to force it but it still didn’t work.

  He stomped back to his car, grabbed the garage door remote and punched in his code. Nothing. He threw the remote down on the passenger seat and went up to the keypad on the garage itself. He punched in the code again. Still nothing.

  He was incredulous. The bitch had been busy. Closing the bank account, changing the locks and the code. He couldn’t help being impressed with her efficiency. He went back to the front door, pressed the door bell and held it in for thirty seconds without letting up. Then he pressed it a dozen times for short intervals. He banged on the door with both fists. “I know you’re in there, Rachael,” he shouted.