James Swain - Bad News Travels

Spencer scribbled in his notepad. “Did you actually see them at the church?”

“Jon went to the car and spoke with them. He thought they looked suspicious.”

Spencer shifted his gaze. “Mr. Lancaster, if you don’t mind my saying, you shouldn’t be playing police officer. If there’s a problem, the Saint Augustine Police Department is more than capable of handling it, sir.”

“I’m a retired police officer,” Lancaster said.

“You from up north?”

“Broward County. I was a detective.”

“Oh, well that’s different. Did you get a look at them?”

“I did. They were a pair of Russian hoodlums with a lot of jailhouse tattoos. Early forties, short haircuts, heavy accents. They told me they’d done landscaping work for Beth’s father and had come to pay their respects. That turned out to be a lie.”

Spencer resumed writing. “Did they attend the funeral?”

“No. They took off after I confronted them.”

“Sound like a pair of bad hombres. Did you get their license?”

Beth gave a shake of the head and mouthed the word, No. Spencer was looking down and didn’t see it. Lancaster didn’t like withholding information from the police, but this was Beth’s rodeo, and he would do whatever she asked of him.

“Afraid not,” he said.

“That’s a shame.” Spencer flipped the notepad shut. “I’m going to ask our CSI team to come out, and dust the study for fingerprints. They’re busy right now, so it might not be until tomorrow. Will someone be here to let them into the house?”

“We’ll be here,” Beth said.

“Good enough. I’ll need to take the hand to headquarters, and let the CSI team run some tests. You never know, it might be carrying some strange diseases. You can never be too careful these days.”

The mummified hand sat on the edge of Martin’s desk in a towel. Spencer picked it up in his arms as if it were a baby, and made for the door. If the mummified hand was carrying a disease, Spencer would have put on rubber gloves before touching it. Lancaster glanced at Daniels and saw her mouth the word, Bullshit.

They went downstairs and followed Spencer outside to his cruiser, which was parked in the driveway. Spencer placed the hand in the trunk and gently closed it. He was pale, and clearly upset.

“Officer, I want you to come clean with me,” Beth said. “Why did someone put a human body part in my father’s study?”

“I don’t know,” the officer said.

“I don’t think you’re being truthful with me.”

Spencer chewed his lower lip and stared at the ground.

“You lied to us. The story about the hand carrying diseases isn’t true, is it?”

Spencer would have made a lousy poker player. Unable to hide his embarrassment, he took off his hat and punched the inside. He impressed Lancaster as a guy who went to church every Sunday, and would only lie if there was a good reason.

“You got me,” the officer said.

“You realize I could have you fired for doing that.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I don’t want to do that.”

“No, ma’am.”

“So what’s the real reason?”

“A bunch of mummified hands have shown up recently. It’s upsetting the hell out of people. They appear on the front stoops of houses wrapped in towels. It’s damn sick, you ask me. The mayor is worried that it will get out, and hurt our tourist business. So he asked the police chief to hide any mummified hands we find.”

“How many is a bunch?”

“Counting this one, seven.” He hesitated. “My bad. The number’s six.”

“Over what time span?”

“The last two months.”

“Any suspects?”

“A couple of punks got pulled in for questioning, but they all had alibis, and swore they’d never do such a thing. We hit a wall with the investigation.”

“Were the hands dropped in front of houses, or commercial businesses?”

“Houses.”

“Do you know the owners?”

“I know all of them.”

“Please give me their names. I may want to question them, and see if they were in any way connected with my father.”

“I’ll need to get permission from my supervisor.”

Beth gave the officer a murderous look. She possessed a dark side that could be downright scary, and Spencer shrank a few inches beneath her gaze.

“Bad idea,” she said. “By law, you’re required to answer my questions right now. If you don’t, I’ll do more than just get you fired. Am I making myself clear, Officer?”

There was not enough ground for Spencer to stare at.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered.

“Take out your notepad, and write down the owners’ names. Include the streets they live on as well.”

Spencer took out his notepad and pencil and did as told. Finished, he tore out the sheet of paper and handed it to her. Lancaster moved to his left, and read the list over Beth’s shoulder. Four men, one woman, two of them doctors.

Beth read each of the names aloud, along with their addresses, then had Spencer verify that the names were correct. Then, she had him sign and date the list, so there would be no confusion later on.

“I also need your card, in case I need to ask you further questions,” she said.

Spencer took out his business card, and scribbled a number on the back. “That’s my personal cell. If you need to call, please use that one,” he said.

“What’s the number on the front of the card?” Beth asked.

“That goes to my official cell phone.”

“You don’t want to talk to me on that one?”

“I’m between a rock and a hard place here, ma’am. My supervisor can have me disciplined for disobeying orders, and you can get me fired for lying. I’d prefer to keep any further conversations private, if that’s okay with you.”

“Fair enough. I’ll be in touch.”

Spencer thought he was off the hook, and moved to get into his cruiser. Lancaster had not stopped thinking about the Charger parked in front of the church. Of all the puzzles associated with Martin’s death, it was bothering him the most, and like the chicken in the road in Africa, it was going to nag at him until he solved its riddle.

“Officer Spencer, I have one more question,” Lancaster said. “Would you mind telling me how large the police force in Saint Augustine is?”

Spencer was caught off guard by the question. “Come again?”

“How many officers are on the force?”

“About a hundred.”

“Do they patrol the city and the beach?”

“Just the city. The beach has its own force.”

“That’s a lot of officers for one city. Why so many?”

“The city has a big homeless population. We try to get them into shelters so they’re not sleeping outside. We had to add officers in order to deal with them.”

“How do these officers get around town?”

“By car.”

“So they’re constantly cruising the city, looking for the homeless.”

“That’s right. It’s extra work, but it keeps the crime rate down.”

“I’m sure it does. Thank you.”

Spencer looked rattled, and his tires squealed as he backed out of the driveway and left. Lancaster sensed another presence, and he turned around. Nicki stood in the open doorway, eavesdropping. He shot her a disapproving look, and she disappeared.

“Why did you ask him those questions?” Beth asked.

“The Charger was bothering me, but I couldn’t figure out why. Now I know.”

“I must have missed something. What did Spencer say?”

“That Saint Augustine has a large police force that regularly patrols the city.”

“So?”

“The Charger got to the church early to get that spot, and was parked there for over an hour,” he said. “Several police cruisers would surely have driven by it. The cops would have seen the same suspicious things that I did. Yet none stopped to talk with those jokers.”