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Dear Diary:January 17th

Still no word from the detectives investigating Mother Dear’s death. The autopsy report came back. She was suffocated with a pillow.

Dad found a few more things missing. The detectives asked me why it was I did not tell them about these things. What could I say? I told them I did not know about them. I don’t think they believed me.

It’s been one week since Alice Griebler, the school nurse at Sanger was murdered. I can’t deny it any longer. My memory of where I was and what I was doing at the time she was killed is a total blank. I was literally praying that it would come back. At least something. But nothing. Why was she murdered and what was I doing? Now I’m afraid to find out. I no longer want to have my memory return.

Detective Lucy Compton, MPD, leaned back in her desk chair and stretched her arms above her head. At the same time Lucy swiveled her head around as if taking the kinks out of her neck from sitting too long bent over her desk. Her partner, Melissa Myles, sat at her desk watching Lucy stretch.

“Almost three weeks and the Priscilla Powell case is colder than…” Melissa started to say.

“The proverbial witch’s tit in a brass bra,” Lucy finished for her.

“I was gonna say weather,” Melissa said.

“Yeah, that, too,” Lucy said.

“Hey, Benson,” Lucy said to a male detective who was walking past the women’s desks.

“Yeah, Lucy?” Detective Phil Benson asked.

“How you guys doing on that school nurse case?” Lucy asked.

“Nowhere,” Benson answered. “We can’t come up with a motive. We’ve questioned everyone we can think of. It’s like she was a nonentity. None of the staff or students have anything much to say about her at all, good or bad. And, no one knows anything about anyone having a beef with her.

“She lived by herself in a small house over by Nokomis. Neighbors knew her well and liked her. No boyfriends, ex-husbands or kids.”

“A faceless nobody putting in her time at a thankless job,” Melissa said.

“Exactly,” Benson said. “Less than six months from a maximum pension.”

“Brutal murder,” Lucy said.

“And that’s strange, too. Benny Shambhani says it was a three-inch straight claw hammer,” Benson said using two fingers to illustrate the prongs of a straight claw hammer.

“Whoever did it was angry. Three hits to the top of her skull. Benny says the first one would have done it.”

“Someone wanted to make sure,” Lucy said .

“Our shrink told us it looks random and we should expect more,” Benson said.

“A serial?” Melissa asked.

“Maybe, we’ll see.”

Benson walked off and the women went back to Priscilla’s murder.

“I just had a thought,” Melissa told Lucy.

“It’s about time one of us did,” Lucy replied.

“We’ve been looking hard at the husband. He has motive, means, and opportunity. He can’t positively alibi himself except for his claim he was home alone.

“He’s about to come into a lot of money because of the murder. But we got nothing in the way of evidence,” Melissa said.

“Yet, none of the stolen items have turned up with a local fence, we’ve checked. The husband would know what to take. The stuff he doesn’t care about,” Lucy said. “Where are you going with this…?”

“What about the kid. The daughter, Robbie? The trans girl? We pretty much dismissed her,” Melissa said.

“Her roommate gives her a solid alibi,” Lucy reminded her.

“What if she’s lying. The roommate is also a trans girl. What if Robbie is pissed about it? What if Priscilla forced it on the kid?” Melissa asked.

“Possible,” Lucy agreed.

“We got nothing else,” Melissa said.

The two of them went silent while thinking about what to do. Eventually, it was Lucy who came up with an idea.

“Her friends, Priscilla’s little get together club of friends. All of them said the same thing,” Lucy said.

“Yeah, like that creepy movie about those women who all smiled like idiots and…” Melissa said.

“The Stepford Wives. You’re right. It was like they were all reading from the same script,” Lucy replied.

“Except for the lawyer. Remember, one of them was a lawyer and she was not anxious to talk. We just figured it was because she was a lawyer and didn’t want to talk to us. But what if she was worried about getting caught lying to us? She could get jammed up with the Bar people,” Melissa asked .

“Looking for her name,” Lucy said while going through the case file of witness interviews. “Here it is, Barbara Bivens. She’s with a modest sized firm downtown. Merrick and several other names. Let’s go.”

“Shouldn’t we call and make an appointment?” Melissa asked.

“Hell, no,” Lucy said while getting ready to leave. “We’re the cops. We don’t make appointments.”

“May I help you?” the pretty receptionist who looked to be sixteen years old asked.

“Barbara Bivens, please,” Lucy asked.

“Do you have an appointment?” the teenager asked.

By now, both Lucy and Melissa had their shields out.

“Sorry sweetheart,” Lucy said. “We’re the cops. We don’t make appointments.”

The teen, whose name plate read Tori, was instantly on the phone.

“Ms. Bivens, there are two mean police women here to see you,” Tori said.

“Are we mean?” Melissa facetiously asked Lucy.

“Damn right we are,” Lucy said.

“That must be why they insist we carry guns,” Melissa said looking at Tori with a smirk.

“I’ll tell them,” Tori said. She cut off the call and told Lucy, “Someone will be right out.”

Tori then looked at Melissa with a smile and said, “You don’t scare me, I know a lot of lawyers.”

This caused both detectives to laugh.

While they waited, both women looked over the Impressionist prints on the walls. Melissa was especially interested.

“I wish I knew more about art,” she said out loud mostly to herself.

“Why?” Lucy asked.

“Because it’s…”

A woman appeared at that moment, older, efficient looking with a chain holding glasses around her neck.

“You’re here to see Ms. Bivens? ”

“Yes,” Lucy replied.

“I’m not sure she has time. If you’d…”

By now Lucy was two feet away from the woman holding up her shield. “We’re homicide detectives. This is about a murder. I’m sure she can give us a few minutes.”

“Probably, yes, this way, please,” she said.

When Tori heard the words homicide and murder, her back stiffened, eyes opened and she rolled her chair five feet away. Melissa looked at her as she walked past. She smiled at the receptionist then held a finger to her lips. Tori nodded three or four times then breathed again.

“You must be here again about Priscilla,” Bivens said while the detectives sat down.

“Yes, and thanks for seeing us,” Lucy replied.

“I’m not sure what I can tell you that I didn’t before. I don’t really know anything.”

“Was she, Priscilla, a client?” Lucy asked.

“Even that is privileged information,” Bivens said.

“What about her son turned daughter, Robbie? Was she ever a client?” Melissa asked.

Bivens thought about it for a few seconds before saying no.

“I’ve been around as a cop to know enough about privilege to know whatever communication you had with Priscilla with any third-party present, is not covered,” Lucy said.

“You’re right. That’s true,” Bivens said.

“Did you socialize with her?” Lucy asked.

“Yes, and you’ll ask so, yes there were other people present. Why don’t we stop dancing? Ask your questions and I’ll tell you if I can answer them?”

“Okay, did Priscilla ever talk about Robbie’s transgender procedure in your social settings?” Lucy asked.

“Yes,” Bivens abruptly answered.

“A lot, once, help me out here?” Lucy asked.

Bivens paused, looked around then said, “Yes, it was often a topic of conversation.”

“You didn’t approve of it, did you?” Melissa asked .

Bivens again hesitated forcing Melissa to say, “Barbara, it’s written all over you. You did not approve of Robbie’s so-called gender affirmation, did you?”

“No, no I did not,” Bivens admitted.

“Did you get the sense that Robbie might not have wanted to do it?” Lucy asked.

The light went on in Bivens head then she said, “Oh, my God. So that’s where you’re going with this. Robbie as a suspect.

“I’m not sure I want to answer that,” Bivens said.

“Barbara, I hope you don’t mind me calling you that,” Lucy said. “Barbara, we’re past that. You’ve admitted Robbie was never a client. She’s an adult now. Tell us what you know.”

“We don’t want to but we will if we have to. We’ll get a subpoena and force you to answer our questions under threat of perjury,” Melissa said not knowing if that was true or not.

After another twenty seconds or so of silence, Bivens answered. “Yes, I did not approve. Priscilla knew this. I’ve never spoken to Robbie about this. But, yes, I got the impression that the trans procedure was Priscilla’s idea. She wanted a daughter. She said this more than once.

“As far as what Robbie did or did not want, again I never spoke to her about it.”

“What about the husband, Blake, Robbie’s father?”

“Priscilla hardly ever spoke of him. When she did, it was almost contemptuous. I, we, got the impression she treated him like dirt. Then, as Priscilla told it, he became a man and took care of everything the night Robbie tried to commit suicide.”

Both detectives almost came out of their chairs with this revelation.

“The night Robbie did what?” Lucy asked.

“You didn’t know? Get her medical records from Fairview Southdale. Robbie tried to kill herself with pills. Blake saved her life.”

Bivens then told them about the volleyball game and the injured girl. When she finished, her phone buzzed. Her efficient assistant was calling at a preconceived time to give Bivens the excuse to stop it .

Back in the car and alone, Lucy said, “Robbie tried to commit suicide. And Bivens believes the trans thing was all on Priscilla.”

“We’ve got both Blake and Robbie with motive. Now what?” Melissa asked.

“Bust their alibis,” Lucy answered.

While Lucy said this, Melissa was checking her phone. There were four messages, all from the MPD with the same message. A Lutheran minister, Gary Gimble, has information about the murder of Priscilla Powell. Call him, right away.