The Evil Twin

by Sam King

  “Of course.”

  She led them into the lounge room and took a seat. They sat next to one another on the sofa.

  “We’ve been speaking to Mrs Lasseter,” Grainger began. “She seems to think her son’s death was the result of foul play. We’re not sure if that’s true, but apparently there was a film?”

  She said nothing.

  “A film of the incident?”

  “Yes, there was a film.”

  “And where might it be now?” Adamson said.

  “It’s been lost. It was deleted.”

  “Yes. Mrs Lasseter said. And apparently you destroyed an iPad. Is that correct?”

  She nodded, and then thought of a lawyer. She needed a lawyer.

  “We’d like you to come down to the station again. We want to give you a second opportunity — you and your boys — to give us an accurate statement.”

  “It’s all a misunderstanding.”

  “No doubt it is,” Grainger said. “But according to Mrs Lasseter the events of the day were somewhat different. The boys were playing a game?”

  She shook her head. “I think I’d better phone a lawyer.”

  Grainger and Adamson glanced at one another.

  She searched for her phone. The easiest thing to do was to contact the lawyer she’d arranged for Ralph, so she did that. He was available, and said he could be at Chatswood Police Station within the hour.

  “Where are the boys?” Adamson wanted to know.

  “They’re downstairs. In the play room.”

  “Would you get them?”

  “Of course.”

  She got up shakily and walked out of the room. As she made her way down the stairs she had to grip the bannister tight. Then she stood in the doorway of the play room watching the boys for a few moments. They were playing Wii tennis, and were whooping at one another. She waited for the game to end, and then said, “Boys. The police are here.”

  Luke turned quickly. “The police?”

  “Yes. You’re going to have to give your statements again.” She was about to implore them to tell the truth when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Grainger and then Adamson stepped in.

  “So is this the play room?” Grainger said.

  She nodded.

  The boys looked frightened.

  “And this is the cupboard?” Adamson asked her. He stepped toward it and ran his hand over the doors.

  “Boys,” Grainger said, “you’re going to have to come down to the station again. We’re going to have to question you.”

  They nodded in unison. Luke had put a T-shirt on, but he hadn’t changed out of his speedos and he looked incredibly vulnerable. Yet they took them just like that, without giving him a chance to change.

  At the station, they sat in the waiting room for fifteen minutes or more. She implored them to be honest, and then turned the subject to the photos of Martin Lockheed she’d seen on Luke’s iPad. She wanted to know what they were for and why they were there.

  “That was Tom’s idea.”

  “My idea?”

  “It was your idea.”

  “Okay. It was my idea.”

  “What were they for?”

  “A website,” Tom said. “We thought he could make some money.”

  “So you sold them to a website?”

  “No. We never got the chance.”

  She nodded, and then Grainger appeared. He led her to the interview room where the lawyer was waiting. His name was Matt Harrison, but she’d only just got this straight in her head.

  Grainger and Adamson questioned her again on the events surrounding Jude’s death. Her answers were the same, she reasoned. She’d been upstairs when she heard Tom call, and then had rushed downstairs to find Jude unconscious. There really wasn’t much else to say.

  But now they wanted to know if the fall of the toy cupboard looked natural, where exactly “Tom” was standing, and whether or not he’d said anything. As she heard mention of Tom’s name, she hesitated. She really ought to tell them, she figured, that the boys had been deceiving them all along, but she couldn’t quite find the strength. And wouldn’t that then incriminate Luke.

  They turned to the subject of the film and asked her what was on it. She said it’d been set up in the corner, that it had been filming the boys playing the Wii, and had only just happened to catch the events of the afternoon — her first lie.

  Grainger nodded. “And what did it show?”

  She hesitated, and then decided to fudge it. “I really don’t know. I only glanced at it briefly.”

  “You only glanced at it briefly.”

  “Yes.”

  They questioned her for another half an hour, going back over the incidents of the day, but she stuck to this story. Then Tom was called in, but Luke appeared.

  Chapter 45

  “Tom,” Grainger began, “it appears now that there was a film of the afternoon’s events. One of your friends has seen it, and what he saw was related to Jude’s mother. She seems to think you might have played a part in her son’s death.”

  Luke began very calmly. Yet he related the events differently this time, telling them plainly what the film had shown — importantly, the game he and Jude had been playing, which he was now calling “spag it up.”

  “Have you played that game before?”

  He nodded. “At school.”

  “And what does it involve?”

  “You dare someone to swallow something and regurgitate it and then you have a turn.”

  “Did you understand when you dared Jude to swallow that toy just how dangerous it would prove.”

  “No. Of course not. I didn’t think about it.”

  Luke obviously thought he’d done nothing wrong, because as the interview wore on, he stuck to his story. It was more or less the truth, but for the fact that Tom had planned to murder Jude, and that Luke must have been following his directions.

  The crunch came when they asked “Tom” why he’d told a different story to begin with.

  “I knew it would look bad,” Luke said, “but I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong.”

  He looked utterly innocent, and for a moment she believed him. She hoped the officers did also.

  Tom was called in as “Luke” and he related the same story he’d given to begin with — the story of being with her and arriving late on the scene. It was all very plausible, and she supposed she had two very good actors for sons, which didn’t in the slightest make her feel comfortable.

  The lawyer had sat through all three interviews without saying a word, but in the end she thanked him. She felt thankful. Everything had gone very well, and she had a very certain feeling that the police thought Jean was a bit of a nutcase, that she was making a mountain out of a molehill.

  They returned home to find Samantha gone. When Susan knocked on her door she received no reply. Then she noticed two Royal Doulton figurines missing from the lounge room. She understood almost instantly, but checked Samantha’s room before checking the house. She’d taken a suitcase, two paintings, a small statue, seven figurines, and a camera. Then in the master bedroom Susan discovered her jewellery case ransacked. Every single item had been taken, some of it expensive and some of it having sentimental value.

  She sighed. But really, she was glad to see the back of Samantha.

  The following day she burnt the iPad in the fire, and then, around four p.m., took it out of the ashes and threw it in the wheelie bin, again encased in plastic. This time no one would ask her to retrieve it, she was sure. That was the end of the matter.

  Then, at a little after five, she received a strange phone call. It was from a man named Peter, who said he had Luke’s phone.

  “And you’re his mum, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he the boy in the video?”

  “What video?”

  “The video where he says he’s committing the perfect murder.”

  “That’s all a joke.”

  “It doesn’t look lik
e a joke.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She gripped her forehead in frustration.

  “Anyway, I’m only calling to bug you. I don’t want any issues with the police, but I thought I ought to do the right thing, so I posted it online.” He was speaking in an annoying, whiny voice. “Do you want the phone back?”

  She couldn’t quite process the question. “Online?”

  “Yeah. On a video site. I made it private. I figure if I call “Jude” I might get his parents. That is, unless you want to pay?”

  “Pay?”

  “Give me fifty thousand and I’ll make it go away.”

  Fifty thousand! She could gather this without troubling Michael. She had more than one hundred thousand in her savings account, the proceeds of her mother’s will. “I’ll pay,” she said. “For the phone and anything else.”

  “Okay, then. Sounds as if we have a deal. When could you give me the money.”

  “I could meet you.”

  He named the mall at Castle Hill, which was a long way away.

  “Okay,” she said. “When?”

  “Tomorrow? Three?”

  “Yes, tomorrow. Three And you need to take it down from the video site.”

  “I’ll let you do that. I’ll give you the details, but it’ll go public if you try to cross me. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “I won’t.”

  “No?”

  “I won’t.”

  “See you tomorrow,” he said. He laughed, and then hung up the phone.

  Chapter 46

  That night she dreamed of Luke’s phone. It was submerged in water. The screen was showing a photograph of Martin Lockheed. She woke in a sweat and got up. It was four a.m. The house was dark but for a strip of moonlight shimmering on the carpet.

  The entire day was one long wait for three p.m. She left the house at one, leaving the boys on their own for once, something she didn’t like to do, but which was necessary today. Storm clouds were hanging in the south west, looking dark blue and ominous, and there was Christmas traffic everywhere. She drove to the bank at Lane Cove and asked to withdraw fifty thousand dollars in cash. The teller drew her head back in surprise.

  “What was that?”

  “Fifty thousand dollars.”

  “I’ll have to ask the manager.”

  She disappeared, but came back again a few moments later with a grey-haired man with glasses.

  “Ordinarily, you need to arrange a withdrawal that large,” he said. “We’re only a sub-branch.”

  “Can you do it?”

  “We can do it today, but please don’t make a habit of it.”

  She nodded. She’d brought an old soft-leather briefcase with her and she figured it would fit easily into that.

  The teller had to withdraw to the vault, and it was more than fifteen minutes later before she was able to leave the bank.

  It then took her the better part of an hour to drive to the mall at Castle Hill. She made it with eighteen minutes to spare. She’d never been here before, but it was very small. The IGA was easy to find. He’d said he’d be waiting on a bench at the front.

  There was a bench, but there was no one on it. She took a seat and glanced at her watch. It was fifteen minutes to three. She glanced at her hands, at her wedding and engagement rings, and realised she was shaking. She locked both hands beneath her thighs and looked up at the shoppers. There was a real rush on. People moving quickly past her — too quickly, it seemed. Everyone seemed to be brightly dressed, as though this was the summer for bright clothes. The mall was colourfully decorated, with lashings of tinsel and lanterns, and they were playing Jingle Bells. She thought of Europe, as she often did at Christmas time, and wondered if they were dashing through the snow over there. It seemed incredible to her that it could be so hot here when they were enduring an awful winter.

  She’d been to Denmark as a child, and had spent a Christmas there with some relatives, so she had some idea of what it could be like. She’d only been six, so it was a vague memory at best, the highpoint being Legoland.

  She glanced at her watch again. It was four minutes to three now. He’d said he’d be waiting, and she began to wonder whether he’d show or not. If she’d had a different type of husband, she might have relied on him to be with her today, to be backing her up from behind the card rack in the gift shop, say, or from within the newsagent’s.

  At about ten to three she began to give up hope. Then a scruffily dressed man appeared without warning from behind her and sat heavily on the bench. He was about thirty-five, with a dark beard and rheumy blue eyes. He smelt of petrol, of all things, as though he’d been at work on a lawn mower.

  “Are you the lady with the phone?”

  She wasn’t sure how to answer, but nodded uncertainly. He was frightening, this man, frightening in an unstable way.

  He peered at her, and then said, “Where’s the money?”

  The briefcase was looped on a strap over her shoulder and she motioned at it.

  He stared at her angrily. “I need to see it,” he said.

  “Do you have the phone?”

  “It’s right here,” he said, and then patted the pocket of his trousers.

  She could just make out a rectangular shape beneath them.

  “Give me the money,” he said.

  She began to move, but then hesitated. She needed to make sure she got the phone. And the details for the website he’d posted the video to. She mentioned this and he patted his shirt pocket. Then he reached into it and withdrew a folded piece of A4 paper. He tossed it onto her lap.

  She picked it up and opened it.

  It read:

  Dailymotion

  trickster359

  ab793reiTQ87

  She frowned over it for moments, but finally came to the conclusion that Dailymotion was the site, trickster359 the account name, and ab793reiTQ87 the password.

  “Is this all I need?” she said.

  He nodded. “It’s the only video on the account.”

  She folded the piece of paper and put it into her handbag. Then she glanced at him again. He moved one arm toward her and fingered the briefcase.

  “The money,” he said.

  She reached for the shoulder strap but hesitated again. “Can you show me the phone, just to prove to me that it is the phone?”

  He forced his lips together and shook his head in disdain. After staring at her for a few moments, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the phone. He turned it on, said, “I had to hack it,” and then brought up an image of Tom’s face. In a tinny voice he said, “Do you want to see the perfect—” but the man shut it down.

  “Okay,” she said. She looped the briefcase off her shoulder and pushed it toward him.

  He drew the phone away, but grabbed the case. She thought he was going to run, but then she realised he was struggling with the catch. He opened it wide and looked inside, and then, apparently satisfied, got up. He began to walk away, but turned and tossed her the phone at the last moment.

  “Happy viewing,” he said, and smiled, his teeth terribly stained with nicotine.

  Chapter 47

  In the parking lot, she deleted the video. She shoved the phone into her handbag and started the car. She was very conscious of not wanting to have a second accident, but as she came out of the lot, she realised it was raining heavily. She fumbled for the wipers, but turned the indicators on accidently. Then she found the wipers. She turned out into the street and almost hit a man running across the road.

  “Hell,” she said.

  As she made her way back to the North Shore, it began to hail. The stones were too small to dent the car, but the noise of them on the roof put her nerves on edge. It was past four thirty by the time she drove into the garage. She turned the key in the ignition and sat back for a moment. She wasn’t quite ready to face the boys yet.

  Then the door to the house opened and Luke appeared.

  “Mum!” he said. “Mum! Come quick.” He waved her for
ward.

  His face was contorted in desperation. She grappled for her seatbelt and jumped out of the car.

  “What is it?”

  “Mrs Lasseter. She’s going crazy.”

  Susan raced up the stairs.

  Jean was in the hall, screaming at Tom. She looked absolutely dreadful, her dress askew and her hair awry. “I know you have it,” she said, and then lashed out at Tom, striking a blow to his head.

  The boys had loud music on, playing from downstairs, and the sound of a heavy beat and bass made the scene look crazy. She rushed forward and gripped Jean’s wrists, surprised at how quickly she’d moved to protect Tom, some animal instinct coming to the fore. She wrestled Jean for a moment, but then lost a wrist. A moment later she was slapped across the face.

  “The police might not be taking this seriously, but I’ll find someone who will,” Jean screamed. “I want that film.”

  “But you have it, Jean. You have the iPad.”