Twin Genius

by Patricia Rice

  A slight, gray-haired woman in tailored tweed and sturdy shoes answered the door. I introduced myself, and she led the way to a dark, paneled den. I admired the overflowing wall-to-wall bookshelves, but the light was too dim to discern titles.

  Arden rose from behind his desk. I’d done my research and knew he was in his eighties and had been physically frail these past years. But he retained a full head of silver hair, a craggy jaw cut much like his son’s, and a towering height that even now, reduced to skeletal, seemed powerful.

  “Magda’s daughter,” he said in amazement as he studied me. “As I live and breathe, this I never expected. Have a seat. I’ve called for tea and coffee. When Amadeus phoned, I thought he was pulling one over on an old man, but you look just like your parents.”

  “Graham respects you too much to lie to you,” I said honestly. “And I’m a little thrilled to meet someone who knew my father. That doesn’t happen often.”

  He nodded sadly and sitting down again, folded his gnarled and spotted hands over his royal blue sweater. “Brody Devlin was a brilliant man with a promising future. He could have accomplished so much had he lived. It takes all my faith in God to accept that the good die young for a greater purpose.”

  “Well, religion likes its martyrs, I suppose. I can’t say his death and the others with him improved the world in any great way, not if they were about to end the violence.” I didn’t have much patience for making nicey-nice, and I didn’t want to take a lot of his time, so I directed the conversation to my purpose in coming here. “How is your son?” I asked as the housekeeper returned and filled our cups.

  “He’s in ICU and they’re keeping him sedated. One bullet grazed his head and caused swelling in his brain. We’re praying for a full recovery.” His sadness was so palpable, the housekeeper patted his shoulder and shot me a nasty look.

  He waited until she left before continuing. “You are not here to ask about Josh. Magda told you the true story about your father, did she? It’s not what the world believes.”

  “No, Graham told me what little he knows. Magda has been on a vendetta ever since they died. She blamed my grandfather, I believe, and she’s not happy with me for returning to his house. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because I’m afraid General Defense may be involved in your son’s shooting. I’m hoping you will trust Graham and me to track down the shooter.”

  He looked even sadder as he sipped his coffee. “I warned Josh multiple times that he was in over his head, but he wanted to make a name for himself. He didn’t want to ride on my coat tails, as he put it. He’s a good man, but he’s never had to raise money the way I did. I fear he’s financially naïve. Jesus World was all his own idea, a means to finance his school building projects.”

  “Just buying the park land would have cost heaven and earth. He needed wealthy supporters,” I said without inflection, sipping my tea—an excellent Darjeeling.

  “His mother left him much of that property. He has ardent supporters who helped with the planning and fundraising. Joshua is dedicated to his cause, to both the school program and the park.” The wily fox waited to see how much I knew.

  “Your son publicly supports Paul Rose’s candidacy for president, and Paul Rose’s confederates financially support your son’s projects in return. I am not my parents’ daughter for nothing—I understand what happens behind the scenes. From the looks of it, the embezzler at General Defense ran his ill-gotten gains through your son’s foundation. I would like to believe your son knew nothing of this. Perhaps he found out and is in a position to testify?” I suggested.

  The old man’s face collapsed in a waterfall of wrinkles as he rested his chin on his chest. “He swore to me that he knew nothing of the embezzlement from GenDef, but he admitted he left the financials to others. His interest was in fundraising and overseeing the park. I believe him. He isn’t a political creature. He accepts people at face value. I wouldn’t trust GenDef’s management, but Josh has no reason to question them. They don’t hate him as they do me.”

  “I want to believe that for my sister’s sake. Juliana admires your son and is devoted to the school program. She’s been taking classes and helping out at the park, but there are activities there that even caused her to doubt. Like your son, she takes people at face value, so if she dared to question those activities. . .”

  “Perhaps Josh did too, you’re asking? It’s possible. He wouldn’t have confided in me, if he did. Father-son rivalry is never pretty, and he would hate to admit that he had been wrong. So if you’re hoping I can lead you in the right direction, you’ll have to return to Amadeus empty-handed.”

  I rubbed my brow and sought a new direction—missing students. “Did he ever mention anything of the concert tickets and parties his students attended? I believe the tickets were provided by some of the park’s sponsors.”

  The good reverend frowned. “He mentioned that the foundation was often given concert tickets, and the students enjoyed rubbing elbows with the sponsors. Part of the school training is about fundraising, so I assume learning to visit with the wealthy was part of his program. But I would be wary of anything voluntarily given by some of his corporate sponsors. They are wicked men of Mammon, not of God.”

  Well, now I knew where Magda had come up with the reference to Mammon.

  “Anyone you specifically consider wicked? Embezzlement and shooting cover a lot of territory.”

  He narrowed his eyes, presumably in thought. “I am not close to the park project and don’t know all the names involved. But some of Rose’s close friends have been mentioned, and I wouldn’t trust most of them. George Paycock from GenDef, of course, was on the board. He’s been known as a womanizer for years and now he’s been accused of embezzling. Tony Jeffery, George’s boss, actually seems to be a decent fellow, though. I believe I heard Tony’s daughter Laura might take George’s place. Ed Parker is still on the board, I believe, but I’ve never heard anything untoward of him. He fancies himself an intellectual, but that doesn’t make him wicked. I wouldn’t suspect him of hurting anyone and certainly not Josh.”

  I wished I dared record this, but I didn’t want to interrupt his ruminations.

  “The others, well—Archie Broderick was on the park board. I would be suspicious of anything he did, but since his media corporation collapsed, I haven’t heard any scandal about him. Goldrich, from the mortgage company, has always been slime. I wouldn’t trust him with my piggy bank. Neil Hammond, from Hammond oil, has been going through a messy divorce. I wouldn’t trust him with my daughter, if I had one, but he doesn’t need money. If it helps, I’ll try to think of others involved in the project.”

  I nodded, not giving away that I’d had anything to do with the demise of several of those greedmeister careers. “Please, if you would. I think I know most of the names, but it wouldn’t hurt to compare. Did Josh ever mention drop-outs from his program?” I asked, digging desperately to the bottom of my list of questions.

  “Not that I’m aware of, but drop-outs are hardly unusual. Most of the students are young and don’t know what they wish to make of their lives yet. Dedicating their lives to helping others is not always a gratifying path, as Amadeus learned the hard way. What is he doing now? I was told he was dead until he called and reassured me otherwise.”

  Fair was fair. I gave him a carefully edited version of Graham’s successful security business without explaining that he was hiding in our attic using a dead man’s name.

  “And your mother?” he asked when I finished. “You said she was on a vendetta. Does she still believe in her conspiracy theory about your father’s death?”

  “As far as I’m aware, evil finds evil, so there will always be connections that invite conspiracy theories. Whether there is any actual purpose or intelligent thought behind those connections is a matter of opinion. Magda doesn’t confide in me. You might be interested to know that another of her daughters is currently dating Sean O’Herlihy, son of another of my father’s friends.
It’s a small world.”

  He almost smiled. “It’s good to know the world goes on despite the devastation we inflict upon it. Shall I give your name to the hospital as someone allowed to visit Josh when he awakens?”

  Do boll weevils love cotton? I tried not to display my eagerness when I nodded. “Graham would appreciate that.” I had saved my warning for last, hoping not to alarm a frail old man, but he seemed to still be a tough buzzard, so I added, “He also told me to tell you that it would be best to station guards at your son’s door. If Joshua knows something worth being killed for, there’s likely to be another attempt. Graham can provide the guards, if you like.”

  I threw in that last on my own. I hated to worry the old man who had been so kind, if not helpful. Graham could suck it up.

  Reverend Arden closed his eyes as if in prayer, then nodded reluctantly. “Yes, I think that would be best. I know police are stationed there now, but one never knows. . . .”

  “Exactly. One never knows. I’ll tell Graham to increase the security. Please, let us know if you hear anything, and I mean anything, that might help us get to the bottom of this. I believe my grandfather would have wanted us to help.”

  An old-fashioned gentleman, he rose when I did, holding out his hand to take the card I offered. “Max would have had his hand in the pie, one way or another. He was a man of Mammon, also, craving riches, so we did not always agree. Still, after Magda’s departure, I believe he learned wealth was not everything. He told me shortly before his death that he was shedding his investments in the weapon industry.”

  Pow, socked in the jaw with still another reason why Max might have died, but the reverend didn’t need to know that, and I didn’t want to invite Magda’s conspiracy theories. We made our farewells, and I called for my Uber car as the housekeeper led me to the door. As we waited, I impulsively handed the woman my card. “If the reverend needs anything, let us know. His family and mine are old friends, and we need to look out for each other in these desperate times.”

  I gave her one of my real cards, with my real name. She glanced down and smiled when she read it. “Brody’s daughter? Your parents were frequent visitors long, long ago. I think Josh may have had a crush on your mother at one time.”

  I almost sank through the floor and simply nodded dumbly as the same car that had brought me here blew its horn in the drive. Learning the past had a twisted way of affecting the present.

  The football hero reverend and my cynical, devious mother? The mind boggled.

  Chapter 16

  “Nick brought more presents!” EG exclaimed, dancing through the hall when I returned home. “And Zander is upstairs wrapping his. This will be the best Christmas ever!”

  No matter how world-weary I became, I’d always have this moment of pure joy. The cynical, purple-haired gremlin who had showed up at my door last spring was now an almost-normal nine-year-old bouncing with perfectly ordinary holiday excitement.

  “We’re all buying you toads,” I told her, hanging onto the tote bag on my shoulder which held a few stocking stuffers I’d picked up on the way home from my visit with Josh Arden’s father. “Purple toads, sparkly toads, horned toads. How many are we for dinner?”

  Being a fan of bats and not toads, she grimaced and attempted to peek in my bag.

  “The gang’s all here,” Nick announced, emerging from the library across the hall. “Patra is upstairs with Juliana, primping and exchanging dirty family secrets.”

  “The whole gang?” I asked, lifting a knowing eyebrow as EG gave up on spying and danced off to examine presents again.

  “Well, except the head cuckoo,” he said, understanding. “Mallard is crushed but keeping a stiff upper lip.”

  Our tough butler idolized Magda, doting on the memory of her as a little girl. He tolerated us because we’d brought her home after all these years. Magda thrived on adrenalin these days and would never settle down, but like so many, Mallard liked to dream of the good old days that never really were.

  “Now, if we could drag Graham from the attic, we could have a true three-ring circus,” I said in mixed satisfaction and frustration. I wanted family around me. Graham was becoming part of my family, but he refused to acknowledge it. Smart boy.

  Zander trailed out of the library bearing his tablet computer. He solemnly showed us the screen.

  Body-sniffing dogs had led the police to the grave in Julie’s photos. They’d uncovered one corpse and the dog indicated there were others. The headlines screamed about the good reverend being a suspect. Dang. I’d been afraid of that.

  Pragmatically, I hoped it drew attention away from Julie, because I knew she wouldn’t let up about her missing friends. I wanted her under the radar while we searched.

  “The truth will out,” I said. “We just need to see that it’s the whole truth. We’ll talk about it after dinner.”

  Mallard, as usual, had produced a feast fit for the varied diets of an eccentric family. I noted with interest that the twins dived into my favorite dish—a Persian frittata made with spinach and goat cheese. Nick, Tudor, and EG preferred the meatloaf and potatoes—although Mallard’s wizardry had added cheese and nearly-invisible vegetables for the nutrition-avoiders. Model-thin Patra took minuscule shares of everything, particularly the vegetable side dishes, preferring to taste but not to actually eat a full meal.

  Copper-haired adolescent Tudor was an introvert like me, but even he relaxed at a table full of people capable of understanding his formidable mind. I’m not a Pollyanna by any means. If we’d all been raised to sit at the table together every night of our lives, we’d probably have abraded each other’s weak spots until our patience wore out. The fights would have been the stuff of legend.

  But we were still in that happy getting-to-know-each-other stage, and it was Christmas. This was as close to peace on earth, goodwill toward men that could be expected, and I lapped up every minute of it. I needed to store the joy for the bleak days to come, when they all left again.

  “I brought home an ornament-painting kit,” I announced after dessert—a Black Forest Cake to die for, given the level of cholesterol ingested. “EG, I thought you could use some of the paints for finishing that camel for the Christmas play at school. Tudor, I thought you could use Graham’s 3-D printer to make your own ornaments for EG to paint.”

  Tudor gaped. “A 3-D printer? Really? May I go upstairs now?”

  The candelabra centerpiece—Graham’s window on our world—didn’t object, bless his pea-pickin’ heart. Our attic spider liked encouraging Tudor’s dangerous technical skills.

  “The kit with the paint is on my upstairs desk. Take a look at what real ornaments look like so we don’t end up with all Star Wars figures, please. EG?” I lifted an eyebrow in her direction.

  She wasn’t enthusiastic about the camel, but at the mention of Star Wars figures, I could see her contemplating what evil ornaments she could persuade Tudor to make. She nodded and trotted off after him. I knew my siblings. They might want to know everything that was going on, but they were still kids. They liked their toys. And they were smart enough to know they could fish out interesting information later, after the boring talk.

  “You are wickedly manipulative,” Nick admonished as he produced the brandy from the sideboard.

  “I learned from the best.” I poured hot water over a ginger-infusion tea.

  “You have a creative mind that took what you learned to the outer limits,” Patra corrected, not necessarily with approval, as I poured her tea.

  Zander sampled Nick’s brandy. Juliana went for the tea. Both intelligently sat back and waited.

  The Council of War had begun.

  “Have you heard from your friend yet?” I asked Juliana.

  She frowned and shook her head. “I heard a woman’s scream before the gunshots. Maryam wasn’t home. I am very worried. It is not like her to not respond to my calls.”

  I hadn’t put together a timeline yet, but I doubted there would be time to bury a body
in this scenario, and the police would have found any other bodies by now. There was hope for Maryam.

  “But the police only found Arden at the scene, and the security tapes don’t show anyone else present. No women,” Zander said. “Mr. Graham has the most amazing contacts. We know everything the police know.”

  I wouldn’t tell our goody-two-shoe siblings that Graham had probably hacked police computers. There was some possibility he came by the information legitimately. He occasionally surprised me—not often, but sometimes.

  “How much of the area where the shooting took place was covered by the cameras?” Nick asked, sprawling his long legs under the table and tilting his chair back. “And why do we care what happens to a pompous airhead?”

  Since that had been my question earlier, I had to point out the less-than-obvious. “Because Magda cares. And because Julie—and her friend—may be in danger. And because Reverend William Arden, Josh’s father, is Graham’s friend.”

  “Really?” Patra suddenly looked interested. “Could he get me in to talk to the son when he wakes up? I’ve already taken the information about the park’s money problems and built up background, but if I could have Josh Arden’s story. . .”

  We had Patra hooked and on the case. I lifted my eyebrows at Nick. We’d been through enough together that he understood without words. He tossed back a swallow of his brandy.

  “The Brits pretty much know everything we know about Rose and his partners. Presidential elections are hot topics over there. My boss would owe me if I provide whatever we find out about the embezzlement at GenDef and its connection to the park, since GenDef is an international weapons dealer suspected of selling to terrorists,” he admitted. “Not exactly altruistic reasons, but I’ll help where I can.”

  “World peace is a reason,” the candelabra intoned. “Which might happen if you’ll remove your mother from the premises. She is currently dragging an ex-CIA agent through the mud at the park, along with the police chief. She will undoubtedly be parked at the hospital next, and has an appointment in GenDef’s office at noon tomorrow.”