Twin Genius

by Patricia Rice

  The next morning, after a shower and a good night’s sleep, I was ready for whatever the world flung at me. I might even have floated on air a little bit. I didn’t have a romantic bone in my body, thank goodness, but Graham had done my ego, and my hormones, a lot of good.

  Juliana’s and Zander’s doors were closed. They’d come home, at least.

  EG was the only one at the breakfast table. I handed her Tudor’s warped hunk of plastic. “Paint this for me, will you? With red and gold stars and not black and purple?”

  She squinted at the misshapen object, then up at me. “Why?”

  “Because I asked you to? Because that’s my special ornament for the tree. Because it makes me happy. Take your pick.” I poured my tea and grabbed a wheat bagel.

  “You want to hang this?” she asked in incredulity. “It’s ugly!”

  “To me, it’s real. It’s not glimmer and flash and make-believe. Trust me.” I left her contemplating the lump and wandered toward the stairs to my office. I had work to do.

  Magda intercepted me in the hall. “Keep Julie out of that dreadful park!”

  “And good morning to you, too.” I sipped from my mug and admired her early morning attire of tailored black slacks and silk sweater topped by a dashing red and gold scarf. She wore her not-completely-natural blond hair in an elegant chignon. I was in my usual denim maxi and Henley. I’m short. Slacks never fit and look awful on me. “You don’t admire dinosaurs and pyramids?” I asked when she simply scowled at my greeting.

  “I don’t admire dead girls. Stay out of this one, Ana, and keep Julie out as well. The Ardens and I are old friends. I’ll handle it.”

  “Ummm hmmm.” I sipped my tea and ignored her curtness, as I would her orders. I didn’t do the screaming arguments of my adolescence any longer, and I was feeling mellow today. “Did you have a chance to talk to Josh yesterday or is he still in a coma? And when you stop by GenDef this morning, get photos of Jeffrey’s bodyguards, if you would. He has his own personal army.”

  So, my version of mellow was to reveal I knew she was sniffing around my case. I made up that last part about an army just to annoy. It could be true, for all I knew. I’ll have to admit, honesty isn’t as much fun as making stuff up.

  “Stop spying on me,” she shouted at Graham’s bugged chandelier, knowing where I’d got my information. She stormed off to the breakfast room.

  Good, she and EG needed a little personal time. EG would be thrilled.

  As I settled into my basement desk, the intercom interrupted. “You and Magda fight as if you were sisters.”

  I finished my tea before answering. “If you think about it, the difference in age between me and Magda is about the same as between me and EG. I’m the middle child.”

  Graham snorted. “Then let your older sister deal with GenDef and Jeffrey. She’s right. You need to stay out of it, Ana.”

  “Let me know when you need another attitude adjustment.” I flipped off the switch. There was nothing I liked better than a little opposition. I had no intention of leaving Julie and her friends as walking targets.

  I had connections to find between a weapons manufacturer CEO, his bodyguards, an embezzler, and the park. If I could throw in two skinheads and a champagne-guzzling party crowd, I’d do that too. It would be a gift to myself.

  Chapter 19

  Julie admired the tilted Christmas tree in the weak morning sun through the open draperies. She found Zander’s ornament among the greenery—a surfing Santa. He’d spent a summer at the beach with friends learning to surf and had vowed to go back one day. But life had never given him the opportunity.

  Now that she had a safe computer and could use her bank account again, she had ordered gifts online, but she couldn’t think of what ornament she wanted to hang. Her future in building schools seemed to be in jeopardy. She wondered if the school was still having classes, but she was afraid to call anyone and ask. At least being out of work didn’t leave her homeless.

  Her phone rang. Maryam. She answered immediately.

  “Nicholas says he has made an appointment to talk to the detective at the police station at ten,” Maryam said worriedly. “I do not wish to go. I saw nothing. Can you and Lucas not do it?”

  “Lucas needs your corroboration. All you’re doing is giving them information. You’ve done nothing wrong,” Julie reminded her. “They will take statements and it will all be over.”

  Nicholas had tried to reassure her that once the police had statements, Julie would no longer be a suspect, but she was as terrified as Maryam. The detective had been mean and intimidating, and she really didn’t want him asking questions over and over again. She didn’t do well under pressure.

  But she believed in honesty and wanted to help Reverend Arden, so she must face the task.

  “My papa will hate this,” Maryam said miserably. “He didn’t want me to come here. I will have to go home and marry our horrible neighbor.”

  “We will figure out our futures another day. Today, we talk to the police,” Julie said firmly. “Is Nicholas there yet?” He’d left with the limo last night after dropping off her and Zander at Ana’s mansion.

  Her mansion. She and Zander owned a share of a mansion. It was hard to comprehend. They’d never been poor, but they’d always lived modestly.

  “Lucas is talking to him now in the front room. I have spent two nights with him! This is all wrong. Your sister said I could go home if I told you what I know.”

  “Only after you give the police a statement, and they say you may go. Those men could come back and try to kill the reverend! We must stop them. Lucas has behaved himself, has he not?” Julie paced the room, wondering if she should let Maryam talk to Ana. But she didn’t like to be a nuisance or behave like an incompetent child.

  “He’s bossy, like my brother,” Maryam said petulantly. “They’re telling me to hurry up. I will see you shortly.”

  Holding her tacky nylon coat and watching out the window for the limo, Julie startled when Mrs. Hostetter—Magda—her mallie entered. She had a mother who looked like a movie star. That was almost harder to believe than the mansion.

  “There you are! Don’t you look lovely this morning.” Magda glanced disapprovingly at the nylon coat. “We need to take you shopping. And then I’ve arranged for you to meet with someone who is very interested in building schools in underprivileged countries. Come along, and we’ll have time to hit the stores before the meeting.”

  She threw on a fur coat and marched on high heels for the foyer.

  Julie stared after her.

  Magda turned around impatiently. “Well, come on. What are you waiting for?”

  “Nicholas,” Julie said politely. “And Maryam. They are to pick me up shortly. Could we not have this meeting another day?”

  “I don’t know that I can stay another day. Whatever Nick is doing, it can wait. We have important people expecting us.”

  Julie was torn. She’d been taught to respect her elders, and she’d idolized her mother from a distance all her life. Magda was offering her the opportunity she’d been working toward, the reward for all her hard efforts without the inconvenience of training with JACAD. How could she say no?

  She had nothing to offer that the detective didn’t already know—but Maryam needed her. Maryam wasn’t accustomed to being around men like Lucas and Nicholas. She would freeze and say nothing or run away. Maryam always ran away.

  Julie’s shoulders slumped. “I cannot. I made a promise, and I cannot renege on it. I am sorry to disappoint.”

  Magda opened her phone and hit a number. Without speaking to Julie, she said curtly into the phone, “Ana, you will come up here and talk with your sister. She is throwing away her career for nothing. Make her understand.”

  Julie thought she heard a crash emanate from the phone and hid a smile. She did not know Ana well, but she knew enough to know her sister would not like that tone of voice or an order like that. Perhaps she should take lessons from Ana.

&
nbsp; Julie’s phone rang. To her amusement, the call was from Ana. “Yes?”

  “I can do anything Magda can do, only better,” Ana said distinctly. “Our mother is accustomed to doing whatever she wants, without consideration of any principles but her own. You are under no obligation to obey unless it’s what you want. You are a grown woman, and there’s no reason she should walk into your life now and pretend she knows what’s best for you.”

  “She is telling me what I want to hear,” Julie admitted. “I don’t want to go with Nicholas to the police station. I would much rather go shopping and speak to someone about schools.”

  Ignoring Julie’s conversation, Magda was on her own phone, typing out texts with long red fingernails.

  “That’s your choice to make,” Ana said, although Julie heard disapproval in her voice. “Just don’t let Magda make it for you.”

  Julie’s eyes widened slightly as she realized Ana was right. Adults could make their own choices—and opportunities. As much as she would have liked to have had Magda helping her when she’d been a child. . . or maybe not. Growing up thinking for herself, instead of being controlled as Maryam had been, had made her a stronger person.

  She watched the limo pull up out front. She could explain to Nick. . . .

  “Thank you, Ana. I wish to be fierce, like you. I want to do what is best for all and not just myself. Wish me luck.” With decision, she shut the phone, donned her coat, and proceeded to the front door.

  “I made a promise,” she told Magda as she opened the door. “I must keep it. I would be ashamed of myself if I did not. I hope you will understand.”

  Her mother tilted her sleek blond head, narrowed her eyes, then nodded. “I was younger than you when I made my own choices. I may not approve, but I understand. I would prefer to keep you from making my mistakes.”

  Daringly, Julie leaned over and kissed her mother’s powdery cheek. “Thank you.” She dashed out in the cold before she could change her mind.

  I will not get involved. I will not get involved.

  I set down my phone and forced my attention back to the screen. Julie was an intelligent woman, not a toddler. I could give guidance only when asked.

  I could not call my mother and tell her to take a flying leap off the Washington Monument. She loved us, but her obsessions prevented her from understanding that a real mother would want what was best for her children—not what was convenient for her. When one’s view is global, it’s hard to see the ants you’re walking on.

  “They’ve charged last night’s gunmen on a battery of misdemeanors and working on more.” The intercom interrupted my musings.

  Sometimes, the interfering box said what I wanted to hear, so turning it back on had been too much temptation. “Score one for the good guys,” I muttered, appreciating that Graham had known I needed the reassurance that the bad guys wouldn’t be trying to knock off Julie on the way to the station.

  “Arden is awake,” the intercom continued. “Want to go over to the hospital before your mother does?”

  I was out of my chair before he finished speaking. “You know the way to my heart. Keep an eye on the kids,” I yelled at him, grabbing my army jacket—the faux fur was upstairs. Mallard would see that EG got off to school. Tudor was still asleep. I wasn’t asking Graham to do much, and he certainly had the resources.

  I ran down the hall to the rear exit. I didn’t want to waste time arguing with Magda if she was still upstairs.

  I had several bolt holes to choose from but took the easiest—through Mallard’s kitchen. He looked up without surprise as I scampered through. I would have to buy him a really expensive bottle of red for Christmas. Or better yet, the corner bar.

  EG needed the limo to get to school, so I caught the Metro to Alexandria and had my favorite Uber driver waiting when I emerged from the station.

  “I wasn’t sure it was you,” he said when I climbed in looking like a homeless person in my battered army jacket and Birkenstocks.

  “I come in many flavors.” I texted Graham to let him know where I was—one of the rules I tried to teach my siblings. Always let others know where you are, just in case.

  The driver laughed and left me to my work. For that alone, he’d earned another tip. Graham sent me the name of the person I was to hunt down at the hospital who would slide me past security and into Arden’s room. One of these days, I’d really have to ask myself why I did this kind of thing, but it would probably boil down to—because I could.

  Once upon a time, I had done it for the money. This time, my bank account would be poorer unless I started billing Graham for expenses. Only this particular adventure was for me and mine as much as for Graham. Life was becoming increasingly complicated. I handed over a nice wad of cash to the happy driver and went inside to the hospital information desk and asked for Graham’s contact.

  The stiff-rumped, shaved-head, ex-military security officer I was directed to looked at shrimpy me with suspicion, but I pulled out my passport and proved I was the minion he’d been expecting. I had no idea what story Graham had given, so I didn’t offer any explanations. I just waited until he confirmed my access and led me upstairs, where he passed me off to another guard outside a hospital room door. These weren’t everyday cops, so I was guessing they belonged to Graham’s team.

  The last time I’d visited a hospital, I’d tortured a crook. Today, I had to go in assuming Arden was a good guy—not nearly as much fun.

  The room was filled with bouquets and cards and balloons. A nurse frowned as I entered, but the guard indicated it was okay. She finished taking blood pressure, noted a chart, and left, still scowling. Did I really look that bad?

  The man in the bed did. Far from the powerful golden giant portrayed in his promo shots, Joshua Arden looked pale and waxen. A bandage wrapped his head, and I was guessing another wrapped his torso from the way he was holding his side as he pumped the bed into a sitting position.

  “Security said you needed to talk to me?” he asked weakly, coughing a little.

  “Your father, my mother, my sister, and a whole host of people want to talk to you,” I said, sitting on the edge of a chair where he could see me. “I’m just the one they let in. I’m Ana Devlin. Magda is my mother. Juliana Kruger is my sister.” I waited for his brain on drugs to register all that.

  His eyes almost lit up. “Brody’s daughter? You’re little Anastasia?”

  “I’d rather be called Ana, please. Executed Russian princesses are not my style. Are you up to talking a little?” I could be nice when required.

  “Brody always called you his petit princess. I’m still trying to see you as old enough to be sitting there! Is Magda doing well?” He straightened his shoulders a little, as if just the mention of my mother made him remember his masculinity.

  Up until he was proven guilty, I had to assume this man was innocent, so I was blunt. “My mother is more than doing well, right up until the moment I have to strangle her. She’ll be over here to see you, I’m sure. Don’t let her bully you. All I want to do is find out who shot you so Julie can sleep at night.”

  Well, that was partly the truth. The rest was conspiracy theory.

  “I’ve already told the police I don’t remember anything, I’m sorry. I have no idea why anyone would shoot me. I assume a thief was breaking into the shed, and I caught him by surprise. We must pray that we will win the war on drugs so good men are not tempted by the evil of the devil’s habits.”

  And he looked as if he honestly believed that. God save me from the virtuous. Or perhaps he’d suffered one too many concussions before he retired the field. He really seemed naïve enough to believe all of mankind could be saved from their bad habits if he could just have a word or two with God.

  I opened my phone and showed him the mugshots of our culprits from the hotel. “Do you recognize either of these men?”

  He frowned a little. “The second one looks a little familiar, but it could just be the ring in his nose. Everyone has them these day
s, it seems.”

  “He’s a bodyguard for Tony Jeffrey of General Defense.” Graham had verified that earlier. “Has Jeffrey visited the park or have you visited with him at some point that you may have seen him?”

  He frowned. “Tony always has security. He’s in a dangerous business. He’s been out to the park a few times, so I may have seen this man then. My father doesn’t like his trade, but Tony is a decent man, following in his father’s footsteps as I followed mine.”

  Ah yes, the family business. I was familiar with that line of reasoning, much to my chagrin. “Would Mr. Jeffrey be upset with you for any reason?”

  “Of course not.” He sounded genuinely shocked. “He’s a good Christian who donates time and money to the church and to the park. We’ve never so much as disagreed on any topic. You think Tony would have had me shot?”

  I almost wanted to whack him on the head again. Tony was an arms dealer. What part of “peace on earth, goodwill toward man,” did that fall under?

  “Has he ever asked you to do anything for him or his company?”

  “Besides pray?” Arden shook his head in utter bewilderment, so obviously not understanding my implications that I had to consider his reply genuine. “No, I don’t think so. His wife has multiple sclerosis, so she’s always on our prayer list. Oh, wait, now that I think about it, he’s asked me if I’d support Senator Rose. They’re good friends.”

  Duh. “Did you agree?” I asked impassively.

  “Not exactly,” he said a little warily. “The senator has given generously to the church and park, but I’m not a believer in mixing church and state.”

  The first smart thing I’d heard him say. He looked as if his painkillers were wearing off, and this line of questioning was going nowhere, so I tried a different tack. “Did you authorize the use of bulldozers after hours?”

  He flipped his hand dismissively. “The contractors handle all that.” But he finally looked worried—here was something he was smart enough to know wasn’t quite right.

  “Did the police tell you about the bodies they found in the back lot?”