Never Murder a Birder

by Edie Claire

  She whipped out her phone and clicked into the message thread.

  Only yearbook I can find is 1989, but it has two Finneys, Bruce and Sharonna.

  Leigh’s heart beat fast. The internet was an amazing thing. Below Allison’s text were two copied pictures. Both were black and white, mugshot-type class photos. The first was of a boy, clearly recognizable as the man with the prominent brow bone that Leigh had seen in the coffee shop. His face was thinner, his hair was wilder, and a goofy grin made him look like a total idiot, but his features were unmistakable. The girl in the second picture didn’t look like a high schooler so much as an entrant for a beauty pageant. Dark hair billowed around her face in a giant fluffy cloud, her cheekbones were perfectly sculpted, and her dark eyes glittered like showy, precious gems. She gazed up and to the side with her chin cocked slightly downward, her generous, well-defined lips tilting up a tiny bit at the corners, as if to say, “Yes, you know I’m gorgeous!”

  Oh my. So this was Sharonna. Allison had followed up with another text.

  The boy was a junior and the girl was a sophomore. No extracurriculars, which is kind of weird. You want me to look up anything else? I’m bored.

  Leigh looked around the dining area and found two separate conversations going on. The birders couldn’t seem to agree over whether the sparrow across the lawn was a savannah or a grasshopper, and Joyce was back in tears again because she didn’t think Snowbell would be comfortable staying in a strange RV.

  Leigh squelched her conscience again. Allison said she was bored, didn’t she?

  I don’t suppose you could flip through that yearbook and see if any of the girls look like me? As in, is there anybody in there who could be mistaken for me now?

  Leigh sent off the text and put her phone away again, confident that Allison was on it. Not being particularly interested in either live conversation, she decided to take a few dirty dishes back to the kitchen for Bev. While she was at it, she noticed that there was one more piece of biscotti than there were lemon bars left, so she kindly took it on herself to make the portions equal again.

  After several more minutes of discussion, the bird had been identified by consensus as a savannah sparrow, and Joyce had come up with the idea that, rather than relocate her cat, one of her friends should come over and sleep with Snowbell at night. This proposition proved not nearly as popular, and as the women began to make excuses for why they couldn’t leave their own pets and spouses, Leigh slipped her phone out of her pocket again.

  Allison had replied already. Port Mesten must have been a small high school.

  Um… I’m guessing no. These three are the closest. I mean, people change, but… Well, see for yourself. Still, like, just… no.

  Leigh exhaled slowly as she scrolled through the black and white pictures that followed. What Allison had said, in teen-speak, was accurate. The girls in the photos all had dark hair and dark eyes and basically oval faces, and they lacked really obvious identifying traits like giant noses or buck teeth. But none of them looked similar enough to Leigh to be confused with her.

  Strike that idea, Leigh thought with discouragement, even though she knew it was a longshot. Then again, this was just one yearbook. The younger two Finneys weren’t even in it. Speaking of which…

  Can you find me present-day pictures of Janelle Finney and Russell Finney? They would be a few years younger, grew up in Port Mesten. Janelle works in Corpus Christi at Finney biz, don’t know about Russell.

  Leigh hit the send button with a feeling of optimism. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? She and Warren had given Allison access to various databases for her twelfth birthday, and the girl enjoyed her research. Was Leigh’s asking for her help so terribly wrong, just because the people in question could be criminals?

  Yes, you terrible mother!

  Leigh forced herself to rejoin the conversation in the dining room. Joyce had finally found someone in the group willing to leave her own motorhome and sleep over with Snowbell for a few days, and she was smiling for the first time all afternoon. “Oh, I am so relieved!” she gushed. “Snowbell will be so happy, she’ll cuddle up with you all night long. And I did so want to go on the cruise. Really, I did!”

  Everyone’s mood lifted, and the next time Bev passed around the goody platter, it came back empty. Leigh hobbled over to pour herself a second cup of tea, obsessively checked her phone again, and was amazed to find that she already had texts waiting.

  She debated whether she could politely read them. None of the other women were fussing with their phones at the moment, and the conversation had become more lively and all-inclusive. But she needn’t have worried, because before she could take her seat again, Joyce had realized that Shirley couldn’t possibly move in with Snowbell, because Shirley had two cats of her own, and if Snowbell smelled other cats in her bed she would certainly begin to pee all over everything…

  Leigh read through the texts. The first was a screenshot of Janelle Finney’s profile from a business networking site. It listed her as VP of Financial Strategy for Finney Enterprises, Inc., with various other, lesser titles in her resume, all with the family company. The profile was devoid of any extraneous information. The picture was of an unsmiling woman with very short, fair hair in a boyish cut. Her shoulders were thin and hunched. She wore dark-framed glasses that dominated her long face, and her chin was pointed with a prominent cleft. She couldn’t possibly look less like her older brother and sister; although Leigh could see a definite resemblance to the pictures she’d seen of Cortland.

  When she scrolled to the next image, her breath caught in her throat. Not a hundred percent sure about this one, Allison’s accompanying note explained. No link to sibs. But geographical area fits. The photograph was from a social media site. It was a snapshot of a man sitting in a boat holding a bottle of beer in his hand. He was wearing nice casual clothes and appeared to be having a great time.

  Leigh stared at the familiar cocky stance, the half-grown beard, the chiseled jaw. Her blood ran cold.

  Hello, Mr. Handsome.

  Russell Finney. Sibling number three.

  So, she had not been recognized by a random local stranger after all. There was nothing random about him. Three people in Port Mesten had mistaken her for the same person. All three of them had been Finneys.

  All three of them could be murderers.

  Leigh slipped the phone back into her pocket with a shaky hand. She would text Allison her thanks later. Right now, she had to think. Whoever this accursed mystery double was, the woman was causing Leigh way more trouble than any innocent party deserved to have on vacation. And it was going to stop.

  Now.

  First order of business: Leigh’s appearance. If this woman looked like her, then Leigh wouldn’t. How hard could that be?

  Second order of business: disappearing. Bev was right, she needed to switch rooms immediately. Unfortunately, the master keys Sharonna had managed to steal before could probably give her access to any room in the Silver King Hotel, which was legally owned by all four of the individuals Leigh wanted to avoid. She and Warren should stay in Corpus Christi, like they had planned originally. She would have some awkward explaining to do, but she could still drive back to visit Hap and Bev during the day…

  Leigh frowned. Her instinct for self-preservation was strong, but she was also angry. Angry at the injustice of being uprooted when she hadn’t done anything wrong. She liked staying here near the beach, dammit — being in a walkable tourist town, hanging with Bev and Hap, and eating Bev’s delicious food. Now that she’d gotten a taste of family hospitality, the idea of staying in a generic city hotel held no appeal. Besides, from a purely practical standpoint, if she was going to spend any time in Port Mesten and someone was determined to tail her, could they not tail her to any hotel, even if it was in Corpus?

  She made a split-second decision, and her jaws clenched. She would disguise herself — just enough. And, regrettably, she would leave the Silver King. But she would n
ot leave Hap and Bev, and she would not go far.

  “Joyce?” she said brightly.

  Eyes liberally streaked with mascara looked up at her mournfully.

  “If there’s room in your motorhome for two,” Leigh offered, “my husband and I would love to cat-sit Snowbell.”

  Chapter 7

  Leigh adjusted Bev’s floppy sun hat on her head, making sure the brim obscured as much of her face as possible while still permitting her to peer out. Her hair was covered by a bright scarf, and she wore a lightweight summery button-down shirt and casual capris. On the beach in Port Mesten she would blend right in, even if her headgear did put one in mind of a more fragile lady who was decades older.

  Leigh was not on a beach in Port Mesten, however. She was not on a beach anywhere. She was sitting at a table in the main cafeteria of the twenty-eight story luxury office tower which housed the headquarters of Finney Enterprises. And she felt like an idiot.

  But there was no turning back now. She had risen early and commuted into the city with Warren, and she’d occupied herself pleasantly enough all morning with a driving tour of the bayfront area and a visit to the Texas State Aquarium. Corpus Christi was an easy city in which to pass a day, even with blisters on her feet. But she had not come primarily as a tourist.

  Her main objective had been a gut-level desire to get the hell away from Sharonna Finney. Since Joyce and Wayne weren’t vacating their motorhome until later today, Bev and Hap had relocated the Harmons to a different room in the Silver King last night. Sharonna had been nowhere around during the moving process and, if she bothered to ask, would be led to believe the couple had checked out. Still, Leigh had slept uneasily, even behind a heavy slide bolt no master key could open. This morning she and Warren had packed their bags and left them at Bev’s place, so nothing remained at the hotel for Sharonna to snoop through, whether she discovered their ruse or not. Still, Leigh did not care to run into the woman in the parking lot.

  Leigh’s second objective in coming to Corpus Christi was harder to justify. But as much as she wanted to stay away from the Finneys themselves, her curiosity over the existence of her mystery double was eating her alive. Who the heck was this woman, and did she really look that much like Leigh? All through the sleepless night, her brain had mulled the possibilities. This doppelganger knew at least three of the four Finney sibs. But since no one else in Port Mesten had yet to recognize Leigh, the odds seemed high that her look-alike knew the family through the business, rather than their hometown. What harm could there be in Leigh’s placing herself where she might happen to see a random sampling of Finney Enterprises employees? As long as she herself was disguised, there would be no risk to it. Besides, she had to eat lunch somewhere, didn’t she?

  She reached out and dipped another french fry into her white-paper ketchup container. The fries had gone cold long ago and were soggy to begin with, but she was too bored to leave them uneaten. She’d been picking at her lunch for an hour now and hadn’t spied a single candidate, and she was frustrated with her own disappointment. She’d known that her chances of seeing the woman were slim. Even if she did work for the family business, there was no guarantee she would be eating lunch in this particular place, either today or ever. But Leigh had been hopeful anyway. Finally, with a sigh of disgust, she tossed her dirty napkins on top of the remaining three broken fries and scooted back her chair.

  Just as she rose and grabbed her tray, she saw a familiar face walking toward her. But it was not her own face. It was a face from one of the photographs that Allison had texted last night. The photograph of Janelle Finney.

  Leigh sank back down into her seat. Janelle hadn’t noticed her. The corporate exec, who was wearing a gray pencil skirt, matching suit jacket, and understated pumps, had emerged from parts unknown without a lunch tray and made a beeline for some man two tables over. She was standing over him now, talking earnestly, while tapping her finger at a folder tucked under her arm.

  Leigh couldn’t hear any of their conversation, but Janelle wasn’t smiling. The man to whom she was talking had his back to Leigh, but the other faces at the table appeared uniformly uncomfortable, perhaps sympathetic.

  Delighted with her luck, Leigh continued to study the youngest Finney daughter with impunity. Janelle was so thin she was practically skeletal, with blue veins standing out in her neck and running across her temples. Her fair hair was cut too short and styled too severely to flatter her already angular features, and the contrast of its hipster styling with her more conservative outfit and black-frame glasses was jarring. Her thin lips wore a frown, and the deep grooves around her mouth gave one the idea that such a position was their default. Her conversation with the man at the table seemed to be growing increasingly heated, but Janelle did not sit and he did not stand.

  Leigh toyed with the brim of her hat as she pondered. She could easily believe this woman to be the type who lived at the office, so it made sense that Hap and Bev would rarely, if ever, find her haunting her old hometown just for kicks. And if Leigh’s mystery double was a part of Finney Enterprises, there was no question that Janelle would know her.

  Hmmmm. Should she?

  Leigh threw a glance around the crowded room. She was perfectly safe here. What could happen? All she needed to do was register a reaction. Once she had the information in question, she could get up and leave. If she had any more trouble with the other Finneys, at least she would have a better idea why.

  Her hands moved to remove the floppy hat. Then she untied the scarf. Her hair had to look like hell at the moment, but she couldn’t obsess over that. What she needed to do was get Janelle to look her way. But inconspicuously, of course.

  She gave her hair a quick fluff, then faked a cough. Nobody paid any attention. She tried a fake sneeze next, but that didn’t work either, except that the man next to her glared and moved his tray away. When Janelle drifted to the side slightly, it was clear the conversation was nearing its end, and Leigh got bold. She stood up, lifted her tray, then “accidentally” lost hold of it, allowing it to fall back onto the table with a clatter.

  Janelle looked in her direction. Leigh allowed their gazes to meet, trying to keep her own expression innocent and apologetic, even as she studied the other woman’s pale blue orbs. Does she know me? What is she thinking?

  The answer to the first question was obvious. One look at Leigh’s face and Janelle’s pupils dilated, her cheeks flared, and her body froze in place.

  Oh, yeah. She knows me.

  But the reaction, although conveniently unmistakable, was way too dramatic to be comforting. If the mystery double was a normal employee of the company, Janelle would recognize her, but not be surprised to see her. Could she be surprised that she was dressed so casually? Or… was it more that Janelle had just seen the same woman five minutes ago, three floors up, dressed entirely differently?

  Oh, crap.

  Perhaps this experiment wasn’t such a great idea after all. Leigh picked up her tray again. It was time to make her exit. She stepped back from the table, scooted her chair in, then dared another look at Janelle.

  The executive was still staring at her like a statue. But in the next second, Janelle regrouped. She swallowed, straightened her back, and readjusted her jacket. Then, with her eyes intentionally holding Leigh’s, she gave one subtle but clear sign: a sharp nod.

  What the…

  Leigh kept watching, but Janelle’s gaze moved away and she began talking to someone else at the table. Utterly baffled, Leigh carried her tray to the conveyor belt and loaded it on. She had to walk right behind Janelle to get there, but the businesswoman made no move to intercept her. When Leigh turned from the conveyor belt, she caught Janelle watching her again, surreptitiously.

  Leigh found the nearest door and used it. This whole thing was getting entirely too weird. If Janelle knew her as a coworker who was dressed inappropriately, why wouldn’t she just approach Leigh and say, “Hey, what’s up with the outfit?” Janelle’s initial bewild
erment would make sense if she were literally seeing double, but what of the crazy nod afterward? How did that make sense? The gesture was so emphatic, yet so covert, Leigh could swear Janelle was trying to send her a secret message. But whatever she had to say, why didn’t she just say it?

  Leigh walked down a half flight of stairs to a mezzanine, then paused to stare over the railing at the people milling about in the busy lobby below. The scarf stayed in her pocket, but she put Bev’s floppy hat back on and pulled it down low. She’d had enough cloak and daggers for one day. It was time to go back to anonymity. Maybe check out the Museum of Science and History and hang with some mannequins for a while.

  She turned to look for the nearest staircase leading down to street level, then jumped a little. Janelle stood at the base of the stairs Leigh had just come down. She was watching Leigh silently.

  Leigh stared back for an uneasy two seconds. Then, thoroughly creeped out, she began walking the opposite direction. She found a staircase leading down and took it. She mingled with the buzzing crowd in the lobby, made her way to the revolving front door, and exited. She walked half a block in the welcome sunshine, then spied a concrete bench by a palm tree and parked herself. She needed to think.

  This was nuts. She was nuts. She would put her scarf and sunglasses back on and spend the rest of the week incognito if she had to, but whatever was up with the Finney kids and Faux-Leigh, she wanted nothing to do with it.

  A cool shadow passed over her as someone briefly blocked the sun. Then Janelle sat down beside her.

  Leigh sprang up. “Why are you following me?” she demanded, jumping away.

  Janelle’s baby blue eyes widened again. She looked almost embarrassed. “Don’t you want me to?”

  Leigh’s answer didn’t come for a beat. It took a while for her to process the question. Her pursuer seemed genuinely perplexed. How weird was this? “No-oo!” she stammered.