Dishonor Thy Wife

by Belinda Austin

  He then rips the picture in two and shoves both ends at my face. “Which man do you prefer, Ronni?” he says in an ominous voice.

  I shudder from the look in his eyes. How to answer him? Which answer will get me in the least trouble? “I’m unsure. I don’t think I really know either of you.”

  “Good answer.” Brad walks away, chuckling.

  There is an evil sound in his laughter, making me glad that I forgot to ask about the initials on the white shirt, the Victoria Airport tag on Traci’s stuffed seal, and the Canadian travel bag with the bloody knife.

  Chapter 58

  JAYDEN

  Officer Big Boobs and Detective Pencil Dick were facing me down for the murder of Vanessa.

  Mental note: Quit thinking of the officers as Big Boobs and Pencil Dick or you might call them that to their faces. Remember, Big Boobs is Detective Frisco and Pencil Dick is nicknamed Lead-Belly. Resist the urge to punch the fathead in the gut to test his nickname.

  These two geniuses did not believe that my chemistry was getting in the way of my innocence. “You’re lying about an identical twin,” they snarled with spit in their words.

  “The judge turned down your request for bail, Dr. Tremblay,” Frisco drawled. She imitated a Texas twang, making fun of my alibi. “So you were in Texas at the time of your wife’s murder? Prove it, you lying sack of shit!”

  “The fact that you ran proves you are a flight risk” he said in a high-pitched voice. Between the two of them, she had the balls. Lead-Belly wiped his forehead with a tissue and breathed heavily.

  My eyes kept drifting to his suspenders, which had the same Canucks hockey team logo as the baseball hat left at my pet cemetery. The detectives concluded that I was lying about my crazy twin brother digging up my pets, too.

  “We know that the first thing you’ll do, if you post bail, is to leave Canada for America under the make-believe of helping this supposed woman you claim is your sister-in-law.”

  “But since your dead wife was an only child and you don’t have a sibling, how can you have a sister-in-law?”

  “My twin Brad is married to Ronni, and he married Vanessa,” I insisted for the umpteenth time.

  Frisco rolled her eyes to her partner. “Here we go again with my twin brother killed my wife.”

  “Uh, really his wife.”

  “Uh, his second wife.”

  “Uh, his illegal wife.”

  “Uh, my brother is a bigamist.”

  “Uh, my brother is the star in the video killing my wife.”

  “Vanessa was never my wife. I wasn’t even in the country at the time of her murder,” I repeated in a weary voice.

  “Sure looks like your handwriting on the marriage certificate.” Lead-Belly pretended to jerk off. “Ha, you’ve been spermed,” he said, laughing.

  I clenched my fists and leaned back against the chair, the cheap plastic squeaking. My lower back felt like needles were pricking it, and my skull pounded against my scalp. I rubbed the stubble on my face. I was dead tired, lacking sleep because whenever I closed my eyes, a vision came to me of Vanessa floating in a pool of blood. In the closet was a white coffin with squeaking hinges, causing my skin to crawl. Ronni stared up at me from the coffin with lifeless eyes.

  My heart beat faster and I sounded desperate, “You’ve got to arrest Brad!”

  “Your twin brother you impersonated?” she said.

  “Yes!”

  “Is there anyone on the planet who can confirm that you were in Austin at the time of your wife’s murder, any living soul who can corroborate your story, Dr. Tremblay?” he said.

  “In Austin everyone thought I was Brad, and Vanessa was not my wife!”

  The detectives plopped their dirty shoes on the table and dunked donuts in cold coffee. “Even the internet doesn’t have any information on a Dr. Brad O’Boyle in Austin, Texas,” they both blared out.

  The detectives refused to look further than a quick internet search of Brad’s existence. He must have hired a professional to wipe any mention of him off the internet. I brooded at a cup of strong black coffee Frisco earlier brought me. The word GUILTY was engraved in white letters on the black porcelain.

  “And is there any proof from the airlines that Jayden Tremblay ever flew to America in recent weeks?” She chewed half a donut, spitting out sugary glaze.

  “I told you before and this sounds suspect, but I flew under my brother’s name.”

  “Dr. Brad O’Boyle.” Lead-Belly wheezed when he said the name.

  “How do you expect us to believe a cockamamie story like yours, Dr. Tremblay?” Frisco yelled. “Admit to killing your pregnant wife!” She threw the rest of her donut at the wall.

  “Shame you wasted half a donut, Frisco,” he said. “My partner here is going to lock you in your cell and throw away the key. Confess and save us all some grief so we can pursue justice for your dead wife and unborn child.”

  “We have enough evidence to fry you so admit you killed your pregnant wife and it’ll go easier for you,” she said.

  “Vanessa was not carrying my child. I’m not...I wasn’t the father of her baby.”

  “Oh, now we’re getting somewhere,” he said. “Did you kill your wife, Doctor, because she was having an affair with another man?”

  “You killed her in a jealous rage,” she hollered and smacked her hand against the table.

  Great, now they had a motive. My lawyer advised me not to speak to the police but I spilled the story out of worry for Ronni and Traci. “My brother is a murderer. His wife and daughter may be in danger,” I said again in a ragged voice.

  “This identical twin brother you told us about?” Lead-Belly said and a bit of donut flew from his mouth.

  Well they were a tidy twosome and very much in tune with each other. Frisco’s mouth was open and crumbs from his donut made a slam dunk between her lips, and she swallowed.

  My voice grew more frustrated by the minute. “Brad blamed Ronni for ruining his life. He hates Ronni. The sick son of a bitch killed Vanessa.”

  “You know, if there is a Brad and he is your brother, you just called your mother a bitch,” He said.

  “You are not a nice man, you and this Brad,” Frisco said.

  “He’s faking a split personality to plead insanity,” Lead-Belly added.

  “Your DNA is all over the murder scene. I’ve never seen such a sloppy murder, almost like you were begging us to catch you.” She poked a finger on the table.

  “I told you before that identical twins are the only beings on earth who share exact DNA. Brad and I was one person until the egg split apart into two duplicate people. Brad wanted to get caught because he framed me.”

  “Now why would your identical twin brother, such a close tie as that, want to frame you for murder?” he asked.

  “Revenge,” I answered.

  “Revenge, huh?” Frisco looked at Lead-Belly.

  “Brad believes I slept with his girlfriend.”

  “Ronni?”

  “No, Barbie.”

  “Just how many women are involved here, Dr. Tremblay?” She narrowed her eyes at me, maybe thinking I was a serial killer.

  Lead-Belly picked up the picture I earlier took from my wallet and threw the photo on the table between us. “You still claim this picture of the two of you was taken in Philadelphia?”

  I nodded my head, yes.

  “After your supposed, never-known-existed-long-lost-identical-twin brother and you met?” Frisco added.

  I licked my lips. “You can’t tell us apart can you?”

  “The only thing I see is an image of the Rocky statue stolen from the internet and then two photos of you superimposed with the statue to use as a twin alibi during planning of your wife’s murder. What kind of chumps do you think we are,” Frisco barked.

  “He must have done the duplication trick with a computer,” Lead-Belly added.

  “I just said that,” she said. “You made up this photo to blame your wife’s murder on your
twin. It happens all the time.”

  Smart ass. I had hoped the picture would explain everything and voila, instant twin brother, and they would at least check out my story.

  “What we are looking at in this picture is premeditated murder,” he said.

  “I already said that,” Frisco said with irritation.

  “Look at the major difference. Brad is wearing a wedding ring,” I said, pointing to the photo.

  “And where is your wedding ring, Dr. Tremblay?”

  “Yeah,” Lead-Belly added, “didn’t you love your wife?”

  I snapped my fingers. “My father knows about Brad.”

  “Did your father ever meet your identical twin, the two of you standing side by side in the flesh?” Frisco asked.

  “No.”

  “We do cover all our bases and earlier checked with your father. He confirms you told him the same bullshit story you’re telling us,” she said.

  “Bullshitting is usually inherited from the father right, Frisco?”

  “That’s what the genetic books claim.”

  “We did check with the adoption agency your parents adopted you from and guess what? The agency never heard of a twin brother,” he said.

  “Maybe my brother was adopted from another agency.”

  “Did you ask your brother?” she said.

  “Yes, but he didn’t really know what agency his parents adopted him from.”

  “Of course not,” she said in a motherly voice

  “Course not!”

  “So where does this Ronni O’Boyle, your uh brother’s wife live so we can confirm your story. Can she give you an alibi when your wife Vanessa was killed?” Lead-Belly asked.

  I panicked at the mention of Ronni. “She doesn’t know about the switch.”

  “Of course not,” Frisco said.

  “Course not!”

  “Ronni is in danger. Someone has to warn her about Brad!” I said.

  “Even if this Ronni O’Boyle does exist, we can’t go running to America to tell her to watch out!” Frisco held her fingernails up as if she was saying, boo!

  “We can’t just tell her that her husband is a murderer when we have no proof,” he added.

  “When it’s you who killed Vanessa,” she said.

  “Killed your wife and unborn child.”

  “We know. We know.” Frisco held up her hands in mock horror. “You didn’t marry Vanessa.”

  “Brad did,” they both sang out.

  “Look, Dr. Tremblay, we’ll leave you on your own for a few minutes while you think up a better story to tell us,” he said.

  “Like a confession,” she added.

  The door slammed behind the detectives, and they left me alone with a stale donut and a coffee cup that read GUILTY on the side of the cup.

  I stared into the cesspool depths of the coffee and daydreamed I was home.

  The doorbell rings and I fling the door open.

  She is here, at my house. Ronni has come to me. My weariness turns to adrenaline, just to be in her presence, to look at her sitting on my sofa in my den, a sight imagined a thousand times.

  “Brad?” Her face turns white.

  “I’m Jayden, Brad’s twin. You do believe me?” I grab from the table the photo of Brad and me and shove it at her face. “You can’t tell us apart can you?”

  “It’s you,” she says with wonder and recognizes Jayden Tremblay, a physical carbon copy of her husband, the man who lived in her house, played pool with her, made love to her, slept with her, and sent her flowers.

  She holds a hand to her head as though her skull pains her. “My God, I slept with my husband’s brother! You knew I was your brother’s wife yet pretended to be Brad!”

  She cringes and sinks deeper into the sofa. “You’re no better than he is. You are Brad, all over again. Make the wife think she is crazy. Make me think my husband has a split personality. Make me believe that I am losing my mind. All along you were involved in Brad’s dirty little scheme. Did Brad intend to commit me to an insane asylum, changed his mind, and then murdered me instead? Why else would he keep a bloody knife?”

  “Murdered you? Then you are a ghost! But you’re not transparent.”

  “Well, I can see right through you. The mace,” she screams. “Where’s my purse?” Ronni fumbles around for her purse but the bag is not within reach.

  I stand from the sofa, crushed by her relief that I no longer sit beside her.

  “Brad never told me he had a twin brother. Why have they hidden you? Where did they hide you—the nut house where Brad should have been?”

  “No, I’m in jail for killing my wife, I mean Brad’s wife.”

  She cringes.

  “I don’t mean you, Ronni!”

  “You claim I am a ghost. Why? Did you murder me?”

  “No, Brad did or he intends to kill you, Ronni.”

  Reality crept into my nightmare. The interrogation room came into focus; typical two-way mirror the bozo cops thought was a secret with a metal table, and metal chair. If I stand up, the chair stays frozen to my butt and travels with me.

  My stomach ached but not from the poisonous coffee.

  I took a sip from my GUILTY cup and made a mental note: Do not tell the detectives about sleeping with your sister-in-law else, they will think you even more perverted.

  Chapter 59

  BRAD

  I must resemble a statue, staring at my hands with morbid fascination—these bloody hands though the phrase is just a metaphor.

  To get away with murder, is a rush, and I join the secret ranks of those who have committed the perfect crime. Her husband killed her. Jayden murdered Vanessa. He will rot in prison or receive capital punishment because Vanessa was pregnant. There is no sympathy for a man who kills his wife and unborn child.

  My brother hated me for getting his wife pregnant, so there was even more of an incentive to kill Vanessa and get her out of the way of both of us. Jayden did not want a wife, much less to be saddled with a child joining him to Vanessa's hip. Even after divorce, a kid throws the parents together for birthdays, graduations, weddings, blah, blah, blah, all that joint family junk of a modern family, a mix of mongrels.

  There goes my head pounding again! I swear the baby screamed each time I plunged the knife into Vanessa.

  Shut up! Shut up!

  My thigh hurts like the devil bit me, Vanessa and her pointy teeth. She was stronger than she looked and wore a pair of spiky shoes with metal heels that could slice right through a man’s leg. Bitch! She ruined my perfect murder by leaving an ugly purple bruise on my leg with a gash right through the middle of the bruise.

  The aftermath feels as if we both killed her, drawing me closer to my brother as I filmed her dying. The memory now brings tears to my eyes, to have another meaningful experience with my identical twin, the sharing of murder. How deep can brotherly love go? The sharing of wives. The sharing of murder. I commit the kill; Jayden pays for the crime.

  I have not lost my sense of humor and am laughing so hard my thigh aches. The vice of murder was not charged to my brother’s credit card so really, “just shut the fuck up, Jayden, and quit complaining! I know what a whiny baby you are little brother.”

  And I wink, wink at the mirror.

  Chapter 60

  JAYDEN

  I paced the jail cell waiting for the detectives.

  At last, there were footsteps in the hallway.

  Lead-Belly munched on a bologna sandwich, and Frisco rocked on her feet. “So what’s this about?”

  “Why did you ask to see us?” His fat face told me this had better be good or else.

  I shook the cell bars, my fingers turning white. “Check the fingerprints on the marriage certificate! I never touched the marriage certificate. Brad’s prints should be on the marriage certificate, not mine. Same thing goes for the DVD.” At least I hoped Brad’s prints were on the marriage certificate and DVD, unless Brad planned to murder Vanessa from the very beginning and frame me for t
he murder and so always wore gloves.

  Lead-Belly rolled his eyes at Frisco.

  “You claim you and Brad are identical twins with identical DNA. Same prints, right?” Frisco said.

  “I forgot that fingerprints of identical twins are differentiable. Fingerprints are the interaction of an individual’s genes and the developmental environment of the fetus in the mother’s uterus. This microenvironment of the fetus actually determines the fine detail of the fingerprint structure of all humans. While genes do determine general characteristics of fingerprint patterns, the surface tissue of the fingers of the fetus are in contact with amniotic fluid in the womb. Fingertips are also in contact with other parts of the fetus and the uterus, as the fetus moves on its own in the womb and in response to positional changes of the mother. Because of this movement of the fetus, the microenvironment of the growing cells on each fingertip is in constant flux. Therefore, fingerprints of identical twins are not exactly the same because each twin moves independently in the womb and touches things at contrasting times, using different pressures while the prints are formed.”

  Whew, what a mouthful, that was a lot of information for these two numbskulls to digest. Frisco and Lead-Belly were impressed enough to at least promise to dust the marriage certificate and the wedding video for prints other than mine and Vanessa’s prints.

  Bet we find Tremblay’s prints on that marriage certificate, Lead-Belly seemed to be saying to Frisco when he looked at her.

  What a nut case, Frisco seemed to answer back. Still thinks he is two different men, bipolar or something.

  “Maybe we should have you talk to the psychologist,” he offered.

  “Suppose you’re hearing voices and the twins live only in your head,” she added.

  They led me to the criminal psychologist for an evaluation. It was not in my best interest to object.

  The psychologist gave me the obvious examination. He asked if I hated my birth mother for giving me up for adoption. Did I get along with my adoption mother or did I hate her, too?

  “I don’t hate anybody,” I mumbled, except for my brother.

  Did any female teachers sexually molest me? And so on.