Dead Ringer (Silent Partner Series Book 2)

by Sheila Hudson

  I changed into my pajamas but wasn’t sleepy. It was a fun night with Finn. He hadn’t put any restrictions on our friendship. We shared similar tastes in music, movies, and books. His family had fully accepted me and I’m not certain if that’s bad or good. Phyl was a wonderful surrogate mom. So what’s the problem? I heard Maggie say.

  The photo album of our last year together had pictures of me and my twin with Natalie and Callie. Natalie was moving upward in her chosen career – bizarre as it seemed to me. Who chooses to work at the Police Morgue?

  Callie and Beau were engaged. Life was moving forward for everyone but me it seemed. Stop feeling sorry for yourself! Maggie’s voice was clear.

  But on the plus side I had Callie’s wedding to help plan with luncheons, showers, and wedding glamour. Then when the holidays rolled around I would finally have a reason to decorate. There was Finn, of course, plus the Andersons. Being part of the “in” crowd assured me of plenty of holiday parties and when I wasn’t partying I would be interviewing, writing, and researching. All of this thinking went on too long. I looked at the clock. It was past midnight and I had an interview with Dr. Merry Bell tomorrow.

  Dr. Bell appeared to be a serious minded college profession type. I think the interview will be pretty simple. From somewhere in my head came the phrase – don’t judge a book by its cover.

  5

  Today was the day. I was anxious to interview Dr. Bell and see what made her tick. Ms. Peabody escorted me into the office formerly belonging to Dr.Winters. When Dr. Bell entered the room, she didn’t look like the same person I’d met at the funeral. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail with a ribbon. She was wearing Nikes and a lime green running suit. She was probably going running after the interview. No eyeglasses – obviously a contact wearer. Green eyes that were unbelievable. She was a stunner even without makeup. She was a few years older than me but drop dead gorgeous.

  “Good morning, Ms. McLachlan,” she said as I entered the study.

  “Call me Mollie please.”

  “And please call me Merry,” she replied.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” I answered.

  Merry came around the desk and took a chair opposite me. I took out my tape recorder and steno pad. After the usual background, education, and career goal questions, I asked what I had been dying to know all along.

  “So what brings you to our little burg?” I asked expecting that she would answer the usual - promotion, status, or more money than the last gig.

  “I wanted to get to know some of my relatives in the south,” Merry replied. “I was an only child. My father was not part of the picture, so my mother invested everything in me. When she died I knew little of my background or of my family tree. In college I began investigating and discovered a lot of family on my father’s side live in this vicinity. As I mentioned, my father left before I was born,” Merry twisted a ring on her finger. I wonder why children are often embarrassed by their parent’s behavior. I could relate to embarrassment that Maggie and I felt when our father was absent at concerts, plays, and parent/teacher meetings.

  “I hope you will be happy here. It’s a nice small town with not much going on,” I said.

  “Oh I wouldn’t say that. What about Dr. Winters’ death last week?”

  “So you know about that?”

  “Know about it. I was there. Don’t you recognize me from class?” she smiled.

  “So you were the good Samaritan who revived me,” I said and patted her hand. “Thank you so much. I’m afraid I don’t remember much about that evening and what I do remember I’m trying to forget.”

  “Dr. Winters was supposed to take me under his wing and help me launch this hand bell choir for the church music program. Now I’m at a loss to encourage the class members to continue and perform for Christmas Eve service,”

  “You know from class that I’m a klutz. I am nonmusical and uncoordinated, so I can’t be much help,” I continued packing up.

  “Oh but you have influence on others,” she continued and reminded me of a bulldog named Phylomena Anderson.

  “I’ll do what I can. Ms. Anderson is planning on joining and she will bring others,” like me I thought but didn’t say.

  “Again, thanks for the interview. If you like I can let you know when it will run. We are prepping for holiday time now even though it’s a ways off. Vacations, weather, and a heap of other things tend to intrude so the staff endeavors to get a jump on these things. May I call you if I have questions?”

  Merry nodded. In spite of her cheerful name, Merry did not seem to be a happy person.

  “I would consider it a personal favor to me if you continue in the hand bell choir. I don’t know many people in the community. I feel we could be friends,” she said.

  Well thanks! Now I have a double load of guilt to deal with. First, Phyl with her sweet way of getting what she wants and now Merry.

  I exited without a commitment but she knew that I would be there. As in all southern literature, guilt always wins.

  6

  I met Natalie and Callie at the mall. Today was designated as shopping for Callie’s wedding day. Callie had already checked out the Mall of Georgia. She found some great lingerie at Victoria Secrets but alas no bridal attire. Lucky for all of us David’s Bridal Boutique had a location just 20 miles outside our burg, so off we were for an adventure in bridal land. Callie had an idea for mismatched bridesmaid dresses for us. I didn’t know what that meant but I was intrigued.

  Callie trudged through aisle after aisle of wedding gowns rejecting one after the other. I think wearing the boot made her cranky. All the gowns looked great to me. Natalie and I followed like puppies and pointed out likes and dislikes along the way. It was obvious Callie had definite ideas on what she wanted. Finally, she picked out three possibilities. We waited patiently while she tried them on. The first was not her style and the second was too girly. The third was a beaded pearl corset top with lace cap sleeves. It fit her like a dream. Callie beamed as she tried to strut with her boot on. When she finally made it to the full length mirror, I felt it was my duty to point out that the ‘boot’ would be before the wedding.

  I wish I could have posted it on U-Tube. The attendant, with the patience of a saint, brought her tiaras of gems and crowns of flowers. Finally, Callie decided on a simple beaded pearl circlet with a whimsy veil. Perfect!

  Now for us. With the bride’s ensemble tucked away, we began to search out what Callie wanted for us. She had a color in mind – marine – not navy blue, powder blue, or aqua but marine. The attendant virtually ran to the back room when she heard the color selection. She came back with an armful of selections in ‘marine.’ Callie was thrilled. After trying on a strapless, a spaghetti strap number, and a cold shoulders version I settled on a lace top with chiffon skirt – understated and simple – that’s me. Natalie went with the spaghetti strap dress. Only then did it become clear that the definition for mismatched meant the same color scheme but different styles. Thank goodness I had visions of looking like a bridesmaid from the bargain basement.

  David’s Bridal took our measurements and booked dates for us to come back for the final fitting. So after 3 hours of frustration, we were done with the basics of clothing except of course for shoes, jewelry, and bouquets. Spending Callie’s daddy’s money was exhausting. Natalie and I planned on throwing a bridal shower; a bridesmaid luncheon would be silly since there were only two of us. After a few slices of pizza from My Pie and a glass of Chardonnay, I felt revived enough to return to my desk at the newspaper. Mr. A was nice enough to grant me some time off for this. He and Callie’s dad are golfing buddies. I swung by Starbucks© drive through and grabbed a Peppermint Latte.

  When I got settled I began answering emails and making appointments. At the end of my emails to answer, there was an address that I didn’t recognize. I had spam filters out the wazoo, so how did this one get in? I decided to take a chance and open it.

  Honey. I know it’s been a long t
ime, but I need to talk with you. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I wasn’t there for you when Maggie was so sick. And I just now learned about your mom’s passing. I had lost touch of how to find you until I read the article in the Banner about Rosie Adams. I am so proud of you. Please forgive me and please answer this. I love you. Dad

  I was stunned. I must have turned pale because one of the reporters passing my desk asked if I was okay. I nodded. I reread the message.

  Was this real or some joke in really bad taste? I hadn’t seen or heard from our dad since Maggie and I entered high school. I wondered how long he kept up. Mom moved when Maggie and I went to college. She was in a small apartment when she died. How did he know about Maggie but not about Mom? The local newspaper would have carried both announcements. Maybe he was away somewhere – like jail.

  7

  I had to wait a while before I could push the ‘reply’ button. First of all, what do I say to someone I hadn’t seen since high school? So much had happened. Maggie and I graduated high school then went to college. We had boyfriends, break ups, zits, vacations, proms, first dates, and learning to drive - experiences that we were meant to share with our father. I’m sure our mother would have welcomed a companion to help her raise us, but never a complaint came from her lips.

  I thumbed through the oldest album that I’d inherited. There were a few pictures of our dad playing with us when we were small. Mother was right. Our dad was handsome, thin, debonair, and maybe too urbane to raise a family. I can’t even remember his occupation. Anyway it doesn’t matter now, does it? I double checked and he did use the newspaper email address for me. At least my father didn’t know my personal email, telephone number, or where I live, but I am not naïve enough to think he couldn’t find me if he wanted to.

  It’s times like these that I miss my twin the most. Maggie was always wise beyond her years. What would she say or do? I am not into making my dad suffer but I’m not sure I trust him either. Why did Mom’s phrase ‘dead ringer’ pop into my head so readily?

  I’m pretty sure that Maggie knew about Mom and Dad’s rocky relationship and shielded me from the truth. She did that a lot. As the intuitive twin, she ‘sensed’ things and was prepared when our parents announced that they were divorcing and going their separate ways. Not me! Oblivious was my middle name. I was the prima donna of my own world and completely unaware of relationships around me falling apart. I took the news of their divorce pretty hard. Maybe I never really got over the fact that my father abandoned us which would explain my mistrust of any male interest in my life.

  Merry’s mention of her dad made me think of mine, but hearing from him on the same day of the interview was downright eerie. I hadn’t thought of my male parent in a long time. I’m not even sure I could call him ‘dad.’ He certainly didn’t deserve it. Maybe I should stick with Paul or Mr. McLachlan.

  I reread the email message again. I know the Bible teaches forgiveness. I do believe that with my whole heart. I’ve also learned that forgiveness is a process and not an instant change of heart. I want to believe that Dad/Paul has changed. Perhaps he’s dying and needs me to give him a clear conscience before he meets his maker or maybe he’s getting married and wants us to be a ‘real family.’ Whatever his motive, I’m not sure I’m strong enough to be involved.

  What would Finn have to say about this? Of course his family is not anything like mine but he is a neutral party. Perhaps he could shed some light on this dismally dark subject. Something to consider.

  I read for a while and drifted off. My dreams took me back to our high school gymnasium where Callie and Natalie were auditioning at the cheerleader tryouts. The double doors opened and my father walked in. Every female head turned even the cheerleading coach to observe my father’s suave, easy going gait.

  Patrick McLachlan in his prime was a very handsome man. I’m talking drop dead movie star handsome. Out of nowhere came mom’s words ‘dead ringer for Cary Grant.’ It was with this parting phrase that I woke up. And for a change I was glad to see the light of day and rid myself of painful memories.

  8

  I knew this day would come sooner or later but I was hoping for later – the day of our hand bell choir practice. It had taken a recess after the death of Dr. Winters, but now we were on track to practice bi-weekly until the Christmas concert.

  Phyl was so excited. She brought home several holiday sweaters for me to try. She finally talked me into one with a snowman which wasn’t quite as hideous as the others. As for the queen herself, she chose a red one with lots of gold glitter and an angel on the shoulder. I must admit that whatever Phyl chose to wear she looked elegant. It was still warm outside so I left the sweater at the Anderson household and focused on learning the Christmas music that Merry Bell had selected.

  Natalie and I had lunch to plan Callie’s wedding shower, but we somehow got sidetracked.

  “Why don’t you join the hand bell choir, Natalie? As I recall, you were a good musician in high school,” I said.

  “I thought about it, but I’m not sure,” she said and suddenly blurted out, “Can I tell you a secret?”

  “Of course,” I said and tried not to gulp my water.

  “I might get fired if my boss found out, but I don’t think Dr. Winters died of a heart attack,” she took a breath and continued, “They brought him to the morgue and he still had a bell in his hand. I pried it open and he had splotches on his fingers, sort of like burns.”

  “Go on,” I said. Natalie was getting breathy. I hoped that she wouldn’t have a panic attack before she finished her story. When we were growing up, Natalie would get panic attacks before major exams. She began taking an antidepressant. I wonder if she was still medicating.

  I pushed my salad away. Talking about the dead takes my appetite.

  “I told the director what I’d found. He said it was rigor mortis that made the bell so hard to get out of his hand.”

  “But what about the red splotches?” I asked.

  “He pooh-poohed that away with some bogus explanation too. I tell you something isn’t right with that death. Heart attacks don’t happen like that. And we got his body quickly so I don’t believe the rigor mortis thing either. But he’s my boss and I don’t have proof. So what do I do?” Natalie pushed her soup away, rambled in her tote and found a tissue to dab her eyes.

  I had an idea – not a good one or a safe one.

  “Can you bring me the bell that was in Dr. Winters’ hand when he died?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s in the evidence locker and when all the paperwork is done, it will be transported to police archives,” Natalie responded.

  “I need to know how much it weighs. I read a mystery once and this is how a Belgian detective solved it,” I said trying not to sound too immodest.

  Natalie gave me a puzzled expression.

  “I’ll do what I can,” she said.

  “Also a photo of Dr. Winters’ fingers – the ones that looked burned – would be helpful,” I added.

  Natalie stabbed a pickle. I wonder if she pictured my face there.

  “You want me to get fired don’t you?” she said and then laughed. “No, you don’t because then where would you get your inside information.”

  I tried my best to look innocent and angelic, as if that were possible.

  “Cut it out. I know all about the Adams’ case and what you copied from my files. It’s all good and I’m glad they got what was coming to them, but I can’t lose my license for unprofessional behavior,” Natalie took a deep breath guzzled her wine and flagged the waiter for another glass.

  “Just remember you’re the one who brought it up. You asked ME to keep a secret. You’re just as interested as I am in finding the truth,” I finished my chicken salad croissant and ordered a Chablis. I reminded Natalie, “We still have a bridal shower to plan.”

  9

  Thanks to Google, Amazon.com, and a host of other online helps, we decided on the theme and got ideas about what to serve si
nce we were clueless.. Natalie was still undecided as to how much she could find out about the demise of Dr. Winters. I didn’t want to add to her stress so I decided not to mention the email from my estranged parent.

  Later in the evening Finn called and asked to come over. He brought wine and cheese so we had a little picnic in front of Netflix. After we watched the ending of Skyfall, one of my favorite James Bond flicks, I brought out the message my father had sent. Finn read it over several times. I realize that this would be a hard call for him since he didn’t know my father and had only my side of the saga.

  “Is this still on your laptop?” Finn asked. I nodded and wondered why that was important.

  “I need to borrow your computer and let our IT guy find out when and where this was sent. Is that okay?

  “Good idea,” I agreed.

  He kissed me on the cheek and said goodnight. Did this man realize what a jewel he was? As Molly would say, his mama raised him right.

  And speaking of Finn’s mama, Phyl had been pestering me to meet one of her sorority sisters visiting from who knows where? I suppose a phone call and a coffee date was in order. Phyl was a wonderful woman with her fingers in more society pies that I could ever manage. But she was truly the virtuous woman that the writer of Proverbs spoke of. Her only flaw – if you could call it that – was that she loved too much.

  Maggie would have adored Phyl. In some ways they were very much alike. Both were lovers of art and music. Both were excellent judges of character. That sparks an idea! I wonder if Miss Phylomena and her guest would like to have a latte with me and Dr. Merry Bell. I would be interested to get her perspective on our newest member of the community.

  At the present my life was beginning to be perfect except of course for finding another body – but that was probably a heart attack and Natalie was over reacting. And then there’s my father popping up out of the blue like a bad penny. Finn would give me sound advice and then I could move on with my life and our relationship.