Death In Duplicate

by Valerie Wolzien

  “ Shannon.” She saw the surprise on his face and continued. “We don’t really know her and she’s going to be alone in the house sometimes-well, not counting the twins. Anyway she has a lot of opportunity to go through our things and… well, I just felt more comfortable with everything put away.”

  “How is she different from the dozens of people we’ve hired to clean or fix appliances over the years?”

  “It’s a different situation completely. In the first place she’s here all the time. Because she was sort of dumped in our laps-or in our house, I guess is more accurate.”

  “You’re saying that we don’t know anything about her-and I’m not arguing with you-but that’s also true of lots of people we hire.”

  “But those people aren’t here overnight while everyone is asleep. Shannon could be downstairs right now going through everything we own and we would never know it.”

  “Or she could have dashed next door this afternoon and killed Nadine?”

  Susan gasped. “What do you know?”

  “Nothing at all, but that’s what’s worrying you, isn’t it?”

  “It is true that Shannon arrived here and then Nadine was killed.”

  “And what’s the connection between the two of them?”

  Susan hesitated. “I don’t really know if there is one.”

  “So you suspect her of killing for no reason?”

  “Jed, you’re making me sound like an idiot.”

  “If you believe the woman who is taking care of our grandchildren is a murderer and you’ve decided to do nothing about it, you just might be.”

  “I don’t really believe that. In fact, I know she isn’t. She and Chrissy were here together all afternoon.”

  “So why in heaven’s name did you wake me up?”

  “Because I’m worried about Chrissy. You were the one who changed the subject.”

  Jed sighed. “Okay. You’re right and, to tell the truth, so am I. She looks horrible. Do you think she should see a doctor?”

  “I suggested it and she almost bit off my head. It’s probably just fatigue. But some women do suffer from depression after giving birth and she has so much to do, so many changes going on in her life. I was wondering if perhaps we should duplicate the Canfield’s gift and hire another baby nurse. The babies need a lot of care. Maybe they’re just too much for two people.”

  “Then you’d be worried about two strangers in the house.”

  “Maybe not! Maybe we could find someone that someone knows… If you know what I mean.”

  “It’s almost one in the morning. I don’t know what I mean. Hon, let’s leave this till tomorrow.” Without waiting for a response, he slid back down under the sheets and rolled over.

  Susan frowned at his broad back and reached out to turn off the light.

  She fell asleep almost immediately and, if more people were wandering up and down the stairs and in and out of rooms than was usual in the middle of the night, she wasn’t aware of it. But Clue, lying on an old Burberry blanket at the end of the bed, didn’t get as much sleep as usual and, if the Henshaws had been listening, they would have heard uncharacteristic growls coming from their dog.

  The next day followed the lead of the one before, with the mayhem beginning very early. The twins were still asleep, Shannon was dozing in the rocking chair between their cribs, Jed and Stephen were driving to the train station, Chrissy was in the shower, all three dogs were exploring the backyard as though they had never been there before, and Susan was standing in the middle of her basement wondering if the big puddle on the floor of her laundry room had emerged from the hot water heater or her less-than-a-year-old washing machine, when the doorbell rang.

  Pulling her flannel robe across her chest and yanking its sash tight, she ran upstairs, hoping she got to her visitor before the babies woke up. She was too late. Rosie-at least she thought it was Rosie-began to wail as she pulled open the door. Donald Baines stood on her doorstep, the very image of a shattered widower.

  “Susan.” He seemed unable to go on.

  “Donald. Come in. I was just going to make some coffee and… and something to go with it.”

  “I really don’t think I could eat anything-as good as your cooking is-but perhaps a cup of coffee.”

  “Of course. Why don’t you go on into the living room-we’ll be more comfortable there-and I’ll bring it out? It will only take a few minutes.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “You know the way,” she added as he paused in the hallway.

  “Yes, I was just afraid of knocking over some of these boxes…”

  “Good Lord! I… I guess Jed moved some things out of his library last night. Baby presents,” she explained, staring at the large pile stacked on the floor near the door.

  “Of course. I had forgotten. You’re new grandparents. Congratulations. I didn’t realize gifts were appropriate.”

  “Oh, they’re not for us. They’re for the babies. My daughter and her family are living with us while they look for a place to live. My son-in-law just started a new job,” she said, naming a prestigious brokerage house.

  Donald perked up immediately. “And they’ll be looking for a home in Hancock?”

  “They’re talking about an apartment in the city, but I’m thinking that once they look around and see what they can afford, they might change their minds.”

  “Well, don’t forget your new neighbor if they need a real estate broker,” Donald said, the possibility of a new client apparently wiping all thoughts of his loss from his mind.

  “So you think you’ll stay in the house… instead of moving somewhere smaller?” Susan instantly regretted the question. How could she be so insensitive?

  But Donald didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, I’ll stay here. That house is a great investment. I got a bargain on it and it’s going to do nothing but appreciate in this market.” He took a deep breath and returned to his depressed mode. “Of course, it won’t be the same without Nadine. She really knew how to turn a house into a home.”

  That was the last thing Susan would have said about Nadine, but she wasn’t going to argue with a bereaved husband. “I… I’ll get our coffee.”

  She was gone from the room for only a few minutes. When she returned, she discovered Donald standing in front of the bookshelves that lined one wall, examining a current best seller as though it was a rare first edition. “Have you read that one?” she asked, moving aside a large box from Hanna Anderson to make room for the tray she carried.

  “No. I don’t have much time to read. Well, not as much as I would like. I have so many obligations for my work. Rotary, Elks, Kiwanis, Lions’ Club, golf. Networking is very important to a real estate agent,” he added, perhaps noticing Susan’s startled expression.

  “Yes… Why are you here? I mean, is there anything I can do for you?” She passed him a cup of coffee.

  “Your daughter found my wife’s body. Is there any cream?”

  “I… she… yes… Well, it’s milk, not cream, but I could get some cream if-”

  “No, this is fine.” He poured milk to the top of his cup, sipped, and grimaced. “Fine. Really fine.”

  “Chrissy did find Nadine. She was looking for her dogs.”

  “That’s what someone-one of the police officers, I think-told me. But I don’t understand how she got into the house.”

  That had been one of the first questions discussed over dinner last night. “Chrissy was looking for her dogs and she heard one of them barking. She assumed they were in your yard, but, when she went to look, she discovered the back door already open. Rock and Roll, the dogs, are bullmastiffs and they can pretty much push open any door, but only if it isn’t latched.”

  “Yes. That makes sense.” He nodded as though the simple thing she had just told him was important. “I’d like to see your daughter sometime.”

  “She’s still asleep. But we talked a lot last night. Maybe I can help you?” She didn’t add that their conversation had
been constantly interrupted by the babies’ demands and she probably knew more about the twins’ routine-or lack of such-than the situation surrounding Nadine’s discovery.

  “You saw her body.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Yes. You must have been shocked.”

  “Nadine would have hated people seeing her like that.”

  “Uh… well, yes.” What a strange comment. It wasn’t as though Nadine had been discovered with her hair a mess or wearing old jeans. She had been covered with her own blood, for heaven’s sake. She looked at Donald carefully. Was he drugged? In shock? “When are you going to have the funeral?” she asked, not knowing what else to say.

  “There will be an autopsy. The police insist, although it’s a complete waste of time. It was obvious to anyone who saw her yesterday what the cause of death was. And then her body will be released to me. I suppose we’ll hold a memorial service sometime after that. I must remember to say something about that in the obituary.” He reached in his pants pocket and pulled out a small, elegant leather bound notebook with a tiny silver pen attached. He spent a moment writing and then looked up at Susan. “Would you like to hear the obituary or would you prefer to see it in the newspaper this evening?”

  “I… Yes, I’d like to hear it. Did you write it yourself?”

  “Mother and I got together over it late last night. I couldn’t sleep, see.”

  “Of course. I understand.”

  “And Mother made me hot Ovaltine like she used to when I was a boy, and we worked and worked. She thought it would take my mind off my problems. And that we should do what needed to be done. ‘Let’s get on with it’ is what she said. Mother is very big on getting on with it.”

  Definitely drugged, Susan decided. “Do you want to read it to me?” she asked.

  “Yes, I would like that. It may be a bit unconventional. It is unconventional, but I think unconventional times call for unconventional responses, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Of course.” She picked up her cup, sipped, and hoped the expression on her face looked sympathetic as well as encouraging. “Go ahead.”

  Donald took a deep breath and began reading in a voice about half an octave deeper than his normal speaking voice.

  “ ‘Mrs. Nadine Baines, née Mortimer, died unexpectedly in her home yesterday afternoon.’ I thought that was probably more than enough detail. What do you think?”

  Since Susan was sure the front page of the paper where this would be published would be covered with details of the murder itself she could only agree.

  “ ‘Born in Connecticut, she graduated with honors from Trinity College. She was married to Donald Baines, owner of Donald Baines Executive Homes. The couple moved to Hancock this year. Mrs. Baines was a deacon at the Hancock Presbyterian Church as well as active in their Women’s Circle. She played on the mixed doubles tennis team at the Hancock Field Club.’ Well, she would have this summer. We had signed up,” he explained to Susan.

  She nodded.

  “ ‘She was also a member of the Women’s auxiliary of the Lions’ Club, the Kiwanis Club, the Elks, and the Rotary. A founding member of the Hancock Women’s Reading Circle, she also did volunteer work for the public library. A famous hostess, she will be sadly missed by her loving family and her friends.’ ”

  “What do you think?”

  “I… I think it’s very nice.” Susan stumbled over her words. This was the woman who had been wasting so much time in her kitchen for the past few months?

  Shannon entered the room, a baby in each arm, and a frown on her face. “I think I’ve broken the babies’ bottle warmer.”

  There was a crash and a splash and Donald Baines looked down at the Samarkand carpet. “I think I’ve broken your lovely coffee cup,” he explained needlessly, not taking his eyes off Shannon.

  ELEVEN

  SUSAN DIDN’T KNOW WHO WAS PALER-SHANNON OR DONALD. But she knew where her priorities lay; she got up to take Ethan and Rosie from their nurse’s arms.

  “I… Oh, I…” Shannon seemed unable to express herself.

  Donald was not having that problem. “You! You’re that nurse!” He pointed at her dramatically. “What are you doing here?”

  “I work here,” Shannon whispered, hugging the babies close to her chest. She turned to Susan. “If you could just check on the warmer for me and put a pan of water on a burner to warm? I don’t trust microwaves to heat evenly and these little guys will realize how hungry they are any min-ute now. I’m going to go back upstairs. I was trying to let Chrissy sleep. But…” She glanced over at Donald Baines. “I…” She left without finishing her sentence.

  Donald Baines wasn’t so discreet. “You know who that is, don’t you?” he asked. “That’s the person who killed my wife! Call the police immediately!”

  “I won’t and she isn’t,” Susan protested loudly, hoping Shannon was still close enough to overhear. “She was with Chrissy and the twins yesterday-all day. She couldn’t possibly have murdered your wife!”

  Donald Baines got up, oblivious to the fact that he was grinding the handle of Susan’s antique Herend cup into her carpet. “If you won’t call, I’ll go home and do it myself!” he announced and stormed out.

  Susan sat quietly for a moment, gazing at the mess on her carpet. She didn’t have long to wait. Shannon walked back into the room, bouncing the now whimpering twins in her arms. “Let’s go into the kitchen and warm up those bottles. We can talk while we do it,” Susan suggested.

  “What he said… I can explain… but you… It didn’t surprise you, did it?” Shannon asked, following Susan.

  “No. Nadine told me about the Perry Island Care Center deaths.”

  “And that I was working there at the time.”

  “Yes.”

  “And that’s why you know I was here with Chrissy when the murder occurred. You checked.”

  “Yes.” Susan grabbed a heavy copper pan, filled it with water, and plopped it on the stove. She turned back to Shannon. “You know what?”

  “No. What?”

  “I think we need two baby seats in here. We could put them on the table and then the babies would be nice and safe when you’re working at the stove or getting things from the refrigerator or whatever.”

  “Chrissy is trying to keep their stuff from taking over the house.”

  Susan smiled. “Fat chance.”

  Shannon didn’t return her smile. “Why are you letting me stay here if you knew about P.I.C.C.?”

  “You’re such a good nurse. And I don’t believe you’re the murderer.”

  “Yesterday you said you have discovered the identity of murderers in the past.”

  “Yes,” Susan answered modestly.

  “So you can tell who is a killer and who isn’t-that’s why you trust me?”

  “No. I’m not psychic or anything. I just… I can figure things out. It started years ago-there was a murder inthe PTA. The police began an investigation immediately, of course. But they didn’t know anyone involved or the various groups or how things work in town. You could say I had inside information.”

  “Like you have now. I mean, you knew Nadine and she told you about me.”

  “Yes, I knew Nadine but not all that well. She only moved to town a few months ago.”

  “And you’ve really found murderers.”

  Susan nodded.

  “It’s too bad you don’t live out on Perry. My life would be different if someone had figured out who killed our residents. And not just my life, the lives of others as well,” she added sadly.

  The water began to simmer and Susan put the bottles in to warm. Ethan started to grizzle so she took him from Shannon ’s arms. Tucking his head underneath her chin, she began to walk about the room. Just as this movement had consoled her babies decades ago, Ethan settled down immediately. “What exactly happened on Perry Island? I remember hearing about some deaths in the nursing home there, but not many of the details.” She decided it was not the time to tell her that she
had visited Perry Island only yesterday.

  Shannon gently wiped a line of drool off Rosie’s chin before answering. “It’s hard to know where to begin.”

  “At the beginning.” Susan was always willing to use a cliché if the circumstances required it.

  “That’s just it. I’m not sure when the murders began or who was the first person to be killed.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Nursing homes aren’t like other places. The residents of nursing homes are old and many of them will die there, so when there is a death, no one thinks of murder. Death is just not all that unusual.”

  Susan tried out the formula on her wrist before handing one bottle to Shannon and sitting down to offer the other to Ethan. “I understood that three people were killed.”

  “Well, there were deaths that the coroner called murder, but there was one death right after I began working there that struck me as odd-well, not when it happened, but later when we knew about the other three. You see, the murders were all different. More than one method was used. That’s the reason no one knew what was happening at first. There was no pattern.”

  Susan smiled down at the baby in her arms and thought how nice it was that he was too young to understand even one word of their conversation. “What do you remember about each death?”

  “Everything!”

  “Could you tell me about them?”

  “I suppose… yes.”

  “Why don’t you begin with the one that you didn’t realize was a murder at the time?” Susan said.

  “Okay. It was Mr. Roper; we used to call him Mr. Reporter. That’s what he had been. He worked on a paper in California -I don’t remember which one-and he loved to talk about it. The good old days. You know, lots of the residents felt that way about the past and we tried to humor them.”

  “Like calling him Mr. Reporter.”

  “Exactly.”

  “How did he die?”

  “He was diabetic and his blood sugar got out of control and he went into shock. After he died, empty bourbon bottles were found in his locked drawer. Each resident had a locked dresser drawer although we never had any problems with theft, at least not while I was working there. Anyway, after they found the bottles, everyone assumed that he had drunk himself to death-not a terribly difficult thing to do if you have diabetes, a serious heart condition, and you’re almost a hundred years old.”