Death In Duplicate

by Valerie Wolzien

  “But you didn’t believe that was the cause of his death?”

  “I… it didn’t make sense. See, one night we-some of the younger staff-were having a little celebration for another nurse who had just gotten engaged. We had champagne and little cakes, but we weren’t getting drunk or anything. It was just a toast and a bite to eat and back to work. Anyway, Mr. Reporter was having trouble sleeping and he wandered down the hallway so we asked him to join us. And he did, but he refused any champagne or anything to eat. He said he hadn’t gotten to be as old as he was by ignoring doctor’s orders.”

  “So you don’t think he drank?”

  “Oh, it’s possible. I know that some alcoholics refuse to indulge in public and will drink only when they’re alone. But… well, everyone was surprised when the bottles were found. And we took good care of our residents. I don’t think something like that could have gone unnoticed.”

  “How could he have died then?”

  “It would have been possible for someone on the staff to either give him the wrong medication or withhold the proper meds and cause a serious imbalance in his blood sugar levels.”

  “And then plant the bottles in his locked drawer?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the lock?”

  “There was a master key. It was kept in the office. Almost anyone could have gotten hold of it if they had wanted to.”

  “Anyone on the staff or anyone at all?”

  “Oh, I think just the staff…” She paused and rearranged Rosie’s arms, much to the baby’s dismay. “I guess… I mean, no one ever thought it might be a resident.”

  “Why not? Were they so incapacitated that they couldn’t have killed someone, or taken the key and stashed empty bottles in that drawer?”

  “No. We had residents who were quite…” She paused as if searching for the correct word.

  “Spry?” Susan suggested.

  “Spry and more. Most of the residents were elderly and many were incapacitated, but a few were perfectly able to… to do what you just described.”

  “Were the residents ever considered suspects?”

  “Not that I know of. Not seriously. The police questioned them of course, but one was the result of a lethal injection, one was suffocation, and… and another was pushed off the top of the building.” She shuddered. “That was Mrs. Hershman. I found her.”

  “Was she the next person to die after Mr. Roper?” Susan asked.

  “No, she was the last. The next person was Mr. Blake. He suffocated.”

  “So everyone knew it was murder right away.”

  “No, an accident. He was found tangled in his blankets. It sounds odd, but it could have been just one of those things-an old man thrashing around in the night. Anyway, no one thought of murder until Miss Breen died the very next day. She was a lovely lady, a retired school teacher-Latin. She had lived all over the world teaching in unusual places and she knew so many interesting people. P.I.C.C. was pretty out of the way, but she had lots of visitors, people she had taught mainly. Two of her students are now professors at Yale and it was one of them who went to the police and insisted on an investigation. If he had done it earlier, it might have stopped the murderer.”

  “She was the one who died because of an injection?”

  “Yes… There was no reason for her to have been given it at all, so once it was found in the body, everyone knew something was wrong. But the results of the autopsy didn’t get back until the afternoon of the day I found Mrs. Hershman.”

  “Tell me about that.”

  Shannon sighed. “She… She was… It was awful. It was late morning and I went outside to get some fresh air. P.I.C.C. was clean and it certainly didn’t smell the way some nursing homes do, but it was hot. Many of our residents had circulation problems of some sort and they all got chilled easily so the thermostats were always turned up way too high. Anyway, I went out to cool off and I found her. She was lying on the ground. Her arms and legs were in a weird position, but I just thought she had fallen down. I called to her and touched her gently on the shoulder, but she didn’t move. I thought maybe she was in shock so I took off my sweater and put it around her and ran back inside to get help. She was dead and… and it was obvious right away that she hadn’t just tripped and fallen down.”

  “I’m surprised that residents were allowed to wander around outside on their own.”

  “They weren’t. And I don’t remember it ever happening before. There were only a few doors and all of them were alarmed except for the back door where supplies were delivered, and there was a door between that area and the living area that was kept closed as well as alarmed. And there was always someone working in the kitchen twenty-four/seven, so no one could have gone out there without being seen. I don’t think anyone could have just wandered out, but I didn’t think about that then. I mean, what’s more likely-that someone had wandered out the back door where the alarm was turned off or someone had gone up on the roof and been thrown off?”

  “Good point,” Susan said. “But how did they know she had been thrown off and not gone up there alone and just fallen?”

  “The police searched all over. They thought she might have jumped out of a window, but all the windows on that side of the building are semisealed. They only open a few inches. So they checked out the roof. They found a necklace up there that she always wore. It had been pulled off her neck and broken. The autopsy showed that as well as other signs of a struggle before her death. They also found heavy leather gloves. They had been used to strangle her before she was tossed off the wall.”

  “Was there any way to tell who had worn them?”

  “No. Apparently the killer had put on surgical gloves before putting on the leather ones-there were boxes of gloves outside of each room; everyone had access to them-and dozens of pairs were tossed out every day, so searching the garbage didn’t reveal anything.”

  Susan put down the almost empty bottle and moved Ethan up onto her shoulder and patted his back gently. “But there was no doubt that she was murdered.”

  “None. And then they looked into the other two deaths and decided they were also suspicious…”

  “But not Mr. Roper’s death.”

  “No. I wonder why.”

  “Me, too. It doesn’t make sense,” Susan said. But she didn’t mention the other thing that didn’t make sense to her. Why someone who went outside to cool down would still be wearing a sweater.

  TWELVE

  SUSAN HAD NO IDEA WHAT TO DO SO SHE DID WHAT MANY women would do in her situation: she called her best friend. And, proving her worth as a best friend, Kathleen responded immediately.

  “We can talk on the phone, but I sure don’t want to be overheard by… by anyone.” Susan looked at her closed bedroom door. She had come upstairs to make this call, but she knew Shannon might interrupt at any time.

  “You could come over here. Or we could meet someplace,” Kathleen said.

  Susan thought for a moment. “There are errands I should run. The baby bottle warmer broke this morning. Do they sell those things anyplace beside baby stores?”

  “Sure. You can pick them up in any big drugstore. You can buy almost anything in those places. I bought my new steam iron at that gigantic place out on the highway.”

  “In the new mini mall? Isn’t there a coffee shop there?”

  “Yes, but it’s a little late for breakfast and too early for lunch. Are you hungry?”

  “I’m starving. I haven’t had anything to eat since last night. Lord, I can’t remember the last time I was too busy to eat.”

  “So let’s meet at that coffee shop in fifteen minutes.”

  “You’re on! Paper and pens,” Susan said. And they had been close friends long enough for both women to know what she was talking about.

  Susan stopped at the drugstore on the way to the coffee shop so she arrived after Kathleen, a half dozen plastic bags in one hand and a huge stuffed rabbit in the other. “Isn’t he adorable?” she asked,
holding out the toy.

  “Cute, but which baby are you giving it to?”

  “I’m not sure. There was only one this big-or this cute-and I didn’t want one twin to feel slighted so I didn’t buy another. Maybe I’ll stop at Toys ’R’ Us on the way home and see what they have.”

  “Chrissy and Stephen are going to need an awfully big apartment just to house the baby toys.”

  “I know.” Susan glanced down at the rabbit. “Maybe I’ll take it back. The kids have so many baby presents that they haven’t opened yet.”

  “Chrissy didn’t open presents the second she laid eyes on them? That doesn’t sound like her.”

  “You can’t imagine how hectic things are. The babies keep all the adults so busy that Chrissy and Stephen haven’t even finished unpacking. And I think Shannon has done more laundry in the past few days than I’ve done in the last month.”

  “Sounds like you’re all running on overload.”

  “And then some.” Susan picked up her menu as their waitress appeared. “What are you having?”

  “Just some coffee and a blueberry muffin. I had a big breakfast less than two hours ago.”

  “Well, that’s not enough for me… I’ll have the Western omelet and hash browns with rye toast and coffee,” Susan ordered. “Now,” she started, leaning on the table as their waitress hurried off, “Shannon told me about the murders out on Perry Island.”

  “Really?” Kathleen pulled a small leather-covered notebook and a slim gold Cross pen from her purse.

  “Yes, and it was very interesting. She says death is different in a nursing home…” Susan began the story.

  By the time their breakfast arrived, Kathleen had covered two pages with notes and Susan really was starving. She stuck a fork into the pile of hash browns on her overflowing oval plate while Kathleen picked up her mug of coffee, a serious expression on her face.

  “What do you think about the murders?” Susan asked.

  “Actually, I was thinking about Nadine’s death. Did you see the morning paper?”

  “No, I’ve been so busy. Was there a story about it?”

  “It covered the entire front page. The details of the murder itself, of course. A short interview with Brett in which he managed to say almost nothing, like the good cop he is. A fairly long interview with Donald who repeated over and over that he was distraught, miserable, and didn’t know who could have wanted to harm a hair on the head of his perfect wife-you know the sort of thing.”

  Susan, her mouth full of omelet, only nodded.

  “And an even longer interview with Blaine Baines.”

  Susan swallowed. “Really? What did she say?”

  “After describing her son as the best husband in the world and explaining that she was shocked and horrified at the death of his beloved wife-”

  “What did she say about Nadine?”

  “All the normal things. How sweet she was, how she couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to kill her, how they always got along perfectly.”

  “Working to make sure that neither she nor her son might become the primary suspects?”

  “Definitely. And more than that. She was very careful to tell the reporter that not only did she and her son learn of the murder together, but they were together when it occurred.”

  “I’m not sure that’s surprising. I think if I was in her-their-situation I would be tempted to do the same,” Susan said.

  “Do you think one of them might have killed her?”

  “I have no idea. But I think you could describe Blaine Baines as ruthless, and ruthless people certainly might kill someone who stood in the way of what they wanted.”

  “Ruthless?” Kathleen mused. “Sounds like someone in one of those thrillers Jerry likes to read, not the local real estate agent.”

  Susan, her initial hunger sated, stared at her plate and thought a bit before answering. “ Blaine ’s not your average housewife turned house seller. She owns and runs a multimillion-dollar business. But it’s not her business self I’m talking about. It’s her personality. She’s completely egocentric. She quite literally sees things only from her own perspective.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  “Sure, to a point, but Blaine ’s egocentricity is extreme. I don’t think she’s capable of seeing the other person’s-any other person’s-point of view.”

  Kathleen put down her mug and stared across the table at her friend. “What happened?” she asked.

  Susan put down her fork, took a sip of coffee, and tried to answer the question.

  “We were once close… well, not close, but we spent time together. I didn’t know a lot of people in town in those days…” She stopped for a moment and then started again.

  “I met Blaine… she introduced herself to me about two weeks after we moved to town. She was living just around the corner back then, in the big split-level the Sanders now live in.”

  Kathleen nodded to show she knew what house Susan was talking about and Susan continued. “She came by to be neighborly. That’s what she said and I appreciated it although the house was a mess and-well, you know me…”

  “You want everything to be perfect when you have company.”

  “Yes. And I was new in town and didn’t know much about the area. Anyway, I was thrilled to be meeting people. And Blaine explained that she was an important person in Hancock.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was on the membership committee of the Field Club, a member of the town zoning board, and she was running for a seat on the town council-which she won that year with my help.”

  “Your help?”

  “I volunteered to make phone calls for her.”

  “That day?”

  “Yeah, that very day.”

  “I’m afraid you’re not exactly filling me in on all the details.”

  “Sorry. To tell the truth, I still feel like a fool when I think about it.”

  “Why? Did you later learn that she was completely unqualified for the job?”

  “No, I later learned that calling strangers is a horrible job that no one in their right mind would volunteer for… and that I was completely unprepared for. I called hundreds of homes and asked them to vote for someone I hardly knew and then, if they asked questions about Blaine ’s qualifications, I had a sheet of prepared answers to read to them. It took hours and hours, and I was made to feel like a fool more than once because I knew almost nothing about the town then and I wanted desperately to get involved, to feel as if I belonged. It was my own fault. I shouldn’t have said I would do it.”

  “Exactly how did you end up doing it?”

  “Well, Blaine said she was running and I asked how the campaign was going and she probably-this was years ago, remember-said she needed to find volunteers to make phone calls, that it was an easy job, could be done from home in spare time.”

  “And you leapt right in and volunteered to do it. I know you, Susan. That sounds just like you.”

  “Yes, I did. And, of course, it turned out to be a huge task. She gave me a list of three hundred households and said it was terribly important that I speak personally to at least one adult in each house. It took forever and, of course, I couldn’t do it in my spare time-when the kids were napping, for instance-because no one was home then. I had to call during dinnertime or right after dinner and the people I called were irritated by me interrupting their family time and sounded like it. It was awful.”

  “And?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t describe someone as ruthless because they manipulated you into making a few hundred phone calls,” Kathleen said.

  “Well, no. But, you see, Blaine didn’t care about getting elected as much as she cared about her business. She used her elected office to become better known in the state. I wasn’t helping create good government in Hancock. I was helping her become a real estate mogul. I should have refused to help.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “It s
ounds stupid-it’s not like I don’t have any will of my own, for goodness sake-but Blaine was so good at manipulating me. And I don’t think she set out to do it. She’s just so focused on herself and her goals and she can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t be just the same. You know, she’s a bit like Nadine, although with ambition. Nadine could spend hours talking about herself as though her life, opinions, you name it, were of compelling interest to anyone she happened to be talking to. Blaine is the same way. She just happens to be more goal oriented.”

  “And you ended up being taken advantage of.”

  “Like an idiot.”

  “Like a very nice person,” Kathleen corrected her.

  “Like an idiot,” Susan repeated slowly. “I really thought I’d gotten a little backbone until right now. I can’t believe Nadine used me the same way her mother-in-law did years ago and that I didn’t even realize it. Damn.”

  “Look, you can either spend years and thousands of dollars on therapy or just figure it’s in the past and forget about it. Besides, when you realized what Blaine was doing, you began to avoid her, right?” Kathleen asked, smiling.

  Susan smiled back. “You know me-anything to get out of a confrontation. She moved to a bigger house on the other side of town.

  “So what else did the paper say?” Susan added.

  “Not too much else. The space was taken up by photographs of Nadine’s home. There wasn’t an obituary.”

  “There will be tonight. Donald brought it over early this morning for me to look at.”

  “Anything interesting?”

  “Not really. Mostly an exaggerated telling of a pretty ordinary life.”

  “That could be said about a lot of obituaries.”

  “True.”

  “You know, there’s really no reason-other than the unsolved murders on Perry Island -why Shannon should be considered a suspect in Nadine’s murder,” Kathleen said.