Death In Duplicate

by Valerie Wolzien

  “But as I said, the murders upset him. At first I thought he was shocked-this was his first job working in a nursing home and he just wasn’t used to people dying. It sounds callous, but if every time a resident died the staff became distressed, things would be much more difficult around here.”

  “But murder…”

  “Of course we were all upset by the thought that there was a killer among us, but Mike more so than normal-if there is a normal in an abnormal situation…” She stopped speaking and frowned.

  “You were going to tell me about the day before he vanished,” Susan reminded her.

  “Sorry. It’s so easy to get lost-there is little logic to my train of thought these days, I find. I was telling you about Mike stealing things.”

  “He did? Are you sure?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m sure. I actually saw him. He was cleaning up after one of our hideous art therapy sessions. The teacher who comes in to help us explore our artistic capabilities-that’s what she calls it; I’d say make messes-had removed her watch while she demonstrated painting on silk. Mike was cleaning up the room after the class had ended. He just slipped it into his jeans pocket. I was walking by and happened to see him.”

  “Did you say anything to him?”

  “I certainly did! I told him to put it right back and he said that he hadn’t been going to keep it. Of course, he was lying, but I knew a lecture about the virtues of honesty wouldn’t change him. I’m over ninety years old and I’ve never known anyone to change their life because someone lectured them about it.”

  “And did he give it back?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t take other things and get away with it.”

  “No, of course not. But you were telling me about the day before he left,” Susan said.

  “He was upset-well, I told you that didn’t I?-and he came into my room late in the afternoon and said that he was being accused of things that weren’t true and he wasn’t going to put up with it. He was angry and I thought for a moment that he was talking about me. I explained that I hadn’t told anyone about what I’d seen and he laughed. He said that if I’d seen what he’d seen, I’d be dead from the shock.”

  “Did you ask him what he was talking about?”

  “Yes, of course. And he answered with one word. Murder.”

  “And?”

  “That’s all-murder. And then he turned and left my room and I never saw him again. The next morning the police were around asking about him. They never found him, though. Two or three days later his cousin quit her job and left P.I.C.C. as well.”

  “His cousin?”

  “Oh, yes, she worked here too. She’s a nurse. Her name isn’t Armstrong though. It’s Tapley. Shannon Tapley.”

  SIXTEEN

  SUSAN’S CELL PHONE RANG AS SHE CROSSED THE SOUND. Scrounging around in her large Coach bag, she managed to find the phone and answer before the caller hung up. It turned out to be Kathleen, who knew Susan’s penchant for misplacing her phone in the massive purses she preferred.

  “Kathleen, you’ll never believe what I found out!” Susan said.

  “I could say the same thing.” Kathleen’s answer was as clear as a bell.

  Susan frowned. Just her luck-her new phone’s reception was best in the middle of the water. “Mike Armstrong is Shannon Tapley’s cousin.”

  “Who is Mike Armstrong?”

  “A young man who worked at the nursing home and my guess is that right now he’s a major suspect in the murders at P.I.C.C.”

  “And he hasn’t been arrested?”

  “Apparently no one knows where he is.”

  “Not even his cousin?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you going to ask her about him?”

  “I guess… Why are you calling?”

  “Because I have some information I thought you might be interested in.”

  “What?”

  “Nadine and Donald were having marital problems-before his mother put him in charge of her company’s branch office and he bought the house next door to you.”

  “You’re kidding! Where did you hear that?”

  “At the office of Blaine Baines Executive Homes and Estates right here in Hancock.”

  “Who told you? Who? Kath? Kathleen, I’m losing you… Damn.” Susan flipped her phone shut and reached out for the key in the ignition. As the ferry bumped gently into the dock, she started her car, and drove onto the mainland.

  The days were getting longer, but it was dusk when Susan entered her house to the sound of babies screaming, dogs barking, and the phone ringing. Clue forgot all her obedience training and leapt all over Susan. “Down, Clue,” she ordered, smiling and roughing up the fur around her dog’s neck. “Let me get the phone.” She decided to deal with the simplest problem first.

  “Susan? Hon?”

  “Hi, Jed,” she said and waited for him to tell her that he was on his way to the train.

  “I just spoke with Stephen. His new boss has asked him out for a drink. We both agreed that he should accept so I’m going to catch up on some work here at the office and meet him at Grand Central when he’s finished. That way we can drive home together.”

  Susan realized that there was only one car waiting at the station. “That’s fine. I’ll… I’ll keep dinner warm for the two of you,” she promised-not that she had any idea what anyone in the house would get for dinner that evening.

  “That would be great. Thanks, hon.”

  Susan hung up and looked down at Clue. “You haven’t had a decent walk all week, have you, sweetie?”

  Clue did her canine best to look neglected.

  “I’m doing this because it’s the only way I can find a quiet moment to think,” Susan told her dog, reaching for the leash that usually hung over the end of the banister. Today it had been replaced by a pink knit baby blanket and one aqua crocheted bootie with a hole in the toe. A quick search revealed the leash lying on the floor nearby underneath an antique walnut console. Susan clipped it to Clue’s collar and escaped from the house before anyone could ask her to do anything.

  “It’s not that I don’t love my grandchildren to death,” she explained to the dog as they trotted down the walk. “It’s just that I need to decide whether or not to tell Shannon what I learned today before I see her.”

  Clue, in good golden retriever fashion, looked up with understanding eyes and Susan felt better although she knew the expression was genetic rather than emotional. She was feeling in her pocket for a plastic bag in case she needed to pick up after Clue, when Donald Baines appeared by her side.

  “Susan! I was hoping to run into you!”

  As he was wearing a sweat suit and running shoes, Susan thought perhaps he meant this literally. Donald was barely keeping up a slow jog, but sweating profusely. His outfit was brand new. What sort of man started an exercise program less than forty-eight hours after his wife was murdered, Susan wondered. “What can I do for you?” she asked automatically.

  “The memorial service.” Donald breathing was labored.

  “What about the memorial service?” She hoped he wasn’t going to ask her to bake for the reception afterward. As a good neighbor, she wouldn’t refuse, but between the twins and the murders… well, she was much busier than usual.

  “We haven’t been in town for all that long…”

  Susan began mentally reviewing her list of easy recipes fit for a funeral reception. She had just settled on tortellini salad when she realized that Donald was asking her for a more significant contribution.

  “But I hardly knew her,” Susan protested.

  “Nadine always said she could tell you anything.”

  Nadine, in fact, had told Susan a lot, but that didn’t mean Susan had actually listened. Nor, for that matter, had Nadine said much, if anything, that might be useful in preparing a eulogy. “Perhaps your mother might speak…,” Susan said, grasping for an answer.

  “I already suggested that to Mother, but she was
afraid that the people who attended Nadine’s memorial service might think we were trying to get publicity for our company-which would be completely inappropriate.”

  So Blaine Baines Executive Homes and Estates and Donald Baines Executive Homes was the same company! Susan tried to think of another option. “What about the neighbors where you lived before this? Perhaps one of them?”

  “That town was nothing like Hancock. We only chose to live there because we found a property we couldn’t resist. And Nadine didn’t really get along with our neighbors there.”

  Susan didn’t know what to say. Too many things seemed to be happening at once. But she knew her primary focus should be the babies’ safety and helping Chrissy. And that meant keeping Shannon out of jail. Which meant finding out who killed Nadine. And maybe, she realized, Donald had just offered her some help with doing just that.

  “Perhaps if I could talk to other people who knew her better… longer…”

  “I suppose.” Donald looked as though he didn’t believe his own words. “But I don’t see how you’re going to contact them.”

  “Perhaps I could look in Nadine’s address book.”

  “I can’t imagine where I’d find it.”

  “Her desk? Pocketbook?”

  “I’d rather not go through all that right now. Her purse is so personal. It doesn’t seem like something I should do. This has all been very upsetting, you know.”

  Susan knew she was being insensitive, but really, he had asked her to do him a favor and seemed to be completely disinterested in helping her do it. If she hadn’t been hoping to learn something from all this, she would have had no trouble turning him down. And she was about to do that anyway, figuring that she could just get on with her own life, when Donald offered a solution.

  “I could probably have my secretary give you a copy of our Christmas card list.”

  “Your business list?”

  “Oh, no. Mother kept that separately. I’m talking about our personal list. Nadine and I both believed that it was important to keep in touch with old friends and acquaintances and Christmas is surely the easiest time to do so, but my wife was always too busy during the holidays to send out cards so my secretary took over that chore. She-my secretary-is very efficient. I’m sure the list is up-to-date.”

  “It might be helpful if I could take a look at it,” Susan said, trying not to sound too excited. She had investigated many murders, but no one had ever offered her a complete list of the deceased’s acquaintances.

  “Then perhaps I should go to the office and ask for a copy of that list for you.” Donald paused and Susan had an idea.

  “I could stop in and get it if that would be easier for you.”

  “Oh, it would be. Everyone is so upset about Nadine’s death, of course, and they’re worried about me. If I go into the office, I’ll just have to waste time calming down my staff.”

  “If you call and tell your secretary that I’m coming…”

  Donald beamed as though Susan had had an original thought. “Then you can just stop in and pick it up! Exactly!” The beam faded. “There is just one problem though.”

  “What?”

  “If you should happen to run into Mother…” He took a deep breath. “She might ask about me.”

  “Of course she’s concerned about you,” Susan said, speaking as a mother rather than a neighbor.

  “I hate for her to worry. It’s a horrible shock, of course, but I’m going to be fine.”

  “I’ll tell her that I just saw you and-”

  “Oh, no! Don’t say that! She thinks… well, I didn’t want her to worry.”

  “What do you want me to tell her?” Susan asked.

  “I told her I wanted to be alone today… tonight. I just don’t want her to worry.”

  “But if I run into her what reason shall I give for being at your office?”

  Donald, no longer the bereaved widower, smiled broadly. “You could just tell her that you’re interested in selling your house,” he said. “Mother would be more than happy if she thought she was getting such an important listing.”

  Susan and Clue returned home, both a little tired, one more than a little puzzled. Donald was not acting like a man who had lost his wife in a brutal attack. At least he was the first person she had known to drown grief in a new exercise routine. And his request that she take part in the memorial service… she was still thinking that one through when she walked into her living room.

  And discovered Shannon sitting on the couch surrounded by baby presents. She was writing in a large notebook, but looked up when Susan entered the room.

  “Hi.”

  “Where are the twins? Chrissy?”

  “All three are upstairs asleep. In fact, I think this is the first time all three of them have been asleep at the same time since I started this job. We spent a few hours unwrapping baby gifts and it wore everyone out. I decided to take advantage of the calm to make sure the names of the givers and the gifts were recorded. Chrissy said she wanted to start writing thank-you notes as soon as possible.”

  “That’s probably a good idea,” Susan said, removing a few stuffed animals from Clue’s reach.

  “Your daughter must be very popular. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone to get so many baby presents.”

  “Well, of course, being twins there are two presents for every one.” She glanced at the gifts. “What is that?” she asked, indicating a pile of patterned cotton that seemed familiar.

  “Baby clothes. Apparently dressing up your baby as though he-or she-is going off to war is the latest thing in New York City.” Shannon held up two tiny rompers made of camouflage-patterned fabric.

  Susan wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Well, at least they’re not discriminating between the sexes.”

  “I suppose you could say that for them,” Shannon agreed. “To tell the truth, it’s about the only thing positive I can think of to say. I think children should be children as long as possible and not miniature military officers…”

  “Or gangster rappers,” Susan finished holding up a pair of baggy baby jeans.

  Shannon grinned. “At least there’s lots of room for diapers.”

  Susan laughed and then changed the subject. “I was over on Perry Island this afternoon.”

  Shannon ’s smile vanished and she looked down at the page she had filled with names and addresses. “And?”

  “And I met a new woman, one of the residents. Her name’s Sally Worth.”

  “Sally was one of my favorite residents, along with Carolyn Breen. And Carolyn was killed…”

  “Well, Sally and I talked for a bit and she told me about this young man who a lot of people at the Center think might be the killer…” She paused, waiting for Shannon ’s reaction.

  The nurse didn’t look up and said only one word. “Mike.”

  “Yes. Mike Armstrong. She also said he is your cousin.”

  Shannon nodded. “My favorite cousin.” she said. Then she took a deep breath and began her explanation.

  SEVENTEEN

  KATHLEEN AND SUSAN WERE STANDING OUTSIDE OF DONALD Baines Executive Homes, pretending to examine photographs of homes for sale as they exchanged information.

  “ Shannon didn’t hesitate for a moment when I mentioned Mike Armstrong. She said he’s her cousin… her favorite cousin… and she admitted that she’s worried about him,” Susan explained, as she peered at a huge stucco home with such a variety of sizes and shapes of windows it could have served as a display for the Pella Windows Company.

  “Does she think he might be the murderer?” Kathleen asked.

  “She claims to believe his story that while he did steal some of the residents’ belongings, he never harmed anyone in any way. She described him as sweet, if somewhat confused.”

  “Back when I was a cop, I heard that type of thing said by relatives of mass murderers,” Kathleen said.

  “But Sally, the resident who told me about Mike, said the same thing about him-in dif
ferent words, but the idea was the same. And she gave me the impression of being a very astute individual.”

  “Susan, she’s in a nursing home.”

  “I know, but she really impressed me. In fact, she’s not the only one. Her friend was funny and bright as well.”

  “Well, I hope you and I are like them when we get older,” Kathleen said and then returned to the subject. “What exactly did Shannon say about her cousin?”

  “She said he had been in trouble with the law a few years ago and left P.I.C.C. because he was afraid the police would see his record and not bother looking further for a suspect.”

  “What sort of trouble?”

  “Well, Shannon mentioned graffiti, but Sally Worth suspects that he used drugs.”

  “Strange that a nursing home would hire someone with a police record.”

  “I wondered about that too, and I asked Shannon if her cousin was hired because he was related to her. I thought I was being subtle, but she knew exactly what I was thinking. She told me that Mike was considered because he was a relative, but that he had been completely honest about his past and that the administration at P.I.C.C. had felt that he deserved a second chance.”

  “Really? There aren’t any laws about that sort of thing?”

  “What sort of laws?” Susan asked.

  “Well, you’re not allowed to hire people with police records to work in schools, are you? All the employees are fingerprinted and have to go through a background check.”

  “Children aren’t the same as the old people.”

  “No, but many of the elderly are at least as vulnerable as children. When I was working in the Bronx, I was shocked by the number of crimes against senior citizens. And a lot of incidents were never reported.”

  Susan looked over and saw a scowl marring her friend’s beautiful face. “Bad memories?”

  “Sort of. And a bit of guilt.”

  “Guilt? What do you have to feel guilty about?”

  “I was helping people then. And I felt particularly good when I worked on cases of elder abuse. Sometimes I feel as though I’ve abandoned them.”