Death In Duplicate

by Valerie Wolzien

  “Not much, is it?” she added when he didn’t respond right away.

  “Not much,” he agreed. “Of course, you were investigating a single murder. Now things have changed. Two women have been killed.”

  “As well as those patients at Perry Island,” Susan said.

  “ Perry Island is not, of course, the primary focus of my investigation, but I haven’t forgotten them since Donald Baines told me about your baby nurse.”

  “Donald told you about Shannon! When?”

  “Last night.”

  “Because he was trying to protect himself! You suspect that he killed his mother!”

  “I certainly checked that out right away.”

  “And?”

  “He has an alibi.”

  “That’s not possible. Did you even know when she was killed last night? When was the autopsy completed?”

  “Her personal secretary called the station right after she heard about the murder. Blaine Baines had lunch with a prospective client at the Hancock Inn at noon yesterday. I haven’t spoken to the client yet, but I did speak to Charles who says she’s one of his best lunchtime customers and he saw her there. My understanding is that the last time Blaine Baines appeared in public was around two-thirty when she walked the client to her Jaguar in the inn’s parking lot.”

  “And Donald…”

  “Was in the office of a lawyer in Darien closing on a house from around two until five when he drove home, walked into his kitchen, and discovered his mother on his kitchen floor.”

  “How do you know he didn’t walk in the house and find his mother alive and kill her?”

  “Because she wasn’t killed in his kitchen.”

  “What?” It was a possibility Susan hadn’t even considered.

  “Definitely. She was killed someplace else and carried into the kitchen.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “No question about it. Not only was there no blood splattered around the room-”

  “Like when Nadine was killed,” Susan muttered, remembering the mess.

  “Yes. But Blaine was carried into the kitchen in a throw, a small blanket, one of those cashmere things that people hang over their sofas in the winter. You know what I mean.”

  Susan nodded.

  “It was still under the body when Donald found her,” he explained. “It looked as if the killer tried to duplicate the first death.”

  “So where was she killed?”

  “We have no idea. Yet.”

  Susan thought about all this as she strolled behind her pet. “Maybe she met Donald someplace else, he killed her, wrapped her in the throw, and… and…”

  “And brought her home with him, claimed to find her in the kitchen and raised a hue and cry? It doesn’t make any sense. And it’s not possible. Donald was driven home from Darien by his client’s lawyer.”

  “Isn’t that unusual?”

  “Apparently they’re friends. Donald’s car was scheduled for routine maintenance so they arranged to do this.”

  “Why didn’t he take Nadine’s car? It’s not as though she’s using it.”

  “No, but the battery is dead. That’s what he told us and it was easy to check out. He’s given us complete access to his home.”

  “So Donald has an alibi again.”

  “Yes.”

  “Doesn’t that strike you as unlikely?”

  “Unlikely?”

  “Suspicious.”

  “You mean he arranged for his wife and mother to be killed and then made sure he was going to be someplace else while it was happening?”

  “Exactly!”

  “Possible, but a stretch. He’s a very busy man, Susan. I think that may be the only explanation here.”

  They walked down the street in silence for a bit. “Why would anyone want to kill Donald’s mother and his wife?”

  “I was wondering if you had come up with any suggestions,” Brett answered.

  “Perhaps a future wife who doesn’t want an interfering mother-in-law?”

  Brett chuckled as she had meant him to. “Seems a bit drastic, but I’ll take it under consideration.”

  The walked in silence a bit longer. “Do you think Donald knows something he’s not telling you?” Susan asked.

  “Damn right. I must admit I don’t trust him.”

  “Why not?”

  “He seems a bit detached from these murders, almost as though he has something else on his mind.”

  Susan chuckled. “Nadine would be more than a little irritated to hear that. She was always complaining that he didn’t pay her enough attention when she was alive. She’d be furious if she knew his inattention continued after her death.

  “But it’s interesting that he’s responding to his mother’s death pretty much the same way he responded to his wife’s,” Susan went on.

  “I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt and assuming that he might be in shock.”

  “That’s possible. After all, it isn’t every day that a man’s family is wiped out…” Susan paused and turned to Brett. “Is it his whole family? Are there other relatives?”

  “We’re looking into that.”

  “And you’ll let me know when you find out?”

  Brett didn’t answer immediately. In fact, he changed the subject. “Who did you talk to on Perry Island?”

  “A few of the residents at the Perry Island Care Center, the admissions person there-Astrid something-and a woman who owns the island bookstore.”

  “And what excuse have you used?”

  “Why do you think I need an excuse?”

  “Because most people who work in a nursing home admissions office are hired to talk to people who are interested in admitting someone,” Brett said.

  “I’m telling everyone that I’m interested because I’m looking for someplace for my mother to live.”

  “Has she gone out with you?”

  “No, my parents are in Europe.”

  “And you’ve been out there once?”

  “Twice.”

  “Can you think of a reason to return?”

  “I suppose. They asked me if I wanted to eat a meal there and I could say I was testing the food for Mom. Or I suppose I could bring something out to one of the residents I met the last time I was there.”

  “Good.”

  “You want me to go out there again.”

  “Yes.”

  “To find out something for you.”

  “To check out something for me. Yes.”

  “Why don’t you just send one of your officers?”

  “Because I hate outside interference in my local cases and the authorities out there might feel the same way. I’d like to avoid it if I can.”

  “And if I help you, you’ll share what you learn with me?”

  “When I can” was Brett’s obscure promise.

  Susan realized he had given her no guarantees, but she had been planning yet another visit to Perry Island anyway, although she saw no reason to admit this to Brett. “Tell me what you want to know” was all she said.

  He did.

  And many of Susan’s neighbors were awakened that morning by her indignant cry of “He said what?!”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  GRANDPARENTS WHO ARE HAPPY TAKING CARE OF THEIR grandchildren are the best people on earth, Susan decided. She was watching Kathleen give final instructions to her father-in-law about helping her son with his homework. Finished, Kathleen picked up a large canvas boat bag and hurried down the driveway to the curb where Susan waited in her car. “That man is so sweet. He and Alex are making a volcano that actually explodes as a science project.”

  “I think the word is erupt,” Susan said, remembering the mess the combination of baking soda and vinegar had left on her kitchen table back when her son was in elementary school. “Or maybe explode is more like it. Where’s Jerry’s mom?”

  “Listening to NPR and hemming her granddaughter’s Easter dress,” Kathleen said, fastening her seat belt.


  “The woman is a saint.”

  “You can say that again. She’s also making lamb stew for dinner tonight. Jerry and I always gain a ton when his parents are here, but the extra pounds are worth it.” Kathleen took a bright red Tupperware carton from her bag and pried off the top. She passed it to Susan. “Have a coconut cranberry oatmeal cookie.”

  “Thanks! Also your mother-in-law’s work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm. They’re delicious!”

  “They are, aren’t they? I brought a few dozen. I thought we might offer them to some of the residents.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  “You know, you didn’t explain a whole lot when you called. Are we going to the nursing home first or are we going to look for the Baineses’ house?”

  “Depends which ferry we catch. We’re due at Perry Island Care Center for dinner at noon.”

  “You mean lunch, don’t you?”

  “I think the main meal of the day is at noon in most nursing homes,” Susan said.

  “Well, since they think we’re there to check out the food for your mother, they probably won’t expect us to do more than taste everything.”

  “No, and we can use the time to talk to people.”

  “Do you think the residents know anything at all about who owns the place where they live?”

  “I don’t know. Some of the women I spoke with were really sharp,” Susan answered. “Of course, even if Donald is right about who owns P.I.C.C., he might be lying about Shannon ’s cousin.”

  “That’s what you’re hoping, isn’t it? You don’t want him involved in this.”

  Susan kept her eyes on the road. “That’s true.”

  “But you don’t even know him. I know he’s young, but he might be a truly bad person. He might be the killer.”

  “He might, but I don’t think he is. Shannon ’s not the only person who believes in him. I told you about the resident I met there…”

  “The one with the grandson at Yale,” Kathleen said.

  “Yes. She seemed like a very smart person. And she liked him, said he wasn’t a person who would hurt anyone else.”

  “And you believe her.”

  “I do.”

  “So who do you think the murderer is?”

  “I have no idea. Donald is the only person I know of who benefits from the deaths.”

  “But he lost his wife and his mother.”

  “And gained freedom and a whole lot of money.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Not really. Brett’s seen Nadine’s will and he said that Nadine and Donald had left everything to each other. So we know Donald didn’t lose anything financially when she died, but Brett doesn’t know whether Donald’s mother owned the entire agency and left it to him or if they owned it jointly or what.”

  “Of course there’s his mother’s house. That’s got to be worth a fortune.”

  “Her house?”

  “Yes. Susan, you know where she lives, don’t you?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Woodwinds.”

  “Woodwinds? When did she move in there? I had no idea!”

  Kathleen considered the question. “Sometime last summer. The only reason I know about it is that there was talk of the garden club holding a benefit party on the grounds there last August, but after the sale went through we had to find another location.”

  “Really?”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I am. I never imagined that Blaine Baines had that kind of money.”

  “What kind of money?”

  “Rich people’s money. Kathleen, Woodwinds was on the market for years. I’ll bet I’ve seen over a dozen ads for it-in the Times, even the estates for sale section of Architectural Digest-and I know the price was well over ten million dollars!”

  “What?”

  “Ten million dollars!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. Jed always says that a rock and roll star would be the only person who could afford it.”

  “I can’t imagine the Rolling Stones practicing guitar riffs in that music room,” Kathleen commented.

  “I remember you telling me it was one of the most beautiful rooms you had ever seen,” Susan said. “I still regret not going on that tour.”

  Woodwinds was the name of one of the great Connecticut shore estates. Set in the middle of ten well-tended acres, it had been built in the thirties for a famous musician who loved to entertain. It was known for its three-story rotunda, sunken living room, massive music room, and formal dining room where guests, staying in one of the house’s nine bedrooms, had cavorted for decades until the owner died. Kathleen had toured the public rooms years ago during a rare opening of the home to raise money for a local charity.

  “You know, it’s odd that Woodwinds was empty for so long,” Kathleen said.

  “Not as odd as Blaine Baines buying it. Why would a single woman need a home that large? Or a music room?”

  “Status? It’s a fabulous house on a fabulous property. The greenhouses alone-”

  “There are greenhouses there?”

  “Yes, they’re huge. Right behind the pool house. That’s where we wanted to hold the garden club benefit.”

  They drove along in silence for a while and then Susan spoke up. “I wonder if the property could be subdivided.”

  “And if Blaine Baines bought it planning to develop it,” Kathleen continued, catching on immediately.

  “Yeah. If she could build ten large homes on an acre each on the water, she could probably sell them and get her own home for free.”

  “It’s possible,” Kathleen said. “But two-acre zoning is standard in that part of town, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know, but that’s easy to find out down at the municipal offices… Oh, damn! I almost missed the turn-off!” Susan slammed on the brake and made a sharp right turn. The driver of the Lincoln Navigator behind her made his anger known with twin blasts on his horn and Susan flinched. “I hate it when people do that to me, too,” she said. “It’s only a few more miles to the ferry. We may make the early run.”

  “Great.”

  By staying a few miles over the speed limit, they arrived at the ferry landing as the boat began loading for the trip to the island. Almost without a pause, Susan guided her Cherokee into the center of the ship, switched off the engine, and turned to her friend. “Want to ride over in here or to get out?”

  “It’s warmer in here.”

  “Definitely.”

  “So let’s stay…” The ferry lurched just as it began its trip and stopped Kathleen in midsentence. “This means we can find the Baineses’ house before going to the nursing home, right?”

  “It means we can try to find it. Brett gave me the address and I recognized the name of the road which, I think, is the one that circles the island. We’ll just drive around and, if we come across it, we’ll-”

  “We’ll what?”

  “We’ll look around to see if we find any evidence that Mike Armstrong was ever there.”

  “Do you believe Donald’s story that he helped Mike Armstrong hide when the police were looking for him after the deaths on Perry Island were discovered to be murders?” Kathleen asked, remembering what Brett had told Susan this morning.

  “I think it’s weird that anyone would stay on the island if they were trying to avoid the police,” Susan answered.

  “The police may have set up some sort of roadblock at the ferry dock so that it was impossible to come and go without detection.”

  “Maybe, but lots of people on the island must own boats and might have helped Mike if he felt it was important to flee. And there are people on the mainland who could have traveled across the Sound, tied up at a private dock where no one was home, and helped Mike leave.”

  “That’s possible. But it’s also possible that the young man didn’t have the right contacts to have access to a boat and was thrilled to stay at the Baineses’ house
until the investigation had cooled down a bit.”

  “True.” She started the engine as the ferry bumped gently into the shore. “Well, maybe we’ll know more in a bit.”

  “How are we going to learn anything without getting into the house?”

  “Donald told Brett that there’s a key hidden beneath a flowerpot near the back door.”

  “How convenient.”

  “Well, we’ll find out if it’s there if we find the house.” Susan drove off the boat and turned at the first main road they came to. “This is the road. Brett said to turn right and continue on for three or four miles.”

  “What number are we looking for?” Kathleen asked, peering out the windshield.

  “That’s the problem. The island has a quaint tradition of naming properties rather than bothering with boring things like street numbers. We’re looking for Windswept. Apparently it’s painted on a board at the end of a dirt road that leads to their driveway.”

  “You’re kidding. How do people get deliveries? Mail or FedEx or whatever?”

  “I have no idea. Just keep looking on your side of the road for Windswept. It must be on the water, don’t you think?”

  “It may be, but that doesn’t mean we’ll find it,” Kathleen replied, squinting to read a hand-painted sign that, as far as she could guess, said UBERHOLM.

  They drove along slowly, but they didn’t find what they were searching for. Susan was about to suggest giving up when she realized what she was looking for was right in front of her. “That’s it! Windswept! It isn’t on the water! It’s right there. On the left. On my side!” She slammed on the brakes, turned down the road she had almost missed, and found herself on a narrow, bumpy dirt road through the woods. During the summer, it would be impossible to look through the woods, but now, with the leaves barely covering the branches on the trees, there could be little doubt that the house they were traveling toward had no near neighbors.

  “Tell me again why Donald says he allowed Mike to live in this house,” Kathleen demanded.

  “He told Brett that Mike had trouble finding a place to stay on the island and, since he was working nights, didn’t want to travel back and forth to the mainland. So Donald offered Mike a room in the caretaker’s cottage on the property here in exchange for helping keep the driveway plowed in the winter.”