Dead Man's Image

by Curry, Edna

  “Sure.” She pulled out her notebook and read it to him.

  “How'd you get it?” Ben asked suspiciously.

  “Simple,” she said. “I asked this friend of his I told you about. By the way, did you find any evidence in his car?”

  Ben shook his head. “No. It was clean.”

  “I'd like a look at the body, if I may.”

  Ben shrugged. “Sure. Stop over to Harry's funeral parlor.”

  “The coroner's finished with it?”

  Ben laughed. “It didn't take Doc too long to decide that the two slugs in him did the job.”

  Lacey sighed. Nothing much more to learn here. She rose. “Thanks, Ben. I'd appreciate hearing about it if you get a definite ID on the body.”

  “Thank you for the tip on his dentist. I'll phone her in the morning.”

  “Call me when you get an answer on those prints.”

  Lacey drove out to her cabin, thinking. The sun was setting behind the evergreens, and, as usual, there was no traffic on this country road. She liked the privacy and peaceful beauty of the trees around the lake.

  Isolation had its down side as well. Tonight she was realizing just how alone she was out here. There were other cabins, of course, but they were spread out and everyone minded their own business. Most of the other lake homeowners lived in the Twin Cities, and only came out on weekends or vacations.

  She had invited a stranger to stay near her! Had she lost her mind? Nervousness knotted her stomach into a ball and the hamburger she'd eaten felt like a sour lump.

  Everything seemed normal at her cabin. She pulled into the drive and parked, then drew a fortifying breath, and headed inside.

  The delicious odors of toasted-cheese sandwiches and coffee met her nose and she followed them to the kitchen and paused in the open arched doorway. This trucker had a domestic streak?

  Paul looked up and grinned. “Hungry? I'm making myself at home like you told me to.”

  He looked as delicious as the coffee smelled. He was wearing a clean set of jeans and sweatshirt, obviously his work clothes, since all he'd brought was his duffel bag from his truck. He hadn't shaved and she wondered why. Didn't he carry his shaving gear on the road? “Thanks,” she said. “I already had a hamburger at the bar. But coffee would be great.”

  He nodded and poured her a cup, then deftly turned his sandwich onto a plate and joined her at the table.

  “You didn't shave,” she said irrelevantly.

  He rubbed the dark stubble on his jaw with long fingers ruefully. “No. My beard is heavy and dark, and grows so fast. I've already got a two-day start, and I thought maybe whiskers would serve as a disguise for a while until I can clear myself of this mess.”

  “I see. Good idea.” He was probably right. Already he looked different, not so much like the artist's sketch. “I guess a beard does tend to disguise a man easily.” She sipped the hot, fragrant coffee. He made a surprisingly good cup of brew.

  “I hope you didn't mind my using your phone. The battery on my cell phone needed charging. I used my phone card. I had some pick-ups scheduled for the next few days that I had to get one of my other drivers to cover for me.”

  “No. That's fine,” she lied. Great. Phone calls and credit card charges leave a paper trail. But nobody would be checking on a dead man, would they? Until they found out he wasn’t dead.

  “Thanks.”

  She could hardly blame him. He had to keep track of his business, and the phone wasn't hooked up in the cabin he was renting. “Did you get the pick-ups taken care of?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Hank, one of my employees, is on the East Coast anyway this week. He'll cover them for me. I stay with him sometimes, and I can trust him.”

  “You didn't tell him about all this?”

  “No. Only that I had some personal business to straighten out before I can drive again.”

  I guess being thought dead is pretty personal. “Good. Though I suppose the cops will soon find out who your employees are and try to talk to them anyway.”

  “I suppose,” Paul said. “Though it may take them awhile and my employees don't know anything anyway.”

  “Don't be so sure.”

  “What do you mean? How could they know anything when they're several states away?”

  “They know they've talked to you by phone, don't they? They would be certain it was you because they'd recognize you voice.”

  “Oh. Maybe I should have warned them not to say that. No, I don't want them lying for me. I think it's better to stick to the truth. The cops are gonna figure out that I'm alive sooner or later anyway, aren't they?”

  “That's true.”

  “Well?” he asked, biting into his sandwich.

  “Well, what?”

  He frowned. “You know. Fill me in. What did you find out today?”

  Lacey went over what she'd learned, skipping the part about searching his apartment and giving Ben the fingerprints. “I'm afraid it isn't much,” she said.

  “I'm running low on cash. I'd better stop at my bank and get some more.”

  He wanted to stop at his bank for cash? Feeling sick, she looked at him. “Do you suppose your bank has heard that you're dead?”

  “What?”

  He looked puzzled. He obviously didn't get what she was asking. “Banks tend to freeze the accounts of dead people, Paul.”

  Staring at her, he exclaimed, “Oh, no! You mean I can't get at my money?”

  She looked away and bit her lip. “I'm not sure. I suppose it all depends on whether or not whoever's in charge at your bank has heard about this and put a hold on your account, yet.”

  “Damn! Then I'm broke! I count on my checkbook and credit cards.”

  Chewing her lower lip, Lacey said nothing. She could, of course, let Paul go to his bank to prove to them that he wasn't dead, but then he might be charged with murder. She didn't want to feel responsible for his arrest. If she could keep him out of sight until she figured this out, they might be able to avoid all that.

  Paul chewed thoughtfully, then said, “Hurry up and finish your coffee. We're going out.”

  “What? Somebody will see you.”

  “I'll wear my cap and sunglasses and with this stubble, I don't think anyone will notice. Besides, it's dark outside, now.”

  “Why leave here and take a chance?” Lacey sputtered.

  “I'm going to my bank ATM and try to draw out all my cash,” he said grimly.

  “If they've already put a hold on it, you won't get any. And you'll be taking a chance of getting arrested for nothing.”

  “It's worth a try. My identity won't be in the papers until tomorrow, so they might not have heard about it. I don't think they can act on rumors.”

  “But they have a camera. They tape all transactions.”

  He grinned at her, slipping on his jacket and dark glasses. Then he put on a baseball cap and pulled it down low on his forehead. “So what? They know me there. If anyone looks at the tape, they'll see the guy whose account it is. I'll take off the cap and glasses at the cash machine. Who's going to say it isn't me?”

  “Okay,” Lacey shrugged, putting down her cup and picking up her jacket and purse. “But I don't like this. If you get picked up, I'm going to say I told you so.”

  For a moment a worried look crossed his face, then he grinned and put his arm around her, giving her a warm squeeze as they walked out to her car. “That's the chance I'll have to take.”

  Heat sizzled through her at his friendly touch, as her traitorous body admitted how attractive he was. She wanted to smile and joke with him. He made her feel so deliciously feminine and desirable. If only they were indeed just out for a fun date. She pushed those thoughts away.

  Trying to ignore the nervousness gripping her stomach, she smiled at him and got behind the wheel. She drove over to Canton. No one was on the main street of the little town, but there were a couple of cars parked near the bar half a block away. Apparently, they rolled up the sidewalks when the s
un went down. Sensible people were home watching television or relaxing after work. She was sticking her neck out for a guy she didn't even know. She glanced at him and asked, “Where's the bank?”

  “Right on Main Street, down another block. The cash machine is around on the side. You can go around the back, then wait for me in the drive-up area, out of sight of Main Street.”

  “Okay.” She parked as he directed, near the bank, but out of range of the ATM camera.

  He dug out his bank card and took off his cap and glasses, then got out and strode quickly over to the bank. He walked into the lighted twenty-four hour cash machine lobby.

  She watched as he stood at the machine entering information.

  Feeling like the driver of the getaway car during a bank heist, she waited nervously on the dark, quiet street. He's only withdrawing his own money, she reminded herself. Finally he stuffed something into his pocket, turned and walked quickly back to her.

  He was grinning as he got in and slammed the door. “It worked. I got all the cash I could. That should hold me for a while.”

  “And you're on video tape as being alive.”

  He sent her a defiant glance. “So what? I am alive in case you haven't noticed.”

  She glanced at him, pursing her lips. She'd noticed all right. Boy, had she noticed. She was trying hard not to notice. She didn't want to start caring, or want to break her rule about getting personally involved with a client. In her experience, it always led to trouble.

  “So,” she said, “when somebody at the bank hears about you being dead and puts a hold on the account, they'll notice the big withdrawal after the murder, and review the tape. Then they'll call the sheriff, and all hell will break loose.”

  “Well, he's going to find out sooner or later anyway. I'm not planning to stay dead.”

  “Right.” She sighed, turned onto the highway and headed back to Landers. But Ben would remember she had told him to make sure that the dead guy was really Paul. When he heard from the bank, Ben would add two and two and get ‘Lacey is holding out on me.’ And then she'd be in for it.

  Chapter 5

  In the meantime, Lacey, realized, she had to know who this dead guy really was. “I'll drop you back at the cabin, then I'm gonna make a stop at Harry's funeral parlor.”

  Paul asked, “To see this guy who looks like me?”

  She nodded, her eyes on the red stoplight at the crossroads into Landers.

  “I'm going with you.”

  Turning to stare at him, she asked, “Are you nuts? Harry will call Ben immediately.”

  “I'll wear my disguise. He won't even notice.”

  “Oh, I don't know, Paul. That's pretty risky.”

  He met her gaze. “I'll take my chances. I have to know. I'm going crazy wondering what the hell's going on.”

  The light changed to green and she swung into the almost empty main street. Did she dare take him with her? It was late and not too many people were out and about who might recognize him, even in his disguise. She sighed. He was right, he was the one taking the risk of being arrested, and it should be his decision. “Okay, but I still don't like it.”

  She parked at the funeral parlor. There was only one car there. Luckily, there were no visitations tonight.

  He put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze. She turned to send him a nervous smile and their gazes held. Was it only nerves which sent that shiver running through her?

  They went up the steps. Inside they saw plush red carpet and gleaming hardwood furniture.

  “Mortuaries must be profitable businesses,” he said.

  She nodded, relieved to see that Harry wasn't there himself. A young male employee wearing the nametag of Kevin frowned when they asked to see the body.

  “I don't know about that. I'd have to ask Harry and I don't know where he is tonight.”

  “Kevin, Sheriff Ben needs another person's ID to be sure,” Lacey told him, smiling sweetly. That wasn't exactly a lie. Ben did need some more ID on the dead man, if the man standing beside her was Paul. Ben just didn't know it yet, although she'd hinted broadly enough.

  At the mention of the Sheriff, Kevin relaxed and led them to a small, stuffy side room. He snapped on a bright overhead light. As they stepped inside the refrigerated room, Lacey almost gagged at the strong smell of embalming fluid which permeated the area. White painted cabinets lined one wall and some metal caskets were stacked along the wall on the other side of the room.

  Sheets covered bodies on several tables at this end of the room. Kevin pulled back the sheet on one of them and turned away. Both Lacey and Paul gasped as they saw the body.

  Paul's hand gripped her arm, and she quickly covered it with hers to silence him. Instinctively, she turned to look at Paul, to reassure herself that he was really standing beside her. He'd pushed up his dark glasses and stared in disbelief at the body. They looked at each other, then back at the dead man. The body on the table had to be his identical twin brother.

  For a long moment they stood, stunned, then Paul pulled his glasses back down, turned and walked out.

  “Thanks, Kevin,” Lacey managed to the young man now busy at a cabinet. She hurried out after Paul. He walked stiffly ahead of her and they got into her car.

  Lacey started the motor and leaned back to look at him. He met her eyes, but said nothing. He was obviously in shock, his eyes wide and almost unseeing. He seemed to be far away, thinking. She caught her breath, sympathy for his pain surging through her.

  They said nothing as she drove back to her house and they walked inside. Taking his arm, she steered him to the kitchen table. Woodenly, he sat down.

  Fortunately, she'd left the electric coffeemaker turned on, so the coffee was still hot. She poured him a cup. Ladling in a couple of heaping spoonfuls of sugar, she set it in front of him. “Drink this, Paul.”

  She poured herself a cup and sat down across from him. “Are you okay, Paul?”

  He raised his eyes and looked at her over the brim of the cup. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm a twin! I had an identical twin brother, didn't I?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Paul. That's the only explanation I can see.”

  “God! What a way to find out!”

  “You didn't know.” It was a statement rather than a question. He was too stunned to have known.

  He shook his head. “I was adopted as a baby. They told me that when I was small, but if they knew about any other relatives, they never told me about them.”

  “Maybe they didn't know, either.”

  “Maybe not. No, I'm sure they didn't know. They loved me, and they would have told me.”

  “Who were your parents? Your adopted ones, I mean?”

  “Fred and Carol Menns. I was raised in White Bear Lake.”

  “And you never knew who your birth parents were?”

  Paul shook his head. He drank more coffee and shuddered. “This is vile. What did you put in it?”

  “Sugar. It's supposed to be good for shock.”

  He tipped his head quizzically. “Are you sure?”

  “Just drink it, Paul.”

  He drank it slowly, then suddenly he put his cup down and looked at her, an expression of pleased discovery on his face. “I know his name!”

  “Whose name?”

  “My brother's name. The dead guy.”

  “Yeah?” she asked, suspicious again.

  “It's John.”

  Lacey remembered the bartender who'd told her about a woman calling Paul 'John.' Was that what he meant? Her voice cautious, she asked, “How do you know that?”

  “At the bar on Sunday night, there was this woman who kept insisting she knew me. She called me John, and claimed that I stood her up for a date and owed her for the wasted Twins tickets. She knew John.”

  Lacey rubbed her cheek, thinking. “Had you met this woman before?”

  “No, never.”

  “Can you describe her? You know, so we can find her again?”

  Paul frowned. “What for? Sh
e was obnoxious. I don't want to see her again.”

  Patiently, Lacey explained, “We need to talk to her so we can find out more about John, like the rest of his name and where he lived. Also why someone wanted him dead, so we can clear you. So, tell me whatever you can.”

  Paul looked at her thoughtfully. “Oh. Well, I suppose tall, dark and obnoxious would cover it.”

  Lacey grinned. The waitress hadn't seemed to like her either. “So, tall with black hair? Or dark brown?”

  “Very black hair. It looked dyed. You know, not a natural color 'cause it's too perfect? Down to her shoulders, and straight, not curly. Long, red fingernails and very white skin.”

  “How old? Fat, skinny?”

  “About thirty, I guess. Big boobs, but the rest of her was pretty thin, her arms and legs.”

  “Attractive, then?”

  Paul laughed wryly. “She was pretty enough and knew it. Her attitude was what turned me off. She really lit into me, calling me a liar and cheapskate when I wouldn't give her money for the tickets she said I wasted.”

  “Can you think of anything she said that would help us find her?”

  “Not really.”

  “Did you see her car?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I wasn't paying attention. There were quite a few cars in the parking lot when I left. Anyway, she was with this other guy, so he was probably driving.”

  Frustrated, she urged, “Think, Paul. Anything.”

  “Well, she did say something about making that date in a bar near Rosedale. Claimed I was so nice that night, that I'd bought her a meal of Linguini at this TGI Friday's and then we'd talked for hours in their bar. She accused me of 'blowing hot and cold.'“

  “Good. That's a start. I'll check it out tomorrow.”

  Paul shook his head. “We'll check it out tomorrow. I can't just sit around in that cabin. I'll go crazy. I need to know what's happening. Besides, maybe we can find some other people there who think they know me, and find out more that way.”

  Lacey chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I thought you wanted to stay anonymous. Besides, no one is going to think you're John behind that beard and dark glasses.”