Valerie Wolzien - Death In Duplicate

Nadine Baines’s elegant “chef’s kitchen” was usually spotless, everything in its place, granite countertops immaculate, Italian hand-glazed floor tiles shining. Now it was covered with blood. Nadine herself was lying beside the dark red Wolf stove, the $200 Sabatier chef’s knife she had bought in France stuck in her chest. Susan suspected it was the first time the knife had actually been used for anything other than status conferral.

“Can you identify her?”

“Of course. It’s Nadine Baines. You and Erika probably met her at my Valentine’s Day dessert party. She and Donald moved here in January.”

“How well do you know her?”

Susan hesitated. “I see her a lot, but I don’t really know her all that well.”

Brett, who had been leaning over the body, looked up at her. “You don’t like her.”

“No, not really. It’s not that she’s a bad person or anything, but she’s sort of self-centered. And she has too much time on her hands… and… and someone must have hated her an awful lot,” Susan concluded.

“It certainly looks that way,” Brett agreed, walking around the body, being careful not to tread in the blood. The dogs hadn’t been so careful; their paw prints were everywhere.

“Not exactly a pristine crime scene, is it?” Susan commented.

“Not exactly. Oh well, it’s amazing what forensics can come up with.” Brett furrowed his brow. “I vaguely remember meeting her-hair a bit too blond, very loud voice-but I can’t come up with a face for the husband.”

“Donald. His name is Donald. He’s a big deal real estate broker in town and he’s usually talking about it when you see him.”

“Can’t say that rings a bell.”

“Are you going to call him and tell him about this? Or just wait until he arrives home?”

“Where does he work? Do you know what time he usually gets home in the evening?”

“He has an office in Hancock-Donald Baines Executive Homes. But he doesn’t have a regular schedule as such. Well, most real estate agents don’t, do they? I mean, he shows houses at all hours. And then there are open houses and things.”

“Is he connected with Blaine Baines Executive Homes and Estates?”

“Yes. His mother owns that agency. His agency is connected to it. At least, I think it is,” she added.

“We’ll find out all those things.”

“I can’t imagine Donald killing anyone.” She looked over at Brett. “I know. You’re going to tell me that people always say that about any murderer.”

“No, I’m going to ask you if that door is the only way out of the basement. I’d like to get the dogs out of there without them passing through here again.”

Susan thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. I mean, the house looks old, but it’s fairly new so it does have all the amenities that you expect in a new home. I think there’s an exit on the side.”

Brett looked out the window toward the fence around the Henshaws’ backyard. “That side?”

“No, the other one. There’s a garage over there and a small garden shed. And I think there is another door-one of those metal things-that leads to the basement. Do you want me to go around to get the dogs and take them home?”

“No, I think we’ll wait to see if forensics wants to look at them first… Susan, I’ll let them go as soon as possible. That’s all I can promise.”

“I was just wondering how much damage they can do down there in the meantime.”

“Can’t be helped,” Brett said.

“Brett.” Susan grabbed his arm. “Chrissy gave birth to twins a few weeks ago and they only arrived yesterday and she’s looking so pale.”

He nodded. “I know, and I’ll make this as easy for her as possible. We’ll need a statement, but after that, she can go on home.” He smiled for the first time since entering the house. “It’s not as though she’ll be difficult to find.”

The door to the foyer opened as he finished speaking and Chrissy herself appeared. “They’re here,” she said simply as a large group of uniformed officers followed her into the kitchen.

Brett stood up and the murder investigation began.

THE PHONE WAS RINGING WHEN SUSAN ARRIVED HOME. Kathleen was on the other end of the line.

“Oh, Kathleen, you won’t believe what’s happened. Nadine was murdered and Chrissy-well, not Chrissy, the dogs really-found her.”

“What were they doing at the nursing home? Or even on the island? Was Nadine at her summer home? Did you take them there?”

For one moment Susan thought that the confusion of the past twenty-four hours had affected her brain, but then she understood Kathleen’s assumptions. “I’m not talking about the Perry Island Care Center. Nothing happened there-at least not today. Nadine was murdered next door. In her house. Chrissy and the dogs found her.”

“They found her inside her house? How did they get in?”

“I have no idea.”

“Did you call the police?”

“Chrissy did. Brett’s there now. Chrissy has to make a statement and then she’ll be home. Kathleen, I’m worried about her. She looks completely wiped out. I’m afraid this is all just too much for her.”

“She’s young and resilient. But having a doctor check her out might not be a bad idea.”

“If I can convince her to see one. You know, I should start dinner. Stephen and Jed will be arriving home any minute now. And Chrissy will feel better if she eats something.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? Our dinner tonight is mac and cheese, carrot sticks, and applesauce. I can get it on the table in minutes if you need me. I could pick up some take-out and bring it over there if that would make things easier.”

“Thanks, but I think we’re okay.”

“Then I’ll say good-bye and go see why the kids are so quiet. I always think they’re doing something they shouldn’t be doing when I don’t hear them for a bit,” Kathleen said and hung up.

Susan put down the receiver and turned around. Shannon was standing in the open doorway, a bulging plastic bag in each hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. But the garbage cans out back are full and I don’t know where to put the overflow.”

“Oh.” Susan thought for a moment. “Why don’t you just pile them up in a corner of the garage? We’ll have to remember to put them on the curb early tomorrow morning so they get picked up.”

“I’ll take them out after the babies’ first feeding. Ethan and Rosie probably have their breakfast before the garbagemen are even thinking of getting out of bed,” Shannon offered. “Do the cans go on the left or the right side of the driveway?”

“The left,” Susan said, frowning. “ Shannon, do you have a minute?”

“I… Do you want me to put these outside first?”

“Just toss them out the back door for now.”

“I don’t like to leave the twins alone for too long.”

Susan reached across the counter and flipped the switch on a small plastic box. “We’ll hear them on the baby monitor if they start to yell. Sit down. Do you want a cup of tea or anything?”

“No. I’m fine.” Shannon remained standing, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and staring down at a spot in the middle of the tile floor.

Susan plunged right in. “There’s been a murder in the neighborhood. Right next door, in fact.” She watched Shannon ’s face carefully. Did the nurse seem startled? Wouldn’t anyone be startled by her statement?

But Shannon remained composed. “Who died?” she asked.

“Nadine Baines. She was over here yesterday when you arrived.” Susan wondered about Shannon ’s lack of reaction to this news. Perhaps nurses were more familiar with death than people in other fields? Especially nurses who had worked in nursing homes?