Valerie Wolzien - Death In Duplicate

“No. I don’t have much time to read. Well, not as much as I would like. I have so many obligations for my work. Rotary, Elks, Kiwanis, Lions’ Club, golf. Networking is very important to a real estate agent,” he added, perhaps noticing Susan’s startled expression.

“Yes… Why are you here? I mean, is there anything I can do for you?” She passed him a cup of coffee.

“Your daughter found my wife’s body. Is there any cream?”

“I… she… yes… Well, it’s milk, not cream, but I could get some cream if-”

“No, this is fine.” He poured milk to the top of his cup, sipped, and grimaced. “Fine. Really fine.”

“Chrissy did find Nadine. She was looking for her dogs.”

“That’s what someone-one of the police officers, I think-told me. But I don’t understand how she got into the house.”

That had been one of the first questions discussed over dinner last night. “Chrissy was looking for her dogs and she heard one of them barking. She assumed they were in your yard, but, when she went to look, she discovered the back door already open. Rock and Roll, the dogs, are bullmastiffs and they can pretty much push open any door, but only if it isn’t latched.”

“Yes. That makes sense.” He nodded as though the simple thing she had just told him was important. “I’d like to see your daughter sometime.”

“She’s still asleep. But we talked a lot last night. Maybe I can help you?” She didn’t add that their conversation had been constantly interrupted by the babies’ demands and she probably knew more about the twins’ routine-or lack of such-than the situation surrounding Nadine’s discovery.

“You saw her body.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes. You must have been shocked.”

“Nadine would have hated people seeing her like that.”

“Uh… well, yes.” What a strange comment. It wasn’t as though Nadine had been discovered with her hair a mess or wearing old jeans. She had been covered with her own blood, for heaven’s sake. She looked at Donald carefully. Was he drugged? In shock? “When are you going to have the funeral?” she asked, not knowing what else to say.

“There will be an autopsy. The police insist, although it’s a complete waste of time. It was obvious to anyone who saw her yesterday what the cause of death was. And then her body will be released to me. I suppose we’ll hold a memorial service sometime after that. I must remember to say something about that in the obituary.” He reached in his pants pocket and pulled out a small, elegant leather bound notebook with a tiny silver pen attached. He spent a moment writing and then looked up at Susan. “Would you like to hear the obituary or would you prefer to see it in the newspaper this evening?”

“I… Yes, I’d like to hear it. Did you write it yourself?”

“Mother and I got together over it late last night. I couldn’t sleep, see.”

“Of course. I understand.”

“And Mother made me hot Ovaltine like she used to when I was a boy, and we worked and worked. She thought it would take my mind off my problems. And that we should do what needed to be done. ‘Let’s get on with it’ is what she said. Mother is very big on getting on with it.”

Definitely drugged, Susan decided. “Do you want to read it to me?” she asked.

“Yes, I would like that. It may be a bit unconventional. It is unconventional, but I think unconventional times call for unconventional responses, don’t you?”

“Yes. Of course.” She picked up her cup, sipped, and hoped the expression on her face looked sympathetic as well as encouraging. “Go ahead.”

Donald took a deep breath and began reading in a voice about half an octave deeper than his normal speaking voice.

“ ‘Mrs. Nadine Baines, née Mortimer, died unexpectedly in her home yesterday afternoon.’ I thought that was probably more than enough detail. What do you think?”

Since Susan was sure the front page of the paper where this would be published would be covered with details of the murder itself she could only agree.

“ ‘Born in Connecticut, she graduated with honors from Trinity College. She was married to Donald Baines, owner of Donald Baines Executive Homes. The couple moved to Hancock this year. Mrs. Baines was a deacon at the Hancock Presbyterian Church as well as active in their Women’s Circle. She played on the mixed doubles tennis team at the Hancock Field Club.’ Well, she would have this summer. We had signed up,” he explained to Susan.

She nodded.

“ ‘She was also a member of the Women’s auxiliary of the Lions’ Club, the Kiwanis Club, the Elks, and the Rotary. A founding member of the Hancock Women’s Reading Circle, she also did volunteer work for the public library. A famous hostess, she will be sadly missed by her loving family and her friends.’ ”

“What do you think?”

“I… I think it’s very nice.” Susan stumbled over her words. This was the woman who had been wasting so much time in her kitchen for the past few months?

Shannon entered the room, a baby in each arm, and a frown on her face. “I think I’ve broken the babies’ bottle warmer.”

There was a crash and a splash and Donald Baines looked down at the Samarkand carpet. “I think I’ve broken your lovely coffee cup,” he explained needlessly, not taking his eyes off Shannon.

SUSAN DIDN’T KNOW WHO WAS PALER-SHANNON OR DONALD. But she knew where her priorities lay; she got up to take Ethan and Rosie from their nurse’s arms.

“I… Oh, I…” Shannon seemed unable to express herself.

Donald was not having that problem. “You! You’re that nurse!” He pointed at her dramatically. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” Shannon whispered, hugging the babies close to her chest. She turned to Susan. “If you could just check on the warmer for me and put a pan of water on a burner to warm? I don’t trust microwaves to heat evenly and these little guys will realize how hungry they are any min-ute now. I’m going to go back upstairs. I was trying to let Chrissy sleep. But…” She glanced over at Donald Baines. “I…” She left without finishing her sentence.

Donald Baines wasn’t so discreet. “You know who that is, don’t you?” he asked. “That’s the person who killed my wife! Call the police immediately!”

“I won’t and she isn’t,” Susan protested loudly, hoping Shannon was still close enough to overhear. “She was with Chrissy and the twins yesterday-all day. She couldn’t possibly have murdered your wife!”

Donald Baines got up, oblivious to the fact that he was grinding the handle of Susan’s antique Herend cup into her carpet. “If you won’t call, I’ll go home and do it myself!” he announced and stormed out.

Susan sat quietly for a moment, gazing at the mess on her carpet. She didn’t have long to wait. Shannon walked back into the room, bouncing the now whimpering twins in her arms. “Let’s go into the kitchen and warm up those bottles. We can talk while we do it,” Susan suggested.

“What he said… I can explain… but you… It didn’t surprise you, did it?” Shannon asked, following Susan.

“No. Nadine told me about the Perry Island Care Center deaths.”

“And that I was working there at the time.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s why you know I was here with Chrissy when the murder occurred. You checked.”

“Yes.” Susan grabbed a heavy copper pan, filled it with water, and plopped it on the stove. She turned back to Shannon. “You know what?”

“No. What?”

“I think we need two baby seats in here. We could put them on the table and then the babies would be nice and safe when you’re working at the stove or getting things from the refrigerator or whatever.”