Valerie Wolzien - Death In Duplicate

“Yes. And the MS hadn’t affected her mind one bit. Not one bit!” Mandy repeated with emphasis.

“So when she said something, people-intelligent people who knew her-listened,” Susan concluded.

“Exactly.”

“What did she say?”

Mandy surprised her by jumping to her feet and hurrying over to the cash register. “I wrote it down. After she died, I wrote down what I could remember.”

Susan, who knew that memory could be enhanced or diminished by shock, reached out to take the sheet of yellow-lined paper Mandy offered. She looked at the document, a frown appearing on her face while she read. “It seems…” She stopped and began again. “I don’t know what to say. Did she mention any other names?”

“Not that I remember.”

“How limited was she? Could she get around on her own?”

“The MS had pretty much paralyzed her limbs and she was incredibly weak.”

“So anything she knew she had been told by someone who came to her, right?”

“Look, I’ve told you some things, but it’s really hard for me to explain what an unusual woman we’re talking about and what a moral person she was.”

“Is it possible that her mind was impaired more than you knew?”

“She had just finished reviewing a new biography of Sir Walter Scott for the New York Times. I really think she was as sharp as ever.”

Susan reread the note. It was more upsetting-and puzzling-the second time through.

“You haven’t really told me about your meeting with her,” Susan said, carefully placing the paper on the counter.

“Well, I couldn’t find her at first. She wasn’t in her room, which is what I was expecting. She usually spent her evenings in there, reading or sending e-mail.”

“She was online?”

“Yes. Not many of the residents at P.I.C.C. are, but the facility is wired for modems and Carolyn was one of the first people to take advantage of that fact. But that night she wasn’t at her computer. I figured she had decided to check out the concert and looked in the living room, and, when I didn’t find her there, I went to the library.”

“There’s a library?” P.I.C.C. was sounding better and better.

“Not really. There are a few shelves in the craft room where residents can place books they either don’t want or don’t have space for in their own rooms. Carolyn sometimes left books there. She used to say that she was trying to improve the quality of the other residents’ reading. There were usually a bunch of old Robert Ludlum books, some romances, crossword puzzle books with a few puzzles half filled out-mostly incorrectly-and a few out-of-date almanacs. I didn’t expect her to be there. It was just the next place I thought to look for her.”

“And?”

“No luck. So I did what I should have done in the beginning-I asked some of the staff if they had seen her recently. And an aide-I don’t know her name, but I’d seen her around before-told me that Carolyn had been on her way to the kitchen for some hot water for tea the last time she saw her.”

“And was she there?”

“Yes. Well, not in the kitchen. She was sitting in her wheelchair outside the kitchen door chatting with someone, a young man.”

“Did she introduce him to you? Do you know his name?”

“No, I don’t think so. At least, I don’t remember his name. He was short, had hair dyed black. He was wearing turquoise scrubs. That’s about all I remember.”

Susan glanced down at the sheet of paper again before she asked the next question. “And how did she seem?”

“Just fine. Perfectly normal. She was trying to convince the young man that he should go back to school. She was passionate about education and she was always interested in young people.” Mandy wiped a tear from her cheek, took a deep breath, and continued. “She was doing what she always did.”

“And her mood? Did she appear upset or nervous or anything like that?”

“Not right then, but later she changed. You see, we never did have a chance to really sit down and talk.”

“Why not? What happened?”

“The young man-I guess he was an aide. He was dressed like one at least. Well, he left to get her some water for tea and we waited in the hall and chatted.”

“And what exactly did she say?”

“What I wrote down. She told me that she thought someone was killing the residents of P.I.C.C.”

“And what did you say to that?”

“I was startled… well, shocked. To tell you the truth, I wondered, just for a moment, if perhaps Carolyn was losing her mind, but she was speaking calmly, explaining what she thought as she always did. It was just a passing thought. Carolyn was as sane and intelligent as you or me.”

“So tell me exactly what you remember her saying.”

“It’s what I wrote down. She said that someone had killed a resident and she thought was going to kill again.”

“And did she identify this someone?”

“She said I had to watch Mike Armstrong. That’s the name I wrote down.”

“But what you wrote down is that she told you to watch Mike Armstrong and everyone connected to him. But she didn’t say he was the killer, did she? She might have been telling you that Mike Armstrong-”

“And people connected to him.”

“Yes. And the people connected to him-that they were in danger. Is that possible?”

“I didn’t interpret it like that, but I suppose you could be right.”

“Did you tell anybody about this?”

“I told the police after Carolyn was killed.” She looked down and Susan realized she was close to crying.

“What did they say?”

The bookstore owner took a deep breath and looked up. “The officer I spoke with told me that this Mike Armstrong had disappeared and that he was the main suspect.”

“Did you realize that Mike was the young man she was speaking with when you found her?”

“No, I had no idea. Are you sure?”

“Not positive, but I think it’s likely.”

“Oh, but she liked that young man. And she wouldn’t have if she thought he was a killer. I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either,” Susan said honestly. “Did he say anything when he came back with the hot water?”

“Oh, he didn’t. There was some sort of problem with the alarm system. For some reason the fire alarm went off. You can probably imagine the resulting mayhem. The PA system began barking out orders: residents were to gather in the living room, the staff was to carry out a room check immediately-that sort of thing.”

“And what did you do?”

“I pushed Carolyn to the living room where all the residents had gathered. Staff members were working to keep everyone calm, but some of the people were very upset. Some wanted to leave the building and some wanted to return to their rooms for photos and things like that. Fortunately, someone came in almost immediately and explained there was nothing to worry about-it was a false alarm.”

“A false alarm or had the system malfunctioned?” Susan asked.

“I don’t remember. Is there a difference?”

“Yes. A system malfunction is completely different from someone using a cigarette lighter to set off the alarm-and, of course, to force an end to the conversation you and Carolyn were having.”

THE PERRY ISLAND CARE CENTER WAS GETTING READY FOR Easter. Cute cardboard cutouts of improbably attired bunnies had been taped up in the hallways. Plastic eggs hung from the budding branch of a quince tree standing by the front door and a gigantic basket of drooping tulips took up an unreasonable amount of space on the receptionist’s desk. The young woman seated at that desk looked up, and around the plant, as Susan entered the building.

“May I help you? Oh, you’ve been here before, haven’t you?”