Valerie Wolzien - Death In Duplicate

“Susan? Hon?”

“Hi, Jed,” she said and waited for him to tell her that he was on his way to the train.

“I just spoke with Stephen. His new boss has asked him out for a drink. We both agreed that he should accept so I’m going to catch up on some work here at the office and meet him at Grand Central when he’s finished. That way we can drive home together.”

Susan realized that there was only one car waiting at the station. “That’s fine. I’ll… I’ll keep dinner warm for the two of you,” she promised-not that she had any idea what anyone in the house would get for dinner that evening.

“That would be great. Thanks, hon.”

Susan hung up and looked down at Clue. “You haven’t had a decent walk all week, have you, sweetie?”

Clue did her canine best to look neglected.

“I’m doing this because it’s the only way I can find a quiet moment to think,” Susan told her dog, reaching for the leash that usually hung over the end of the banister. Today it had been replaced by a pink knit baby blanket and one aqua crocheted bootie with a hole in the toe. A quick search revealed the leash lying on the floor nearby underneath an antique walnut console. Susan clipped it to Clue’s collar and escaped from the house before anyone could ask her to do anything.

“It’s not that I don’t love my grandchildren to death,” she explained to the dog as they trotted down the walk. “It’s just that I need to decide whether or not to tell Shannon what I learned today before I see her.”

Clue, in good golden retriever fashion, looked up with understanding eyes and Susan felt better although she knew the expression was genetic rather than emotional. She was feeling in her pocket for a plastic bag in case she needed to pick up after Clue, when Donald Baines appeared by her side.

“Susan! I was hoping to run into you!”

As he was wearing a sweat suit and running shoes, Susan thought perhaps he meant this literally. Donald was barely keeping up a slow jog, but sweating profusely. His outfit was brand new. What sort of man started an exercise program less than forty-eight hours after his wife was murdered, Susan wondered. “What can I do for you?” she asked automatically.

“The memorial service.” Donald breathing was labored.

“What about the memorial service?” She hoped he wasn’t going to ask her to bake for the reception afterward. As a good neighbor, she wouldn’t refuse, but between the twins and the murders… well, she was much busier than usual.

“We haven’t been in town for all that long…”

Susan began mentally reviewing her list of easy recipes fit for a funeral reception. She had just settled on tortellini salad when she realized that Donald was asking her for a more significant contribution.

“But I hardly knew her,” Susan protested.

“Nadine always said she could tell you anything.”

Nadine, in fact, had told Susan a lot, but that didn’t mean Susan had actually listened. Nor, for that matter, had Nadine said much, if anything, that might be useful in preparing a eulogy. “Perhaps your mother might speak…,” Susan said, grasping for an answer.

“I already suggested that to Mother, but she was afraid that the people who attended Nadine’s memorial service might think we were trying to get publicity for our company-which would be completely inappropriate.”

So Blaine Baines Executive Homes and Estates and Donald Baines Executive Homes was the same company! Susan tried to think of another option. “What about the neighbors where you lived before this? Perhaps one of them?”

“That town was nothing like Hancock. We only chose to live there because we found a property we couldn’t resist. And Nadine didn’t really get along with our neighbors there.”

Susan didn’t know what to say. Too many things seemed to be happening at once. But she knew her primary focus should be the babies’ safety and helping Chrissy. And that meant keeping Shannon out of jail. Which meant finding out who killed Nadine. And maybe, she realized, Donald had just offered her some help with doing just that.

“Perhaps if I could talk to other people who knew her better… longer…”

“I suppose.” Donald looked as though he didn’t believe his own words. “But I don’t see how you’re going to contact them.”

“Perhaps I could look in Nadine’s address book.”

“I can’t imagine where I’d find it.”

“Her desk? Pocketbook?”

“I’d rather not go through all that right now. Her purse is so personal. It doesn’t seem like something I should do. This has all been very upsetting, you know.”

Susan knew she was being insensitive, but really, he had asked her to do him a favor and seemed to be completely disinterested in helping her do it. If she hadn’t been hoping to learn something from all this, she would have had no trouble turning him down. And she was about to do that anyway, figuring that she could just get on with her own life, when Donald offered a solution.

“I could probably have my secretary give you a copy of our Christmas card list.”

“Your business list?”

“Oh, no. Mother kept that separately. I’m talking about our personal list. Nadine and I both believed that it was important to keep in touch with old friends and acquaintances and Christmas is surely the easiest time to do so, but my wife was always too busy during the holidays to send out cards so my secretary took over that chore. She-my secretary-is very efficient. I’m sure the list is up-to-date.”

“It might be helpful if I could take a look at it,” Susan said, trying not to sound too excited. She had investigated many murders, but no one had ever offered her a complete list of the deceased’s acquaintances.

“Then perhaps I should go to the office and ask for a copy of that list for you.” Donald paused and Susan had an idea.

“I could stop in and get it if that would be easier for you.”

“Oh, it would be. Everyone is so upset about Nadine’s death, of course, and they’re worried about me. If I go into the office, I’ll just have to waste time calming down my staff.”

“If you call and tell your secretary that I’m coming…”

Donald beamed as though Susan had had an original thought. “Then you can just stop in and pick it up! Exactly!” The beam faded. “There is just one problem though.”

“What?”

“If you should happen to run into Mother…” He took a deep breath. “She might ask about me.”

“Of course she’s concerned about you,” Susan said, speaking as a mother rather than a neighbor.

“I hate for her to worry. It’s a horrible shock, of course, but I’m going to be fine.”

“I’ll tell her that I just saw you and-”

“Oh, no! Don’t say that! She thinks… well, I didn’t want her to worry.”

“What do you want me to tell her?” Susan asked.

“I told her I wanted to be alone today… tonight. I just don’t want her to worry.”

“But if I run into her what reason shall I give for being at your office?”

Donald, no longer the bereaved widower, smiled broadly. “You could just tell her that you’re interested in selling your house,” he said. “Mother would be more than happy if she thought she was getting such an important listing.”

Susan and Clue returned home, both a little tired, one more than a little puzzled. Donald was not acting like a man who had lost his wife in a brutal attack. At least he was the first person she had known to drown grief in a new exercise routine. And his request that she take part in the memorial service… she was still thinking that one through when she walked into her living room.

And discovered Shannon sitting on the couch surrounded by baby presents. She was writing in a large notebook, but looked up when Susan entered the room.