Valerie Wolzien - Death In Duplicate

“Good.”

“You want me to go out there again.”

“Yes.”

“To find out something for you.”

“To check out something for me. Yes.”

“Why don’t you just send one of your officers?”

“Because I hate outside interference in my local cases and the authorities out there might feel the same way. I’d like to avoid it if I can.”

“And if I help you, you’ll share what you learn with me?”

“When I can” was Brett’s obscure promise.

Susan realized he had given her no guarantees, but she had been planning yet another visit to Perry Island anyway, although she saw no reason to admit this to Brett. “Tell me what you want to know” was all she said.

He did.

And many of Susan’s neighbors were awakened that morning by her indignant cry of “He said what?!”

GRANDPARENTS WHO ARE HAPPY TAKING CARE OF THEIR grandchildren are the best people on earth, Susan decided. She was watching Kathleen give final instructions to her father-in-law about helping her son with his homework. Finished, Kathleen picked up a large canvas boat bag and hurried down the driveway to the curb where Susan waited in her car. “That man is so sweet. He and Alex are making a volcano that actually explodes as a science project.”

“I think the word is erupt,” Susan said, remembering the mess the combination of baking soda and vinegar had left on her kitchen table back when her son was in elementary school. “Or maybe explode is more like it. Where’s Jerry’s mom?”

“Listening to NPR and hemming her granddaughter’s Easter dress,” Kathleen said, fastening her seat belt.

“The woman is a saint.”

“You can say that again. She’s also making lamb stew for dinner tonight. Jerry and I always gain a ton when his parents are here, but the extra pounds are worth it.” Kathleen took a bright red Tupperware carton from her bag and pried off the top. She passed it to Susan. “Have a coconut cranberry oatmeal cookie.”

“Thanks! Also your mother-in-law’s work?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. They’re delicious!”

“They are, aren’t they? I brought a few dozen. I thought we might offer them to some of the residents.”

“That’s a great idea.”

“You know, you didn’t explain a whole lot when you called. Are we going to the nursing home first or are we going to look for the Baineses’ house?”

“Depends which ferry we catch. We’re due at Perry Island Care Center for dinner at noon.”

“You mean lunch, don’t you?”

“I think the main meal of the day is at noon in most nursing homes,” Susan said.

“Well, since they think we’re there to check out the food for your mother, they probably won’t expect us to do more than taste everything.”

“No, and we can use the time to talk to people.”

“Do you think the residents know anything at all about who owns the place where they live?”

“I don’t know. Some of the women I spoke with were really sharp,” Susan answered. “Of course, even if Donald is right about who owns P.I.C.C., he might be lying about Shannon ’s cousin.”

“That’s what you’re hoping, isn’t it? You don’t want him involved in this.”

Susan kept her eyes on the road. “That’s true.”

“But you don’t even know him. I know he’s young, but he might be a truly bad person. He might be the killer.”

“He might, but I don’t think he is. Shannon ’s not the only person who believes in him. I told you about the resident I met there…”

“The one with the grandson at Yale,” Kathleen said.

“Yes. She seemed like a very smart person. And she liked him, said he wasn’t a person who would hurt anyone else.”

“And you believe her.”

“I do.”

“So who do you think the murderer is?”

“I have no idea. Donald is the only person I know of who benefits from the deaths.”

“But he lost his wife and his mother.”

“And gained freedom and a whole lot of money.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Not really. Brett’s seen Nadine’s will and he said that Nadine and Donald had left everything to each other. So we know Donald didn’t lose anything financially when she died, but Brett doesn’t know whether Donald’s mother owned the entire agency and left it to him or if they owned it jointly or what.”

“Of course there’s his mother’s house. That’s got to be worth a fortune.”

“Her house?”

“Yes. Susan, you know where she lives, don’t you?”

“I have no idea.”

“Woodwinds.”

“Woodwinds? When did she move in there? I had no idea!”

Kathleen considered the question. “Sometime last summer. The only reason I know about it is that there was talk of the garden club holding a benefit party on the grounds there last August, but after the sale went through we had to find another location.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am. I never imagined that Blaine Baines had that kind of money.”

“What kind of money?”

“Rich people’s money. Kathleen, Woodwinds was on the market for years. I’ll bet I’ve seen over a dozen ads for it-in the Times, even the estates for sale section of Architectural Digest-and I know the price was well over ten million dollars!”

“What?”

“Ten million dollars!”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Jed always says that a rock and roll star would be the only person who could afford it.”

“I can’t imagine the Rolling Stones practicing guitar riffs in that music room,” Kathleen commented.

“I remember you telling me it was one of the most beautiful rooms you had ever seen,” Susan said. “I still regret not going on that tour.”

Woodwinds was the name of one of the great Connecticut shore estates. Set in the middle of ten well-tended acres, it had been built in the thirties for a famous musician who loved to entertain. It was known for its three-story rotunda, sunken living room, massive music room, and formal dining room where guests, staying in one of the house’s nine bedrooms, had cavorted for decades until the owner died. Kathleen had toured the public rooms years ago during a rare opening of the home to raise money for a local charity.

“You know, it’s odd that Woodwinds was empty for so long,” Kathleen said.

“Not as odd as Blaine Baines buying it. Why would a single woman need a home that large? Or a music room?”

“Status? It’s a fabulous house on a fabulous property. The greenhouses alone-”

“There are greenhouses there?”

“Yes, they’re huge. Right behind the pool house. That’s where we wanted to hold the garden club benefit.”

They drove along in silence for a while and then Susan spoke up. “I wonder if the property could be subdivided.”

“And if Blaine Baines bought it planning to develop it,” Kathleen continued, catching on immediately.

“Yeah. If she could build ten large homes on an acre each on the water, she could probably sell them and get her own home for free.”

“It’s possible,” Kathleen said. “But two-acre zoning is standard in that part of town, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know, but that’s easy to find out down at the municipal offices… Oh, damn! I almost missed the turn-off!” Susan slammed on the brake and made a sharp right turn. The driver of the Lincoln Navigator behind her made his anger known with twin blasts on his horn and Susan flinched. “I hate it when people do that to me, too,” she said. “It’s only a few more miles to the ferry. We may make the early run.”

“Great.”

By staying a few miles over the speed limit, they arrived at the ferry landing as the boat began loading for the trip to the island. Almost without a pause, Susan guided her Cherokee into the center of the ship, switched off the engine, and turned to her friend. “Want to ride over in here or to get out?”