Murderous Twins

by Edward Kendrick

  “Yeah, leave me hanging,” Gary muttered.

  “Sorry. Dry mouth. Anyway, it seems Mrs. Ayers gave birth to twin boys, and died in the process. Mr. Ayers took them home from the hospital, then two days after her funeral, he and the babies left town. It was so abruptly, I suspect he didn’t tell anyone where he was going.”

  “What happened to Blaine’s brother?”

  Steve spread his hands. “That’s anyone’s guess. My feeling, and I could be way off base, is that he might be the other man we saw last night behind the living room curtains of the old Forsberg house. Or I guess we should start calling it the Ayers house, now.”

  “That’s a leap in logic,” Gary replied.

  “I know, but it would explain why he, or they, never show their faces.”

  “One of them did. I saw him returning from the grocery store. Since he, Blaine, has a driver’s license, can you get a copy of it?”

  “Of course.” Steve waited for the waiter to put down their meals and leave before continuing. “Not sure what good it’ll do us, though.”

  “Do a Google image search. See if you come up with anyone else with the same face.”

  “You, my love, are brilliant,” Steve replied, giving his hand a squeeze.

  “Of course I am. That’s why you married me. Well, that and my sexy body.” Gary waggled his eyebrows, causing Steve to shake his head with amusement.

  As they both had to get back to work, they turned their attention to their meals. Then, out of the blue, Steve said, “At least they’re never seen together.”

  Gary seemed puzzled for a moment. Then he got it. “Meaning, if both of them are living there, they’re trying to pass it off as if they were one person.”

  “Exactly. Which makes me wonder why.”

  “Something I doubt we’ll ever find out, even if you’re right.”

  “Never under estimate my inquisitive gene,” Steve replied.

  Gary grinned. “I thought I was the one who at that.”

  “Nope. Yours is nosy. There’s a big difference.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “There is,” Steve protested. “I’m a detective because I’m inquisitive. You’re just interested in people as people. That makes you nosy.”

  “Ri-i-i-ght. Whatever you say.” Gary rolled his eyes and they went back to eating. When they’d finished, Steve paid the check and then they headed back to work.

  * * * *

  “Where are you?” Gary asked as soon as Steve answered his phone.

  “Still at work. Yes, I know it’s late, but I wanted to do as you suggested and I was too busy with things for clients to get started on it before it was time to close for the day.”

  “Any results?”

  “I’ve barely begun. I had to get a photocopy of Ayers’ license, first.”

  “Okay. I’ll leave you to it and fix something for dinner that keeps.”

  “Stew.”

  “That works.”

  After hanging up, Steve went back to work. A few minutes later he’d gotten two hits on Blaine Ayers picture, both from over three years ago, in Chicago—but none in Denver. Maybe I’m barking up the wrong tree. Just because he’s got a twin doesn’t mean the guy looks anything like him. Not all twins are identical.

  That didn’t stop him from continuing. As he scrolled through the photos, he finally found what he was looking for. There was a small item, almost four years previously, from a marketing company in Cleveland. It contained a photo and blurb about their newest employee. The man could have been Blaine, but he wasn’t. His name was Lloyd Thomas. Got you.

  With a name, now, Steve began a new search. He didn’t find much but what he did told him that Mr. Thomas had grown up in various foster homes in New York City, before earning a scholarship to college where he’d majored in Business Administration. That last bit of information came from his college yearbook.

  It all fit with the idea that Mr. Ayers had left the town where his wife had died, taking his twin boys with him, and apparently arrived in New York with only one. Well, arrived with both of them, and dumped one of them somewhere. Probably at some orphanage or Safe Haven hospital or fire station, if I don’t miss my guess.

  He said the same thing to Gary when he got home.

  “Poor kid,” was Gary’s response. “Imagine growing up not knowing who your parents were, or whether you had any siblings.” He studied the photos Steve had brought home of both Blaine Ayers and Lloyd Thomas. “Definitely twins, unless…Are you certain it’s not the same guy, and he changed his name?

  “Yes. Blaine Ayers was working in Chicago, at an insurance company, at the same time Lloyd Thomas was in Cleveland as a new hire with a marketing firm. Somehow I don’t think it’s possible he’d have had two different jobs at the same time, six-hundred miles apart.”

  “Good point. So, logically, we can figure they are twins and possibly, probably, they’re both living across the street from us. Did you check to see if Lloyd has a driver’s license?”

  “Tomorrow. I’ll also find out where he works. He must have a job. Right now, though, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  They were halfway through dinner when Steve laughed. “We’re like two nosy biddies, trying to learn everything about the new people on the block.”

  Gary grinned. “We are, aren’t we? Right now, we know more about them than we do about any of our other neighbors. That’s saying something, considering we’ve lived here for the last ten years.”

  “It’s your fault. You wanted me to check into Mr. Ayers after you thought you saw him and got spooked.”

  “Which was stupid. Somehow, despite how I felt, it’s a big jump to believe we’re living across the street from a serial killer, or…” Gary frowned. “Serial killers?”

  “No kidding. I agree, it’s sort of strange that they’re never seen together around here, but it could be the timing. After all, we’re not peering out the windows, looking for them, twenty-four-seven—are we?” Steve lifted an eyebrow, looking at his husband.

  “Me? Never. I might be interested, but I’m not that bad. Honest.”

  “I know.”

  * * * *

  Lloyd spun around from the window when Blaine knocked on his bedroom door and then came in without being invited.

  “I thought as much,” Blaine said. “You’re spying on him again, aren’t you?”

  “Not at all,” Lloyd blustered. “I was checking the weather.”

  “It’s dark out, so what does it matter, unless…Did you find someone else? Are you going out tonight?”

  “I did, and I am.” It was a lie, but a small one. Lloyd had targeted someone. He had to. He was stressing badly with the need to kill—and even more so because he knew he shouldn’t go after the man he wanted to. “It looked like it might rain, earlier, but apparently it changed its mind.” He went to his closet, lifting a box down from the shelf. “Still, it gives me a legitimate reason to be wearing this.” Opening the box, he took out one of the plastic raincoats he’d bought recently, at Blaine’s suggestion. “It’s cheaper than having to get rid of another overcoat,” Blaine had pointed out, and Lloyd had finally ceded the point.

  He retrieved a pair of his brass knuckles from the shoebox he had hidden on the top shelf of his closet, putting them in his pocket. “Wallet, please.” When Blaine gave it to him, he pocketed it as well. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Be careful,” Blaine said.

  “Always am,” Lloyd replied with a feral smile.

  * * * *

  The man Lloyd had chosen owned a small business on Colfax. Lloyd had seen him when the man had come in to talk to one of the other marketing people where Lloyd worked. He wasn’t perfect, but right now that didn’t matter. Lloyd had checked the files, learned where the man’s business was, and done what he considered his due diligence—finding out when he closed his shop for the night and where he parked.

  Now, it was just after ten on Tuesday evening and he was waiting in the alley at the edge of
the lot. It had rained, briefly, so wearing the raincoat worked. As soon as the man appeared, Lloyd hurried over to him, saying, “Thank God, a person.”

  The man looked at him in surprise, taking a step back. “What’s wrong?”

  “I was walking my dog down the alley and he saw something, probably a rat, and jerked loose and went after it and he’s behind a dumpster and won’t come out and I need to move it but I can’t without some help and…” He looked desperately at the man.

  “I don’t know…”

  “Please. It won’t take a second with both of us.”

  With a sigh and a nod, the man replied. “Okay.” He almost smiled. “You look legit, unlike most of the people around here at this hour of the night.”

  Lloyd led the way to a dumpster halfway down the alley. From there, things proceeded as they always did. When he was finished, he looked down at the bloody, beaten corpse of his victim and felt good. But only good. There wasn’t the usual elation which came from his other kills. Relief, but not euphoria.

  Because he isn’t the man I really want. The one who could almost be Father.

  He wiped off the blood on the brass knuckles on the man’s slacks, pocketed them, and removed his raincoat. It would go in a dumpster several blocks away, close to the lot where he’d left his car.

  Half an hour later, he walked into the house. Blaine was waiting, and asked, “Feeling better?”

  “Much,” Lloyd replied. “Now, it’s your turn.”

  “In time. We don’t want to space them too closely together. You were pushing it tonight.”

  “What can I say? I needed it.” He shrugged before heading upstairs to get ready for bed. When he glanced back, his twin was watching him with a puzzled expression. “What?”

  “Usually, you want to celebrate with a late-night dinner with all the trimmings. I got out steak and…”

  “Okay. Sorry. You’re right and I do. I’m starving.” He wasn’t, and he knew why. The kill hadn’t satisfied him on the most basic levels. But if he continued on his way to bed, Blaine would wonder, and maybe figure out what was going on with him. He might have promised he wouldn’t go after the man across the street, but he had a strong feeling that Blaine wasn’t certain he’d keep the promise. Pasting a smile on his face, he walked downstairs and followed Blaine into the kitchen.

  Chapter 7

  “He hit again,” Gary said tensely, handing a section the newspaper to Steve Wednesday morning as they were eating breakfast.

  “Fuck. He’s escalating fast. Damn it.” Steve read the story, noting unsurprisingly, that Owen had caught the case. The detective had issued a statement, as if one was needed at this point, warning all men between the ages of forty and fifty to avoid going into alleys behind businesses after dark for any reason. “We have a serial killer here in the city,” he’d told the reporters in conclusion, “and he appears to be shortening the timeframe between each murder.”

  “Now’s when I wish we owned a TV,” Gary said. “I’d like to know if this has hit the national news.”

  “That’s what computers are for,” Steve pointed out. He went to get his laptop, booting it up after setting it on the kitchen table. “We hit the big time, or Denver has,” he said when they found the story of the city’s serial killer had indeed made the national news.

  “It would have been better if that happened because he’s been caught.”

  “He will be. His need to kill is obviously getting stronger. He’s bound to make a mistake.”

  “You said that after Jim’s murder. It hasn’t happened,” Gary replied sourly.

  “That we know of. He might have left something behind this time that’ll lead right to him.”

  “Let’s hope.” Gary got up and collected and rinsed their dishes before putting them in the dishwasher.

  When he finished, he turned and jumped a bit. Steve was right in front of him. Seconds later he was wrapped in a tight embrace.

  “Keep the faith,” Steve said softly. “Owen and the FBI know what they’re doing. They’ll stop him.”

  “I know.”

  They kissed and then, because it was that time, they collected what they needed for the day and took off for work.

  As he pulled out of the garage, Gary had the strangest feeling that someone was watching him. He checked the street. There were a few cars, neighbors on their way to work, and one woman walking her dog. He waved when she saw him, then glanced at the house across the street. There was a slight movement of one of the curtains in a window on the second floor.

  Is one of them spying on us? He shook his head, feeling stupid. Probably checking the weather. If I don’t miss my guess, we’re going to have rain again before the day’s over. At least according the weather report. The sky was cloudy, so he had no problem believing that.

  * * * *

  Lloyd had quickly stepped away from his bedroom window when he saw Gary stop his car at the bottom of the driveway and look around. Did he see me, or feel me watching him? Is he getting paranoid? Am I? I’m going to have to do something about him and soon, before I lose my mind.

  “Damned cops,” he muttered. He’d seen the story about his latest kill on one of the local television channels, less than an hour ago. The warning about staying out of alleys is going make things a lot more difficult. Then he smiled. “Neighborhoods like this one don’t have businesses,” he said under his breath. “If I can figure out a way to lure Gary into the alley behind his house. Or perhaps…Yeah, that might work, given what he does. I wonder if he works evenings, if that’s the only time some of his clients are available to show him their houses and tell him what they want him and his company to do? Something to consider, for sure.”

  Lloyd was on the bus, heading to the office, when he came up with an idea that might work. The first thing he did when he got there was ask his boss if he had a moment. When the man said he did, Lloyd told him, putting on a worried expression, “I got a call from my father this morning. My mother is very sick. If it would be possible, I’d like to take a couple of days off to go back to Chicago to be with her.” He said Chicago because that’s where he’d lived, before moving to Denver. It was on his employment application, so if his boss checked, he was covered.

  His boss thought about it, then nodded. “When are you planning on leaving?”

  “I checked and I can get a flight out the first thing tomorrow morning,” Lloyd replied.

  “All right. I hope she’ll be okay.”

  “Thank you. Me, too.”

  I did it. Now I’ll have the next couple of days to follow Gary when he visits his clients’ homes, which I’m sure he has to. I’ll need transportation. He thought of his sometimes ill-spent youth and smiled. Yeah, that will work. There’s nothing that says I have to wait until night to kill him, if I get a safe opportunity to do it during the day. They say serial killers never change their MO. Maybe it’s time for me to show the pundits that they’re wrong.

  * * * *

  Blaine was worried. Lloyd’s need to kill seemed to be—no, it was escalating. It’s only been three days since his last one and already he’s tense and edgy. So help me, if he tries to go after the guy across the street I’m going to…I don’t know what, but something. He had the distinct feeling that was exactly what was going on. Living is such close proximity to a man who so closely resembled their father was eating at Lloyd, and not in a good way. Or more to the point, not in a safe way.

  When Blaine had gotten home from work the previous evening, Lloyd was in the kitchen preparing dinner—and humming under his breath. For a moment, he thought his twin had gotten his emotions under control. Then he saw the look on his face, before Lloyd had been aware he was standing there. His expression was, the best word Blaine could think of was gleeful. As if he’d solved a particularly difficult problem and was both happy and proud of himself. Blaine was afraid he knew what the problem was.

  “Don’t do it,” he’d said, startling Lloyd.

  “Don’t do what?”
Lloyd had asked innocently.

  “Go after the man across the street.”

  “Good lord. I’m not that stupid,” Lloyd had replied. “I know you’re right. It would be insane to kill him, as tempting as it is. But…” He’d stopped to check what smelled like chicken baking in the oven. “I have found another guy. Don’t worry. I’ll hold off for a couple of weeks, as hard as it will be.” He sighed, looking at his twin. “I’m getting worse, aren’t I?”

  “Not worse. There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing. It has to be done. But, you, well both of us, have to keep a tight rein on ourselves. The last thing we want is for anyone to figure out what we’re doing, and that it’s us.” He’d smiled dryly. “I’m not in the mood to pick up and move to who knows where and start over again.”

  “Me, neither. So stop worrying, I’m fine and I will wait.”

  “Good.”

  Blaine had listened to Lloyd’s words, which had sounded sincere. It didn’t stop him from wondering if he could trust his twin to follow through, both on waiting, and more importantly, in staying well away from the man across the street.

  * * * *

  “This one,” Mr. Rollins said, pointing to one of the paint sample cards Gary had spread out on the table. “Right, honey?”

  Mrs. Rollins looked as if she was going to debate him—again—as she had with the choices for the carpeting and the drapes. Gary bit back a sigh of relief when she nodded instead.

  “That should do it, for now,” Gary told them. “Unless you decide otherwise, I’ll have my people here first thing tomorrow morning to get started.”

  “That will be fine. Thank you for putting up with our—” he looked at his wife, “—indecisiveness.” He hugged her, to take the sting out of his words, Gary was certain. She smiled, kissing her husband’s cheek.

  After packing up what he’d brought with him, Gary left their house. While he walked to his car, he glanced around. As had happened when he’d visited another client earlier in the day, he had the strangest feeling he was being watched. I’m getting paranoid because of the killings. Stay out of alleys and I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s daytime. The guy only strikes at night, and in business areas. He wouldn’t have been so paranoid, and he knew it, if May hadn’t kidded once about how much he and Jim resembled each other, even if it was only superficially.