Just This Once

by Diana X Dunn

  He gestured for them to follow him and showed them into the small room at the front of the house. Julia remembered the floor plan that she had seen of the house next door. This house seemed to be built along identical lines.

  “Just sit down and relax and I’ll check on my wife,” he repeated himself. “She needs a lot of sleep at the moment because of the baby. And we both had trouble falling asleep last night after what happened yesterday.”

  Julia sank into a comfortable chair and looked around the room. It was comfortably but inexpensively furnished. Nearly everything looked fairly new. The walls gleamed under a recent coat of paint and the carpets showed no signs of wear. There was a large video display unit over a couch that showed images from the couple’s wedding.

  Julia watched as the beautiful, twenty-something bride entered the church, walked down the aisle, and took her soon-to-be-husband’s hand. The couple smiled at each other and Julia’s breath was nearly taken away by the power of the love that shone through both pairs of eyes. Images of the pair after the ceremony confirmed Julia’s impression that, on the surface at least, they seemed both ill suited and madly in love.

  John Lincoln walked back in slowly, holding open the door for his wife. Julia rose and smiled at the pair as they came in. Blake had remained standing, and he was quick to move forward and take control of the situation.

  “Mrs. Lincoln, Mr. Lincoln, please sit down.” Blake introduced himself and then Julia, as Julia studied the other woman. She was still lovely, but the total exhaustion in her eyes made her look older than her years. She had pulled a dressing gown on over her nightclothes, tying the belt over the top of her protruding belly. As she sat on the couch, she rubbed the bump gently, almost reassuringly. Her husband quickly sat beside her, taking her free hand and holding it tightly. Julia returned to her chair and sat back to watch Blake work.

  “I’m sorry about disturbing you this early on a Sunday,” Blake began, “but obviously it is very important that we find out exactly what happened next door as quickly as possible.”

  “Yes, don’t worry about waking us,” Jane Lincoln’s voice was soft and she still sounded half-asleep.

  “You spoke to one of my officers yesterday, but I would just like to go through what you saw on Saturday myself if that is okay.” Blake looked from the husband to the wife. They both nodded slowly, not looking at him or each other.

  Julia sensed it immediately. They were hiding something.

  “According to your statements,” Blake continued, “you were both here, asleep, when the murder took place. You only realized that something was wrong when the police arrived. I believe you said that the sound of multiple transports arriving is what woke one of you.”

  “It woke me,” John Lincoln volunteered. “Very few of us on the street have personal transports. The street usually fills up with transports from people shopping at the mall down the road, but they usually arrive in ones and twos. The sounds of several transports all arriving at once disturbed me. When I looked outside, I saw that there were police vehicles and a hospital transport. That is when I woke Jane.”

  Blake nodded. “So you were together all night and woke only when the police arrived?” he verified.

  The couple nodded slowly.

  “Right, that rules you both out as far as the murder goes,” he spoke reassuringly. Julia knew that he had by no means ruled them out for the murder. An alibi provided only by a spouse held little weight, but if he could get them talking, maybe they could figure out what the pair were hiding.

  John nodded again and Julia saw him squeeze his wife’s hand tightly while they waited for Blake to speak again.

  “I need you as witnesses,” Blake continued, speaking in quiet, confidential tones. “You’ve lived here long enough to get to know the neighbors. What can you tell me about them? Start with Cassie Knight and Peter Henderson.”

  Now the pair exchanged uneasy glances. “We really only knew them to say hello.” John began.

  “They invited us to the odd party as well,” his wife reminded him gently. “They had parties fairly regularly,” she told Julia and Blake. “We weren’t always invited, but we were probably asked to half a dozen in the time we’ve been living here.”

  “Did you go to them?” Blake questioned.

  “Usually, if we didn’t have anything else planned.” Jane smiled. “When we first moved here and John started his new job we didn’t know many people. We enjoyed neighborhood parties then. They helped us to feel more settled and welcome. Now we go to a lot of John’s work functions and we’ve made other friends, but if we could, we would still go to Cassie’s parties. They were almost legendary around here.”

  She smiled in recollection and then frowned as if she had just remembered that the woman she was discussing was dead.

  “Legendary how?” Blake was still asking all of the questions.

  It was John who answered with a sigh. “Look, officer, I don’t mean to be rude, but we are both tired and more than a little worried by all of this. What Jane meant is that Cassie threw great parties with lots of food and drink. She always did real food. I don’t know where a lot of it came from, as some of the stuff she had I’d never even heard of before. The drinks would flow and everyone would get drunk and have fun. Everyone we know liked Cassie and no one we know would have ever hurt her, okay?”

  Blake shook his head. “No, it isn’t okay, actually.” Julia could hear steel in his voice. “Someone murdered her yesterday morning and if there is any chance that you might know something that could help me find that person, I need to find out what it is.”

  They all sat in silence for a moment. Blake turned a cold stare from husband to wife and back again. Jane finally broke the silence.

  “John is right about the parties,” she said softly. “Her husband, Cassie’s I mean, is some kind of real food fanatic so she knew where to get lots of good stuff. The parties usually went on all night and into the next day. And John is right that I don’t have any idea who might want to kill her.”

  Jane’s eyes filled with tears. She took a deep breath and then continued. “Cassie was a wonderful woman. She was kind and sweet and she really took care of people and looked after them. You know she worked at the Edge Clinic, right? She helped people who were homeless and criminals and runaways and anyone who needed it. I can’t believe she is gone.”

  Julia watched, contemplatively, as the woman dissolved in huge gulping sobs. Blake passed over a box of tissues that he’d found on a low table next to his chair and they waited until John had managed to calm his wife’s outburst. When the room grew quiet again, Julia spoke softly.

  “You knew her before you moved here, didn’t you?” She directed the question toward Jane, but it was John who answered.

  “I think you should leave now,” he suggested, standing up quickly and pointing toward the door. “Jane is upset, and she shouldn’t be getting so worked up in her condition.”

  Blake didn’t move from his seat. Julia stood, but only to take a step toward the couple, sitting back down on the couch next to the crying woman.

  “You want to help us find out who killed her, don’t you?” she asked her. “Nothing you tell us has to leave this room, but if there is any chance that what you are hiding could help, you’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t tell us.”

  Jane Lincoln raised her tear stained face to study Julia’s. After a moment, she laughed softly.

  “That was very cleverly done,” she told her, “and if I were as sweet and innocent as little Jane Lincoln is meant to be, I probably would have fallen for it.”

  Julia heard the woman’s husband draw a quick breath. “Jane, darling, you need to lie down and have a rest,” he told his wife, pushing around Julia to try to draw Jane to her feet.

  Jane shook her head. “No, my dear, the policewoman is right. I do need to tell them the whole story, even though I don’t think it has anything to do with Cassie’s death.”

  John sank back down onto t
he couch, pain clearly visible in his eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t,” he said quietly to his wife.

  “I know,” she patted his leg gently. “But it needs doing. When you’ve had time to think about things, you’ll agree with me.” John nodded his head slowly, but Julia could read doubt in his eyes.

  “I do hope that you were telling the truth about keeping all of this confidential,” Jane continued. “I stand to lose a great deal if this gets out.”

  Julia looked to Blake for confirmation.

  “Unless what you tells us has direct bearing on the murder, it will never leave this room,” Blake answered formally.

  “I guess that will have to do.” Jane smiled wryly and then, taking her husband’s hand in hers, she began. “I met Cassie about four years ago,” she told them. “I was working as a licensed physical relief worker,” she revealed.

  Julia nodded. With her looks, Jane had probably been very successful as a prostitute.

  “I worked with a fairly high class of clients, but someone still managed to give me something nasty. I didn’t have medical insurance, even though the law says I needed it for my license. I had, um, forgotten to renew it.” Jane looked sheepishly at Blake, who nodded.

  Everyone in law enforcement was well aware that many women working the streets only paid their insurance premium until their license was issued. Then they would cancel it until the following year when they had to renew again. While such practice was illegal, it was hard to police. Medical insurance premiums for sex workers were high and few women working the job wanted to pay those premiums from their wages.

  “Anyway, I went to the Edge Clinic and, during the course of my treatment, I met Cassie. She encouraged me to leave the lifestyle and find a better job and all that jazz. I didn’t listen, of course, I didn’t leave the life until I fell in love with this big idiot here.” Jane gave her husband an affectionate squeeze, coupled with a look that made Julia feel that she was missing out on something in her own life.

  John cleared his throat and smiled as his wife. “I met Jane at a convention. She was part of the entertainment laid on for us. We’ve been inseparable ever since.”

  While Jane smiled and squeezed his hand, Blake was busy punching buttons on his computer.

  “Interesting that there is no history of Jane Lincoln ever holding a Physical Relief Workers License,” he commented neutrally. “In fact, Jane Lincoln appears to have led a blameless life. According to this, she grew up somewhere in Wyoming and only moved to New York a few months before she got married.”

  Jane and John exchanged nervous glances. Julia patted Jane’s arm reassuringly. “You may as well finish the story,” she told the woman.

  Jane lifted her head and tossed her hair. “New identities can be purchased if you have the right contacts,” she offered as an explanation.

  Blake whistled softly. “Not a cheap option,” he suggested.

  “Our only option,” Jane replied.

  John squeezed her hand tightly and reached over with his other hand to pat her swollen tummy. “It took every penny of my savings and then some to do it,” he explained to Blake. “My parents are, well, old-fashioned. They would never have accepted Jane into the family if they knew about her background. I’m an only child and I couldn’t stand the thought of breaking off ties with them, but I couldn’t possibly give up Jane, either. Jane got the name of a man that could fix her up with a new identity and, in the end, we decided we had no choice.”

  Blake looked up from his M-ped. “Whoever he was, you got your money’s worth. The fingerprint and DNA samples we ran yesterday have all come back as belonging to Jane Mortimer Lincoln. The life history is solid and there is nothing here that raises any of the flags that reconstructed lives often do. As much as I hate to say it, I’m impressed.”

  John nodded. “We checked the man out and we were sure he could deliver. We haven’t had to worry about it before now, but it’s reassuring that it passed muster.”

  Blake nodded slowly. “I need to know your real name,” he told Jane. John stiffened and began to shake his head, but his wife interrupted.

  “Of course you do. I legally came into the world as Jeannette Hanks.”

  Everyone was silent as Blake tapped away some more. He sat back and frowned. “How much extra did you have to pay to have Jeannette Hanks killed off?”

  Jane held up her hand to silence her husband again. “We had a bit of luck there. A girl I knew overdosed on XT while we were sorting out my new identity. I knew her well enough to know that she had no family who would miss her, so the guy who did the switch made sure she was identified as Jeanette Hanks. Jeanette didn’t have any family either, so there was no one to question it.”

  Blake shook his head. “I don’t like the sound of this guy. He has far too much talent for changing official records. I need a name.”

  Now Jane frowned and shook her head. “Sorry, but I just can’t do that,” she told him. “He gave me a new start in life and I can’t possibly do anything that would mess up his.”

  Blake frowned. “I don’t have to keep quiet about your past,” he suggested.

  Jane smiled as her husband began to sputter beside her. “You can’t prove any of what I’ve just told you. You said yourself my new identity was expertly done. Besides, you don’t really want to ruin my life,” she spoke with a confidence that Julia suspected she didn’t really feel.

  “I will have more questions.” Blake told them both as he stood up. “For now maybe we should just leave things there.”

  John and Jane looked relieved and stood up quickly, eager to end the interview before Blake changed his mind.

  “Unless there is anything else you would like to add?” Julia said as she studied their faces in turn. Both looked better than they had when she and Blake had arrived. Clearly confessing the truth about Jane’s past had taken a lot off their minds.

  Blake crossed the small room to the door and waited impatiently for Julia to catch up. They exited the house and Blake led the way down the drive back to the road.

  “Oh dear, I’ve forgotten my bag,” Julia told Blake and then dashed back up the driveway. She was back only a moment later, her bag back under her arm. Blake studied her face for a minute.

  “Did she give you the name?”

  “No, but her husband’s face gave it away when I suggested a name to them.”

  Blake shook his head. “An old friend of yours, is he? This mystery man who can change history?”

  Julia tilted her head and smiled. “Let’s just say that he and his work are known to me and my agency, shall we?”

  The look on Blake’s face suggested that he wanted to demand more information, but Julia was sure he knew better than to ask. After a moment, he sighed and gestured at the house on the other side of Alex’s.

  “Number 56, the legal residents are Matthew Richards and Serena Stone. Matthew stayed in his office overnight two nights ago, working on a big project. He didn’t get home until after noon yesterday, after the murder had taken place. There are no cameras in the building but we checked the security logs. Serena was caught on camera at her office yesterday morning, going in around eight and leaving around eleven. That means that neither of them are in the frame for the murder, unless their alibis are manufactured.”

  Julia nodded, studying the house thoughtfully. The nearly identical nature of the properties made her feel slightly disoriented. While each house was painted a slightly different color and different things had been done to lawns and driveways, it was clear that ten years ago, when the homes were built, they had all been exactly identical.

  Number 56 looked like it had been painted very recently in a soft gray color that presumably hid dirt. A second parking pad had replaced the front lawn and today both pads were filled with personal transport vehicles. A glance at the vehicles suggested that both occupants had well paying jobs.

  “Any point in talking to them, if they are both out of the equation?” Julia asked Blake. She had her own opini
on of course, and if Blake wasn’t going to interview the couple, she would talk to them herself later.

  “There is no clear motive for either of them, but you never know.” Blake sounded tired again. “Anyway, they should be able to help paint a picture of the victim, if nothing else.”

  He rang the bell on the modern security door and they waited patiently. Though it was now after ten, the man who opened the door was still dressed for bed.

  “Oh, sorry, police are you?” he sounded dazed. “We were just having a slow start today, don’t get that much time off work, you know.”

  Julia could smell the Chillax in the air around the man. She studied him as he tried to force his mind to work. He looked no more than twenty-five, though she knew from the reports that he was forty. His hair was sandy brown and fell to his shoulders in gentle, sleep-tousled waves. His eyes, unfocussed as they were, were the bright blue that only artificial means could manufacture. He was about six foot tall with an athletic build that Julia suspected had been purchased rather than earned. She remembered from the initial reports that he was an architect and wondered why someone who designed buildings for a living would want to live in this uninspired box.

  “Um, come in then,” he suggested vaguely. “I’m Matthew Richards, of course. It’s my house. Well, mine and Serena’s. She’s asleep. I’ll just….” He trailed off ineffectually and looked at them in confusion.

  “Oh for Satan’s sake, Matthew, they’re cops and you’re clearly out of your head.” A pretty redhead stormed down the stairs, anger blazing from her clear green eyes. She too was dressed for bed and Julia wondered why she hadn’t taken the time to throw something on over her almost sheer negligee.

  “Go and take some Clear-Head and then count slowly to one hundred,” she ordered her partner. “We will be in the living room. You can join us there after that.”

  The woman turned and ushered Blake and Julia into the living room that Julia had known exactly where to find. The houses truly were identical inside and out.

  “Please take a seat,” the woman waved a hand at chairs and couches that looked expensive and uncomfortable. Julia sat down tentatively and found that she was right. The entire room was expensively furnished, in contrast to the Lincoln’s, and it lacked the warmth and welcoming environment that they had just left. Julia frowned as she tried to get comfortable in the awkwardly designed chair.