by Chassie West
This man was beginning to annoy me. “It goes like this: Clarissa called Duck asking if Tina was there. Duck knew Tina was with me, but before he had a chance to call me, I called him. He told me to tell Tina to call Clarissa. I told Tina. Tina called Clarissa. That clear enough?” He reddened. I didn’t care.
Duck, perhaps sensing the possibility of fireworks, stepped in. “Look, let me get Tina. They should be home by now. And unless you guys object, she’ll probably want to tell Clarissa herself.”
“First things first,” Evans said, taking charge again. “Ask Mrs. Younts to come so we can get a positive ID once and for all. If she wants to bring her aunt, so much the better. Adams, find out what’s keeping the damn techs and whoever’s coming from the medical examiner.”
Grandison cleared his throat since it was obvious we’d forgotten he was there. “Can I go now? I’m sorry about the lady and all, but I’ve gotta get to work.”
Thackery didn’t even look up. “One of you guys move the cruiser so he can get out, then check in with your dispatcher. No point in your hanging around here any longer. Mr. Grandison, we’ll need you to come in sometime tomorrow to make a formal statement, the earlier the better.”
Grandison mumbled agreement, climbed into a late-model Volvo, and followed the cruiser out.
Duck went back to his car again and sat in the front seat to call Tina.
In the meantime, Evans leaned against the fender of a nearby Taurus. “Mind accounting for your movements today, Ms. Warren?”
I didn’t particularly appreciate the suspicion underlying the question, but there was no point in antagonizing him any further. After all, it was my car. And who knows how long the body had been there. December temperatures would have slowed decomposition. Further speculation was futile. I might as well answer the question.
“I was home until late morning—”
“Alone?”
“Yes, packing.”
“You’re going somewhere?” Thackery asked, reaching for his notepad.
“I’m moving in with Duck; we’re getting married the day after Christmas. Tank and Tina arrived around noon, perhaps a little before. They went down to pack my car for me, but someone had spray-painted the windshield. You can check; I filed a report with the police.”
They both scribbled, then waited expectantly.
“Tank and Tina and I got back here around two, I guess. We took boxes upstairs and stayed less than an hour.”
“The three of you. How many trips did you make to get everything upstairs?” Thackery asked.
“Just one.”
“And you didn’t come back down again, then go back up?”
It was a puzzling question. “There was no need to. Why?”
“You noticed nothing unusual about this car earlier?” Evans asked, before his partner could respond. “When you three arrived?”
“I doubt I even looked in this direction. All I had on my mind was getting my boxes upstairs.”
Thackery’s face was unreadable. “And the three of you left here at what time?”
“About two-thirty, two-forty. I needed to get to Connecticut Avenue by three—”
“Because . . .?” said Thackery.
“I was supposed to pick up some tickets from our travel agent because she was closing early.” I hesitated, decided to skip the gist of my conversation with Margie. “From there, we stopped and ate lunch.”
“We? You and the Yountses?”
“Right. At Paisan’s. From there we drove to Ourland—”
Evans frowned. “Where’s that?”
I was trying to describe it in relation to Annapolis when Duck returned and stationed himself at my side. Without interrupting, he took my hand and squeezed it. I wasn’t certain whether it was a signal or a gesture of support. He looked like the one who needed it; evidently the conversation with Tina had been rough. I squeezed back.
“That’s where we were coming from when we arrived here,” I finished.
“Hmm.” Evans scanned his notes, then gazed in thought at poor Sister. “And yesterday?”
“What about it?” I wasn’t being obstreperous, just somewhere else mentally, remembering Clarissa and Sister on the phone the day before yesterday, the impression I’d gotten about how close they were.
He looked as if he might skewer me to the concrete walls. “Your movements. Where were you?”
“At home, all day, recovering from a virus.”
“Alone?”
Praying for patience, I closed my eyes and nodded. “Alone.”
Duck’s radar finally picked up on the nuances. He draped an arm around my shoulder and said, “There’s a problem?”
Evans’s sharp gaze shifted to him. “I’d say so, since one of your neighbors . . .” He flipped backward a page. “An Evangeline Luby reports seeing Ms. Warren on the elevator with your cleaning lady—or perhaps this one—”
“Her name’s Claudia.” Duck’s voice was hard. “Claudia Hitchcock. And they were twins.” Pencils went into action again. “Let’s back up and start from the beginning. How’d this all come down? Who called it in? And why did you open the trunk to begin with?”
There seemed a slight change of attitude in Evans and Thackery, as if they remembered that they were not dealing with the ordinary John Q. Public.
Evans removed his rear end from the Taurus and stood erect, as if reporting to a superior. Perhaps he was; no one had mentioned his rank. He referred to his trusty notepad and cleared his throat.
“Grandison called it in at twenty thirty-two. Uniforms responded, a suspicious circumstances. Grandison was waiting for them, said he’d witnessed a woman hiding beside this car. She realized he’d seen her and took off running. They checked the car, found the keys in the ignition. Grandison said he’d seen you working on it, so one of the uniforms went up and knocked at your door but of course got no answer.”
“Any description of the woman?” Duck asked with studied casualness.
“No. The light’s pretty dim over here, lots of shadows. And she was fast, according to Grandison, too fast for him to consider going after her.”
Duck, arms folded, nodded. “Okay. Sorry, didn’t mean to get you off track. No answer at my door. Then what?”
“Music, from the trunk.”
“No kidding? Interesting,” Duck said dryly, “since I’d removed the radio.”
“They noticed. The fact remains that ‘America the Beautiful’ was playing in the trunk.”
“Claudia’s cell phone,” I blurted, remembering Clarissa’s. Matching tunes. It figured.
“Right. It kept sounding off, so one of the uniforms popped the trunk. After seeing what . . . who was in it, they called us.”
That was all well and good, but I wanted to get back to Mrs. Luby and what she said she’d seen.
Evidently Duck was on the same track. “How is it you talked to my neighbor again?”
It was Thackery’s turn. “Grandison suggested we check with her. I take it she has a reputation for knowing everyone’s comings and goings. We tried your unit again, then knocked on her door. We identified ourselves, and she told us she’d heard you leave. By that time we had traced the vehicle identification number of the Chevy and knew Ms. Warren was listed as the most recent owner, so we asked Mrs. Luby if she knew her. You, I mean,” he amended, a tacit apology for talking about me as if I weren’t there. “She said she was in the lobby this afternoon when the elevator door opened. She said that you, Ms. Warren, were on the elevator with the cleaning lady. You were carrying a box.”
“No way,” I said. “Didn’t happen. What time was this?”
He examined his notes. “Between noon and twelve-thirty. She said the twelve o’clock news was on.”
“I was home labeling cartons. Or out back trying to scratch the damned paint off my car windows. Tank and Tina will verify what happened when.”
I didn’t understand it. How could Mrs. Luby make such a mistake? She knew me and had for a couple of years a
t least. Unless . . .
“Clarissa didn’t mention being here today,” Duck said, clearly puzzled. “She’d have no reason to be. She’d just cleaned the day before yesterday.”
I had to intervene. “She didn’t finish, Duck. I assumed she’d told you. She wasn’t feeling well and left early.” Now was not the time to tell him I was pretty sure something I’d said might have upset her.
“Well, it’ll be simple to clear up when we talk to her. As for the woman with the box . . .”
“That bitch!” I erupted, realizing the implications of the earlier sighting by Mrs. Luby. “She’s been in your apartment, Duck. The box she was carrying. It must have been the one I was looking for.”
“Huh?” He squinted at me.
I reminded him of the missing carton, watching as his eyes darkened with rage. “It all makes sense now. She must have shown up on a day Clarissa was there, some time over the last two weeks. So that’s what she meant.” Puzzle pieces had begun to interlock.
“Which ‘she’? You mean, Clarissa?”
“Yes. She said, ‘You look just like your picture today,’ as if I didn’t before. And she asked me when I’d gotten my hair cut.”
Duck shook his head. “You’ve left me.”
Evans and Thackery were probably as puzzled but were doing a good job of trying not to show it. They simply watched, two pairs of eyes darting back and forth between us.
“That’s why she seemed surprised when I said I was pleased to meet her,” I went on, as much for myself as for him. “As far as she was concerned, we’d met before. Except,” I added, “that doesn’t quite scan. Oh, my God.”
“Yes?” From the expression on Evans’s face, something told me he used those piercing gray eyes as a means of intimidation. I had news for him; they weren’t working on me.
“It wasn’t Clarissa, it was Claudia,” I said, hoping they’d be able to follow me. “Before, I mean, whatever day the she-devil showed up here. I’m sure the twins must have had a good reason for pulling a switch, but that had to be what happened. Clarissa was reacting to her sister’s description of me. If Clarissa had been there that day, she would have reminded me that I’d taken the box right off the bat. She mentioned the box to her sister on the phone while I was searching for it. Claudia must have told her I’d been there and had taken it. But in the kitchen a while later, Clarissa seemed distracted, worried. Then I mentioned that the box had been in the guest room the last time I was here two weeks ago. That’s when she must have realized that her sister had screwed up and the woman who’d taken the box couldn’t have been me. Understand?”
“All right.” Thackery snapped his notepad closed. “I give. What the hell is going on here?”
I dreaded having to explain. It was all so bizarre. Fortunately a stay of execution arrived in the person of the crime scene technicians and a medical type, all stepping over one another in an intricate ballet as each went about his assigned task.
Duck found an unmarked space for his car near the entrance and we sat on the hood watching, with no further discussion of the interloper. The least we could do for Claudia was to make her the focus of our attention, since we’d pretty much ignored her for the last quarter hour or so.
The medical examiner had just finished when the Explorer barreled into the garage. Seeing us parked off to the side, Tank pulled up beside us.
Tina was out before he’d come to a halt. “Is it her? Aunt Sister?” She seemed to have aged since I’d seen her an hour ago.
“We think so. Evans,” Duck called. The detective glanced over his shoulder, saw the new arrivals and, after a word to Thackery, made his way over to us, his brow wearing a puzzled frown.
He shook Tank’s hand then turned to Tina. “You’re Mrs. Younts? I remember you now, but I thought your name was Jones.”
“Maiden name,” Tina responded, her eyes glued on the trunk of the Chevy. “I want to see her. Now.”
“Of course. It’s not bad, no blood or anything.”
“Not bad? She’s dead. How could it be any worse?” She walked away. Evans, after an apologetic shrug, followed her. Tank was last in the procession, catching up with Tina in time to slide his arm around her shoulders as she halted at the trunk.
She nodded almost immediately. “It’s her. Aunt Sister. Claudia Jean Hitchcock.” Jerking free of Tank’s embrace, she spun around. “What the hell is she doing in the trunk of your car, Leigh?” she yelled. “You had to say the magic word, didn’t you? This is your fault, dammit!”
She might as well have cold-cocked me. Magic word? What was she talking about?
“Be cool.” Duck pulled me closer and murmured in my ear. “She’s upset. Let her get it out of her system.”
As hard as it was, I managed to nod agreement. I had thought that Eddie’s suspicion that I might have been stepping out on Duck had hurt. In comparison to this, it was a pinprick. Tina blamed me. I had no idea why.
I slid off the hood and climbed into the passenger side, closing the door. I groped until I found the correct lever, reclined the seat back as far as it would go and shut my eyes. I wanted to cry so badly that it hurt almost worse than Tina’s accusation. Instead, I got mad.
There was no proof yet but I was certain my doppelganger had to be smack in the middle of this. It was one thing to be the target of her acrimony and dirty tricks, and bad enough that in getting at me she’d also drawn blood from Duck; he’d wanted to see Hawaii for as long as I could remember. We’d get there one day. But there’d be no “one day” for Claudia, or for Claudia and Clarissa as twins. The she-devil had severed that unique connection, perhaps mine with Tank and Tina as well. That remained to be seen.
But in her pursuit for revenge for whatever she felt I’d done to her, Ms. Witch had grievously wounded others, people I cared about. An innocent woman was dead. And until the time of death could be established and my alibi confirmed, I was number one in the investigation’s bull’s-eye. Leigh Ann Warren. Murder suspect.
11
I REALLY THOUGHT THINGS WERE ABOUT AS bad as they could get. Then the elevator door opened and who peeks out? Mrs. Luby and Clarissa.
I practically fell out of the car, hurrying to waylay them. Fortunately, Duck, who’d returned to the Chevy to talk to Evans and Thackery, spotted the two in time and hurried toward them, getting there a few steps ahead of me. I’d lost track of Tank and Tina; they were nowhere in sight.
Apparently Duck’s neighbor had been in bed, or on the way. Filmy orange pajama bottoms peeked from beneath a calf-length robe. Her high-heeled mules matched the pajamas; her night cap, the robe. Clarissa, however, in no way resembled the person I’d met earlier in the week. The trim navy pantsuit and tailored yellow blouse under the black chesterfield coat made her the prototype of the professional woman fresh from a day at the office. And no dangling chandeliers from her earlobes this time; she wore small, gold clip-ons shaped like hearts.
“See? I told you they were probably still down here,” Mrs. Luby said, escorting Clarissa off the elevator.
“Clarissa.” Duck took her arm, turning her so that her view of the activity in the corner was blocked. “You were looking for me?”
“Well, yes. I know it’s late but I simply couldn’t put it off any longer. Hello, Ms. Warren. I . . . I’m glad you’re here too.” She couldn’t seem to meet our gazes, hers skittering about like a hummingbird, never lighting on any one place. Her cherub’s face wore more seams tonight. “I owe you both an apology. I—we, that is, deceived you.”
“You and your twin.” Duck’s voice was gentle, nonjudgmental.
“Yes. We meant no harm. I mean, it wasn’t the kind of prank we used to—” She stopped, taking him in for the first time. “How did you know we were twins? Oh. Tina told you? It’s just as well.”
Mrs. Luby, who’d been waiting for the elevator to return, abandoned it and edged closer, eyes bright with curiosity.
“I woke up sick that day, you see, a migraine, and I didn’t want to disa
ppoint you. So Sister said she’d come in my place, do your apartment for me. Only . . . only—” She couldn’t seem to finish.
“Only a woman showed up who said she was me,” I volunteered, “and took a box when she left, the one I was looking for the day before yesterday, and a set of keys from the pegboard in the kitchen.”
“Sister told you!” In an instant she was transformed, the fretful ridges disappearing from her forehead, her animated demeanor returning. “Oh, I’m so relieved. And so sorry. I’d have said something, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of what had happened while I had her on the phone. Sister gets muddled a lot these days, mixes things up. But then you said you hadn’t been here in two weeks and I knew I had to get home and talk to her, find out exactly what she’d done. We decided we had to ’fess up, then let you take us in.”
“Take you in?” Duck asked.
We’d gained quite an audience. Evans and Thackery had eased up behind us, I wasn’t sure when, and Mrs. Luby had edged closer still.
“The woman was a thief.” Clarissa quivered with indignation. “She stole Ms. Warren’s property, and we were accomplices. But I wanted to square things between us first. I hadn’t finished your apartment, and since today’s the day I normally do it, I came as usual. Sister was supposed to pick me up because I had a class to teach at the Literacy Center this evening and I’d have to rush home to change. Then afterward we were going to call you, ask if we could drop by so we could confess that we’d allowed an impostor into your apartment. Only Sister forgot she was to come and get me, and I had to take a cab home. I’ve been trying to track her down ever since.”
Duck drew in a deep breath and looked back at Thackery and Evans who, after a second, nodded, leaving the hated task to him.
He slipped an arm around her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Clarissa, but I have bad news—about your sister.”
Her eyes widened, alarm scrubbing all color from her face. “What’s she done now?”
“It looks like she did come to pick you up today. It also appears that she ran into the woman who had fooled her before. We aren’t sure what happened, but . . . I’m sorry, Clarissa. There’s no easy way to say it. Your sister is dead.”
