by June Shaw
She gave me a wide smile. And her brother’s address. I knew exactly where I would spend my lunchtime Saturday.
* * * *
Noon Saturday swept in with a soft westerly breeze and the roar of a starting lawn mower. The temperature was warm for late spring but definitely not hot enough for bikinis. Except for Lillian. My mother’s retirement home friend had given me the phone number for her brother Andrew who lived across the street from Lillian.
“Yes,” he’d told me on the phone, “I knew Zane Snelling. Well, I didn’t really know him, but I knew who he was. He used to come to her house all the time. Uh-huh, her name is Lillian, but I don’t know her last name. I can tell you she looks good, and things sure swing around on her when she wears a bathing suit.”
I sat in my truck across the street and a couple of houses down from Lillian’s. The stoop-shouldered gent setting up a folding chair in the front yard next door must be Andrew. I knew for certain when he plopped himself in the chair and stared at her with a wide grin. She didn’t work up a sweat, strolling behind a self-propelled mower in her tropical-print bikini that barely covered her jiggling breasts and swaying butt.
I sat with a hand on my door handle, trying to decide what I would say when I approached. Hello. You were having an affair with Zane Snelling, weren’t you? No, that wouldn’t work. You knew Zane Snelling, and I attended his funeral, so would you tell me all you know about him? Not hardly. Did you happen to kill a Mr. Snelling?
Harboring frustrating thoughts, I noticed motion in the car parked a few feet ahead of me. A woman with big hair sat in the driver’s seat peering out her door’s window. Part of her face that I could see reminded me of Daria Snelling’s. I had seen this person at Zane’s funeral, sweeping up ashes, and guessed she was Daria’s older sister.
She must have also heard about her sister’s husband having an affair. Was she here to confront this woman about causing anguish to Daria, who was now also deceased? Or maybe she would only watch Lillian and leave without saying a word.
I needed to speak to her before she took off.
Shoving my door open, I stepped out of my truck. Daria’s sister was doing the same. Face stern, she steamed across the street toward Lillian.
I remained in place to watch.
Long-legged Lillian spotted her coming and waited, her mower idling. The lawnmower’s whirring kept me from hearing what Daria’s sister told her that made Lillian’s face twist with anger. She swung her arms out like she’d gotten into a serious argument. The older version of Daria bent toward her, pointing an index finger at her face.
I stepped closer to hear and spied some neighbors appearing to get earfuls from the pair. Moving to the edge of the next yard, I heard bits of what they were yelling about, their words shaking me to the core.
“Yes, I had sex with him,” Lillian screamed, “but you did much worse! You’re his wife’s sister.”
On the driveway beside Lillian’s house, a young boy wobbled on his tricycle. A woman, probably his grandmother, rose from a chair near him and stomped toward the women yelling at each other. “You two watch your mouths,” she hollered. “There are children around here.”
“Right,” I said although no one heard my words while I strolled up to the pair of angry women. “Sex is nothing to raise your voices about.”
Lillian grabbed Daria’s sister’s arm and pointed toward the yard on the opposite side of her house. The two stormed there, away from me and the child and his elder.
Zane supposedly had two lovers. One was Lillian. Daria’s sister was really the second one?
I was tempted to turn off the lawnmower to hear them better, but the grandmother eyed me with a sneer. She wouldn’t want her grandson to hear more of their words, but I wanted to. I shifted closer to the side yard and focused on listening. The women spoke quieter. At times their voices rose, letting me snag bits of their argument.
I couldn’t distinguish the voices, but heard one of them expected to get something Zane owned. If I heard right, he possessed a fortune.
Daria’s sister’s voice became evident as it rose. She recently learned about Lillian, who said she had known she wasn’t the only woman he’d been seeing.
“He wasn’t having relations with Daria anymore,” Daria’s sister said in a raised tone.
Lillian laughed. “You’re a fool if you believe that.”
A horn tooted. A twentyish male driver wearing a broad smile gave both women thumbs up, pausing their discussion.
“This isn’t finished!” Daria’s sister snorted. Storming away, she glanced at me before crossing the street to her car.
I strutted up to Lillian. “Hi.” I pointed. “That was Daria’s sister, wasn’t it?”
Lillian’s jaw fell open. She raced into her house and slammed the door.
Not knowing whether I should turn her mower off, I left it alone. Maybe she’d come out soon and cut more grass, although that didn’t seem likely. I crossed the street to my truck and waved at the older man who sat glued in his lawn chair. He’d probably enjoyed Lillian in her swimsuit on many Saturdays but most likely had never been as entertained as moments ago with the women arguing.
I strode up to him. “Hi, I’m Sunny, the woman who called you about Lillian,” I said while he nodded. “Do you know the person she was arguing with?”
“Can’t say I do.” He shook his head, his pale blue eyes bright. “But I sure as heck am not gonna miss this next week. That was a nifty show, wasn’t it?”
“Pretty nifty.” I grabbed a piece of paper from a pad in my purse and wrote my phone number. “Would you call me if you hear anything else that’s as interesting as that was?”
He agreed, and I drove away, calling Eve. “Obviously I wasn’t the only person who’d heard about Lillian. So did Daria’s sister.” I relayed all of the events that took place.
“Fascinating,” she said. “So here’s my news. Dave Price is here! We’re not getting romantic—but hopefully one day soon.”
I gave a small laugh in response, noting I didn’t especially want her to get romantically entangled with him, but not certain why.
“He’s with a helper,” she said. “They’re almost finished putting in the alarm. Why don’t you stop by to see how it works?”
“No thanks. I can figure out how an alarm works. If somebody goes in your house after it’s set, the alarm goes off. That’s a no-brainer.”
“Okay, but actually, I know being deceitful with him that day you pretended to be me has been bothering your little conscience.”
“Yes, big time. And I don’t think my conscience is so small.” I shoved my foot at the four-way stop, slamming my brakes extra hard.
“If you come over, Dave will see that we’re twins. We won’t tell him you pretended to be me, but at least he’ll see there’s double me.” She chuckled. “Maybe your conscience will get some relief if he sees you for yourself.”
Did I want to? Did I want to see him around my sister and see her being flirty with him? Of course another worker was there with them. I envisioned Dave. Taller than me. Broad shouldered. Eyes that made me want steaming chocolate. My body enjoying a sizzle while being around him.
Wow, did I think that? Why wasn’t I singing about snow or maybe Rudolph?
“I guess I might stop by.”
“Good. Give Dave a chance. You’ll like him.”
I couldn’t tell her how much I feared I liked him already.
Chapter 12
Seeing the glass replaced on the sliding door of Eve’s studio made peace settle inside me. But not for long. Her art room instantly stifled when she brought in her guest.
“Sunny, this is Dave Price. Dave, my sister Sunny Taylor.”
“Also known as E,” he said with a grin and then I remembered what brought this on. “And you’re identical twins.” He sandwiched my hand between his.
My body heated from his touch and my remembrance of my hip and leg jammed agai
nst his. I forced my voice to work. “Nice to meet you.”
“And you, Sunny.” He gave my hand a little squeeze.
Flirting? Being nice? His usual handshake?
I hummed a bar.
Eve raised an eyebrow at me. She knew the Christmas tunes came when I was frightened or considering myself in sexual situations. She probably thought I feared him. I shook my head, mouthing no at her. Turning my back to Dave, I pointed my thumb toward him and nodded to let her know I believed he was okay.
Immediately, I regretted that decision. She stepped around me to get closer and started hitting on him. “Dave and his men did an excellent job of installing a burglar alarm.”
“Actually, they did most of the installation,” he told me. “We placed motion detector sensors on all the entrances to your sister’s house. The man who completed the work just left.”
“Great. I’m glad she finally decided to get an alarm system.” I sighed, content to realize I could stop worrying about Eve.
“Yes, Dave is such a convincer.” She stood so close to him, she needed to lean her head back to peer at his face. Then she actually grabbed the man’s shoulder—at first rubbing as though brushing a leaf off his shirt—and then holding on to him.
I hated her actions. I hated when she made me take her place for that science exam, and I hated when we were six years old in dance class and Lana what’s-her-name said, “I like your short set,” and I proudly replied, “Thank you,” and she said, “Not yours, your sister’s.” I also hated this moment, when she was almost pressing up against Dave. Any other animosity I’d had toward her before was regular sibling stuff. Worse right now, Dave didn’t seem to mind. He stood without taking a step back from her or even swaying his torso a pinch away from hers. Actually, he smiled at her.
What was she doing? “Remember what Ida said?” I mentioned, breaking the moment between the pair.
Dave cocked an eyebrow at me.
“She’s talking about one of our mother’s friends at the retirement home, one who shares lots of opinions, some of them unsavory,” Eve told him. She faced me, a new crease in her forehead. “And which of Ida’s many statements were you talking about?”
“Specifically, she said something about you and—” I faked a little cough, figuring she’d fill in that I meant men.
And then I recalled Ida’s entire statement. She had told Eve she ought to marry more men instead of just sleeping with some of them.
I didn’t want her to marry Dave. We weren’t even one hundred percent positive he wasn’t the person who broke into her house, although I had to admit to being ninety-nine percent certain. A twinkle of interest sparked his eye. He glanced from one to the other of us, seeming to enjoy watching us annoyed with each other.
The angry expression left Eve’s face, replaced by a smile. “Oh, Ida thinks I should get married again,” she said to him.
“That part of her statement was not what I was referring to,” I said. “It was the part about other men.” Lots of them.
My bait didn’t work. She kept her goo-goo eyes trained on Dave, making certain he heard the suggestion about marriage.
“Is there a problem between you two?” One of his eyebrows lifted.
“No,” I said too quickly.
“Absolutely not. We love each other.” Eve drew out the love part, maybe trying to imprint the word in his mind. She shoved up closer to him.
My head felt like a pressure cooker ready to explode from building annoyance.
“Eve, we inserted a simple code in the burglar alarm,” Dave told her, stepping back and soothing the charged air a bit by a change of topic. “But I suggest that you insert your own.”
“If you think I should, then let’s do it,” she said.
“It’s not difficult to get numbers or words into the system. I’ll tell you how.”
A sudden twinge of uneasiness made me hum. Eve glanced at me. I shook my head, trying to warn her not to let others know a code that could let them gain entry into her house.
She smiled at him. “I would love for you to insert them. And how about a little wine now that you’re finished?”
“Thanks. I’ll have water.”
He did quick work changing the code while I once again checked the studio, which felt much safer than before. Eve had used three coats of paint to cover the words WHERE IS WHAT’S HIS? She’d thrown out her paintings with X’s slashed across them and started over, giving a fresh, empty feel to the room. Her current painting on an easel in the center of the space made me shiver. Bright red, yellow, and orange circles filled almost every inch of the canvas. I glanced at Dave. Had she told him this painting was supposed to represent her anticipated encounters with him?
She still wore a happy smile. Maybe she’d already begun to fulfill those fantasies.
“Sunny, come sit down,” she said, stepping ahead of us to the kitchen. “And you can write down the numbers for the code.”
“How many numbers did you use?” I asked Dave.
“Only four.”
I crossed my arms and didn’t budge behind my sister. “Just tell me what the numbers are. I can certainly remember four of them.”
“You don’t have to be snappy.” She grabbed a water from the fridge and gave it to Dave, along with a pleasant grin.
“I’m not snappy! What’re the numbers? I need to go.”
“Six, one, nine, two,” she said.
Dave lifted his water bottle toward me. “It’s always good to write them somewhere.”
“Then do it.” I stormed out of Eve’s house. She’d probably told him I was dyslexic, so he figured I couldn’t get my letters or numbers straight. A common misconception. Most of us had problems with sound recognition, and some had more problems than others. And then there was the mistaken belief that people with dyslexia lacked intelligence.
Or maybe that was true. Maybe I was dumb for leaving my sister alone with a man who might harm her and who tempted me. Okay, there, I allowed myself to think it. No man had done that in such a long time. Maybe never. Or maybe I thought I wanted him because she wanted him first, I considered, slamming myself inside my truck. Yes, she’d wanted and gotten other men, but none of them had attracted me. I tore away from her house, not certain how I felt about myself or my sister or the person with her.
At home minutes later, I mulled over the break-in at Eve’s. Other concerns came. Was what happened at Eve’s connected to Daria or Zane? And was Dave somehow also connected?
Maybe right now I just wanted him to be.
What could I do about all these things happening around me? The police believed I could have murdered Daria. Her killer must be found for them to know otherwise. Nobody in town wanted to hire Twin Sisters Remodeling & Repairs since Zane’s death. With no income at all from that source, I would be financially strapped. I especially hoped no hurricanes decided to slam into town this summer since my roof wouldn’t withstand that type winds. I was grateful that I’d been diligent about putting money aside, but what I’d saved was nowhere near unlimited.
Something concerning me, too, was being so bothered by my sister. Most of my life I’d loved having a twin. She was like another half of myself. We accepted each other’s problems and goofs. When my dyslexia was discovered, I anxiously waited to learn Eve was dyslexic, too.
Testing confirmed she wasn’t. Teachers commented about her advanced performance in classes. Soon afterward, a kind reading teacher who knew much about my condition made me feel I was like every other child in school. I just happened to have been born with this situation in my brain that made me work harder. Other people need to work hard at different things, she’d said, making me feel good about myself. Until I overheard a teacher saying if those of us with special needs couldn’t do what the rest of the students did, then we should fail.
I’d slunk away. I wanted to be like everyone else. Starting to blurt Christmas carols as a result of being a terrified child that a
wful day didn’t help my self-esteem. Lack of confidence probably made me stay with Kevin after I discovered what a jerk he was.
Hearing a crinkle, I looked down and realized I’d been popping chocolate chip cookies into my mouth and chewing one after another. Growing wider or with mid-life zits from too much chocolate wouldn’t help. I stowed the cookies away but still wanted something to chew on. Grabbing a handful of peanuts in the shell, I took them outside and ate. I gazed a couple of yards down, but didn’t see Miss Hawthorne outside. How had Fritz gotten out of the fence behind her house? I peered in the direction of Eve’s place as though I could see through houses in-between ours and focused on listening. A car sped by. Someone’s door slammed. No sound of my sister crying out in fear. Or pleasure.
Envisioning her pushing closer to Dave, I wished her back to the last town she’d lived in. Nobody broke into her house there. Nobody gave me confusing thoughts about romance.
Right now, I needed to work on discovering why two people died, and my main concern was keeping Eve safe. I hopped in my truck and aimed it toward the police station, hoping that since Detective Wilet was off a couple of days during the week, he might be there now.
* * * *
“So Zane Snelling was having an affair with this woman named Lillian? And his sister-in-law, too? Both at the same time?” The detective sat behind his desk, taking notes of my statements.
“Yes,” I answered. “I think so.”
He stopped writing. “You think?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“Of what? That he was seeing both women or that he was seeing them at the same time?”
“Ummm.” I gazed off to his right, replaying the words I’d heard in Lillian’s yard. I looked him in the eye. “It was hard to make out the exact things they said since Lillian’s lawnmower was still running, but I really believe he was seeing them both at the same time.”
Wilet let out what seemed an exasperated exhale. “I’ll note that.” With his lovely full lips squeezed tight, he jotted words. Of course he wouldn’t tell me what information they already had about this case. “Ms. Taylor, you’ve also told me about Mrs. Snelling being in a store with some man soon after her husband’s funeral.”
