The Only Suspect

by Jonnie Jacobs

  “Her daughter, Andrea ...” I repeated the name in my head. Andrea. My wife? “Was she the only child?”

  “Yep. It was just the two of them.”

  “What about Andrea’s father?”

  Doris took a long drink from her glass before setting it on the coffee table. “I never knew him. Helen didn’t move into the neighborhood until Andrea was five, and by then he wasn’t part of the picture. She never said much about him.”

  I wondered if Helen had made a habit of one-night stands, or if Andrea’s father, unlike Eva’s, had been someone she’d hoped to build a life with.

  “Helen didn’t have an easy life,” Doris continued. “No husband, not much money, not a lot of common sense sometimes either. But she tried to be a good mother.”

  “Tell me about Andrea.”

  “She was a bright girl but not a happy one, I’m afraid. A bit of a dreamer. Always seemed to have a chip on her shoulder. She and Jennifer drifted apart in high school because of that. Jennifer’s a very upbeat person.”

  “Do you know what’s happened to Andrea? Where she is now?” My voice wavered with emotion, but Doris appeared not to notice.

  “She was attending the local community college when her mother died. I think she stuck it out for the rest of the semester then moved north, where she had family. We pretty much lost touch.”

  I did the math in my head, and my heart skipped a beat. If Andrea was in college eight years ago ... “How old is Andrea?”

  “Same age as my Jennifer. Twenty-eight. Jennifer is a preschool teacher. Has a little girl of her own and another on the way.”

  Twenty-eight. The same age as my wife.

  And the same age as Eva.

  I could feel my pulse racing. “Do you recall Andrea’s birthday?”

  “Not the exact date, but February. Jennifer was an April baby and always hated that she was younger than Andrea.”

  February. The same month as Eva. The same year.

  I could feel the rush of blood like wind in my ears. My throat was tight. I showed her the photo of my wife. “Does this look like Andrea?”

  Doris nodded then smiled. “I haven’t seen her recently, of course, but it sure looks like her.”

  I could barely breathe. Eva and Andrea weren’t just sisters: they were twins.

  “Do you recall, was Andrea right-handed?”

  “Yes, she was. Why?”

  I ignored the question. “You said she moved north, where she had family. Do you know where?”

  “My Jennifer got a card from her ... somewhere in New England, if I recall. It didn’t make sense to me, because Helen didn’t have any family. Both her parents were killed when she was quite young, and she was raised by a single aunt who died not long after I met Helen. I figured maybe it was someone on her father’s side.”

  Doris lifted her eyes from the photo to meet mine. “You must know Andrea, then. What’s she doing these days?”

  Her question barely registered. My mind was doing somersaults.

  When I didn’t answer, Doris asked again. “How do you know her?”

  “I was married to her.”

  “Was?”

  I took a breath. “She died a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Oh dear. I’m so sorry for you. An auto accident? Cancer?” I shook my head. “She was murdered.”

  “How awful. How did it happen?”

  “She was abducted,” I said, keeping the story simple. “They found her body a week later.”

  “You poor man.” Doris placed a hand gently on my shoulder. “I lost my Harry five years ago. I understand.”

  I nodded, numbly.

  She gazed at me with sympathy for a moment, then rose. “I’ll be right back. I still have a box of things that belonged to Andrea. She asked to store them here temporarily when she moved north, but then she never told me where to send them. Let me get them for you.”

  Doris was gone maybe five minutes, during which time I collected the bits and pieces of what I’d thought was real and reassembled them. The world through yet another turn of the kaleidoscope.

  Doris returned with a file-drawer-sized cardboard storage box. I wasn’t sure how I’d get it on the plane, but I figured I’d manage somehow.

  “After Helen died, Andrea had to move. She sold most of Helen’s stuff. Didn’t get much for it, I’m sure. She went into the dorms where space was tight and asked me to hold this for her.”

  “What is it?”

  “Memorabilia. Old photos, letters, financial papers. I almost tossed it a couple of times, but then I thought, well, Andrea’s still young. I’m not sure my Jennifer would know what to do with my old letters at this point either. But someday she might like to look them over.”

  Doris set the box on the cushion next to me. “Of course, now Andrea’s gone, and you never knew Helen ... How long were you married?”

  “Two years. No children.” My voice broke.

  I’m sure Doris thought it was grief at having lost my wife. She wasn’t all wrong, but it was so much more.

  CHAPTER 51

  I caught a red-eye flight and arrived back home in the gray light of morning, feeling fatigued, confused, and not a little anxious. The sun wasn’t fully up, and except for the occasional jogger and dog walker, Monte Vista was steeped in weekend quiet. I headed straight for Jesse’s without even stopping by my own house first. I knew Molly would be asleep for hours still.

  Without my untimely intrusion, Jesse might have enjoyed an extra hour or two in bed himself. As it was, the doorbell shattered his sleep.

  I could see him lift the blinds in the bedroom window and peek outside. I stepped into the open so that he could see it was me. Several minutes later, still blurry eyed and wearing mismatched sweats he’d clearly pulled on in haste, he opened the door.

  “Jesus, Sam. Where have you been?”

  I’d expected him to yell at me for waking him up at an ungodly hour. Instead, he seemed relieved to see me. “Atlanta,” I told him.

  “Georgia?”

  I nodded. “It turns out the woman I was married to wasn’t Eva Flynn after all.”

  Just saying the words aloud helped ground me. My brain had been spinning in a mental fog during the whole flight home. I no longer knew up from down.

  He stared at me open-mouthed for a moment then stood back. “Come in. I can tell I’m not going to be able to follow this without coffee. Strong coffee.”

  While Jesse heated water and pulled two bagels from the freezer, I told him what I’d learned.

  “Twins, huh?” He rubbed his bristly cheek.

  “Mirror twins. Andrea was right-handed, Eva left-handed. I was married to Andrea.”

  “So all that stuff about Eric ...”

  “That was Eva.” Much to my relief. I couldn’t imagine my wife involved with the mob, and I didn’t want to imagine her involved with Eric. “Phipps saw the missing persons photo of Maureen and assumed that she was the woman they’d seen with Eric.”

  “Confused your wife for her twin, in other words?”

  “Right.” I took the coffee Jesse handed me. “Unfortunately, now that Eric and his criminal connections are out of the picture, I’ll again be the prime suspect in Maureen’s death. Not that Dallas ever considered me anything else.”

  “Not so fast.” Jesse poured heavy cream and two teaspoons of sugar into his coffee. It was, he said, an indulgence he allowed himself for staying off the booze. “Why would Andrea use Maureen’s name if Maureen was Eva’s friend?”

  “The two sisters knew each other. Eva must have told Andrea about Maureen.”

  “And why use a false name at all?”

  That one I couldn’t answer.

  “Your wife also had Eva’s childhood locket, don’t forget.”

  “Eva could have given it to Andrea or left it with her at one time. It’s not anything valuable. They were still in touch, you know. The Redhotsugarbear e-mail address is Eva’s.”

  That had also been a relief. Yes, my
wife had been carrying on a clandestine correspondence, but it wasn’t with Eric or any other man. It was with her sister.

  As if Jesse’s train of thought had followed my own, he asked the question I was stumbling with myself. “Why would your wife not tell you about her sister?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she was embarrassed about having a twin who’d been adopted out.” It seemed like a pretty weak reason, but it was the only one I could come up with. “I wish I knew where Andrea had gone after leaving Atlanta.”

  “Have you tried sending Redhotsugarbear an e-mail?” Jesse asked. “Finding Eva might help clear things up.”

  I nodded. “I sent a message as soon as I realized my wife might not be Eva. No response yet. At this point, Eva may not want to be found. Her friend Eric is dead and the FBI is on her tail.”

  “What about the box of Helen’s stuff her neighbor gave you? Have you looked through it?”

  “Briefly, as soon as I got back to the car after leaving the neighbor’s. It’s just family photos, cards, a couple of child’s drawings. There’s nothing like an address book or diary or anything that jumps out as being significant.”

  I broke off a piece of bagel and chewed on it while I thought about what I was going to say next. “What if my wife’s killer mistook her for Eva? Phipps thought she was Eva; the guy who broke into my house must have thought so too. So why not the killer?”

  Jesse frowned. “Okay, so Phipps and your intruder ended up here because they saw Maureen’s photo in the news after she disappeared. How would the killer have known about your wife? There would have had to be something before her disappearance that caught his attention.”

  Half-asleep or not, Jesse was a logical thinker. “You’re saying it’s not likely Maureen’s killer confused her with Eva then.”

  “I’m saying we shouldn’t jump to conclusions, Sam.”

  “Then we’re back to her being killed by her kidnappers.” Or me, I added silently. I knew Jesse wouldn’t consider that as a real possibility, but I hadn’t completely ruled it out. If only I could remember what happened that Saturday night. I was no closer to coming up with an answer now than I had been at the time.

  “The killer was someone who knew about Ben Albright’s wine cellar,” Jesse pointed out. “And knew that he was away. So it has to be someone with ties to both you and Albright.”

  I shook my head. “Ben and I barely know one another.”

  “I’m not sure that’s relevant.” Jesse got up to pour more coffee. “I wonder if Ben is in any way connected to Eric Vance.”

  “Seems highly unlikely.” I declined a second cup of coffee and pulled myself out of my chair. “The cops are currently operating under the assumption that I was married to Eva Flynn. I need to set them straight.”

  “They came looking for you yesterday,” Jesse said. “You were supposed to fly to Las Vegas with Detective Montgomery.”

  “Yeah, well that was before—”

  “They were highly suspicious, and more than a little pissed, when you didn’t turn up at the airport.”

  “It wasn’t as if we’d made plans to travel together,” I protested. “It was her idea to tag along.”

  “Semantics,” Jesse said, walking me to the door. “She expected you, and you weren’t there. No one knew where you’d gone.”

  “Chase knew.”

  “Chase wasn’t talking.”

  That had been my doing. “I guess I told him to keep it quiet.”

  “And you didn’t return phone calls,” Jesse pointed out.

  At the time, I’d been focused on getting answers, but now that I was no longer pumping adrenaline, I was ready to concede I’d been shortsighted. “So, have I made things a whole lot worse for myself?”

  “I don’t know, Sam. I sure hope not.”

  CHAPTER 52

  Hannah patted the soil around her newly planted petunias. Eighteen of them. It had seemed like a lot when she bought them at the nursery, but the bed looked skimpy now that the plants were in the ground. They’d grow and fill out over time, she told herself. Still, she should have bought double the number. Maybe she’d go back and get some taller plants for the back of the border.

  Gardening had never been her strength. Surprisingly, it was Malcolm who enjoyed working in the garden. He could spend hours amending the soil, pinching back buds, feeding and spraying. Her friends, with husbands who balked at even mowing the lawn, were envious. They shouldn’t have been. Malcolm knew how to nurture plants, but he hadn’t known how to do the same for a wife.

  She stood slowly, easing the creaks from her knees, and turned on the hose. Around her, the neighborhood was beginning to stir. Hannah had woken early after a fitful night’s sleep. She’d been hoping her work in the garden would provide a diversion. But it hadn’t. The troubling questions were right there still, churning away in her mind.

  Where had Sam gone yesterday?

  Was Phipps right in thinking Sam had ties to organized crime?

  If his wife was involved, could Sam really not have known?

  And when he reported her missing, had he suspected all along that her disappearance was mob related? It might account for his evasive behavior. The theory did not sit well with Hannah, but it did make sense.

  Her phone rang. Hannah dropped the hose, stripped off her gloves and shoes, and dashed for the house. She picked up on the fourth ring.

  “Hannah? It’s Sam.” A pause. “Sam Russell.”

  She’d recognized his voice straight off, but the call was so unexpected it took her a moment to respond. “Where are you?”

  “Home. I’m sorry about standing you up on the Las Vegas flight.”

  She bit back a few curt responses. She was angry at being lied to and manipulated. But he’d called, and she wanted to know why.

  Aloud, she asked, “Where were you yesterday?”

  “It’s a long story. Easier to explain in person than over the phone.”

  “I can meet you down at the station.”

  “I’d rather we met somewhere else. Somewhere we can talk in private.”

  Jesus, was he going to confess? “Sam, if you’ve done something—”

  “No, not that. I just have some new ... new background information.”

  “About Eva? Eric?”

  “Sort of.”

  He was being intentionally vague. It annoyed Hannah. Especially after the way he’d blown her off yesterday. “I’m a cop, Sam. This is official business. You can’t tell me things and expect them to stay confidential.”

  “I know that. I know you’ll have to tell Dallas. I just don’t want to be there when you do.”

  In spite of her irritation, Hannah was intrigued. “Where do you want to meet?”

  “How about the city park near the sports field. Half an hour?”

  Time enough to get the mud washed off. “See you then.”

  She considered alerting Dallas then decided against it. She’d hear what Sam had to say first.

  Hannah spotted Sam seated on a bench in the shade near the bandstand at the center of the park. He was slumped forward, elbows on his knees, but sat up as she approached. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his mouth drooped at the corners. For all that, Hannah still experienced a rush of pleasure at seeing him and was annoyed with herself for it.

  He nodded a greeting. “Thanks for meeting me here.”

  She took a seat beside him. “What’s up?”

  There was a moment’s silence. “The reason I didn’t go to Las Vegas,” Sam said finally, folding his hands on his knees. “I went to Atlanta instead.”

  “Why?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving a tuft at an odd angle to the rest. Hannah found it oddly appealing. “Remember that photo Cathy showed us when we were in Phoenix? The party at the bookstore?”

  Hannah nodded.

  “I thought at the time that something was a bit off about it. It wasn’t until I got home that night that it hit me. The woman in the photo—E
va Flynn—was holding her fork in her left hand. Maureen ... well, my wife was right-handed.”

  Hannah was confused. “You said your wife was Eva Flynn.”

  “She looked just like Eva. But I checked with Cathy and then called Mrs. Flynn. Eva was left-handed.”

  “Your wife could have been ambidextrous.”

  He shook his head. “I asked Mrs. Flynn about sisters or cousins, and that’s when she told me Eva was adopted. I talked to the attorney who handled the adoption; he’s in Atlanta. I managed to learn the birth mother’s name.”

  Had Sam dragged her down here to feed her some house-of-mirrors line to further muddy the waters? Hannah studied her hands. There was dirt from the garden under her nails still.

  “Let me guess,” she said. “Eva has a sister who looks like her.”

  “A twin.”

  Twin. Hannah hadn’t expected that. Wasn’t sure she actually believed it. “Are you saying the twins were adopted by different families?”

  “Not quite. Eva was adopted by the Flynns. My wife, Andrea, was raised by their natural mother, Helen Wycoff.”

  “Good God. She had twins and adopted one out while keeping the other?”

  Sam nodded. “Having met the attorney, my guess is she received more than the customary expenses in return.”

  “She sold the baby, in other words.”

  “That’s my take on it. She was a single mother, probably struggling to make ends meet. I’d guess the idea of being responsible for two babies overwhelmed her, both financially and emotionally.”

  “Go on.”

  “Helen Wycoff died when Andrea was nineteen. A neighbor said that after her mother’s death, Andrea moved north to be near family. But the neighbor was also under the impression that Helen didn’t have any family.”

  “Andrea did have a twin though.” Hannah kicked the grass with her toe. “Did the girls know about each other growing up?”

  “I don’t know about Andrea, but I doubt it. I mean, would you tell your kid that she had a twin you’d given away?”

  Hannah shook her head. She couldn’t imagine doing what Helen had done. No matter what the going price for a baby.

  “Eva didn’t even know she was adopted until she was a senior in high school,” Sam said. “I think that’s what precipitated the big fight that caused her to leave home. The attorney told me Eva contacted him about that time, and she eventually met her mother and sister.”