Jane and Shelley were left alone in the dining room, except for a single waiter who was starting to set up for dinner. He put a tablecloth on the large table closest to the fireplace. The rest of the staff presumably was roaming the woods, rounding up stragglers and putting them on boats.
Jane refilled her coffee and said, "There's too much weird stuff going on."
“I'll say there is!"
“Completely apart from the business of Sam One and Sam Two, there's this mysterious person running around in a falcon costume, and there were all those strange things gone missing this morning. The aerobics tapes, life-jacket straps, and all that. But are they different mysteries or part of the same one?”
Shelley thought for a bit. "The only way I can see for them to be part of a whole is if the point is to ruin Benson's chances of getting the contract with the school board for the summer camp. And if that's the case, it's succeeded, I'm afraid. When even Bob Rycraft has lost his enthusiasm, I don't think there's a chance of it being approved.”
Jane nodded. "And I feel bad about that because Benson is a nice guy who's gone to a huge amount of trouble to impress us. Even apart from the sabotage, it's too remote. The bridge going out is the final straw. It's bad enough that we're stranded here. But imagine if that happened when the kids were here and there was an emergency."
“I'm not sure," Shelley mused. "That discouraging us was the real point, I mean. Of course, it's what the protestors want, but the missing stuff and locked doors and all that were really trivial. Not nearly enough to make us vote against sending the kids. But I simply can't imagine the same mind that came up with those silly stunts thinking it would be a good idea to just murder someone at random to make the same impression."
“I agree. Especially since Sam Two and Marge are the ones most apt to be involved in the murder of Sam One. They have nothing against Benson."
“We don't know that," Shelley said.
“I guess not. But if we're right about the twin business — and I can't see how anything else can explain the dead Sam coming back to life — how could it have anything to do with Benson? Eileen has made it pretty clear that none of the Claypools are really the least bit interested in whether the school sends kids to camp. It was meant as a vacation for all of them, nothing more."
“But didn't you say that Allison told you Benson worked for the Claypools? Then he invented the whatsisthing? Maybe that has something to do with it.”
Jane looked doubtful. "It might, I guess. Maybe the Claypool brothers thought since Benson invented the thing while he was working for them, that they ought to have had some rights to the patent. It must have been pretty profitable if selling the patent gave him enough money to buy this place. But if that were true, why would anybody kill Sam to get back at Benson? That doesn't compute. Benson obviously wants this contract, but it's not a life-or-death thing for him. It's not as if his whole family is going to be reduced to begging on the streets if we decide against it.”
Shelley ran her hands through her hair in a gesture of frustration. "I'm so confused!"
“I'm confused and frightened," Jane said. "Liz was just angry about getting run down by the person in the falcon costume. I think it's far more ominous than she realized. A person who would assault someone to get a costume away from them is definitely up to no good. I think somebody was frantic to conceal his or her identity, and that's scary.”
Shelley glanced toward the lobby. "I don't like the fact that a bunch of us are unaccounted for. Sam and John are missing. And I haven't seen Al for hours."
“Shelley, let's go visit Marge."
“To what purpose? To ask her if she killed her husband, then passed off his twin as the same person?”
"Not outright," Jane said. "But if the subject comes up. .?" she added with a grin.
“If Marge is involved, I'd just as soon she didn't think we knew. A person who could bump off her husband probably wouldn't mind doing in a couple of near strangers."
“True. Okay, so we don't get near the subject. But I've never spoken to her except in a big group. I'd like to get more of a feel for what she's like."
“That's what's most wrong here," Shelley said. "Marge is a mouse. A very nice mouse. She's a mild, hardworking woman with no—"
“Personality?" Jane suggested.
Shelley nodded. "I just cannot imagine her involved in anything violent or illegal."
“Then let's go talk to her. Who knows? She might inadvertently say something revealing.”
Shelley looked doubtful. "Okay, but don't say anything that will make her wary of us. She probably is already. We're the ones who shot off our mouths about finding Sam's body."
“Shelley, much as I hate pointing out the obvious, nobody believes us."
“But the actual murderer knows we're right — to point out the even more obvious.”
Marge was no longer in her bathrobe. She was fully dressed, down to her boots. She seemed slightly alarmed to see them, or perhaps that was just Jane's imagination. She gave them a nervous smile and said, "Oh, hello," but stood her ground at the doorway.
“May we come in?" Jane asked bluntly.
“Well, I was just getting ready to go out and see where Sam is," Marge said.
“Oh, he's probably helping get people on boats," Shelley said.
“Boats?" Marge asked.
“Haven't you heard?" Jane said. "The rain washed the bridge out and the local people can't get home except by boat. Apparently all the neighbors on the lakefront have pitched in to evacuate them."
“How will we get out tomorrow?" Marge asked, reluctantly stepping back and gesturing grudgingly for them to enter the cabin.
“I'm afraid we might not be able to leave tomorrow," Shelley said.
Marge shivered. "I don't like this place. I want to leave. Surely there's some way to get out of here?”
Shelley explained about the logging road. "But it's probably impassable, too. Marge, if you don't like this resort, does that mean you'll be recommending against sending the children here?" she asked, just to keep the conversation going.
“Oh, I hadn't thought about that. Yes, I guess so.”
“Does Sam feel the same way?" Jane asked. Shelley glared at her.
“I don't know. We haven't talked about it really." No, you've got other things on your minds. Sex and death, for starters, Jane thought.
“It's a shame," Shelley said. "Benson Titus has gone to so much trouble to impress us, but I don't think anybody favors the plan. Even Bob Rycraft, who was so enthusiastic at first, seems to have changed his mind.”
Marge stared at Shelley as if forcing her mind back to the subject at hand. "I guess so," she said. Silence fell.
Marge glanced at the door as if wishing it would open and some supernatural force would suck her out. Could a woman this timid, who couldn't even figure out how to get away from unwanted guests, be a party to murder? Jane wondered. It didn't seem possible.
Shelley said, "I guess you'll be at the planning meeting next Thursday." When Marge looked at her blankly, Shelley went on. "The park committee. Planning the new gardens around the city hall. .?"
“Oh. Yes. I will. I wonder— Well, I think I'll just run down to the lodge and see if Sam's there. If you don't mind. .”
Trying to chat with her was obviously a lost cause. Marge was putting on her coat, and Jane went to open the door. She found herself facing Sheriff Taylor, his hand raised to knock. "Is Mrs. Claypool here?" he asked, obviously surprised to see Jane. A young, uniformed officer Jane hadn't seen before was standing behind him.
“Yes, she is. Go on in."
“I wonder if you'd mind staying," he said quietly. "My only female deputy is out sick."
“All right," Jane said, opening the door wider. She was bursting with questions, but this obviously wasn't the time to ask anything.
The sheriff stepped inside the cabin looking very grim. The young officer came in as well, closing the door and taking a notebook and pencil out of h
is pocket.
“Mrs. Claypool? I'm afraid I have bad news for you," Sheriff Taylor said.
Marge stood as if frozen in place.
“We've just found your husband's body.”
“Wh—" Marge began, then clamped her mouth shut.
Which husband, you were going to say, Jane thought. She and Shelley exchanged a quick glance.
“It must have been in the stream and the high water brought it down to the lake," the sheriff said. "You won't have to identify it. Your brother-in-law already has.”
Marge was still standing, statuelike, in the middle of the room. Her only movement was to twist a button on her coat. She had gone so white she looked like she might faint any second. Shelley gently took her arm, led her to a chair, and forced her to sit down.
“I'm afraid I'll have to ask you some questions," the sheriff said.
Marge kept twisting the button.
“You see, the body was naked—”
Marge drew in a sharp breath.
“It had a severe wound to the head. The left temple. And. . well, he's been dead for quite some time." He turned to Jane. "It's the one you ladies found. At least, the wounds match what you described." There was the faintest hint of apology in his voice.
The sheriff's assistant was still standing quite still and unobtrusive by the doorway, already taking notes.
Marge had pulled the button on her coat loose and sat staring at it in her hand as if it were important.
The sheriff pulled another chair over and sat down in front of her. "I'm afraid there are a great many questions I'm going to have to ask you.”
Eighteen
Marge's story came out in fits and starts, out of order and with long intervals of sobbing. A few minutes into it, John and Eileen Claypool arrived, distraught. John said, "Marge, you don't have to talk to these people. I forbid you to. You need a lawyer. Don't say a word.”
Marge, her temper flaring for once, said, "I don't need a lawyer, John. I haven't done anything wrong. I'm sick of Claypool men telling me what I can and can't do. Oh, please, please go away!”
John practically had to be thrown out of the cabin. Eileen left in tears.
Sam Claypool knew he had a twin brother, Marge said, between sobs. The boys had been in foster homes together until they were adopted by different families at the age of four. Sam didn't know where his brother was and didn't care. His early childhood had been so nightmarish that he wanted no reminder of it. . ever. He'd never even confided in John about having a twin and had only mentioned it to her once, on their honeymoon.
She had tried once or twice to get him to talk about it, perhaps even try to find his twin, but Sam was adamantly, almost violently, opposed to discussing it and accused her of betraying his confidence by even bringing up the subject. He obviously regretted having shared the information with her and was determined that she, like he, should block it out of her mind.
“Did you make any effort to locate him, your husband's twin?" Sheriff Taylor asked.
“Good Lord, no! Sam might have found out and would have been furious!" Marge said. "Sam had a — a bad temper. And it was his business, not mine. He made that very clear."
“So this person, this twin — what is his name? — found Sam," Sheriff Taylor said.
“Yes. His name is Henry McCoy. Yes, he wanted to find Sam. He'd had a hard life and some psychological problems that he thought might be solved by getting in touch with Sam. Reestablishing a family relationship," she said, as if it were a direct quote.
Henry had told her (just yesterday), she said, that he had spent three years just locating Sam. And then he'd had second thoughts. What if Sam didn't want to see him? What if Sam didn't even remember that he had a brother? They'd only been four years old when they were separated. An outright rejection might be far worse than the insecurity of having been separated in the first place.
So instead of approaching Sam directly, Henry McCoy tried to learn all about him first. He had, in fact, stalked his twin — not for any bad reasons, Marge insisted. Just to get to know him in a secondhand way so that he wouldn't make some dreadful gaffe when they did meet.
Henry took an apartment in Chicago and got a sales job with a farm implement company that allowed him freedom of movement, and started "studying" Sam, learning all about him so he could decide when and how to approach him in person.
He learned about Sam's car dealership-something he knew about since he, too, had been interested in car sales and had worked for several dealerships, but hadn't been an owner. He researched local papers for any mention of the Claypools and learned that Sam had been in a civic choir for some years. Henry, too, had a good voice and was interested in music. He started thinking they might get along well, with these common interests.
“Then why didn't he arrange to meet your husband?" the sheriff asked.
“Because Sam was. . well, daunting. Very formal, rather cold. Except with customers."
“So Henry approached you, instead?" Taylor asked.
“Oh, no! No, he didn't," Marge exclaimed. "The first time I saw him, really saw him, was here. Looking in the window of the dining room the first night. In all those years I'd wondered about Sam's birth brother, it had never occurred to me, for some reason, that they might be identical twins instead of fraternal. And to see Sam sitting at the table in the lodge and the same person looking in the window. .”
Jane remembered the moment all too well. If this was true — and she wasn't convinced it was — then Marge hadn't seen a scary stranger in the window.
She'd seen her husband's doppelganger. Even though she'd known he had a twin, that must have been a horrible shock.
“You're certain you hadn't seen him before?" Taylor pressed the point.
“No. Really. But I knew there was something odd going on. Or at least I thought so. But I thought maybe I was going crazy. For about the last six months, I kept having the feeling we were being watched," Marge said. "We'd go to a movie or a concert and I'd have the sense that somebody was looking at us. And every time a strange car would park on the street, I'd think it was someone observing our house. It made me terribly nervous and upset. But I had no proof. Just a feeling.”
She thought for a moment. "Maybe I had seen Henry before. One time I saw Sam in the grocery store parking lot. I guess now it must have been Henry. I must ask him about it. When Sam came home that night, I asked him what he was doing there, and he said he wasn't anywhere near the store that day. I was sure it was him and for some reason he was lying to me."
“Did you talk to Sam about it, the feeling of being followed and observed?" Jane asked. She hadn't meant to say anything, but it popped out. Sheriff Taylor gave her a quick, critical glance, but waited for Marge's answer.
“I tried to. Once. It made Sam so angry that I didn't mention it again."
“Why did it make him angry?" Taylor asked. "Because he had the same feeling," Marge said. "Oh, he didn't admit it. But I'm sure that's what itwas. He was hateful about it. Said I needed to take more estrogen, that I was getting the middle-aged crazies. That I ought to see a shrink, except it would be a waste of money. Sam wasn't—" Her voice caught. "Sam wasn't a very loving person. Not affectionate. But he wasn't nasty like that. I was stunned by it. That's how I knew that he'd been upset about being watched before I ever mentioned it. The only other thing it could have been—" She stopped.
“What's the other thing?" Taylor asked.
“It's so stupid. I thought maybe Sam was the one spying on me. Or somebody he'd hired was doing it. Men his age sometimes get tired of their wives. And it crossed my mind that he might be trying to — to `get' something on me he could use to divorce me. Something like an affair that he could use against me. Sam. ." She paused and drew a long breath and sat up very straight as if to brace herself against her own words. "Sam didn't really like me very much, you see. I'm not sure he liked anybody. But I really bored him. I think he only married me because I was pretty when I was a girl. And he wanted a f
amily. Children. When we realized — a long time ago — that I'd never have any babies, he just lost interest.”
Jane could almost hear her heart breaking for Marge. Such a terrible admission.
“He wouldn't let me get a job," Marge said. "He felt it would reflect badly on him. Make people think the car dealership wasn't successful. ." Her voice trailed off.
“When did Henry plan on approaching your husband directly?" the sheriff asked.
“I don't know. You'll have to ask him. Where is he?"
“I don't know yet. I have my people out looking for him now."
“Henry will tell you everything. He meant no harm, he was just nervous about how Sam would act when they met. It was terribly important to him that they get off on the right footing."
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