by Amelia Rose
He closed the door and turned toward his guests as he put his phone in his pocket.
* * * * *
He was two hours late, but Kristi kept a plate warm for him. She wanted to call and find out if the detectives had taken him in but he’d promised to call her. So she waited, trying to watch TV to make the time go by faster.
It wasn’t working. Every few minutes, she’d glance at the clock again, wondering once more how the police could possibly think Wes was involved in Liza’s disappearance. It didn’t make any sense. But then, other than her feelings for him, not much had made sense since they’d met.
She’d just headed for the kitchen to put his plate in the refrigerator when she heard him on the porch. He rapped lightly as she opened the door to let him in.
“Well, that was an experience I don’t want to repeat,” he said as he went to the sofa to sit.
“I’ve been wondering how long they planned to question you.”
He looked worn. “They left just before I came here. I think they may have followed me but I don’t care. I have nothing to hide.”
She headed to the kitchen, this time to warm his dinner in the microwave. “I saved you a plate of stroganoff. You’re probably starved by now.”
“Yes!” He sprung from the sofa and followed her. “I’m surprised I haven’t lost ten pounds.”
She chuckled. “I think you’ll like this one. It’s delicious, if I do say so myself.”
“You’re becoming a very good cook, you know? I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
“Yeah, because you get to eat everything I make.”
“Ah, yes. A man’s work is never done.” He rubbed his belly as they shared a quiet laugh.
Moments later, Kristi placed his dinner on the table in front of him, smiling as she watched him relish every bite. Once he was finished, she sent him back to the living room, then swiftly washed his dishes.
She returned and sat next to him, eager to continue their previous conversation.
“So, tell me why the police think you’re involved in this mess.”
He hesitated. “When I talked to Liza that last time, she pointed that gun at her chest and I took it from her and held it off to the side. I didn’t realize it right away, but I’d put my finger on the trigger. I tossed it next to the dumpster. That’s the only thing they have on me but the forensics showed that it hadn’t been fired, so they don’t have much of a case.”
“Okay, but what does that have to do with Liza being missing?”
He took a deep breath and sighed. “Apparently, she has a brother. I never knew because she didn’t talk about her family. Anyway, he’d reported her missing the next morning, saying that she was supposed to meet him for breakfast or something and she never showed. He told them he went to her apartment, but she wasn’t there.”
“I still don’t see the connection.”
“At about the same time, the manager of the Pizza Playground had called in a report about a large pool of blood in the parking lot, near the dumpster.”
She inhaled sharply.
“That’s when they found the gun with my fingerprints on it. And the blood was Liza’s.”
Chapter Ten
Kristi spent as much time as she could over the next several days accessing the files at the Department of Vital Statistics from her computer at work. She hadn’t told Wes what she was doing because she hadn’t been sure she’d find anything useful. What she did uncover seemed more interesting than helpful, but she hadn’t known Liza well enough to realize how valuable it truly was—to Wes, if no one else.
What she’d come across prompted her to search for more information from other sources, as well. Satisfied that she’d found all she could, she’d printed everything, slipped the papers into a folder, and brought it all home. She was sure he’d find it as fascinating as she had, if nothing else.
After dinner was over, the dishes were washed, and Janie was playing quietly in her room, Kristi brought out the folder to show him what she’d been up to.
“I want to show you something.” She opened the folder and guided his eyes by pointing to the information as she told it.
“According to this, Hill was her married name, but she kept it after she divorced William Hill two years later. ‘Irreconcilable Differences’ could mean anything, including that he could have been cheating on her.”
“She did tell me her last boyfriend cheated but she never said she’d been married.”
“Look here.” She pointed to the marriage certificate. “Her maiden name was Hunt.”
“Hunt.” He said, eyebrows knitting together. “That name sounds familiar.”
She allowed him a minute to think it over. Turned out, that was all the time he needed.
“Yeah. I had a salesman named Andrew Hunt. Had to fire him almost a year ago because he was embezzling. It was a shame, really. He was the best salesman I’d ever hired.”
“Then you’ll find this part interesting. Guess what Liza’s brother’s name was?”
“Andrew,” he said, following her finger on another piece of paper with the words Certificate of Live Birth at the top. “Wait. They were twins?”
“Yeah. And look at this.” She pointed to the names of the parents. Turning to the next page, she continued. “When I saw that, I looked them up and found this.”
It was a newspaper article from twenty-one years before. Andrew and Liza’s parents had died in a fire that burned their home to the ground. There had been speculation the blaze was set by the twins while they were playing with matches but the Fire Department never found any proof of that. Eventually, it was listed as an accident, possibly with an undetermined electrical cause. The kids were only six at the time and were taken in by the mother’s brother.
“It’s no wonder she had issues,” he commented.
“That’s what I thought, too, so I did some more digging.” She turned to the last page. “Looks like Liza spent some time in the Sea Breeze Mental Hospital.”
His eyes roamed the page. “Doesn’t say what her diagnosis was.”
“Because of the laws protecting a patient’s privacy. I tried to find out with a phone call, but I was told that if she wasn’t a current patient in the hospital, they couldn’t release the information. I already knew that, but I thought it was worth a shot.”
He closed the folder. “Well, that explains a few things, although it brings up more questions that it answers.”
“I think we’ve had enough of Liza and her story for tonight.” She took the folder, tossed it on the coffee table, and leaned her head on his shoulder.
“Okay. What story do you want to hear now?” His voice was husky.
“How about the one where you carry me to the bedroom?”
“Hmm … I’m not sure I know that one. Have I told it to you before?”
“Yep. At least a few times. Don’t you remember?”
He pretended to search his mind. “Maybe. Remind me how it starts.”
She giggled. “First we kiss for a few minutes, then you pick me up and take me into the bedroom, then we—”
“Oh! That story. That’s one of my favorites.”
“Mine, too.” She began to giggle again, only to be quieted by his lips pressing feverishly upon hers.
* * * * *
They were probably in there acting like teenagers in heat. The thought of them like that only made her blood feel like molten lava as she sat in her car at the end of the block. She’d found a different spot to park, where she’d be less noticeable yet still able to keep watch on them.
How could he carry on like that with a bimbo he barely knew? After all this time and all he’d put her through, he still took up with the other woman. Well, it was about time they both got what was coming to them.
She hesitated, not sure what she was planning to do but knowing she had to do something. The gun was gone, but the bitch probably had several knives she could get her hands on. With that thought in her mind, she slipped out of the
car, closed the door as quietly as she could, and tiptoed across the street, keeping herself as low as possible.
It was a good thing she’d decided to wear black clothing tonight. She would hardly be noticed on the dark side of the street, where she could hide next to trees and shrubs until she reached that jezebel’s house.
The problem of how to get into the house didn’t occur to her until she slithered around to the back. She didn’t have lock picking tools, but they wouldn’t have did her any good—she had no idea how to pick a lock.
Then a thought struck her.
Most people keep a spare key hidden somewhere, usually in a plastic fake rock or flower pot near the door. Finding neither, she began to panic, and placed her hand on the window sill to steady herself.
That’s when she felt it. The key was sitting right there in plain view. Stupid cow. Didn’t she know how dangerous it was to leave such things where anyone could find them?
A giggle tried to bubble up, but she squashed it. Drawing attention to herself now would not be a good thing.
She slipped the key into the lock and gently turned. It slid soundlessly and with little effort. Another fortunate thing for an intruder. Someone needed to have a long talk with this idiot Wes had gotten involved with. Oh, wait. When she was through with him and his harlot, it wouldn’t matter any more. They’d be dead. And the snotty little girl, too.
* * * * *
Kristi liked to make love by candlelight and Wes could understand why. It set a seductive mood, enhancing the sense of mystery and magical wonders as they explored each other's bodies. Even when they were both exhausted, spent, and lightly dozing—like now—the mood remained.
The piercing scream in the hallway made them both sit bolt upright in the bed.
Janie! Something was seriously awry to make her shriek in such a manner.
Wes shot out of bed and slid into his jeans in one fluid motion, adrenaline pounding through his veins and into his brain. He reached the door as Kristi put on her robe and cinched the sash around her waist.
He opened the door to see the child standing in the hall between the bedroom doors, looking toward the living room, still screaming as loudly as her lungs would let her. He turned his head, not believing what, or rather, who, was standing just a yard or two away.
“Liza? What …? How …?” He couldn’t form a conscious thought at the sight of her standing there with the longest, thickest knife that he recognized as coming from Kristi’s kitchen.
Before he could react, Liza shot forward, snatched Janie, and pulled her down the hall. She turned the child so she faced Wes, and now Kristi, as she appeared in the door. She placed the razor sharp edge of the blade against the child’s throat.
She looked him square in the eyes. “First, I slice up the little brat, then your precious bimbo. Then it’ll be your turn.”
Liza began to draw the knife across Janie’s neck and Wes felt something in his mind snap into action. He leapt at her. The next thing he knew, Liza was underneath him, trying to remove the knife from where it was stuck in his left shoulder. That was odd. He hadn’t felt it strike him. Still didn’t feel any pain.
He heard Kristi scurrying behind him. “Janie? Look at me, sweetie. You’re gonna be okay. It’s not that bad. Come on. Let’s get you bandaged up.” Then the bathroom door was closed and he heard the lock engage as he pinned Liza to the floor on the opposite side of the hall.
He reached for her head, grabbed a fistful of hair, and slammed her head into the floor. Her eyes went glassy, and it gave him a moment to reach for the knife in his shoulder. It was almost out when he heard her stirring. With a final yank, he released it just as she sprung up, hitting him hard enough to send him and the knife flying back toward Kristi’s bedroom.
She was upon him before he could locate the knife. That’s when he saw that it was in her hand again, coming down for his throat.
He twisted to the side, throwing her off balance, and she rolled a few feet back down the hall. As he regained his feet, she also stood and lunged at him.
“You did this to me!” she screeched but something in her voice was off. She’d completely lost control of her faculties, that much was obvious, but it didn’t explain her tone. He didn’t have time to analyze it, either. She was coming at him, knife held high above her head.
He stumbled backward, into the bedroom, trying to stay on his feet long enough to gain some kind of advantage over her. That’s when it came to him what he should do. He pretended to trip and fall then immediately rolled toward her, knocking her off her feet, and sending her reeling, face down, into the carpet. The knife flew from her hand, landing somewhere under the bed.
Nimbly regaining his feet, he set upon her, knocking her head into the floor again. The carpet softened the blow only marginally, but it was enough for him to search for the knife. He hadn’t found it before she came to her senses again, but he was ready for her, and shoved at her chest.
That’s when his brain recognized what was wrong, but not before it registered that several of the candles had fallen over.
This wasn’t Liza! There was no softness he expected to feel where her breasts were located. But who …?
“Andrew? Is that you, Andrew?”
“So, now you know. Liza was my twin sister and you killed her. Twice!”
“What do you mean, I killed her twice? I never harmed her.”
“You killed every ounce of love she had for you. Then you shot her outside the Pizza Playground.”
“I did no such thing. She was obsessed with me! And I never pulled the trigger on the gun!” He paused, catching his breath. He stared hard at Andrew’s face. “Wait a second. How did you know about Pizza Playground?”
Andrew stood, his breathing labored, but couldn’t straighten completely. “When I got home from my job drawing blood at the county clinic, she’d taken her last sleeping pill. It wasn’t enough to kill her, but it was enough to make her want to die.”
He wiped his face, smearing the makeup and giving him a freakish appearance. “She told me all about it, then went to get a razor blade to slit her wrists. That’s when I decided to make you pay for what you did to us.” He pulled himself up to his full height and continued. “First, you fired me for taking a little of your excess to help my sister, then you destroyed the little bit of self-worth she had left. So I came up with an idea. Because she was intent on cutting her wrists, I let her do it.”
That was when the overturned candles had burned enough of the carpet to create a flame just tall enough to catch the drapes afire.
Andrew took a step toward Wes, apparently unaware of the inferno behind him. “I got every bowl I could find and collected enough of her blood to make it look like you shot her. I took it to the Pizza Playground and poured it out near where the gun was laying on the ground. Then I walked back to her apartment, drove her car back there, took my car back to her place again, and buried her in my back yard. I cleaned her apartment, and called the police to report her missing.”
“I think we’ve heard enough.” The voice came from the doorway behind Wes. He recognized it as belonging to Detective Taylor.
Andrew snapped his head toward the voice. “No!” he cried as he lunged at the detective, but Franks was ready for him. He pulled his weapon and fired.
A deafening boom rattled Wes’ brain, and everything seemed to slow down. He saw Andrew clutch at his chest and wondered why. His eyes were riveted by Andrew’s manicured, polished nails, and it seemed to take a minute for the blood to begin gushing from his chest. Then Andrew was falling forward, ever so slowly, until he finally landed on the floor, bouncing once, then laying still, his eyes blank and lifeless.
He turned to see Detective Franks replace his weapon in it’s holster at a snail's pace, then take two slow-motion steps toward him.
The detective grabbed his arm and suddenly he was being rushed from the room, down the hallway, and out the front door.
Chapter Eleven
A fire
truck seemed to appear out of portal where wild fire trucks abound and firemen began dousing the flames coming from Kristi’s bedroom. Wes stood in the middle of the street watching them, his girlfriend’s arms around his right side, and Janie’s arms around his left side.
Detectives Taylor and Franks came up to them.
“It’s a good thing we’ve been keeping an eye on you, Mr. Chandler.” Taylor looked him in the eyes. “I wasn’t convinced it was you, as the gun hadn’t been fired, but I had a gut feeling whoever killed Liza Hill might be coming for you, too.”
“So, you saw her break into the house?” Kristi asked.
Franks nodded. “Yes, ma’am. We weren’t sure who she was or what she was up to but we saw her come up to the house looking like she was up to no good. So, we followed her. Looked like you were doing a good job of handling things, Mr. Chandler.”
“Thanks,” Wes replied. “I think.”
The four adults chuckled lightly.
“Do you have somewhere to stay the night?” Taylor asked.
“My house,” Wes said without hesitation. He looked at Kristi, then Janie. “That’s okay with you ladies, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Fine with me.” Kristi glanced at Janie, who nodded eagerly.
The detectives went back to their car, presumably to finish their reports.
The three of them stood there a moment longer before Wes spoke again.
“What I don’t get is how they could look so much alike and not be identical.”
Kristi smiled. “Sometimes fraternal twins can be that way. Doesn’t happen often, though.”
“Oh, I see.” He didn’t really, but she was a nurse, so she’d know these things. “Let’s get moving. I need a good night’s sleep.”
They headed to his car and within a few moments, the car was on the way to his house.
* * * * *
Two hours later, they were all showered, Wes finding a few things for his girls to wear. Janie was particularly thrilled that he had a bright blue tee shirt which fit her like a nightgown. He put her in the bed of the guest room, tucked her in, and kissed her forehead.
