by Donna McLean
The policeman directed his next question to Dr. Jones. “You seem to think Mr. McGrady will recover?”
The doctor rubbed his chin. “I believe so, but it could go either way. He’s in bad shape, but Lach McGrady always has been strong as an ox. There’s a small chance that he will pull through. May never return to his former self, though.”
Campbell grunted, nodded, and rose to leave the hospital room. “Gentlemen, let me know as soon as anything changes. If it changes.”
* * *
The little town bubbled with excitement.
“And you think that handsome Dane and his sister are the McGrady twins?” Peggy gushed. “How wonderful!”
Tilda tilted her head to one side. “Well, now, I didn’t say I think they are the twins. They could be the twins, but then again, maybe not.”
“Why do you say that, Tilda?” Addie asked, curious.
The little lady shrugged her shoulders. “Awful lot of coincidences all of a sudden. That’s all.”
Addie McRae fell silent, turning the statement over in her mind.
Magda spoke up. “I think it’s just wonderful. That handsome man coming here, and falling in love with Addie, and Pearce Allen being heartbroken over it. Just heartbroken! And then Dane’s sister coming for a visit—”
“Meeting Pearce Allen and falling in love!” Peggy said.
Magda’s eyes were dreamy. “And now the twins are going to be very wealthy. And everyone is in love. So it’s a happy ending all the way around!”
The two women giggled.
Delcie Needles rolled her eyes. “I’m with Tilda. There is an awful lot of coincidence in what you just said.”
Peggy and Magda protested. “Oh, y’all just don’t want to believe in love. You look for something bad in everything, Delcie!”
The trio began to quarrel, something they did on a regular basis.
“Regardless,” Tilda interrupted the argumentative voices, “it still remains to be seen if they really are the twins. They have to produce paperwork or pictures or some sort of proof. Or they have to have DNA tests. Or something! We can’t just assume they are the McGrady heirs.”
“And McGrady is in no condition to identify them one way or another,” Addie pointed out.
“And where is Hannah Smith?” Tilda asked. “We can’t forget about her.”
The ladies grew quiet, remembering their missing friend.
EIGHTEEN
Addie carefully leafed through the papers and photos in the old cardboard box Dane had handed to her a few hours earlier. She stacked the pictures in a few small piles she had organized upon the carpet, and placed the papers back in the box after closely studying the faded writing. Every so often she paused, holding up a picture of a mischievous child or a family pet, and asked Dane about it. He smiled or laughed and told her a little bit more about his past. His stories were always charming.
“Ah, this was a little house we lived in when we were about eight or ten years old, I think.” His soulful brown eyes fastened dreamily onto happy memories. “Elyse, or Dana, if you prefer, found an old bicycle on a trash heap a few blocks from our house. Our mother didn’t have much money. The bike only had one wheel, but it was a bike! She dragged it all the way home, and we worked on it together. Saved our meager allowances and bought another tire. Painted the bike red and blue, because we each wanted a different color! Finally got it in working condition.” Dane gazed at the photo a minute longer, then tossed it back into the box. “We took turns riding that bike until we outgrew it. Then we gave it to a kid down the street. Wonder whatever became of it.”
“It’s great that the two of you could share things so easily! Most kids just fight over everything.”
Dane smiled. “Elyse and I share everything,” he said.
He leaned back on the carpet, his chin propped up on one hand. “I know that birth certificate is here somewhere, unless Elyse has it! We’ll never find it if she does,” he said gloomily. Addie continued to work in silence. The handsome man studied her face very seriously. “Thanks for helping me sort through all this junk, Addie. It must be pretty boring for you.”
She smiled. “No, not really. It’s kind of fun! I enjoy looking at old photos.”
He stood up, yawned and asked, “How about something to drink? Cappuccino? Espresso?”
“Whatever you want. I’ll look through these last few papers and meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes, okay?”
“Yes, m’lady!” Dane replied cheerfully, his bass voice smooth as silk.
Addie watched the back of his broad shoulders until he disappeared into the kitchen.
She deftly pulled a snapshot from the bottom of the first pile and slipped it into her purse.
* * *
Douglas Campbell peered at the faded snapshot through a brass magnifying glass. He then handed both items to Tilda without saying a word, and watched her face for any signs of recognition.
The little lady promptly flipped the photo over and looked at the back of it. “Oh dear,” she said. “That always happens!”
“What?” Campbell asked, perplexed.
“No one wrote the names on the back. They never do, you know, and then years later, when the folks in the picture are gone or too old to remember, well, nobody knows who is in the photograph! No dates or locations or anything. There are lots of old pictures like that in my boxes at home.”
“Mine, too,” Addie agreed.
The officer merely grunted.
“There is an old studio mark, though. Very faded. That might be of some help?” Tilda gave Campbell a questioning glance, rather doubtful.
“If we can find the studio. It may not be in business anymore.”
Tilda turned the photo right side up and placed it flat on top of the desk. She bent over it and studied it carefully, first with the magnifying glass and then without it. A woman stood next to a young boy in front of an old two-story bungalow on a nondescript street. “Addie, he did say this was his mother?”
The strawberry blond said yes, definitely. “He briefly mentioned it when he was flipping through some photos. Then he put the whole stack down on the floor. I thought it was odd that he didn’t pull that photo out, if it really would identify his mother, but maybe he was so focused on finding the birth certificate that he didn’t realize he had proof right in his hand!”
“Well, that could be so, but I’m not so sure . . . I just cannot be certain, but if I remember her correctly, this does not appear to be Sarah McGrady!”
“It doesn’t?” Campbell leaned forward, excitement creeping into his voice.
“Not unless she bleached her hair platinum blond. I remember her as having dark hair. Hard to make naturally dark hair that light! Then again, the picture is faded and I can’t see the face all that clearly.”
“That’s what I thought,” Addie said. “The lady in the picture doesn’t seem to fit the description I’d heard of Sarah, who had dark curly hair like a lot of the Scot descendents in Sparrow Falls.”
Tilda MacArdan turned to Addie with a perfectly innocent expression. “You’re not the least bit disappointed that Dane may not be a McGrady?” she asked.
The policeman and the redhead exchanged glances.
Campbell said cautiously, “I doubt that either one of us ever thought he might be a McGrady.”
Tilda turned her wide, childlike eyes upon Douglas, who squirmed in the big leather chair. “Oh, really?” she asked, very sweetly.
Addie McRae looked at the snapshot again, scooted it across the table toward Campbell, and said, “Maybe it’s time to let Tilda in on our little secret.”
The policeman ran a nervous hand over the back of his neck, drummed his fingers on the table, stared at the snapshot. He looked at Tilda MacArdan, who was patiently waiting, and suddenly felt a fist to his stomach. As usual, he thought, the lady is probably way ahead of us.
Campbell sighed. “Ms. Tilda, this is confidential. Not to be mentioned outside this office. Got it?”
“Good. Addie recently came to me and informed me that she suspected Dane Donovan of being an imposter.”
“Imposter?” the little lady asked politely, as though they were discussing the weather.
“Imposter,” Campbell reiterated, “to be exact, a con man.”
“Ah!” Tilda said. Her hazel eyes were shining. “But not the dead man’s partner, surely?”
Addie asked curiously, “Why do you say that, Tilda?”
“Well, it seems obvious. The dead man was short, and Dane is at least a foot taller! So he can’t be the dead man’s partner.”
“Exactly,” Campbell said. “We ruled him out as the other con man, the so-called ‘twin’, early on. And he couldn’t have been the murderer, either. But Dane Donovan, which is only one of many names, by the way, has been on many most-wanted lists throughout the nation for a very long time.”
“I doubt that his childhood was anything like he described,” Addie added. “He slipped up when he mentioned that the woman in the photo was his mother, and I don’t think he even realized that he said it. I brought the snapshot to Campbell, hoping this would be a little bit of evidence that Dane isn’t who he claims to be.”
“Certainly not one of the McGrady twins,” Douglas said.
“Odd how things happen, isn’t it?” Tilda mused aloud. “I mean, your breaking up with Pearce Allen, and then Dane, or whoever he is, showing up just like that!”
Addie glanced down at the floor and hoped Tilda wouldn’t notice that she was trembling. “Oh well, that really was a coincidence. It’s over between Pearce Allen and me.”
Campbell didn’t seem to notice the subtle change in the air. He suggested making a copy of the snapshot. “That’s the next step, I guess. I can show it to a few people around town and see if we can get a definite yes or no as to the lady’s identity. At least it’s a place to start.”
“At least until McGrady recovers, I mean, hopefully he will recover,” Tilda said. “If Hannah were here she would know if that is Sarah’s picture!”
“I have a feeling Hannah could answer a lot of questions, if she were here,” Campbell stated.
The insistent ringing of the phone on Campbell’s desk interrupted the discussion. He picked it up, listened, and disappointment surfaced on his rugged face.
“Yeah, thanks,” he said, started to hang up, and then jerked the phone back to his ear. “What was that again?”
An expression of disbelief spread across his face, followed by satisfaction. He hung up the phone, turned to Addie and said, “We got ’em! Elyse showed up with a birth certificate that turned out to be a fake, which is exactly what we expected to happen. However, it did give us a lead on some other documents, one of which proves that Dane and Elyse are exactly who we suspected they were!”
Addie’s face lit up. “It’s true then? They aren’t brother and sister after all?”
“You bet it’s true. Not twins. Not even brother and sister. They’re husband and wife! And now we have the proof we need to make a couple of arrests, thanks to you, Miss McRae.”
The strawberry blond smiled and shook Campbell’s hand. Tilda watched the two curiously; her head tilted to one side like a bright little bird.
“Arrest some con artists, you mean, Douglas?” she asked.
He grinned. “You bet, Ms. Tilda! A pair of con artists that have been scamming old folks for many years and got away with it, until they went too far and committed murder.”
Tilda MacArdan’s face grew grave. She fastened her shrewd eyes upon him and said, “Oh, no, Douglas Winton. They may be con artists. But they are not murderers!”
NINETEEN
The grin slid off Campbell’s face. He turned to Ms. MacArdan with his mouth hanging open, and stared.
Addie frowned and wondered what the heck just happened.
Tilda MacArdan, the spry senior lady, gazed back at them with placid determination etched upon her dear little face.
The policeman rubbed his mouth and said, “Ms. Tilda, it is true that we are still searching for the gun and a few other bits of evidence, but believe me, we have a pretty good case against these two! They had motive. Kill the con man and then swindle McGrady by claiming to be the real twins. They had opportunity, and—”
“It must all be circumstantial, Douglas Winton, because they most certainly did not kill that rude fellow from up north! Why, I was standing right there when the man was shot, and there is no way that Dane or Elyse could have done it!”
Campbell sighed. “Not again, Ms. Tilda. We’ve been all over that. We interviewed people who were at the restaurant. We checked the security footage. We never saw the man you described. He was nowhere near the place where the shots were fired, so he couldn’t have done it, whoever he is!”
“And that is exactly what I’m trying to tell you, Douglas!” Tilda exclaimed. “Elyse could not have done it!”
The officer lowered his head in exasperation. He clenched his two hands into one large fist on top of the desk. Then he lifted his blond head and stared at the ceiling.
Addie said helpfully, “I think Tilda is trying to say that you’ve already ruled Dane out, so he couldn’t have been the one who fired the shot. And so, Tilda, Douglas is saying that it must have been Elyse, because the murder happened before she supposedly arrived in Sparrow Falls. She was probably lying in wait for the first con man and his partner fled the scene, afraid for his own life. Maybe she and Dane even set it up together, giving Dane an alibi, then she showed up in town later on and they became the long lost heirs to the McGrady fortune.”
“That is exactly right, Miss McRae.” Campbell said tersely. “Exactly right.”
“No, that is wrong!” Tilda exclaimed in defiance. She glared at the policeman and he glared back at her. “You are forgetting one crucial point, Douglas Winton Campbell!”
“And just what is that point, Tilda MacArdan?” he countered.
“No one ever saw the face of that rude fellow’s partner. No one!”
Campbell’s face flushed red, then white, then returned to its natural tone. He blinked twice. He exhaled slowly and spoke with calm surprise. “You’re right, Ms. Tilda. And I want to know what you think happened.”
The little lady leaned back in the chair and relaxed. Her hazel eyes lit up. She began to tell them a fascinating theory that, Campbell had to admit to himself, was both brilliant and plausible.
Tilda MacArdan said, “Y’all have already figured out that Dane Donovan and his so-called sister were, in reality, a married pair of con artists who have been swindling old folks for years. Now I didn’t know all the facts about that, I surely did not! But I did think there was something funny going on. Even before that little Elyse showed up and stole Pearce Allen’s heart, I thought that Dane Donovan seemed like a mighty suspicious character. Even that name! ‘Dane Donovan’. Why, even Delcie Needles said that it sounded like a made up name right out of a romance novel! I must admit, I thought the same thing. And the way he flirted with all the ladies, well, I’m sorry, Addie, but I really thought he was just trying way too hard to impress everyone, including you. Oh, he is handsome, that’s the truth! And he has purty manners. Girls always like that in a fellow.”
Tilda paused while Campbell took a phone call, and smiled when he told the person on the other end to hold all his calls until further notice. He turned back to her with captivated attention.
Tilda continued. “Well, right off the bat I started wondering why that handsome fellow seemed to be in such a hurry to fit into this little town. It was like he bought a house, and moved in, and started looking for a wife, all on the same day! That got my curiosity up.”
“Common ploy for cons. They win people over in a hurry, con ’em and get out of town before anybody knows what’s what,” Campbell stated.
“Yes, I thought something like that was going on, I just couldn’t imagine what it was! And then, of course, I was so worried about Addie getti
ng involved with a stranger, someone who seemed a little suspicious to me, although most everyone else seemed to like him well enough. So the night we went to the Marble Garden I was a bit on my guard. It’s like an instinct, I guess. Something just did not seem right about the whole thing. It all happened so suddenly. You remember, Addie?”
The strawberry blond nodded, fascinated by the unfolding story.
“I mean, I had been out there weeding the flowerbed in the hot sunshine, and all of a sudden like Dane Donovan insisted that we all go out to eat that very night! And after the murder happened, I remembered that. And it got me to thinking.”
She fell silent. Campbell and Addie leaned forward, waiting.
“It got me to thinking that maybe Donovan wanted us to be at that particular spot on that particular night for a reason. And what could the reason be? He didn’t kill the man, so murder wasn’t the reason. And Elyse didn’t kill the man, either. Even so, it is a fact that the con man was there that very same night!” She beamed at her captive audience but to Tilda’s disappointment, they appeared to be completely baffled.
Addie suggested, a little uncertainly, “So you are saying that they all knew each other?”
“Exactly!” Tilda crowed. “Dane arrived in town first, to set himself up as a bachelor and start laying the groundwork for the arrival of the identical twins. One was Basil Falters. And now we know who the other twin was, don’t we, Douglas Winton?” She looked at him expectantly, like a schoolteacher encouraging her brightest pupil to speak up.
He tried his best to think fast, and light dawned. Campbell turned the words over silently before saying them out loud. “Elyse Donovan.”
The spry lady clapped her hands. “Yes! It was Elyse, every single time! And it was a clever ruse, a very clever ruse. Elyse is about the same size as Basil Falters. They were seen around town by quite a few people, but oddly enough, no one ever saw their faces at the same time. Every time the twins were seen, one twin’s back was turned!”
