The second time around wasn't so bad, Neil thought to himself as he dropped down on to his couch. And now Charles won't have to know he screwed up, that he got the wrong girl the first time. Cynthia was dead, and that's all Charles would care about. Ever since they were kids, Charles would always get mad whenever Neil made a mistake, and that was pretty often. Once, when Neil was sixteen, his father had kicked him out of the house. Charles' parents had had pity, and taken him in. One afternoon, Charles arrived home from school to find the fire department trucks blocking his street, right in front of his house. Neil had decided to skip school and passed the time by setting fire to blades of grass. He'd set a blade aflame, watch it for a moment, then stomp it out, then set another. The fire department had been called when Neil, just after touching match to grass, was distracted by a hawk over his head. It had cawed to him from a nearby tree, and then took flight, circling twice over his head before flying away. By the time Neil's remembered the fire and looked back down, the blaze had become too large for him to stomp. Neighbors later told Charles' parents that when he'd seen the fire, Neil had run around in little circles, pulling at his hair. Charles had gotten so mad at him that day, Neil remembered now, twenty years later. So mad that he couldn't even speak. Through a clenched jaw, Charles slowly explained that he wasn't upset about the fire, but angry that Neil had been so stupid. Charles had never hit Neil, but he came the closest that day. All because Neil did something stupid. Now, Neil just hoped Charles never found out what happened today.
*****
"In hind sight, it makes perfect sense. Constance wasn't a member of that gym, she was only there just this one this morning. She and Cynthia looked just alike, the killer could have easily mistaken one for the other." Bobby said in the truck on the way back to One PP.
"The report was on the noon news," Alex said, glancing over as she drove. "Our boy thinks he got the right one until he sees the news. . ."
"So he goes back and kills Cynthia." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Why didn't we see this before?"
"Because we were both assuming she'd been followed to the gym." Alex stepped hard on the breaks to avoid rear-ending a cab that had cut her off.
*****
"Something's wrong." Charles turned in his first class seat to face the person next to him. "My wife isn't answering the phone." He plastered a worried look on his face. "I think something may have happened."
"She's in New York?" The other man asked.
"Yes, Manhattan."
"Well," the stranger looked at his watch "it's a little after seven. She could be still asleep. I wouldn't worry to much."
"Yes, maybe you're right." Charles said, relaxing a little and slipping the phone into his jacket pocket, just as the stewardess' voice came over the speaker with preflight instructions.
*****
A patrol car had been told to check on the Parker residence every hour, and to call Major Case when Mr. Parker was home. It was after 8 that evening when the call came in. Bobby and Alex had been almost out the door, headed for home when Alex's cell phone rang. When they'd arrived at the Parker home, the patrol officer told them he hadn't knocked, he'd just seen the lights on and made the call. Bobby and Alex glanced at each other, knowing they would have to be the one's to tell him about his wife and her sister.
*****
"I . . . I don't understand. What, . . .what do you mean . . .dead?" Charles wore the confused and devastated face he'd practiced in front of the mirror. He reached his hand out, feeling for the arm of the couch, and sat down heavily. This too, he'd rehearsed. Alex sat in the armchair next to the couch.
"We're very sorry for your loss, Mr. Parker." She began, "Can you think of anyone who would want to do this?"
"No. No. Everyone loved Cynthia." Charles widened his eyes, trying to look confused. And innocent.
Bobby stood behind the couch, trying to get a read on the man sitting down. Something rang phony, rehearsed.
"Um. . ." Bobby began, then stopped, searching for the right words. ". . .We have more, bad news. You're sister-in-law?" He walked around the corner of the couch, and stood near the end table closest to Parker. "She was killed, too. A few hours before your wife was. In the same manor, in front of your wife's gym." Bobby stopped speaking, and watched. The expression that felt counterfeit to him was suddenly replaced with one that seemed genuine, but more confused than horrified.
"Connie?" Charles looked from one detective to the other, somehow waiting for the punch line. "Connie?" He stood, shoving his hands in his pants pockets, making his way to the back of the couch were Bobby had just stood. "No. . . no. . ." Bobby and Alex watched him for a moment, and then simultaneously glanced at each other. Both were thinking that Charles was more shocked by his sister-in-law's death than he was his wife's. Charles stopped pacing suddenly, pointing a finger toward Bobby he said, "Connie doesn't go to the gym, it had to be someone else." He had an almost triumphant look on his face.
"That's," Bobby turned, facing Charles directly. " . . . ah, that's what your wife told us, when we spoke to her about her sisters murder. She said Connie'd gone to the gym this morning to see Cynthia."
Charles' shoulder collapsed, giving in to the realization both women really were dead. He'd loved Connie, realizing to late that he'd chosen the wrong sister. He knew Connie would never see him in a romantic light as long as he was married to her sister, and even if they divorced, she would have had nothing to do with him. Cynthia's death was the only way. He'd planed to seduce as they mourned together. Now she was gone. His body shook, as an earthquake of tears rolled their way out of him.
Alex stood from her sitting position in the chair. Both detectives knew the interview was over. Alex turned, and seeing a uniformed officer standing in the doorway, she motioned with her hand for him to go help Charles. Bobby watched the crying man for a beat longer then Alex did, and then he also turned walking across the living room, joining Alex in the doorway. They watched as the patrolman took Parker by the shoulders, leading him to the couch. Bobby reached behind Alex, twisting the doorknob, and holding the door open for her to pass through first. Outside they stopped on the steps. Both of their eyes searching the street, the sky, neither spoke for a moment. Alex broke the silence by saying: "I think we should call Hollywood, he needs to be in the movies." She moved down two steps, headed for their SUV.
"Yep." Bobby answered, following her.
*****
"In hind sight, it makes perfect sense. Constance wasn't a member of that gym, she was only there just this one this morning. She and Cynthia looked just alike, the killer could have easily mistaken one for the other." Bobby said in the truck on the way back to One PP.
"The report was on the noon news," Alex said, glancing over as she drove. "Our boy thinks he got the right one until he sees the news. . ."
"So he goes back and kills Cynthia." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Why didn't we see this before?"
"Because we were both assuming she'd been followed to the gym." Alex stepped hard on the breaks to avoid rear-ending a cab that had cut her off.
*****
"Something's wrong." Charles turned in his first class seat to face the person next to him. "My wife isn't answering the phone." He plastered a worried look on his face. "I think something may have happened."
"She's in New York?" The other man asked.
"Yes, Manhattan."
"Well," the stranger looked at his watch "it's a little after seven. She could be still asleep. I wouldn't worry to much."
"Yes, maybe you're right." Charles said, relaxing a little and slipping the phone into his jacket pocket, just as the stewardess' voice came over the speaker with preflight instructions.
*****
A patrol car had been told to check on the Parker residence every hour, and to call Major Case when Mr. Parker was home. It was after 8 that evening when the call came in. Bobby and Alex had been almost out the door, headed for home when Alex's cell phone rang. When they'd arrived at the Parker home, the patrol officer told them he hadn't knocked, he'd just seen the lights on and made the call. Bobby and Alex glanced at each other, knowing they would have to be the one's to tell him about his wife and her sister.
*****
"I . . . I don't understand. What, . . .what do you mean . . .dead?" Charles wore the confused and devastated face he'd practiced in front of the mirror. He reached his hand out, feeling for the arm of the couch, and sat down heavily. This too, he'd rehearsed. Alex sat in the armchair next to the couch.
"We're very sorry for your loss, Mr. Parker." She began, "Can you think of anyone who would want to do this?"
"No. No. Everyone loved Cynthia." Charles widened his eyes, trying to look confused. And innocent.
Bobby stood behind the couch, trying to get a read on the man sitting down. Something rang phony, rehearsed.
"Um. . ." Bobby began, then stopped, searching for the right words. ". . .We have more, bad news. You're sister-in-law?" He walked around the corner of the couch, and stood near the end table closest to Parker. "She was killed, too. A few hours before your wife was. In the same manor, in front of your wife's gym." Bobby stopped speaking, and watched. The expression that felt counterfeit to him was suddenly replaced with one that seemed genuine, but more confused than horrified.
"Connie?" Charles looked from one detective to the other, somehow waiting for the punch line. "Connie?" He stood, shoving his hands in his pants pockets, making his way to the back of the couch were Bobby had just stood. "No. . . no. . ." Bobby and Alex watched him for a moment, and then simultaneously glanced at each other. Both were thinking that Charles was more shocked by his sister-in-law's death than he was his wife's. Charles stopped pacing suddenly, pointing a finger toward Bobby he said, "Connie doesn't go to the gym, it had to be someone else." He had an almost triumphant look on his face.
"That's," Bobby turned, facing Charles directly. " . . . ah, that's what your wife told us, when we spoke to her about her sisters murder. She said Connie'd gone to the gym this morning to see Cynthia."
Charles' shoulder collapsed, giving in to the realization both women really were dead. He'd loved Connie, realizing to late that he'd chosen the wrong sister. He knew Connie would never see him in a romantic light as long as he was married to her sister, and even if they divorced, she would have had nothing to do with him. Cynthia's death was the only way. He'd planed to seduce as they mourned together. Now she was gone. His body shook, as an earthquake of tears rolled their way out of him.
Alex stood from her sitting position in the chair. Both detectives knew the interview was over. Alex turned, and seeing a uniformed officer standing in the doorway, she motioned with her hand for him to go help Charles. Bobby watched the crying man for a beat longer then Alex did, and then he also turned walking across the living room, joining Alex in the doorway. They watched as the patrolman took Parker by the shoulders, leading him to the couch. Bobby reached behind Alex, twisting the doorknob, and holding the door open for her to pass through first. Outside they stopped on the steps. Both of their eyes searching the street, the sky, neither spoke for a moment. Alex broke the silence by saying: "I think we should call Hollywood, he needs to be in the movies." She moved down two steps, headed for their SUV.
"Yep." Bobby answered, following her.