Charles Parker checked himself in the bedroom mirror. The detectives should arrive in moments, and he wanted to make sure he looked like a grieving husband. He shook his fingers through his hair, disheveling it. He'd dressed in an old sweatshirt and pair of jeans, and hadn't shaved or brushed his teeth this morning. Before he'd learned of Connie's murder, he'd planned to use a cut up onion to give himself the appearance of having been crying. But since Connie was dead too, he didn't need to fake the look, he had been crying. The doorbell rang, and with one more quick glance, Charles headed down the stairs.
*****
"Can I get you something? Coffee?" Charles asked, gesturing with his arm for Alex and Bobby to have a seat.
"No, thank you." Bobby said as he sat in the middle of the couch. Alex shook her head, sitting in the chair.
"Alright. Well." Charles began; realizing the only place left for him to sit was on the end of the couch, between the two detectives. He sat, relaxing into the back cushions, crossed one leg over the other, leaving his hand draped over his knee.
"Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt your wife?" Alex asked.
"No. No one. I've been trying to figure it out all night . . .I couldn't think of a thing." He looked from Alex to Bobby, waiting for the next question.
"Was it possible she had friends you didn't know of?"
"No. No, I don't think so. Cynthia was a homebody. She didn't really do much outside the house; the gym was about the only place she went. Unless she went with me."
"That must have gotten . . . tiring." Bobby commented, "She couldn't have had much to talk about."
"Well," Charles paused, he hadn't anticipated this question. "Yes, I suppose it was a bit tiring, to tell you the truth. But, she was my wife."
Bobby gave him a small, sympathetic smile. Establishing a man-to-man rapport.
"Well, what about her sister? Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt her?"
Charles looked dumbfounded. "Do you think the murders are related?"
Bobby's eyes opened in surprise. "Well, yes, we do. . . Two women who looked exactly alike, killed within hours of each other. . ." Bobby let the sentence hang in the air.
Charles nodded, his eyes unfocused as if he was considering this for the first time. "Yes. Yes, I suppose your right about that."
Bobby raised his eyebrows, a prompt for Charles to answer his question. It took Charles a moment to understand. "Oh. Um." He paused, considering. "I don't really know all that much, just what Cynthia told me Connie had told her...." He sat thinking. "No." He shook his head. "No, I don't think I ever heard of anything that might lead to this." Sitting up suddenly, as if an idea just occurred to him. "Do you think someone has a grudge against the family? I mean they were the only two left, both their parents have died."
"We're looking into that possibility." Alex lied.
The questions went on for another half hour. Alex handled most of the interview, Bobby sat back, observing. When Alex had received all the answers she wanted, she glanced at Bobby, questioningly. With an imperceptible shake of his head he told Alex he didn't have anything else. Standing, he held his hand out to Charles, "Thank you for your time. We'll be in touch."
Charles stood and walked them to the door. Alex stepped out first, stopping on the top step, and turning back to the door. Bobby stopped, one foot outside, one in, and turned back to Charles, holding up his hand. "Uh . . ." he glanced back to Alex. Looking back at Charles, he lowered his voice, as if part of a conspiracy. "Um, I curious. . .being married to a twin . . .did you ever mistake your sister-in-law for your wife?"
Charles laughed as though the question were ridiculous. "No. Now what kind of husband would I be if I didn't know my own wife?"
Bobby smiled his man-to-man smile again. "What kind indeed?"
*****
Neil watched them from down the block, on the other side of the street. He had just turned the corner when he saw Alex step out of Charles' doorway. Neil stopped in his tracks, mid stride, trying to figure out who they were. He finally decided they must be with the insurance company. Neil guessed to himself that's what people did when someone dies, they call the insurance company.
Alex's seatbelt clicked as Bobby climbed in. She looked at him, as he fastened his own seatbelt, tossing his leather notebook up on the dash. Feeling her eyes on him, he glanced over, shaking his head at her unspoken question. Sighing, Alex started the engine.
Neil hurried down the sidewalk, until he was straight across from Charles' house. Ignoring the detectives SUV, he crossed the street, right in front of them.
Alex glanced behind her left shoulder, checking for oncoming traffic, pulling out from the curb. When she turned back toward the windshield, Neil was right in front of the hood, only inches away. Alex slammed on the brakes. Neil stopped momentarily, glancing up at her through the windshield, then jogged up onto the curb, and up to Charles' front door.
Alex and Bobby watched Charles answer Neil's knock, Bobby's eyes narrowing as Charles looked at Neil, then cast a worried glance to the street, meeting Bobby's gaze. Charles tried to play it cool, holding up a hand toward the SUV, and then stepping back, letting Neil in. When the door closed behind them, Bobby turned to Alex.
"It was Neil who we almost hit, just after we left Cynthia." Alex said, the memory coming back to her.
Bobby nodded. "He was following her."
"At least now we know where we recognize him from."
*****
"Can I get you something? Coffee?" Charles asked, gesturing with his arm for Alex and Bobby to have a seat.
"No, thank you." Bobby said as he sat in the middle of the couch. Alex shook her head, sitting in the chair.
"Alright. Well." Charles began; realizing the only place left for him to sit was on the end of the couch, between the two detectives. He sat, relaxing into the back cushions, crossed one leg over the other, leaving his hand draped over his knee.
"Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt your wife?" Alex asked.
"No. No one. I've been trying to figure it out all night . . .I couldn't think of a thing." He looked from Alex to Bobby, waiting for the next question.
"Was it possible she had friends you didn't know of?"
"No. No, I don't think so. Cynthia was a homebody. She didn't really do much outside the house; the gym was about the only place she went. Unless she went with me."
"That must have gotten . . . tiring." Bobby commented, "She couldn't have had much to talk about."
"Well," Charles paused, he hadn't anticipated this question. "Yes, I suppose it was a bit tiring, to tell you the truth. But, she was my wife."
Bobby gave him a small, sympathetic smile. Establishing a man-to-man rapport.
"Well, what about her sister? Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt her?"
Charles looked dumbfounded. "Do you think the murders are related?"
Bobby's eyes opened in surprise. "Well, yes, we do. . . Two women who looked exactly alike, killed within hours of each other. . ." Bobby let the sentence hang in the air.
Charles nodded, his eyes unfocused as if he was considering this for the first time. "Yes. Yes, I suppose your right about that."
Bobby raised his eyebrows, a prompt for Charles to answer his question. It took Charles a moment to understand. "Oh. Um." He paused, considering. "I don't really know all that much, just what Cynthia told me Connie had told her...." He sat thinking. "No." He shook his head. "No, I don't think I ever heard of anything that might lead to this." Sitting up suddenly, as if an idea just occurred to him. "Do you think someone has a grudge against the family? I mean they were the only two left, both their parents have died."
"We're looking into that possibility." Alex lied.
The questions went on for another half hour. Alex handled most of the interview, Bobby sat back, observing. When Alex had received all the answers she wanted, she glanced at Bobby, questioningly. With an imperceptible shake of his head he told Alex he didn't have anything else. Standing, he held his hand out to Charles, "Thank you for your time. We'll be in touch."
Charles stood and walked them to the door. Alex stepped out first, stopping on the top step, and turning back to the door. Bobby stopped, one foot outside, one in, and turned back to Charles, holding up his hand. "Uh . . ." he glanced back to Alex. Looking back at Charles, he lowered his voice, as if part of a conspiracy. "Um, I curious. . .being married to a twin . . .did you ever mistake your sister-in-law for your wife?"
Charles laughed as though the question were ridiculous. "No. Now what kind of husband would I be if I didn't know my own wife?"
Bobby smiled his man-to-man smile again. "What kind indeed?"
*****
Neil watched them from down the block, on the other side of the street. He had just turned the corner when he saw Alex step out of Charles' doorway. Neil stopped in his tracks, mid stride, trying to figure out who they were. He finally decided they must be with the insurance company. Neil guessed to himself that's what people did when someone dies, they call the insurance company.
Alex's seatbelt clicked as Bobby climbed in. She looked at him, as he fastened his own seatbelt, tossing his leather notebook up on the dash. Feeling her eyes on him, he glanced over, shaking his head at her unspoken question. Sighing, Alex started the engine.
Neil hurried down the sidewalk, until he was straight across from Charles' house. Ignoring the detectives SUV, he crossed the street, right in front of them.
Alex glanced behind her left shoulder, checking for oncoming traffic, pulling out from the curb. When she turned back toward the windshield, Neil was right in front of the hood, only inches away. Alex slammed on the brakes. Neil stopped momentarily, glancing up at her through the windshield, then jogged up onto the curb, and up to Charles' front door.
Alex and Bobby watched Charles answer Neil's knock, Bobby's eyes narrowing as Charles looked at Neil, then cast a worried glance to the street, meeting Bobby's gaze. Charles tried to play it cool, holding up a hand toward the SUV, and then stepping back, letting Neil in. When the door closed behind them, Bobby turned to Alex.
"It was Neil who we almost hit, just after we left Cynthia." Alex said, the memory coming back to her.
Bobby nodded. "He was following her."
"At least now we know where we recognize him from."