CHAPTER 18
Detective Andy Anderson tossed his pen to the table and leaned back so far, his chair balanced on two legs.
“Sally, do you remember last week when you were reading me the riot act about not getting that Drennan report to you on time?”
Anderson had been so hell-bent on my finishing my account of what led us here, I had no idea why he stopped me from going on with my story. But when he did, Sally Normandy looked up from her own extensive note taking.
Who’s Drennan? I thought. Is that some kind of cop code? Did I say something that . . . what had Detective Anderson said before? Yeah. That’s it. He said he was going to trip me up. Was he sending Sally a signal? Did I say something that was going to get me into even more trouble?
Was that even possible?
Sally’s brow wrinkled, as if she didn’t understand where Anderson was going any more than I did.
“I remember,” she said.
I liked the way she talked to him. Matter-of-fact and straightforward. Like she was his true equal.
“You told me you grew weary of waiting for me to understand that you can’t do your work until I do mine,” Anderson said. “Remember that?”
“I do,” Sally said. “But I don’t see how that pertains to what’s in front of us right now.”
Anderson settled his chair onto all fours. “I like that phrase you used. You said you grew weary. I thought at the time it was a classy way of you telling me to get off my ass and take care of things.”
“And?” Sally asked.
Anderson leaned forward and stared right at me. “I grow weary of this, Miss Kincaid. I’ve been here since seven-thirty this morning.” We all looked at that caged clock on the wall. It was nearly 9:15 at night.
“I’ve already missed dinner,” Anderson continued. “Thanks to you I missed story time with my little boy, too. As you can imagine in this line of work, snuggling up with my five-year-old and reading the latest adventures of Thomas the Train is the highlight of my day. So what do you say we cut all the bullshit you’re selling and get to the point? Stop talking about bad bosses and little library anecdotes and tell me what I need to know about that body the kid found down at the marsh.”
“I don’t know anything about that.” The back of my mouth filled with some sort of metallic-tasting liquid that was hard to swallow. Fortunately, Sally spoke before I had to say anything.
“Ease up, Andy. Every detail Tess shares with us is vital. I know you want to jump from A to Z, but you’re going to have to trust me. We need to hear the entire alphabet. One letter at a time.”
Because you need to trip me up?
Sally shifted her attention to me. She rested her hand on my arm and focused those soft blue eyes on mine.
“Go on. You were saying you discovered that Mimi had portrayed herself as you twice. First to Rosie and then on the phone with Mildred.”
In spite of sitting in the police station long past quitting time with an angry detective right across from me, Sally’s kindness helped me relax a little.
“I think maybe there might have even been an earlier time, too,” I said.
“Oh?” She settled back in her chair, picked up her pen, and got ready to start writing again. “Tell me about that.”
“I told you about Cordon Balaclay.”
Sally didn’t have to refer to her notes. “The substitute librarian. You were surprised to see him when you went to the library on your day off. You took his presence as proof that Brian never intended to come in that day.”
“That’s right. Remember, I asked Rosie to keep an eye on him? That I thought his memory might be getting shaky because Cordon said he was happy to get my call asking him to sub.”
Sally nodded. “I remember. Cordon’s dog, Millie, was having a birthday. He was eager to earn the extra money to celebrate.”
Man, what I wouldn’t give to have a memory like hers. Scratch that. There are some things I’m trying real hard to forget.
“I think now it could have been Mimi who called Cordon. Maybe that was her very first attempt to see if she could pull off impersonating me.”
Sally considered that for a moment. “You’re suggesting she might have started with something small, like a brief but welcomed call to Cordon Balaclay. A trial balloon to see if someone would buy her as you.”
“That’s my guess, yes.”
“Interesting. Let’s pick up again, Tess. You’d just spoken to Mildred and Rosie. Then what happened? And remember, specifics are important. It’s the details that are helping us to understand all the circumstances that led us here. Okay?”
I took a deep breath and focused my attention on how my hands rested in my lap. They taught us that in those anger management classes. Bring your attention to your hands. Focus until you could feel the blood pulsing in your fingertips. It took a while, sitting there with Anderson scowling at me, but I was able to get myself to a point where I could get back to trying to explain this whole mess.
“I needed to stop Mimi. There had to be a reason she was posing as me. But I didn’t know where she was. I didn’t have her number. Besides, she’d left her cell phone in Boston. At least that’s what she told me. But she’d pretended to be me, and I needed to know why. She’d already convinced Cordon she was me over the phone. Maybe after I saw her leave Graze she headed to the library to see if she could pass as me in person. She probably figured I’d be in the restaurant for at least an hour or so. She’d be free to run another experiment. When Rosie assumed she was me, and Mildred sure thought she was me, maybe that gave her the boost she needed to continue posing. For what reason I didn’t know, but it makes sense, doesn’t it? Do you think that’s what happened?”
Sally said nothing. I got the sense she was more interested in hearing my version of events.
“Maybe that’s not important now,” I continued. “But whatever was going on, I had to talk to Mimi. She was causing me a lot of trouble, and I wanted to know what she was going to do next. I mean, if you could have seen how angry Brian was. He meant it. He’d fire me if Mimi pulled another stunt.”
“So what did you do?” Sally asked.
“I first called Hotel Red. Mimi hadn’t registered there after I kicked her out of my place. So I left the library and headed to campus. It was a long shot, but it was the only thing I could think of. She had a follow-up interview with the folks in the History Department the Monday before. I thought maybe I could concoct a story about needing to get hold of her and they’d tell me where she was staying. She might have gone out and gotten herself a new phone. You know, so the people in History would have a way to reach her about the job. Maybe they could give me her number. I was desperate.”
“Did you ever think of posing as Mimi?” Sally asked. “Maybe get even for what she did with that phone call to Mildred? You could have made sure she never got offered that faculty position. That would have booted her out of your world for good, right?”
Thinking back, that might have been a logical solution, but truth is it never occurred to me. I wondered what Sally thought about my overlooking such an obvious option.
“It turns out I didn’t need to do any finagling with anyone. I told you . . . Mimi had this odd way of showing up, and that’s exactly what she did. I got to the foot of Bascom Hill around one-thirty or so. I remember thinking I’d made such good time because the lunch hour traffic was over. People were in their buildings. Back at work. I started the climb up, heading toward History. I hadn’t gone fifty yards before I heard that familiar voice call out to me.”
“Tess!” She was walking down the hill as I was walking up. Even though I’d read her the riot act the last time I saw her, she greeted me with a smile. I mean, I’d threatened to call the police on her if I ever saw her again, and there she was, bouncing her way down toward me like a kitten who’d found someone fun to play with. “I got the job! You’re looking at the University of Wisconsin History Department’s latest faculty hire. It’s only a temporary gig, but I plan on knocking their socks off.” She was saying all this as she walked toward me. “Give me six months and they’ll be dying to keep me on.”
I picked up my pace to close the gap between us. Classes hadn’t started yet, but the first day wasn’t far off. Bascom Hill was filled with underclassmen who’d probably arrived early to settle into their dorms or apartments. It was a warm day, and hundreds of students were out playing Frisbee or tanning or reading under the shade of those giant oaks and maples. As soon as I got close enough, I grabbed Mimi by the arm and pulled her away from the sidewalk into a small alley between two buildings.
“Ouch,” she complained. “You’re squeezing a little hard, there, Tess.”
I didn’t care. My growing rage was looking for a target. I swear it was only the presence of all those sun-worshipping undergrads that kept me from punching her right in that face that looked so much like mine.
“What the hell, Mimi,” I snarled at her. “Where do you get off calling Mildred Dorchester? And don’t bother lying about it. Brian’s ready to fire me after that stunt.”
“Did you hear what I said, Tess?” Mimi squirmed free of my grasp. “I got the job. A job I’m going to love. A job that’s going to start me off on a real career. Aren’t you happy for me? Don’t you want that for yourself? Who cares about that little corner library? We’re sisters. Let me inspire you.” Her eyes twinkled, as if she had a secret she couldn’t wait to share. “I’ve been thinking, and I’m pretty sure I’ve come up with a plan that will free you from Brian’s abusive clutches.”
I didn’t know how to respond. I couldn’t come up with the words. What little security I had in the world was about to go up in smoke because of her, and there she was, happily concocting her next scheme. It took everything I had to keep from strangling her. When I finally did get around to talking, I remember speaking very slowly, like I was talking to a willful child who didn’t seem to want to understand anything.
“Mimi, you cannot—and I mean cannot—pretend to be me. Got that? Not on the phone, not in the library, not anywhere. And not with anyone. Anyone! Do you hear me?”
Mimi rolled her eyes. “Of course I hear you. You’re standing two inches away.”
I stepped back.
“I don’t suppose it would do any good to tell you I was trying to help,” she said. “I mean, think of all those things you told me about Brian. How he works you like some kind of indentured servant while he sits idly by reaping the rewards. Doesn’t that stick in your craw? Don’t you ever get tired of people making you feel small?”
I was sick to death of it, actually, but I didn’t want her to know it.
“And you thought ratting him out to a board member would help?”
“Did I think the terrible management skills of their head librarian would be something the board should know? Yes. They can’t fix an issue they’re unaware of. I also thought it was about time they knew who really was running things down there. Maybe get you a little credit along the way.” She looked me square in the eye. “I only did what you should have done for yourself a long time ago. Can’t you see? I had to. Professional women stand up for themselves, Tess. They use their resources. They escalate when problems aren’t resolved and take the issues to higher authorities. If I would have called Mildred as anyone other than you, what I told her wouldn’t have carried the weight it needed. The concerns could have been explained away as idle gossip. Mildred needed to hear it firsthand from you. Now she can take action. Thanks to that phone call, she’s free to go to the board and address Brian’s incompetence. The library will be a better place because of what I did. You should be thanking me, not yelling at me and issuing threats.”
What can I say? She made sense. The look on her face, the stubborn plea in her voice. I believed she thought she was trying to help me out by doing the very thing I should have had the courage to do myself. I know it sounds nuts now. But on that sunny hill, in that particular moment, I believed her. I wasn’t as angry as I’d been when I headed to Bascom Hill. Still, there was something I needed to know.
“Do you know John?” I asked.
Mimi looked confused. “John who?”
“John Rappaport. The guy from the library.”
Mimi’s bewilderment evaporated. A sly smile appeared in its place. “You mean your boyfriend? Of course I know who he is. Didn’t I tell you exactly what to wear for your first date? I’m already thinking that’s going to be one of my roles in this relationship. I’m going to be the sister who gives life advice you should always take.” Her eyes widened. “How much do you want to bet it turns out I’m the older twin? The big sister who shows you the ropes. You must promise, of course, to always do exactly as I say.”
The anger was there again. It wasn’t snarling yet, but it sure wanted me to know it was back.
“Don’t do that, Mimi.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t go building stories about our being twins and how this whole sister thing is going to play out. We don’t know anything yet.”
“Do you need me to make a flowchart for you, Tess? Maybe come up with a PowerPoint presentation? We know a hell of a lot. There’s only one answer here. You’re my twin sister. We’re going to confront our mother as soon as she gets back. If you want, we can go to your . . . our . . . father right now and settle this thing, but . . .”
“You’re not going anywhere near him!” My interruption was probably louder than it needed to be. “Until we know for sure what’s going on, you’re not saying a word to anyone. Especially my father! So back off!”
Mimi’s entire posture eased. It was like she understood for the first time that I wasn’t raised in the same fairy-tale you’re-wonderful-just-because-you-breathe type of world she inhabited growing up. She lifted her hand and stroked my arm.
“Of course, Tess. We’ll wait until you think the time’s right to approach your dad. And I’m sorry the call to Mildred made you mad. I’ll not do it again.”
I realize now, as I’m saying this, she never did answer my question about knowing John. Like a lot of times, as I’m now realizing about Mimi, she sidestepped. She diverted. She maneuvered and led me where she wanted me to go. But on that day she sounded so sincere. I remember feeling softer toward her. I mean, isn’t that what sisters do?
“So you got the job, huh?”
Her smile was bright. “They offered it to me not fifteen minutes ago. The bad news is I’ve got lectures to prepare, like, right now. There’ll be no rest for me. But the pay is decent and I’ll be able to spend some time writing articles from my dissertation. If I can get a couple into decent journals this year, I’ll be in great shape for a tenured slot.”
She was always so sure of herself. Always aware of her next step. Confident she was the mistress of her fate. Convinced nothing but success waited for her.
I’d give anything to be able to feel that way. Even for two minutes.
“Well, there’s no way I’m going back to the library today,” I said. “I’ll let Mildred have her chat with him first. What do you say you come back to my place and we celebrate your good fortune over a glass of iced tea?”
“Sounds perfect.” She pointed toward the garage on Park Street. “You got your car or are we walking? I better get to know the campus, huh?”
Her enthusiasm was as contagious as a February flu bug. “I drove. Tell you what, I’ll give you an overview of the layout and maybe, if you promise to behave, I’ll take you on an extended tour later this evening. Once it cools down enough for a long walk.”
We headed down Bascom Hill. I named each of the buildings as we passed. We got to my car and I drove home, telling her what I knew about the university’s history along the way. At the corner of University and Park, we stopped to let a stream of about fifty teenagers cross the street.
“That’s one thing you’ll have to get used to,” I said. “Traffic on the isthmus is a bear when students are back. Plan double the time you think you’ll need whenever you need to cross it.”
Mimi was craning her neck to take it all in. “The buildings are so huge.” She pointed to a brick-and-steel behemoth across the street. “What’s that?”
“That’s the new biogenetics building. Wisconsin’s famous for advances in that area. It’s about quadruple the size of the old one. Lots of federal grant money gets shoveled there. The old place was about three blocks south of here. My mother used to work there. In the old building, I mean.”
While the memory gave me pain, the information brought another round of Mimi’s seemingly endless enthusiasm. “That’s right! You said our mom worked with some researcher or something?”
I didn’t feel the need to correct her reference to my mother as our mother. “Now they’d call her an administrative assistant, I guess. Executive assistant maybe. I don’t know her exact title. She worked for Phillip Jasper. He was a new faculty member back then.” I pointed back toward the new biogenetics building. “But now it’s his work that built that giant place. He’s kind of a big cheese from what I read in the paper. But back then he was just my mom’s boss.”
“Did you know him?”
A strange buzz entered my skull. It started at the base, traveled up over the top of my brain, and planted a jabbing pain smack dab between my eyeballs.
“My mother would take me to work with her sometimes. It’s likely I met him once or twice. My memory’s not so keen on those details. My mother thought the world of him, I remember that much.”
The gaggle of students thinned out enough for me to inch my car onto University. “Let’s get out of this sun,” I said. “I’ve suddenly got a headache.”
“And its name is Mimi, right?” Her tone was so playful.
“No,” I said. “The pain you give me is about two feet lower.”
* * *
It was almost two-thirty by the time I pulled into my driveway. Mimi got out and walked toward the door like she owned the place. I shielded my eyes against the sun, hoping for a little relief from what was now an iron vise gripping my skull. Out of habit, I checked the mailbox and pulled out two catalogues, my electric bill, and a business envelope bearing the return address of the laboratory where Mimi and I had sent our DNA swabs a few days earlier. I held it up to show her.
“I thought it took, like, ten days,” I said as I unlocked the front door.
Mimi hurried in. She stood in my living room as I tossed my purse, keys, and the other mail onto a chair.
“Open it! Open it!” she said. “This is shaping up to be the biggest day of my life so far. First the job, now proof positive that I have a twin sister.”
I expected a stack of laboratory printouts with accompanying explanations. Instead, I pulled out a one-page letter. I gave it a quick scan before I looked toward Mimi. She must have seen the confusion on my face.
“Read it, Tess. Read it out loud.”
My tongue felt so thick I could barely form the words.
Dear Ms. Kincaid:
We regret we are unable to proceed with the full genetic comparison of the two samples you submitted. Our screening analysis of the swabs reflect an error in collection. The two swabs are identical.
Please refer to the instructions provided in the test kit. There you will find helpful guidance for assuring the two samples are kept separate, thereby avoiding any duplicate submissions in the future.
We look forward to receiving your fresh samples. As a courtesy, we will waive all fees associated with this initial analysis. However, should the same collection error occur again, we will be assessing you the full cost of all testing.
Yours respectfully,
Anderson Hepple, Ph.D.
Webster-Englehart Laboratories
“What the heck does that mean?” Mimi asked. “We didn’t mix up multiple samples. I did one and you did one. We filled two tubes, we sent two tubes. Did you mark the box saying you suspected we were twins? Could that be why the samples were identical? What’s going on?”
I didn’t have a clue. But that iron vise torquing against my skull tightened another three notches.