The Third Twin Part 19

Lisa said: "She seemed bright."

"She's very clever. I'm horrified. There's nothing wrong with being a stewardess, but it's kind of a waste of twenty-five years of education."

"Are you going to call her?"

"h.e.l.l, no. She's in denial. I'd just remind her of what she used to hope for. It would be agony."

"I guess. I feel sorry for her."

"So do I."

As soon as they landed, Jeannie went to a pay phone and called the Pinkers in Richmond, but their line was busy. "d.a.m.n," she said querulously. She waited five minutes then tried again, but she got the same infuriating tone. "Charlotte must be calling her violent family to tell them all about our visit," she said. "I'll try later."

Lisa's car was in the parking lot. They drove into the city and Lisa dropped Jeannie at her apartment. Before getting out of the car, Jeannie said: "Could I ask you a great big favor?"

"Sure. I'm not saying I'll do it, though." Lisa grinned.

"Start the DNA extraction tonight."

Her face fell. "Oh, Jeannie, we've been out all day. I have to shop for dinner-"

"I know. And I have to visit the jail. Let's meet at the lab later, say at nine o'clock?"

"Okay." Lisa smiled. "I'm kind of curious to know how the test turns out."

"If we start tonight, we could have a result by the day after tomorrow."

Lisa looked dubious. "Cutting a few corners, yes."

"Atta girl!" Jeannie got out of the car and Lisa drove away.

Jeannie would have liked to get right into her car and drive to police headquarters, but she decided she should check on her father first, so she went into the house.

He was watching Wheel of Fortune. Wheel of Fortune. "Hi, Jeannie, you're home late," he said. "Hi, Jeannie, you're home late," he said.

"I've been working, and I haven't finished yet," she said. "How was your day?"

"A little dull, here on my own."

She felt sorry for him. He seemed to have no friends. However, he looked a lot better than he had last night. He was clean and shaved and rested. He had warmed up a pizza from her freezer for his lunch: the dirty dishes were on the kitchen counter. She was about to ask him who the h.e.l.l he thought was going to put them in the dishwasher, but she bit back her words.

She put down her briefcase and began to tidy up. He did not turn off the TV.

"I've been to Richmond, Virginia," she said.

"That's nice, honey. What's for dinner?"

No, she thought, this can't go on. He's not going to treat me like he treated Mom. "Why don't you make something?" she said.

That got his attention. He turned from the TV to look at her. "I can't cook!"

"Nor can I, Daddy."

He frowned, then smiled. "So we'll eat out!"

The expression on his face was hauntingly familiar. Jeannie flashed back twenty years. She and Patty were wearing matching flared denim jeans. She saw Daddy with dark hair and sideburns, saying: "Let's go to the carnival! Shall we get cotton candy? Jump in the ear!" He had been the most wonderful man in the world. Then her memory jumped ten years. She was in black jeans and Doc Marten boots, and Daddy's hair was shorter and graying, and he said: "I'll drive you up to Boston with your stuff, I'll get a van, it'll give us a chance to spend time together, we'll eat fast food on the road, it'll be such fun! Be ready at ten!" She had waited all day, but he never showed up, and the next day she took a Greyhound.

Now, seeing the same old let's-have-fun light in his eyes, she wished with all her heart that she could be nine years old again and believe every word he said. But she was grown-up now, so she said: "How much money do you have?"

He looked sullen. "I don't have any, I told you."

"Me either. So we can't eat out." She opened the refrigerator. She had an iceberg lettuce, some fresh corn on the cob, a lemon, a pack of lamb chops, one tomato, and a half-empty box of Uncle Ben's rice. She took them all out and put them on the counter. "I tell you what," she said. "We'll have fresh corn with melted b.u.t.ter as an appetizer, followed by lamb chops with lemon zest accompanied by salad and rice, and ice cream for dessert."

"Well, that's just great!"

"You get it started while I'm out."

He stood up and looked at the food she had put out.

She picked up her briefcase. "I'll be back soon after ten."

"I don't know how to cook this stuff!" He picked up a corncob.

From the shelf over the refrigerator she took The Reader's Digest All-the-Year-Round Cookbook. The Reader's Digest All-the-Year-Round Cookbook. She handed it to him. "Look it up," she said. She kissed his cheek and went out. She handed it to him. "Look it up," she said. She kissed his cheek and went out.

As she got into her car and headed downtown she hoped she had not been too cruel. He was from an older generation; the rules had been different in his day. Still, she could not be his housekeeper even if she had wanted to: she had to hold down her job. By giving him a place to lay his head at night she was already doing more for him than he had done for her most of her life. All the same she wished she had left him on a happier note. He was inadequate, but he was the only father she had.

She put her car in a parking garage and walked through the red-light district to police headquarters. There was a sw.a.n.ky lobby with marble benches and a mural depicting scenes from Baltimore history. She told the receptionist she was here to see Steven Logan, who was in custody. She expected to have to argue about it, but after a few minutes' wait a young woman in uniform took her inside and up in the elevator.

She was shown into a room the size of a closet. It was featureless except for a small window set into the wall at face level and a sound panel beneath it. The window looked into another similar booth. There was no way to pa.s.s anything from one room to the other without making a hole in the wall.

She stared through the window. After another five minutes Steven was brought in. As he entered the booth she saw that he was handcuffed and his feet were chained together, as if he were dangerous. He came to the gla.s.s and peered through. When he recognized her, he smiled broadly. "This is a pleasant surprise!" he said. "In fact, it's the only nice thing that's happened to me all day."

Despite his cheerful manner he looked terrible: strained and tired. "How are you?" she said.

"A little rough. They've put me in a cell with a murderer who has a crack hangover. I'm afraid to go to sleep."

Her heart went out to him. She reminded herself that he was supposed to be the man who raped Lisa. But she could not believe it. "How long do you think you'll be here?"

"I have a bail review before a judge tomorrow. Failing that, I may be locked up until the DNA test result comes through. Apparently that takes three days."

The mention of DNA reminded her of her purpose. "I saw your twin today."

"And?"

"There's no doubt. He's your double."

"Maybe he he raped Lisa Hoxton." raped Lisa Hoxton."

Jeannie shook her head. "If he had escaped from jail over the weekend, yes. But he's still locked up."

"Do you think he might have escaped then returned? To establish an alibi?"

"Too fanciful. If Dennis got out of jail, nothing would induce him to go back."

"I guess you're right," Steven said gloomily.

"I have a couple of questions to ask you."

"Shoot."

"First I need to double-check your birthday."

"August twenty-fifth."

That was what Jeannie had written down. Maybe she had Dennis's date wrong. "And do you happen to know where you were born?"

"Yes. Dad was stationed at Fort Lee, Virginia, at the time, and I was born in the army hospital there."

"Are you sure?"

"Certain. Mom wrote about it in her book Having a Baby." Having a Baby." He narrowed his eyes in a look that was becoming familiar to her. It meant he was figuring out her thinking. "Where was Dennis born?" He narrowed his eyes in a look that was becoming familiar to her. It meant he was figuring out her thinking. "Where was Dennis born?"

"I don't know yet."

"But we share a birthday."

"Unfortunately, he gives his birthday as September seventh. But it might be a mistake. I'm going to double-check. I'll call his mother as soon as I get to my office. Have you spoken to your parents yet?"

"No."

"Would you like me to call them?"

"No! Please. I don't want them to know until I can tell them I've been cleared."

She frowned. "From everything you've told me about them, they seem the kind of people who would be supportive."

"They would. But I don't want to put them through the agony."

"Sure it would be painful for them. But they might prefer to know, so they can help you."

"No. Please don't call them."

Jeannie shrugged. There was something he was not telling her. But it was his decision.

"Jeannie...what's he like?"

"Dennis? Superficially, he's like you."

"Does he have long hair, short hair, a mustache, dirty fingernails, acne, a limp-"

"His hair is short just like yours, he has no facial hair, his hands are clean, and his skin is clear. It could have been been you." you."

"Jeeze." Steven looked deeply uncomfortable.

"The big difference is his behavior. He doesn't know how to relate to the rest of the human race."

"It's very strange."

"I don't find it so. In fact, it confirms my theory. You were both what I call wild children. I stole the phrase from a French film. I use it for the type of child who is fearless, uncontrollable, hyperactive. Such children are very difficult to socialize. Charlotte Pinker and her husband failed with Dennis. Your parents succeeded with you."

This did not rea.s.sure him. "But underneath, Dennis and I are the same."

"You were both born wild."

"But I have a thin veneer of civilization."

She could see he was profoundly troubled. "Why does it bother you so much?"

"I want to think of myself as a human being, not a housetrained gorilla."

She laughed, despite his solemn expression. "Gorillas have to be socialized too. So do all animals that live in groups. That's where crime comes from."

He looked interested. "From living in groups?"

"Sure. A crime is a breach of an important social rule. Solitary animals don't have rules. A bear will trash another bear's cave, steal its food, and kill its young. Wolves don't do those things; if they did, they couldn't live in packs. Wolves are monogamous, they take care of one another's young, and they respect each other's personal s.p.a.ce. If an individual breaks the rules they punish him; if he persists, they either expel him from the pack or kill him."

"What about breaking unimportant social rules?"

"Like farting in an elevator? We call it bad manners. The only punishment is the disapproval of others. Amazing how effective that is."

"Why are you so interested in people who break the rules?"

She thought of her father. She did not know whether she had his criminal genes or not. It might have helped Steve to know that she, too, was troubled by her genetic inheritance. But she had lied about Daddy for so long that she could not easily bring herself to talk about him now. "It's a big problem," she said evasively. "Everyone's interested in crime."

The door opened behind her and the young woman police officer looked in. "Time's up, Dr. Ferrami."

"Okay," she said over her shoulder. "Steve, did you know that Lisa Hoxton is my best friend in Baltimore?"

"No, I didn't."

"We work together; she's a technician."

"What's she like?"

"She's not the kind of person who would make a wild accusation."

He nodded.