Dead Ringer (21 page)

“Come on in, Ms. Rosato!” called out one of the cops, and Bennie grabbed Bear’s collar and hurried inside, followed by David.

Bennie crossed the threshold, anxious and uncertain, and held her breath, preparing herself mentally for what she might see. She didn’t exhale until she’d entered her house and looked around. Her dining and living room were just the way she’d left them that morning, after she’d cleaned up the cops’ mess: couch against the wall, bookcases against the other wall, CD and DVD players all in place. Nothing smashed or upended, nothing destroyed or vandalized, not even any scary scrawled writing in red lipstick. But Alice had been here. She had to have been, to steal the dog, and part of Bennie could just
feel
it. That dark vibration.

Officer Leighton switched off his Maglite, and Banneman’s hand hung loosely at his side, no longer cocked at his holster. “The premises are secured, and we didn’t find any evidence of a B & E, even at the backdoor, Ms. Rosato. Everything looks in order upstairs, too. You’ll walk through with me, but everything looks fine.”

“That’s not possible,” Bennie said, confused. Frustrated and angry. Alice was smart. She was fooling them. It was a game for her, a prank with a deadly edge. Bennie had to figure it out, figure
her
out. “The dog didn’t let himself out and drive himself to the river.”

“Are you sure
you
didn’t?”

“Of course not!” Bennie exploded. A long day of drama and wet underwear was coming to a head. “What do you think, I’m making this up? I have a twin, it’s a matter of record!”

“You don’t understand what I’m telling you, Ms. Rosato. There’s no evidence that any crime has been committed here. You claim that somebody took your dog out of the house, but the backdoor wasn’t even unlocked. And the front was nailed shut.”

“She exists! Ask
him!
” Bennie gestured at David, who was already stepping forward.

“Everyone settle down,” David said, spreading his large hands palms down. He addressed the cops, but Bennie knew he was talking to her, since she was the only one throwing a hissy fit. “Officers, my name is David Holland and I was running along the river when I saw her twin intentionally endangering the dog.”

“Tell you what,” Officer Leighton said with a slow sigh, like a tire deflating. He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a skinny notepad. “Mr. Holland, you give me the statement for my report while my partner takes Ms. Rosato on a walk-through. This way we get this over with, we file a complete report, and Ms. Rosato makes sure that nothing of value was taken from the premises.”

“Fine with me,” David answered. “Bennie? Okay with you?”

“Yes, thanks.” Bennie stalked to the staircase and went upstairs, going straight to her bedroom. If Alice was going to steal something, it would be here. She entered the bedroom, which looked inviolate, and experienced the same eerie tingle she had downstairs. Alice had been here, too, she just knew it. But not by looking. Everything was in absolute order, or least a completely familiar disorder, only partly due to the local constabulary.

She hurried to her dresser, a three-drawer chest made of pine, and checked her jewelry box on top. She didn’t have much—a tangle of gold chains from when they were the new thing, a few pairs of gold hoops, and three bangles—but all of it was there. She rifled quickly through her drawers—undies, unmatched socks, tattered jeans, and faded T-shirts—but they were the in same mess she’d left behind. She went to the closet, but it was fine. Then she remembered. Her gun.

She hurried to the closet and shoved aside old running shoes to get to the orange-and-brown Nike box, tearing off the lid. There it was. The brown case, a canvas triangle. Bennie unzipped it with shaking hands but was reassured by the weight alone. Her Smith & Wesson revolver lay untouched. She zipped it closed and tucked it safely away.

She closed the closet door with relief and hurried past the cop to her office, a second, smaller bedroom just off the hall. An old Bianchi bike leaned against the wall in the corner, and clutter covered her daybed and her IKEA workstation. Her computer was still there, and a Bose radio/CD player. She’d left the only things of value. Bennie didn’t get it.

“It all here?” Officer Banneman asked, and Bennie nodded slowly, wondering.

How the hell did Alice get in? And get out with Bear?

She couldn’t think of an immediate answer and returned downstairs with the cop.

17

Bennie did a double take when David came into the kitchen wearing her ex-boyfriend’s clothes. It wasn’t only the confluence of past and present men; it was the way the clothes fit, or more accurately, didn’t fit. Grady’s old Duke sweatpants were puffy Capris on David, and the leftover T-shirt stretched tight across his chest and biceps, making him look like an oddly butch ballet dancer.

“These were the clothes you left outside the bathroom door,” David said, holding out his arms with a faint smile. The armholes rolled up along each mound of shoulder cap. “You were joking, right?”

“Sorry, I thought they’d fit.” Bennie had always thought that her ex was big, but David was bigger. She could tell because she had to look up to see his eyes, qualifying him as one of the two men on earth taller than she. It wasn’t the worst feeling in the world, standing oh-so-close to a handsome, muscular hero, but even Bennie sensed she was getting ahead of herself, if not entering the zone of what they used to call “on the make.”

“Oh, well, at least they’re clean,” David said. “Thanks.” He’d taken a shower, and the wet sheen of his hair caught the light of the overhead lamp. He leaned down to pat Bear, who had curled into a cinnamon doughnut on the rag rug in front of the sink.

“Want coffee?” Bennie asked, pouring him a cup and handing it to him. “I have no food in the house, I’ve been kind of busy. I do have cream and sugar, if you want dessert.”

He smiled. “I take it black.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Bennie touched her hair, suddenly self-conscious. It was wet from her shower, too, but she was dry again in her favorite work shirt and loose khaki shorts. He didn’t seem to notice one way or the other, though he stood sort of close and she could smell the fresh soap smell clinging to his skin. She tried not to inhale. It had been a long time since she’d had a soapy man in her kitchen. “So how do you know all that stuff?”

“What stuff?”

“How to save dogs and boats.”

David sipped his coffee. His eyes were kind and intelligent, with a sort of benevolent reserve about them. “Good coffee.”

“My goal in life. So what do you do for a living?” Bennie asked. “I already confessed to being a lawyer.”

“I’m taking some time off.”

“From what?”

“From work.”

“What kind of work?”

“Nothing important.” David leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee. His eyes were intense and brown, his nose long and straight, and he had a squarish chin. He was easily the most handsome man she’d ever had in her hemisphere, much less her kitchen, but he was hardly the most animated, especially in Capri pants. And he was clearly avoiding the question. He drained his cup and set it down, and Bennie felt a sudden twinge of nervousness coming out of nowhere. She really didn’t know much about him, and she’d let him into the house.

“Forgive me, but who are you and what do you do? I may sound paranoid, but someone
is
out to get me.”

“I should have thought of that. Sorry.” David grinned easily. “I was assistant director of the SEAL/BUDS command. I’m an instructor. I’m taking some time off.”

“You’re a SEAL?” Bennie asked, astonished even though she wasn’t sure exactly what that was. She just knew that it was something cool. “Okay, what’s a SEAL?”

“SEALs are a division of the Navy. BUDS is basic underwater demolition training.”

“And who do you instruct?”

“Cadets.”

“Where did you instruct them?”

“California.”

“What did you instruct them to do?”

“Become sea-air-land commandos.”

Eek
. “How long does it take to become a SEAL?”

“If you make it, twenty-seven weeks.”

“Do a lot of people drop out?”

“If they don’t drown.”

Bennie was pretty sure he was kidding. “Do I have to take your deposition, or can you tell me a little more about yourself?”

“I would, but there’s not much more to tell. I’m a Navy captain, graduated class of eighty-four.”

“From the Naval Academy?”

“Yep. The Southern Maryland School of Boat and Barge. Went to BUDS in Coronado, southern California. Served two years in Central America, then Desert Storm, instructed for three years, then went operational again in the Middle East. Iraq, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia.”

Wow
. “Fighting?”

David smiled. “Combat, yes.”

“Jeez. And in all those places. I’ve been to Pennsauken. It’s nice, in summer.” This would be in the category of saying anything, even dumb stuff. Bennie knew next to nothing about the military, from a lifetime of being philosophically opposed, and also a big chicken besides. And all she knew about SEALs she had learned from Hollywood. “I mean, wasn’t Demi Moore—”

“There are no female SEALs.”

“How nice for you.”

“Tell me more about your twin.”

“Oh, is this the enough-about-me part?” Bennie set down her coffee. It was kind of frustrating. “You don’t like to talk about yourself, do you, David?”

“No.”

“But you’re kind of intense.”

“Very.”

“So, why? Would you elaborate?”

David burst into laughter, a deep, rich masculine sound. “I don’t think I’ve
elaborated
in my life. If I were the kind of man who
elaborated,
I’d be the kind of man who liked talking about himself, wouldn’t I?”

“Okay, maybe.” Bennie couldn’t help but smile. At least he could laugh at himself. David was like an action figure, with bendable arms.
And what arms
.

“Now tell me about your twin. Alice. What did she serve time for?”

“Drug dealing, which she did, and murder, which she didn’t.”

“Wonder how she knew you’d be at the river.”

Bennie thought about it. “I used to row on a very regular schedule, but it was interrupted three weeks ago by this trial.”

“So she’s been following you for a month, at least, to know your schedule.”

Hearing it out loud gave Bennie the creeps. She sipped her coffee but the creeps were still there. Creeps are the only thing that coffee doesn’t cure.

“So what are you going to do, to protect yourself?”

“Protect myself?” Bennie hadn’t thought of it that way.

“Yes. You’re under attack. How will you counter it?”

“Well, I changed my clothes so she couldn’t dress like me. To make it harder for her to pose as me.”

“You changed your clothes?” David mock-shuddered. “Tough tactics. Watch out.”

“It’s just the first step,” Bennie said defensively.
You try losing an identical twin
. “I’ll do whatever I have to. I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

“Do you need help?”

“No, I don’t. Thanks, but I don’t need help.” Bennie knew it sounded like she needed help. She didn’t think she needed help, but she didn’t know how to make it sound better.

“I can help you. I’d be happy to.”

Bennie flushed red, with the three thousand emotions she was feeling at once. Gratitude. Embarrassment. Sheer schoolgirl crushiness. But his tone was so matter-of-fact that it didn’t sound like a come-on. His tone simply matched his words. It was an offer of help, straight up.
Damn
.

“Is this a hard one?” David asked, cocking his head. “A choice. Yes or no.”

“How can you help me with Alice?”

“I know stuff, as you put it. And I have the time.”

Bennie thought about it. He was a SEAL, but still, would that help? All he could do was raise the
Titanic,
save golden retrievers, and defend our democratic way of life. Still, he was a complete and total stranger. And it was confusing, letting him into her life in such a personal way. Plus he was way too hot and it distracted her. “You don’t have to help. Thanks, but no. I’m sure I can hire someone. A private detective, or a security guy.”

“Fine.” David nodded. “Though before I go, I am kind of curious how Alice got in here. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course. Obviously it wasn’t through the front door, since the cops had already broken in and nailed it shut.”

“Maybe we can find out.”

“But you’re not trained in stuff like that, are you?”

“No, but I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

Bennie smiled, against her better judgment. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted him involved even to that extent, but he had saved Bear, the cops were no help, and her investigator had prostate problems. She doubted that David had prostate problems. His prostate was probably pink and spongy and in perfect shape. She banished the thought. Definitely,
on the make
. “I can’t see how she got in. No forced entry, and it’s not like she pretended she was me.”

“Let’s get to work.” David went over to the sink with his empty coffee mug, rinsed it under the faucet, then opened the skinny KitchenAid dishwasher and placed it upside down on the white plastic rack. That clinched it:

If David Holland wasn’t Superman, he was basically the same thing.

Fifteen minutes later, he was kneeling in front of her backdoor in his silly sweatpants, running his fingertips between the glass panes like a surgeon. Beside him, Bennie petted Bear’s thick glossy fur, scratching the flyaway crimps behind his ear, more for her comfort than for his. Her head throbbed. Her eyelids dropped. Her arms ached from the swim, and her shins had been scratched by the sea monsters. Bennie tried to think about what to do next, but she was fried. And she appreciated David’s trying to help, but she was starting to feel guilty about it.

“David, do Navy SEALs ever give up?”

“What do you think?”

“Guessed as much.” Bennie thought about calling the associates and updating them, but she was too tired. She rubbed her forehead irritably and leaned on the glass of the backdoor. “David, I appreciate it, but—” Suddenly, she felt the windowpane give way under her hand. It popped out of the window and fell outside the door to the flagstone, where it shattered with a tinkling sound. Bennie looked over, astonished. “Jeez.”