Vengeance is Mine - A Benjamin Tucker Mystery (34 page)

“You need to calm down and lower your voice!” my father said. “I told you we didn’t lie!”

At this point, the two of us were in a face-to-face screaming match. “I want the records of my twin brother’s birth!” I shouted. “In a couple of seconds, I’m going to rip this place apart until I find them!”

“You’ll do no such thing!” My father pointed to the front door. “Now you get the hell out of here before I do something we’ll both be sorry for!”

I took a step toward him. “Make your move, old man!”

My mother was crying and pleaded with us. “Stop it! Stop it! Both of you!”

George grabbed my shoulder. “Back away, Benny.” I slowly turned and looked at him. “Please,” he said. I backed up a couple of steps.

I turned back to my dad and took a deep breath. “Look, if you make me leave, I’ll be back with the authorities and search warrants. It won’t be pretty.”

My mother sank down on a dining room chair, dejected. “Tell him, Marshall. Just tell him.” She lowered her face into her hands and began to sob.

A few tense, awkward moments passed before Dad said anything. I watched the anger slowly fade from his face as he finally gave up and resigned. He slumped wearily down on the sofa I sprawled on as a child, and tears filled his eyes as he looked up at me, anguished. “First off, we didn’t lie. We’re your parents, Ben … but we’re not your biological parents.”

I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. “What are you saying? Are … are you telling me I’m adopted?”

He hesitated and looked sadly over at my mother. “Yes. Ruth and I tried to have children, but we couldn’t. So we adopted you.” He smiled ironically. “A year later, she became pregnant with George. Tommy and Alex followed.”

I pulled a dining room chair out and sat, facing my mother. My mouth was agape, and I was in shock.

“I can’t believe this,” I said.

Lainie knelt beside me and said softly, “Ben, I know you’re upset, but you need to pull yourself together. We need that information.”

I slowly focused on her and nodded. I looked over at the sofa and appealed to my father. “Dad, please, we need my adoption records.”

My father nodded and got up and headed down the hall.

George put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Benny. I don’t know what to say.” I put my hand on top of his and squeezed it.

A few minutes later, my father returned with a manila folder. It was about an inch thick, stuffed with legal documents. He handed it to me, upset and angry.

I looked at him and didn’t know what to feel.

My mother continued sobbing, heavily.

“I hope you’re satisfied,” Dad said. “You’ve reduced your mother to tears.”

“Well,” I said, “I’m about to go back to Raleigh and help the authorities capture, or kill, my brother. So forgive me if I’m not broken up about mom’s tears!”

Dad turned to my brother, George. “Can you talk some sense into him?”

George looked our father in the eyes. “You didn’t tell any of us that Benny was adopted. I’m sorry, Dad, but that really sucks.”

My father shook his head and faced me. “Look, Ben, we couldn’t tell you about any of this. We didn’t want you to feel any different than your brothers and your sister. You know, when you were young, whenever you didn’t get your way, you would throw a fit and scream that we were treating you like you were adopted.”

I stood, holding the manila folder.

“Well, guess what, Dad? You’re
still
treating me like I was adopted.” I turned, walked across the room and out the front door. Lainie was right behind me.

George came out a few minutes later. He looked at me uncertainly, searching my face. “So now what?” he asked.

“I need to get these documents scanned, and it looks like it might take a while. Do you have a scanner?”

“I do, but it’s slow. There’s an all-night office supply store about a half a mile from here, though. They probably have one of those fast business scanners. Probably be a lot quicker to go there. You can follow me.”

At the Paper Trail Office Supply, we parked the cars next to each other, and Lainie went into the shop to get things rolling. I got into George’s car and watched her through the large store window.

Finally, George and I turned and looked silently at each other for a moment, searching for the right words.

Finally, I said, “Thanks, George … for everything.”

“No prob, bro.” He grinned as he pointed toward Lainie. “Ya now, I think that Agent MacKenzie has the hots for you.”

“Get out.”

“No, really. I can tell.”

He hesitated and then turned his whole body toward me, serious again. “Ben, I just want you to know … for me, nothing’s changed. You’ll always be my big brother.”

“Thanks, ya little booger.” I leaned over and hugged my brother hard, tears stinging my eyes. When I sat back, I looked out the windshield. “I need to ask another favor. Can you explain this all to Tommy and Alex? I just haven’t got it in me to go through this on the phone … and I still need to tell Maggie.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“And tell the folks that in a while … after things have died down … I’ll come back. And we’ll all sit down and talk as a family.”

“I’d like that, Benny.” George playfully punched me on the chin. “For a minute there, it kinda looked like you and Dad were gonna duke it out.”

I grinned at him. “Yeah, it was pretty close this time. He can be such an asshole sometimes. When he was in Raleigh a few days ago, he even insulted my dog.”

“No, not the Oscarino! Was it the German Shepherd dig? He gives me the same thing all the time about our Chihuahua, Squirt.”

“Yep, that was it. Give that little Squirt and the rest of the family a big hug for me, will ya? And tell Dad I’ll return the adoption papers as soon as possible.” I opened the door and looked back at my little brother one more time. My heart swelled with love for him. “See ya, kiddo.” I got out of the car and walked into the store.

It took two and a half hours to scan the adoption papers and send the files to Netter. By midnight, we had returned to the airport, returned the rental car, and taken a room at the O’Hare Hilton.

After a visit from room service, Lainie went straight to bed. We’d have to brush our teeth tomorrow. I sat in the armchair with a much-needed glass of scotch and stared at the adoption folder on the table in front of me. The entire evening had been a blur, with no time to really look at the contents. But I had some time now. I picked it up and continued to stare at the outside of the folder, focusing on the hand-labeled tab,
Benjamin Franklin Tucker
. It was my father’s handwriting. Finally, I set the folder back down, lowered my head, and gently closed my eyes. I’d had enough. I would look at it tomorrow—or maybe even later.

CHAPTER 48

Wednesday morning, Lainie and I easily made our seven o’clock flight, and we got back to Cary Police Headquarters shortly after eleven. Lainie escorted me to her temporary office, grabbed her notepad, and left to find Netter and Cox.

The next forty-five minutes seemed like an eternity, but eventually she came back.

“Any developments about Plum?” I asked.

“Yep. Woodward and the SBI guys have been looking into the background of your adoption.” She pulled out her small notepad and flipped through the pages. “The name of the attorney who handled the adoption was Dennis Hayworth from Maywood, Illinois. Hayworth was convicted of child trafficking in 1997. He died thirteen years ago from pancreatic cancer. He’d handled approximately six dozen adoptions similar to yours.”

She continued. “Your birth certificate lists your name as Russell Frederick Peterson, born on April 16, 1980—which is the birth date you use today. The baby was supposedly born in Park City, Iowa. But here’s the problem. Russell Peterson was born with severely underdeveloped lungs and died eight days later on April 24, 1980. He’s buried in Holy Sacrament Cemetery near DuBuque.”

“Christ! Was there any mention of a twin brother?”

“No. All of the information on your birth certificate appears to be fraudulent—the names, the dates, the places. The only reference that might be legit is the attorney, Hayworth … and he’s dead.”

I breathed out a long sigh. “Then we aren’t any closer at all.”

“Looks that way,” Lainie said. “I’m sorry, Ben.”

Netter walked down the hallway and noticed us. He stopped and stood in the doorway of Lainie’s office.

“Jesus!” he said. “I just got my ass royally reamed by Richards.”

“What’s his problem?” I asked. “Other than incompetence.”

Netter pulled a cigar out of his pocket and picked at the end. “He’s all bent out of shape because we didn’t catch the fact that you were adopted. Unfortunately, in this case, he’s right. I was just too close … thought I knew your background, and I didn’t. Normally, I would have checked anyway, but I didn’t want to waste time and resources.” He took a deep breath, wanting to light that stinking cigar. “Yep, I’m going to catch some shit over this one.”

He looked at Lainie and smiled. “We’re gonna miss you, MacKenzie. It’s been nice having you around.” He waved her a quick salute and then headed for the exit to smoke himself into a terminal case of lung cancer.

I looked her. “What did he mean by that?”

“A few minutes ago I got a call from Special Agent Suarez, my superior. I have to go to Baltimore. There’s been another killing.”

“But what about Plum?” My stomach flipped.

“Agent Suarez believes the Plum case has developed beyond the need for a profiler.”

I said nothing.

“Stop sulking,” she said.

“I’m not sulking … just disappointed. I thought we’d see this through to the end together.”

“I know. Me too,’ she said. “But I have to agree with Suarez. It’s now four teenage girls we’re talking about.”

“You’re right. But I’m still disappointed. So when are you leaving?”

“My flight leaves tomorrow morning at nine fifteen.”

I sulked.

Lainie had some things to finish up, so I left to run a few errands. I picked up some bandaging supplies and a bag of chow for Oscar. Then I made a quick stop at The Frame House to have a photograph downloaded from my camera and mounted in a beautiful wooden frame.

I was just getting back in the car when Dimitri Ezzel called. The portrait of Henry Marshak was finished—three days early! I pumped my fist,
Yes!
I headed back to the estate to meet him.

He arrived shortly after I did, right about three o’clock. Johnny Walker was inside, still working on repairs. The exterior door to Nora’s bedroom suite was now finished, and I ran my hand over the woodwork, amazed. Walker did excellent work! He’d also had the sofa picked up and taken to Ethan Allen for upholstery repairs. The chandelier was gone from the great room, also out for repairs.

The Brackus people were inside. My, my, what a busy little place today. The security system installation appeared to be complete. Three men in Brackus uniforms were testing it out.

I helped Ezzel carry the large portrait into the great room and uncrate it. We borrowed Walker’s stepladder and hung the portrait back in place. I held my breath as Ezzel removed the protective covering.

It was breathtaking! It looked just like the other portrait. I stood there for the longest time, awestruck.

Dimitri stood proudly, watching me. “Outstanding,” I said, and he beamed. I gave him a check for the six thousand dollar balance and shook his hand. After he left, I called Marcus, and told him the good news.

For some reason, Marcus seemed wary. “What’s different about it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “It’s identical. It smells a little like fresh paint, but so does the rest of the room because of the repairs, so I don’t think anyone will notice.”

“I know this guy,” Marcus said. “He never paints the same thing twice. There must be some subtle difference.”

“I’m tellin’ ya. It’s identical—and for eight thousand bucks, it should be.”

“Okay. You might be right, but it’ll be a first.” Marcus hung up the phone, but his words haunted me.

I walked back over and looked closely at the portrait. It looked the same, but I had never studied the original in detail. He was wearing the same navy blue suit and gold tie—the same ruby cufflinks—the same stern look. The library bookshelf in the background looked the same. Maybe Dimitri changed some of the books, but it wasn’t obvious if he did. There was a Westminster mantel clock on one of the shelves. It said twenty minutes before five o’clock. The clock looked the same, but I suppose the original could have had a different time. All in all, I was very satisfied. I had just dodged a bullet.

CHAPTER 49

When I went to the guesthouse to download the digital photos I’d taken at the Krauss crime scene, it was almost four o’clock. Oscar, who had spent the day with Hector, met me at the door, and we went outside for a while. “I got your favorite chow in the trunk, buddy. We’ll get it out later and fill up your bin.”

When we came back inside, I turned on the TV for background noise just in time to catch Netter’s daily media briefing. It was brutal. The interviewing reporters attacked him with accusations of departmental incompetence. But he held his own and did a damned good job of fending them off—and he said nothing about Plum’s relationship to me. Thank God.

The weather came on right after that. There was an unstable weather system moving into the area later tomorrow similar to the one in 2011 that spawned damaging thunderstorms and killer tornados. The system would affect us over a period of several days. As in 2011, the time of greatest risk was projected to be in the afternoon, between three o’clock and five o’clock, long after Lainie’s flight was scheduled to leave.

I studied the latest crime scene photos one by one, looking for any small clue that might tell me how Plum gained access to Krauss in the safety of her home. My work was interrupted when Angelo DeMatrollo rang the bell. Oscar tore off like a bat out of hell and skidded into the door. I picked him up and calmed him down. “You’re gonna knock yourself out one of these days, you silly nut.”