the Third Twin (1996)

“We won’t keep you long,” Mish said briskly. “We need to know where you were last Sunday evening at eight o’clock.”

Jeannie wondered if he would have an alibi. It would be so easy for him to claim he had been playing cards with some lowlife types, then pay them to back him up, or say he had been in bed with a hooker who would perjure herself for a fix.

But he surprised her. “That’s easy,” he said. “I was in California.”

“Can anyone corroborate that?”

He laughed. “About a hundred million people, I guess.”

Jeannie was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. He couldn’t have a real alibi. He had to be the rapist.

Mish said: “What do you mean?”

“I was at the Emmys.”

Jeannie remembered that the Emmy Awards dinner had been showing on TV in Lisa’s hospital room. How could Wayne have been at the ceremony? He could hardly have got to the airport in the time it took Jeannie to reach the hospital.

“I didn’t win anything, of course,” he added. “I’m not in that business. But Salina Jones did, and she’s an old friend.”

He glanced at the oil painting, and Jeannie realized that the woman in the picture resembled the actress who played Babe, the daughter of grouchy Brian in the restaurant sitcom Too Many Cooks. She must have posed.

Wayne said: “Salina won best actress in a comedy, and I kissed her on both cheeks as she came off the stage with her trophy in her hand. It was a beautiful moment, caught forever by the television cameras and beamed instantly to the world. I have it on video. And there’s a photo in this week’s People magazine.”

He pointed to a magazine lying on the carpet.

With a sinking heart, Jeannie picked it up. There was a picture of Wayne, looking incredibly dashing in a tuxedo, kissing Salina as she grasped her Emmy statuette.

His hair was black.

The caption read “New York nightclub impresario Wayne Stattner congratulates old flame Salina Jones on her Emmy for Too Many Cooks in Hollywood Sunday night.”

It was about as impregnable as an alibi could be.

How was this possible?

Mish said: “Well, Mr. Stattner, we don’t need to take up any more of your time.”

“What did you think I might have done?”

“We’re investigating a rape that took place in Baltimore on Sunday night.”

“Not me,” Wayne said.

Mish glanced at the crucifixion and he followed her gaze. “All my victims are volunteers,” he said, and he gave her a long, suggestive look.

She flushed dark and turned away.

Jeannie was desolate. All her hopes were dashed. But her brain was still working, and as they got up to leave she said: “May I ask you something?”

“Sure,” said Wayne, ever obliging.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I’m an only child.”

“Around the time you were born, your father was in the military, am I right?”

“Yes, he was a helicopter pilot instructor at Fort Bragg. How did you know?”

“Do you happen to know if your mother had difficulty conceiving?”

“These are funny questions for a cop.”

Mish said: “Dr. Ferrami is a scientist at Jones Falls University. Her research is closely connected with the case I’m working on.”

Jeannie said: “Did your mother ever say anything about having fertility treatment?’

“Not to me.”

“Would you mind if I asked her?”

“She’s dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. How about your father?”

He shrugged. “You could call him.”

“I’d like to.”

“He lives in Miami. I’ll give you the number.”

Jeannie handed him a pen. He scribbled a number on a page of People magazine and tore off the corner.

They went to the door. Herb said: “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Stattner.”

“Anytime.”

As they went down in the elevator, Jeannie said disconsolately: “Do you believe his alibi?”

“I’ll check it out,” Mish said. “But it feels solid.”

Jeannie shook her head. “I can’t believe he’s innocent.”

“He’s guilty as hell, honey—but not of this one.”

44

STEVE WAS WAITING BY THE PHONE. HE SAT IN THE BIG kitchen of his parents’ home in Georgetown, watching his mother making meat loaf, waiting for Jeannie to call. He wondered if Wayne Stattner really was his double. He wondered if Jeannie and Sergeant Delaware would find him at his New York address. He wondered if Wayne would confess to raping Lisa Hoxton.

Mom was chopping onions. She had been dazed and astonished when first told what had been done to her at the Aventine Clinic in December 1972. She had not really believed it but had accepted it provisionally, as it were for the sake of argument, while they spoke to the lawyer. Last night Steve had sat up late with Mom and Dad, talking over their strange history.

Mom had got angry then; the notion of doctors experimenting on patients without permission was just the kind of thing to make her mad. In her column she talked a lot about women’s right to control their own bodies.