Doublecrossed, p.10
Doublecrossed, page 10
My mother described their first argument as symbolic. Just before the wedding, my father introduced her as Mrs. Wyce. My mother didn’t like it and told him she intended to retain her maiden name after they were married. This wasn’t acceptable to him. She became angry and threatened to cancel the ceremony, which shocked my father so much that he agreed to her terms, and the wedding was held. When she became pregnant, the matter resurfaced because my father insisted any offspring should bear his name. When they were surprised with twins, a compromise was reached: I would take my mother’s last name, Wyatt, and my brother would be given my father’s name, Wyce. Furthermore, since they both liked the name Alex before they knew there would be two of us, neither one was willing to cede the name to the other, as if one child belonged to one parent and the other child belonged to the other. Thus, we were both given that name, a baroque arrangement that cemented our status as pawns in our parents’ battleground.
When we were four years old, my mother’s mother died and left her a sizable inheritance. My mother refused to allow my father to touch her money, though he thought she should defer to his financial judgment. As retaliation, he accepted a job as a travel writer for a men’s adventure magazine. The job’s primary attraction—besides the incessant travel—was the handsome arrangements provided by hotels and restaurants in return for publicity and reviews. Because most of his living expenses were free, however, my father received only modest commissions that left little money to send home to my mother. When she had to shoulder most of the cost for our upbringing while my father freely wandered the globe, she couldn’t deal with the inequity and petitioned for divorce when Alex and I were seven.
My father insisted on custody of Alexander, though my father and I were much closer. At first, my mother argued, but she finally agreed to it as long as she retained custody of me. This suited my father because he envisioned my brother, a male, as better able to handle an uprooted and nomadic lifestyle. Unfortunately, for most of the year, Alex needed to attend school in one place. My father resolved the issue by enrolling him in a Swiss boarding academy, which allowed my father to travel as whim and job assignments dictated. During much of his childhood, Alex didn’t see either parent or myself often.
I knew my brother deeply hated boarding school and had been accused of setting fire to the science lab and stealing from students. I always suspected the problems were worse than we knew because my mother’s information derived almost exclusively from my brother. She accepted his claims of innocence and became upset about his treatment. A flurry of letters crossed between my parents, but in the end, my mother—perhaps due to battle weariness—threw up her hands and didn’t fight on behalf of my twin.
Whenever I saw my father, he rarely mentioned Alex, either because my brother didn’t register on my father’s mental radar or because he was more interested in describing his own adventures. During my brother’s school vacations, Dad made Alex travel alone to be with him, navigating strange airports and stations and shipping docks. I had experienced some of the same behavior, though my mother tried to organize safe transit whenever I journeyed to meet my father.
When my brother and I did see each other, we were always astonished at our physical similarities. Until our teenage years, we were about the same height. Since I tend to be flat-chested and his build was slender, we resembled each other to an extraordinary degree. Our personalities, however, were very different. And now, at age thirty-three, my brother had confessed to the murder of our father without exhibiting the slightest remorse. I shuddered to think how enraged someone would be to kill another person, yet in some strange way, I could feel Alex’s anger strangling my own heart.
*
My twin stared at me with uneasy curiosity. “So, you had quite a little fling with Marnie. I guess I was right about you being queer, huh?”
I didn’t want to provoke him by responding in the wrong way. Though his question sounded homophobic, it touched upon other loaded issues that existed between us.
“I’ve been gay for years.” Marnie shifted, and I increased my grip, wondering how long Alex would tolerate this stalemate.
“Quite the sex athlete too, I hear.” He grinned at Marnie. “She had to pretend, you know. She was pretty disgusted, but she’ll have a nice reward for services rendered.”
“Oh, it wasn’t as bad as all that,” Marnie told him in a sulky voice, apparently annoyed that he wasn’t doing anything about the knife held to her neck.
Alex didn’t comment and neither did I. I was trying to imagine how they had concocted this intricate plot. I asked him.
“We just sort of fell in by accident. I met Marnie at a bar in New York, in the Village. We had some interests in common and hit it off right away, didn’t we, Marnie?”
“Yeah. Though at the moment, I kind of wish we hadn’t.”
He smiled, as if her plight didn’t concern him. “Turns out Marnie had a computer and an online connection. She entered your name and up you popped, with a link to the Gregory Reynolds website, an article about your upcoming exhibit, and a newspaper interview that mentioned the town where you lived.”
“Why didn’t you just telephone me?”
“I thought it would be more entertaining to prepare a unique introduction,” he said in a sly voice. “Besides, after what happened, if I arrived on your doorstep, I didn’t think you’d welcome me with open arms or cough up any of the money you inherited from Mom…or Dad, if he had any.” He shrugged. “And I didn’t know whether I had to be careful because of the police, even after fourteen years. Anyhow, Marnie decided you were probably queer—the way you looked and all—and I remembered you telling me about some affair you had in high school. So, we went for that angle.”
“Come on, let me go…” Marnie twisted her shoulders, trying to loosen my hold.
My brother ignored her. “When we read the announcement about your exhibition at the New Brunswick gallery, we knew it would be a perfect opportunity. Marnie arrived, flirted, you reacted, and there we were. Right in your bed. Once the two of you got involved, she tried to find your checking and brokerage statements in your apartment, but whenever she was there, you were too, so Marnie couldn’t snoop around much. However, she did peek at the front page of your monthly stock portfolio and knew you had money. We talked it over and figured a long game might work, a real estate scam, which would give us a few months to plan everything and time for Marnie to gain your trust and investigate your financial accounts more thoroughly. She had a few bucks saved and so did I. Together, we had enough for a small house down payment—at least enough to look credible. Her company had a branch office in central New Jersey and agreed to let her switch sales territories. I have to say, I was amazed how simple it was. Once she set the hook, it was no problem reeling you in.” He appraised the house as if seeing it for the first time. “And a nice little place we have here too. A bit offbeat, but I like it.”
“This is a great homecoming reunion but let me loose!” Marnie demanded.
“Yeah, isn’t it?” Alex replied, chuckling. “Why don’t you put down the knife, Sis. She’s nothing to you.”
“And she mustn’t mean anything to you, either.” I squeezed the knife tighter, though my hands were slippery inside the latex gloves.
“You’re right,” he said to me, rising to his feet, the gun pointed at us. “She doesn’t mean anything. You might as well slit her throat, for all I care.”
As much as I didn’t like relinquishing the few cards I had, my brother had the better hand. I couldn’t hold Marnie forever. My legs were shaking, and my fingers were cramping from gripping the knife. Then, too, if he could kill my father without compunction, he could kill both of us just as easily. “Okay, you win.” I lowered my knife and took a step away from Marnie.
Marnie rushed to my brother’s side. “Thanks a lot, Alex!” she told him angrily.
“I was only kidding, hon. You know that. She wouldn’t have let you free otherwise.” He draped an arm around her waist and drew her close. “We’re good.” He smiled and turned to me. “Okay, put the knife on the floor and push it my way with your foot.”
Reluctantly, I did as he asked.
“Marnie, pick it up and move it out of my sister’s reach.”
She grabbed the knife, returned it to its box, and stuffed the box in the highest kitchen cabinet. When she rejoined my brother, he gave her a kiss, and her face softened, though I could tell that she was still upset with him.
“How about some breakfast?” Alex suggested, taking a seat.
Marnie muttered something under her breath but walked to the refrigerator.
“So, what did you do all this time?” I dropped into the armchair and ripped off the latex gloves. “Did you stay in Africa?”
“For a while. I didn’t have any money or clothes—as you know since you took everything—so I stole stuff from a guy at camp. Then I went south to Durban and hung out. Did some waitering in a hotel, which gave me a chance to improve my jewelry collection. Lots of dumb, rich tourists think leaving stuff under their beds is the same as putting it in a safe. After a few months, I found work on a ship bound for Marseilles. I did a stint in Cannes, working in the casino. Much better pay and more opportunities. Unfortunately, one of my opportunities didn’t work out…an old guy who got upset when I tried to help him carry his winnings.” Alex laughed. “I had to leave town a little faster than I intended. I transferred operations to Trieste and did the hotel gig again. Nearly got arrested there. Some woman caught me checking out her suitcase, but she was so drunk she couldn’t scream before I…well, I had to get out of town again. Seems like the story of my life!” He yawned and stretched.
“What happened after that?”
“I met some guys who were crewing on a yacht. They let me stay on board if I agreed to do the cleaning and cooking. When the owner asked them to sail the boat to Brindisi, I went too. My pals and I had a blast, but when we came into port, the owner wasn’t thrilled by the boat’s condition or the state of his liquor supply. He threw a fit, called the police, and I hightailed it to Greece via the ferry. After hitchhiking to Piraeus, I found a job loading cargo and registering incoming freight…pretty dirty work. A few months later, I was promoted upstairs because my language skill and education were assets. I did a lot of traveling for the company, overseeing shipping operations in the Mediterranean. Got to know a lot of useful people, the kind that can get you fake credit cards, passports, and driver’s licenses. Last year, I took one of the fleet’s ships to Lisbon. By then, I’d saved money, had papers—some not in my real name—and told the captain I wanted to go home to see my sister. He found me work on a ship bound for New York, and there you have it. Goal accomplished.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Eight months. I tried to find Mom first, but other people were living in her house. The post office told me she died years ago. They didn’t know your address. I drove to a bunch of places, but no luck.”
“I’ve moved around a lot,” I replied dryly.
“Family disease.”
We were silent for a moment. “Why did you wait until now to show up?”
Alex frowned. “I had a few special jobs to do for friends in New York. Off the payroll. Kept me busy while Marnie was working you over. I wasn’t in any hurry. I was getting my revenge every day that Marnie made a chump out of you.”
I gritted my teeth in exasperation. “When you found me…why the blindfold and everything?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I wanted to observe you without you seeing me. One thing I learned over my life is to maintain all my options. I also thought it might be a good idea to keep a low profile, just in case I was still on a wanted list. Besides, it’s sort of hard to be revived from the dead.” He smiled, a wry expression on his face.
“I can imagine.”
“So, here we are.”
“Yeah, here we are.”
I studied my twin, trying to understand what kind of man he had become. “What do you plan to do with me, Alex? Make me disappear?”
He chuckled. “Well, we thought you might have a disaster happen. Natural or unnatural.”
“You’re the expert on that.”
“Yeah, kind of,” he replied. “Anyhow, once Marnie found out how much you were worth, the idea of receiving my rightful inheritance appealed to me.”
“Mother left everything of hers to me. I had nothing to do with it.”
“Because she thought I was dead. And if you hadn’t left Zimbabwe so fast, you would’ve known I was still alive. But you didn’t care, did you?”
I could tell my return to the United States was a sticking point, one that had goaded him all these years. “I stayed as long as I could. I already told you that. What was I supposed to do? They said you might never be found.” I shook my head. “Mother wouldn’t have left you anything anyway. You know their weird arrangement, Alex. Dad was supposed to name you as his beneficiary, and I was Mother’s.”
“Yeah, and as usual you got the better end of the goddamned deal. He didn’t have much, did he? Just a little run-down shack in Tangiers where he kept some stuff between jaunts. Hell, there probably wasn’t enough money to fix it up to sell. Besides, I was afraid to make a claim because I didn’t know if the police were after me. I wasn’t even positive dear Dad was dead.”
My father had never confided the extent of his finances to Alexander because he didn’t trust him. Thus, my brother had no knowledge of his true inheritance—the seaside house bought before my father died and several hundred thousand dollars. Another family disease. My father hadn’t been trusted by his father, either. Four months before our African hunting trip, my grandfather had suffered a fatal heart attack, and though he expressed hesitation in the letter accompanying his will, he left his estate to my father, a complete shock to Dad because Grandfather had always been critical ever since my father abandoned my mother. On the morning before my brother killed my father, Dad revealed to me that he’d bought a house on the coast of New Jersey and that Alex was his first beneficiary and I was named second. Dad explained why he hadn’t told Alexander—that knowing money was in Alex’s future would only encourage irresponsible behavior. It was therefore horribly ironic that my father died at Alex’s hand, and my brother had no idea the murder—if no one discovered who’d done it—would have netted him a sizable amount. I could tell Alex about this inheritance, which had been bequeathed to me after my brother was deemed dead, but here he was threatening to kill me so he could get his hands on my money, including some that wasn’t rightfully his.
I looked my twin in the eye and lied. “I’m sorry. I know Dad wasn’t good at saving money, but how can you blame me for that? He spent what he had and enjoyed life. Until you ended it for him.”
“Guess that was quite a big surprise. If he even knew what happened,” Alex retorted. “You know, Dad never had time for me…sending me to the Swiss school and traveling constantly so I never knew where he was. I couldn’t even call him because he was always in a new place, some place where I wasn’t.”
“That must have been hard,” I replied, torn between derision and honesty.
“Don’t give me that sympathetic bullshit. You had it easy.” A smile lurked around his mouth. “I think considering everything you’ve done, a large payback is overdue, don’t you?”
I didn’t answer.
My brother settled his feet on the coffee table. The gun rested on his knee.
“How’s breakfast coming?” he called to Marnie.
“Almost ready.” Her voice still sounded annoyed. As if to punctuate her mood, she threw some silverware in the sink.
“And after we eat?” I asked him.
“Well, we plan to have an e-mail chat with your broker. Instruct him to sell your stocks and maybe some mutual funds so you’ll have a nice, fat cash account.”
“He won’t do that unless he hears from me in person.” My broker and I communicated via online but confirmed trades on the phone. I had no idea how he would behave.
“We’ll see…” Alex replied.
*
“Well, my word, you have one sharpie broker,” Marnie exclaimed. “He fell all over himself to be helpful.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
“You told him that you desperately wanted to buy a vacation house in Maine—a great deal—and you needed money immediately or the cabin would be sold to another buyer. So, bye-bye to GE, IBM, and most of those stodgy stocks. Really, Alex, you could have done better with other stuff anyway. Now we have $427,000 to add to the existing cash.”
I didn’t answer because I was calculating that my account, once the trades settled, would contain about half a million. I knew, too, that with my bonds as collateral, an on-margin feature was designed to automatically cover shortfalls.
Marnie noticed my preoccupation and said to my brother, “Alexandra is doing math.” She faced me. “Yes, dear, you have about $495,000. At some point, we might sell your mutual funds.”
I wished I’d given her the house and left. We were talking about a lot of money.
“And you’re going to the bank later?” Marnie asked my brother.
“Yeah. When I comb my hair like this, I really look like my sister. You did a great job with the cut, Marnie, but I hope I don’t have to impersonate her. I’d have to get that lesbian swagger down better. Even so, I guess I could pass.” He laughed at the thought.
What did he intend to do with me while he did his errands? Would he leave Marnie alone with the revolver? Could I manipulate the triangulation of Alex, Marnie, and myself so that Marnie was on my side? She was piqued about his earlier comment regarding her expendability, despite Alex’s attempts to reassure her. From what I could observe, the coldness in his personality ran deep. Had Marnie detected this, or had the promised largesse overcome her judgment? Or did she suffer from the same absence of feeling? Whatever the case, Marnie should have been very afraid of Alex. I was.
Chapter Fifteen
ALEX AND MARNIE moved the chair to face the room and trussed me tightly. When they walked into the kitchen, Alex looped an arm around her neck.
When we were four years old, my mother’s mother died and left her a sizable inheritance. My mother refused to allow my father to touch her money, though he thought she should defer to his financial judgment. As retaliation, he accepted a job as a travel writer for a men’s adventure magazine. The job’s primary attraction—besides the incessant travel—was the handsome arrangements provided by hotels and restaurants in return for publicity and reviews. Because most of his living expenses were free, however, my father received only modest commissions that left little money to send home to my mother. When she had to shoulder most of the cost for our upbringing while my father freely wandered the globe, she couldn’t deal with the inequity and petitioned for divorce when Alex and I were seven.
My father insisted on custody of Alexander, though my father and I were much closer. At first, my mother argued, but she finally agreed to it as long as she retained custody of me. This suited my father because he envisioned my brother, a male, as better able to handle an uprooted and nomadic lifestyle. Unfortunately, for most of the year, Alex needed to attend school in one place. My father resolved the issue by enrolling him in a Swiss boarding academy, which allowed my father to travel as whim and job assignments dictated. During much of his childhood, Alex didn’t see either parent or myself often.
I knew my brother deeply hated boarding school and had been accused of setting fire to the science lab and stealing from students. I always suspected the problems were worse than we knew because my mother’s information derived almost exclusively from my brother. She accepted his claims of innocence and became upset about his treatment. A flurry of letters crossed between my parents, but in the end, my mother—perhaps due to battle weariness—threw up her hands and didn’t fight on behalf of my twin.
Whenever I saw my father, he rarely mentioned Alex, either because my brother didn’t register on my father’s mental radar or because he was more interested in describing his own adventures. During my brother’s school vacations, Dad made Alex travel alone to be with him, navigating strange airports and stations and shipping docks. I had experienced some of the same behavior, though my mother tried to organize safe transit whenever I journeyed to meet my father.
When my brother and I did see each other, we were always astonished at our physical similarities. Until our teenage years, we were about the same height. Since I tend to be flat-chested and his build was slender, we resembled each other to an extraordinary degree. Our personalities, however, were very different. And now, at age thirty-three, my brother had confessed to the murder of our father without exhibiting the slightest remorse. I shuddered to think how enraged someone would be to kill another person, yet in some strange way, I could feel Alex’s anger strangling my own heart.
*
My twin stared at me with uneasy curiosity. “So, you had quite a little fling with Marnie. I guess I was right about you being queer, huh?”
I didn’t want to provoke him by responding in the wrong way. Though his question sounded homophobic, it touched upon other loaded issues that existed between us.
“I’ve been gay for years.” Marnie shifted, and I increased my grip, wondering how long Alex would tolerate this stalemate.
“Quite the sex athlete too, I hear.” He grinned at Marnie. “She had to pretend, you know. She was pretty disgusted, but she’ll have a nice reward for services rendered.”
“Oh, it wasn’t as bad as all that,” Marnie told him in a sulky voice, apparently annoyed that he wasn’t doing anything about the knife held to her neck.
Alex didn’t comment and neither did I. I was trying to imagine how they had concocted this intricate plot. I asked him.
“We just sort of fell in by accident. I met Marnie at a bar in New York, in the Village. We had some interests in common and hit it off right away, didn’t we, Marnie?”
“Yeah. Though at the moment, I kind of wish we hadn’t.”
He smiled, as if her plight didn’t concern him. “Turns out Marnie had a computer and an online connection. She entered your name and up you popped, with a link to the Gregory Reynolds website, an article about your upcoming exhibit, and a newspaper interview that mentioned the town where you lived.”
“Why didn’t you just telephone me?”
“I thought it would be more entertaining to prepare a unique introduction,” he said in a sly voice. “Besides, after what happened, if I arrived on your doorstep, I didn’t think you’d welcome me with open arms or cough up any of the money you inherited from Mom…or Dad, if he had any.” He shrugged. “And I didn’t know whether I had to be careful because of the police, even after fourteen years. Anyhow, Marnie decided you were probably queer—the way you looked and all—and I remembered you telling me about some affair you had in high school. So, we went for that angle.”
“Come on, let me go…” Marnie twisted her shoulders, trying to loosen my hold.
My brother ignored her. “When we read the announcement about your exhibition at the New Brunswick gallery, we knew it would be a perfect opportunity. Marnie arrived, flirted, you reacted, and there we were. Right in your bed. Once the two of you got involved, she tried to find your checking and brokerage statements in your apartment, but whenever she was there, you were too, so Marnie couldn’t snoop around much. However, she did peek at the front page of your monthly stock portfolio and knew you had money. We talked it over and figured a long game might work, a real estate scam, which would give us a few months to plan everything and time for Marnie to gain your trust and investigate your financial accounts more thoroughly. She had a few bucks saved and so did I. Together, we had enough for a small house down payment—at least enough to look credible. Her company had a branch office in central New Jersey and agreed to let her switch sales territories. I have to say, I was amazed how simple it was. Once she set the hook, it was no problem reeling you in.” He appraised the house as if seeing it for the first time. “And a nice little place we have here too. A bit offbeat, but I like it.”
“This is a great homecoming reunion but let me loose!” Marnie demanded.
“Yeah, isn’t it?” Alex replied, chuckling. “Why don’t you put down the knife, Sis. She’s nothing to you.”
“And she mustn’t mean anything to you, either.” I squeezed the knife tighter, though my hands were slippery inside the latex gloves.
“You’re right,” he said to me, rising to his feet, the gun pointed at us. “She doesn’t mean anything. You might as well slit her throat, for all I care.”
As much as I didn’t like relinquishing the few cards I had, my brother had the better hand. I couldn’t hold Marnie forever. My legs were shaking, and my fingers were cramping from gripping the knife. Then, too, if he could kill my father without compunction, he could kill both of us just as easily. “Okay, you win.” I lowered my knife and took a step away from Marnie.
Marnie rushed to my brother’s side. “Thanks a lot, Alex!” she told him angrily.
“I was only kidding, hon. You know that. She wouldn’t have let you free otherwise.” He draped an arm around her waist and drew her close. “We’re good.” He smiled and turned to me. “Okay, put the knife on the floor and push it my way with your foot.”
Reluctantly, I did as he asked.
“Marnie, pick it up and move it out of my sister’s reach.”
She grabbed the knife, returned it to its box, and stuffed the box in the highest kitchen cabinet. When she rejoined my brother, he gave her a kiss, and her face softened, though I could tell that she was still upset with him.
“How about some breakfast?” Alex suggested, taking a seat.
Marnie muttered something under her breath but walked to the refrigerator.
“So, what did you do all this time?” I dropped into the armchair and ripped off the latex gloves. “Did you stay in Africa?”
“For a while. I didn’t have any money or clothes—as you know since you took everything—so I stole stuff from a guy at camp. Then I went south to Durban and hung out. Did some waitering in a hotel, which gave me a chance to improve my jewelry collection. Lots of dumb, rich tourists think leaving stuff under their beds is the same as putting it in a safe. After a few months, I found work on a ship bound for Marseilles. I did a stint in Cannes, working in the casino. Much better pay and more opportunities. Unfortunately, one of my opportunities didn’t work out…an old guy who got upset when I tried to help him carry his winnings.” Alex laughed. “I had to leave town a little faster than I intended. I transferred operations to Trieste and did the hotel gig again. Nearly got arrested there. Some woman caught me checking out her suitcase, but she was so drunk she couldn’t scream before I…well, I had to get out of town again. Seems like the story of my life!” He yawned and stretched.
“What happened after that?”
“I met some guys who were crewing on a yacht. They let me stay on board if I agreed to do the cleaning and cooking. When the owner asked them to sail the boat to Brindisi, I went too. My pals and I had a blast, but when we came into port, the owner wasn’t thrilled by the boat’s condition or the state of his liquor supply. He threw a fit, called the police, and I hightailed it to Greece via the ferry. After hitchhiking to Piraeus, I found a job loading cargo and registering incoming freight…pretty dirty work. A few months later, I was promoted upstairs because my language skill and education were assets. I did a lot of traveling for the company, overseeing shipping operations in the Mediterranean. Got to know a lot of useful people, the kind that can get you fake credit cards, passports, and driver’s licenses. Last year, I took one of the fleet’s ships to Lisbon. By then, I’d saved money, had papers—some not in my real name—and told the captain I wanted to go home to see my sister. He found me work on a ship bound for New York, and there you have it. Goal accomplished.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Eight months. I tried to find Mom first, but other people were living in her house. The post office told me she died years ago. They didn’t know your address. I drove to a bunch of places, but no luck.”
“I’ve moved around a lot,” I replied dryly.
“Family disease.”
We were silent for a moment. “Why did you wait until now to show up?”
Alex frowned. “I had a few special jobs to do for friends in New York. Off the payroll. Kept me busy while Marnie was working you over. I wasn’t in any hurry. I was getting my revenge every day that Marnie made a chump out of you.”
I gritted my teeth in exasperation. “When you found me…why the blindfold and everything?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I wanted to observe you without you seeing me. One thing I learned over my life is to maintain all my options. I also thought it might be a good idea to keep a low profile, just in case I was still on a wanted list. Besides, it’s sort of hard to be revived from the dead.” He smiled, a wry expression on his face.
“I can imagine.”
“So, here we are.”
“Yeah, here we are.”
I studied my twin, trying to understand what kind of man he had become. “What do you plan to do with me, Alex? Make me disappear?”
He chuckled. “Well, we thought you might have a disaster happen. Natural or unnatural.”
“You’re the expert on that.”
“Yeah, kind of,” he replied. “Anyhow, once Marnie found out how much you were worth, the idea of receiving my rightful inheritance appealed to me.”
“Mother left everything of hers to me. I had nothing to do with it.”
“Because she thought I was dead. And if you hadn’t left Zimbabwe so fast, you would’ve known I was still alive. But you didn’t care, did you?”
I could tell my return to the United States was a sticking point, one that had goaded him all these years. “I stayed as long as I could. I already told you that. What was I supposed to do? They said you might never be found.” I shook my head. “Mother wouldn’t have left you anything anyway. You know their weird arrangement, Alex. Dad was supposed to name you as his beneficiary, and I was Mother’s.”
“Yeah, and as usual you got the better end of the goddamned deal. He didn’t have much, did he? Just a little run-down shack in Tangiers where he kept some stuff between jaunts. Hell, there probably wasn’t enough money to fix it up to sell. Besides, I was afraid to make a claim because I didn’t know if the police were after me. I wasn’t even positive dear Dad was dead.”
My father had never confided the extent of his finances to Alexander because he didn’t trust him. Thus, my brother had no knowledge of his true inheritance—the seaside house bought before my father died and several hundred thousand dollars. Another family disease. My father hadn’t been trusted by his father, either. Four months before our African hunting trip, my grandfather had suffered a fatal heart attack, and though he expressed hesitation in the letter accompanying his will, he left his estate to my father, a complete shock to Dad because Grandfather had always been critical ever since my father abandoned my mother. On the morning before my brother killed my father, Dad revealed to me that he’d bought a house on the coast of New Jersey and that Alex was his first beneficiary and I was named second. Dad explained why he hadn’t told Alexander—that knowing money was in Alex’s future would only encourage irresponsible behavior. It was therefore horribly ironic that my father died at Alex’s hand, and my brother had no idea the murder—if no one discovered who’d done it—would have netted him a sizable amount. I could tell Alex about this inheritance, which had been bequeathed to me after my brother was deemed dead, but here he was threatening to kill me so he could get his hands on my money, including some that wasn’t rightfully his.
I looked my twin in the eye and lied. “I’m sorry. I know Dad wasn’t good at saving money, but how can you blame me for that? He spent what he had and enjoyed life. Until you ended it for him.”
“Guess that was quite a big surprise. If he even knew what happened,” Alex retorted. “You know, Dad never had time for me…sending me to the Swiss school and traveling constantly so I never knew where he was. I couldn’t even call him because he was always in a new place, some place where I wasn’t.”
“That must have been hard,” I replied, torn between derision and honesty.
“Don’t give me that sympathetic bullshit. You had it easy.” A smile lurked around his mouth. “I think considering everything you’ve done, a large payback is overdue, don’t you?”
I didn’t answer.
My brother settled his feet on the coffee table. The gun rested on his knee.
“How’s breakfast coming?” he called to Marnie.
“Almost ready.” Her voice still sounded annoyed. As if to punctuate her mood, she threw some silverware in the sink.
“And after we eat?” I asked him.
“Well, we plan to have an e-mail chat with your broker. Instruct him to sell your stocks and maybe some mutual funds so you’ll have a nice, fat cash account.”
“He won’t do that unless he hears from me in person.” My broker and I communicated via online but confirmed trades on the phone. I had no idea how he would behave.
“We’ll see…” Alex replied.
*
“Well, my word, you have one sharpie broker,” Marnie exclaimed. “He fell all over himself to be helpful.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
“You told him that you desperately wanted to buy a vacation house in Maine—a great deal—and you needed money immediately or the cabin would be sold to another buyer. So, bye-bye to GE, IBM, and most of those stodgy stocks. Really, Alex, you could have done better with other stuff anyway. Now we have $427,000 to add to the existing cash.”
I didn’t answer because I was calculating that my account, once the trades settled, would contain about half a million. I knew, too, that with my bonds as collateral, an on-margin feature was designed to automatically cover shortfalls.
Marnie noticed my preoccupation and said to my brother, “Alexandra is doing math.” She faced me. “Yes, dear, you have about $495,000. At some point, we might sell your mutual funds.”
I wished I’d given her the house and left. We were talking about a lot of money.
“And you’re going to the bank later?” Marnie asked my brother.
“Yeah. When I comb my hair like this, I really look like my sister. You did a great job with the cut, Marnie, but I hope I don’t have to impersonate her. I’d have to get that lesbian swagger down better. Even so, I guess I could pass.” He laughed at the thought.
What did he intend to do with me while he did his errands? Would he leave Marnie alone with the revolver? Could I manipulate the triangulation of Alex, Marnie, and myself so that Marnie was on my side? She was piqued about his earlier comment regarding her expendability, despite Alex’s attempts to reassure her. From what I could observe, the coldness in his personality ran deep. Had Marnie detected this, or had the promised largesse overcome her judgment? Or did she suffer from the same absence of feeling? Whatever the case, Marnie should have been very afraid of Alex. I was.
Chapter Fifteen
ALEX AND MARNIE moved the chair to face the room and trussed me tightly. When they walked into the kitchen, Alex looped an arm around her neck.
