The Good Twin(27)

By the end of our five-course meal, each course accompanied by a glass of wine, I was feeling pleasantly tipsy. Brian insisted on waiting with me for a taxi and walked with me to the front of the hotel. He told the doorman I needed a cab and slipped some bills into his hand. Moments later, one pulled up, and a man emerged from the back seat.

“Charly, what are you doing here?”

My first reaction was panic, but I quickly scanned my memory for the pictures Ben had sent me, and the ones I’d seen on Charly’s social media pages, of her friends and family. He was her second cousin, Phil, living in Boston. If I were alone, I’d respond with a big smile and ask about his wife, Sally, and his parents, Ginger and Barry. But I wasn’t alone. Brian was standing by my side with a confused look on his face.

“I think I must have a common face. People keep confusing me with others, but this is the first time I’ve been mistaken for a man.”

“No, no, Charly’s a woman. Short for Charlotte.”

“My name is Mallory.”

It helped that it was dark outside, with just some lights from the hotel behind me. He simply nodded and apologized, then entered the hotel. I kissed Brian goodbye, and I got in the back seat of the taxi.

Part of me had hoped that, by keeping in e-mail contact with Brian, when this whole mess was finished—Charly dead, me taking her place, divorcing Ben, and divvying up the money—then I could return to being Mallory Holcolm and resume my friendship with Brian. Now, I understood. Keeping in touch with him was too much of a risk. Ben was right. I had to stay in my cocoon.





CHAPTER 20

Ben barely saw Charly anymore. He’d wake up next to her, they’d mumble “Good morning,” then each would quickly dress and leave for work. They didn’t even have breakfast together. Each morning Charly would beg off, saying she wasn’t hungry. Ben wondered if the stress of her father’s illness had taken away her appetite. He wouldn’t care, except that the more weight she lost, the more Mallory had to lose. He’d taken to leaving the house early to pick up freshly baked cinnamon rolls, Charly’s favorite, from the corner shop, then dropping them back at the house before heading into the office. When he returned at night, they’d be gone, but he had no idea whether Charly actually ate them or brought them into the gallery for her assistant.

Ted Manning had taken over running the business in Rick’s absence, and he pretty much ignored Ben. If Ben had been playing games on his computer all day, or checking out porn sites, Ted wouldn’t know or seemingly care. Ben figured Rick had explained that his son-in-law had a guaranteed job there, at least while he and Charly were married.

A little earlier than usual, Ben left the office for his weekly racquetball game with Graham. He got to the sports club before Graham and began hitting some warm-up shots. By the time Graham arrived, he’d already worked up a sweat. They got right into a game, Ben taking the first one easily.

“You’re more relaxed than I’ve seen you in years,” Graham said as they took their first break.

“It’s a lot less stressful with Rick out of the office.”

“Any more news about him?”

“It’s going to happen soon. Probably no more than a month.”

“Charly must be freaking out.”

Ben took the towel in his hand and wiped it across his forehead. “She is, but we hardly see each other now. She heads off to her father as soon as the gallery closes, then heads to bed as soon as she comes home.”

“Maybe when her father is out of the picture, you two can try to reconnect. You used to be crazy about each other.”

Ben shook his head. “Not going to happen. After she’s finished grieving—six months, at the most—I’m leaving her for Lisa. I’ve made up my mind.”

“That’s big. You’re really going to walk away from her money?”

“I’m going to do whatever I need to in order to be with Lisa.”

Graham slapped him on the back. “Man, I’m proud of you. I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that. You don’t need money when you have love.”

Ben smiled as he thought, Yes, but it’s so much nicer to have both.



Ten days later, Ben headed to Brooklyn again, to the same bar where he’d met Jeff Mullin weeks before. This time, Jeff was there with another man, already seated in a booth in the back. After Ben joined them, Jeff introduced Danny Clark. He looked to be a few inches shorter than Jeff, maybe five eight, and was dressed in army fatigues, his muscles bursting through the tight T-shirt. His hair was worn in a buzz cut, and he was clean-shaven.

“Jeff told you what I’m looking for?” Ben asked.

Clark nodded.

“You ever done anything like this before?”

“You mean outside of the army?”

“Yeah.”

“It doesn’t bother me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You’d have to make the body disappear. No one could ever find it.”

“That’s doable.”

Ben sat back and eyed both men. “How can I be sure you won’t talk to the police?”

Clark looked over at Mullin. “Jeff saved my life, and took shrapnel to do it. Left him in constant pain that only narcs seem to help. I inform on you, you tell them about Jeff’s role, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting him go in the clinker.”