The Good Twin(62)

“I want to finish our plan. I want to leave.”

Saldinger nodded. “You ready to go?”

“Yes.” I picked up my duffel bag and walked out of the room and down the stairs. The hit man was seated on my living room couch, his hands cuffed, and two policemen stood over him. Saldinger led me outside to his car, then drove me out to LaGuardia Airport.

I’d been careful to book my ticket for Florida from the gallery’s computer. If Ben harbored any suspicions, he would find nothing to shore them up at home. When I arrived at the airport, I said goodbye to Saldinger, then checked in for my 11:15 p.m. flight. My grandfather had left me a key to his house before he’d flown home so that I wouldn’t need to wake him when I got there.

By the time I arrived at my gate, I had a half hour before boarding started. I called Mallory.

“I’m at the airport now.”

“What happened? I’ve been on pins and needles waiting for someone to call me.”

“They got him. The hit man.”

“Thank God. And you’re okay?”

“Not a scratch.”

“Good. Nervous?”

“No. You’re the one who should be. You have to pass for me. And convince Ben you’re still going along with him.”

“I’ve been convincing him ever since you and I met. He’s so anxious to collect your money, he’ll believe anything now.”

My money. An obscene amount of money. I’d never given it any thought while growing up. It was simply there, available for me to have whatever I wanted, from parents willing to indulge my every wish. That didn’t change once I’d married. Ben had a handsome salary from Dad’s business, and just like it had been when I was growing up, I’d never wanted for anything. Granted, my tastes weren’t extravagant. At least, not for the circles I traveled in. I owned no furs and no diamonds, aside from my engagement ring, which Ben had paid for; one diamond pendant necklace that my father had bought me when I’d turned twenty-one; and two pairs of diamond earrings. I wore designer clothes, but that was required in my line of work. And I had more shoes than any woman should own—my own personal extravagance.

When this charade was over, I would be enormously wealthy, and Mallory would still have little. “I was thinking. You’ve saved my life. Literally. When this is over, I want to give you some money.”

There was silence on the other end. Finally, Mallory said, her voice soft, “That’s not why I came forward. I don’t want money. I want a sister.”

Detective Saldinger was wrong about Mallory. She wouldn’t turn on me. Not now. I was certain of that.



I slept until after 10:00 a.m. and woke to bright sunshine streaming through the slats of the wooden shutters covering my bedroom window. I walked into the kitchen and found my grandfather sitting at the table, reading a newspaper.

“Well, the princess has awakened,” he said.

I walked over and kissed his cheek, then poured myself a cup of coffee from the pot.

“There’s a box of donuts over there,” Poppy said, pointing to a spot next to the refrigerator.

“Ugh. Too much sugar. You shouldn’t have them, either.”

“When you get to my age, why not? I’m not going to last forever. I might as well enjoy the remaining years.”

Suddenly, tears welled up in my eyes. “Don’t say that. I need you.”

His face dropped. “I’m sorry, Pips. That was insensitive.” He smiled. “Besides, I’ve got strong genes. I’m going to be around for a good long while.”

I finished my coffee, then dressed for a run. I’d left behind temperatures in the thirties and welcomed the seventy-two degrees that greeted me. By midday, it would reach the low eighties. I understood why my grandfather didn’t want to return to New York. Tomorrow, I would head for the beach. Today, after my run, I needed to shop for clothes. And maybe a piece of jewelry to perk me up. I deserved it.



The next day, I got a call from Detective Saldinger. “Where are you?”

“At my grandfather’s, in Florida.”

“Okay. Two things. First, the guy your husband hired, his name is Daniel Clark. He was asked to leave the service with a psychiatric discharge. We searched his apartment and found a hundred grand in cash under his mattress. We couldn’t get anything out of him, even after we said we knew Ben hired him. Completely mum. We did find a picture in his room of him and another guy in uniform. We checked it out, and the other guy’s name is Jeff Mullin, who, as it turns out, went to high school with your husband.”

“His name sounds vaguely familiar, although I don’t think Ben was in regular touch with him.”

“Our best guess is that Ben reached out to Mullin, and Mullin put him in touch with Clark. If that’s true, it helps show that your husband was the one controlling the situation. I have some guys out to pick up Mullin now. Hopefully, he’ll be more talkative. Otherwise, Mallory’s testimony is going to be key.”

“What’s the second thing?”

“I have to tell you, from the pictures I just saw of what’s supposed to be you, I’d be convinced you were really dead.”

“You met with Sergei.”

“I just came from his studio. Did you ask him to be so gruesome, or was that his idea?”