the Third Twin (1996)

Armstrong, an Andrew Carnegie. And sometimes it was a Pete Ferrami.

Jeannie had to get rid of Berrington fast. “If you want to make that call, Berry, you can use the phone in the bedroom.”

“Uh, it’ll keep,” he said.

Thank God for that. “Well, thank you for a very special evening.” She held out her hand to shake.

“It was a pleasure. Good night.” He shook hands awkwardly and went out.

Jeannie turned to her father. “What happened?”

“I got time off for good behavior. I’m free. And naturally, the first thing I wanted was to see my little girl.”

“Right after you went on a three-day drunk.” He was so transparently insincere, it was offensive. She felt the familiar rage rise inside her. Why couldn’t she have a father like other people’s?

He said: “Come on, be nice.”

Anger turned into sadness. She had never had a real father and she never would. “Give me that bottle,” she said. “I’ll make coffee.”

Reluctantly he handed her the vodka and she put it back in the freezer. She put water in the coffee maker and turned it on.

“You look older,” he said to her. “I see a little gray in your hair.”

“Gee, thanks.” She put out mugs, cream, and sugar.

“Your mother went gray early.”

“I always thought you were the cause of that.”

“I went to her place,” he said in a tone of mild indignation. “She doesn’t live there anymore.”

“She’s in Bella Vista now.”

“That’s what the neighbor told me. Mrs. Mendoza. She gave me your address. I don’t like to think of your mother in a place like that.”

“Then take her out of there!” Jeannie said indignantly. “She’s still your wife. Get yourself a job and a decent apartment and start taking care of her.”

“You know I can’t do that. I never could.”

“Then don’t criticize me for not doing it.”

His tone became wheedling. “I didn’t say anything about you, honey. I just said I don’t like to think of your mother in an institution, that’s all.”

“I don’t like it either, nor does Patty. We’re going to try to raise the money to get her out of there.” Jeannie felt a sudden surge of emotion, and she had to fight back tears. “Goddamn it, Daddy, this is tough enough without having you sit there complaining.”

“Okay, okay,” he said.

Jeannie swallowed hard. I shouldn’t let him get to me this way. She changed the subject. “What are you going to do now? Do you have any plans?”

“I’ll look around for a while.”

He meant he would scout for a place to rob. Jeannie said nothing. He was a thief, and she could not change him.

He coughed. “Maybe you could let me have a few bucks to get me started.”

That made her mad again. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” she said in a tight voice. “I’ll let you shower and shave while I put your clothes through the washer. If you keep your hands off that vodka bottle, I’ll make you some eggs and toast. You can borrow some pajamas and sleep on my couch. But I’m not giving you any cash. I’m desperately trying to find the money to pay for Mom to stay someplace where they’ll treat her like a human being, and I don’t have a dollar to spare.”

“Okay, sweetie,” he said, putting on a martyred air. “I understand.”

She looked at him. In the end, when the turmoil of shame and anger and pity died down, all she felt was longing. She wished with all her heart that he could take care of himself, could stay in one place more than a few weeks, could hold down a normal job, could be loving and supportive and stable. She yearned for a father who would be a father. And she knew she would never, ever have her wish. There was a place in her heart for a father, and it would always be empty.

The phone rang.

Jeannie picked it up. “Hello.”

It was Lisa, sounding upset. “Jeannie, it was him!”

“Who? What?”

“That guy they arrested with you. I picked him out of the lineup. He’s the one that raped me. Steven Logan.”

“He’s the rapist?” Jeannie said incredulously. “Are you sure?”

‘There’s no doubt, Jeannie,” Lisa said. “Oh, my God, it was horrible seeing his face again. I didn’t say anything at first, because he looked different with no hat. Then the detective made them all put on baseball caps, and I knew for certain sure.”

“Lisa, it can’t be him,” Jeannie said.

“What do you mean?”

“His tests are all wrong. And I spent time with him, I have a feeling.”

“But I recognized him.” Lisa sounded annoyed.

“I’m amazed. I can’t understand it.”

“This spoils your theory, doesn’t it? You wanted one twin to be good and the other bad.”

“Yes. But one counterexample doesn’t disprove a theory.”

“I’m sorry if you feel your project is threatened by this.”

“That’s not the reason I’m saying it’s not him.” Jeannie sighed. “Hell, maybe it is. I don’t know anymore. Where are you now?”

“At home.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, now that he’s locked up in jail.”

“He seems so nice.”

“They’re the worst kind, Mish told me. The ones that seem perfectly normal on the surface are the cleverest and most ruthless, and they enjoy making women suffer.”

“My God.”

“I’m going to bed, I’m exhausted. I just wanted to tell you. How was your evening?”

“So-so. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

“I still want to go to Richmond with you.”

Jeannie had planned to take Lisa to help her interview Dennis Pinker. “Do you feel up to it?”

“Yes, I really want to go on living a normal life. I’m, not sick, I don’t need to convalesce.”

“Dennis Pinker will probably be Steve Logan’s double.”

“I know. I can handle it.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’ll call you early.”

“Okay. Good night.”

Jeannie sat down heavily. Could Steven’s engaging nature be no more than a mask? I must be a bad judge of character if that’s so, she thought. And maybe a bad scientist too: perhaps all identical twins will turn out to be identically criminal. She sighed.

Her own criminal ancestry sat beside her. “That professor is a nice-looking guy, but he must be older than me!” he said. “You having a thing with him, or what?”

Jeannie wrinkled her nose. “The bathroom’s through there, Daddy,” she said.

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