The Third Twin - Ken Follett [142]
“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.
Surprisingly, Dad was calmer. Steve would have expected a man to have a stronger reaction to the cuckoo aspect of the whole story. But Dad had been tirelessly rational, going over Jeannie’s logic, speculating about other possible explanations for the phenomenon of the triplets, concluding in the end that she was probably right. However, reacting calmly was part of Dad’s code. It did not necessarily tell you how he was feeling underneath. Right now he was out in the yard, placidly watering a flower bed, but inside he might be boiling.
Mom started frying onions, and the smell made Steve’s mouth water. “Meat loaf with mashed potatoes and ketchup,” he said. “One of the great meals.”
She smiled. “When you were five years old you wanted it every day.”
“I remember. In that little kitchen in Hoover Tower.”
“Do you remember that?”
“Just. I remember moving out, and how strange it felt having a house instead of an apartment.”
“That was about the time I started to make money from my first book, What to Do When You Can’t Get Pregnant.” She sighed. “If the truth about how I got pregnant ever comes out, that book is going to look pretty silly.”
“I hope all the people who bought it don’t ask for their money back.”
She put minced beef into the frying pan with the onions and wiped her hands. “I’ve been thinking about this stuff all night, and you know something? I’m glad they did that to