Chapter Five: Could it get more complicated?

Monday, August 9th
1:30 AM

“Now I get how everyone would think I’m dead.” On Dara’s insistence I’m going through the other guy’s desk. Somehow discovering Other Simon saved every scrap of paper from his days causes a whole new wave of pain. I kept fighting moments like this. I could function if I took it moment by moment. If I felt it all I think I would have lost what little mind I have left. I’d had blood kin as close as a twin all these years and he was killed minutes before our first meeting. Why did the universe feel the need to piss on me so much? This blow rivals losing my adoptive family. My friends say nothing as they see me obviously struggling with my composure. What could they have said that helped anyways? “I just don’t get why you let them keep on thinking that.” Again there are guilty looks I don’t understand.

“It’s not that simple, Simon. I mean, don’t think for a second we’re doing this lightly.” Dara launches into major rambling. She’s pretty not thrilled with this as well. “The police, that creepy reporter, everyone else, they all thought it was you. I mean, he had the face and the wallet, right? There just wasn’t a good time to correct them...”

“And they’d think we’d killed him,” Robert added, helpfully.

“Well, there is that little point to consider as well.” I guess I looked as stunned as I felt so she explained. “We held him there, we made phone calls he didn’t hear, no one saw him right up until Kathy tripped over him, and the knife sticking out of his chest looks just like one of Sydney’s.” No one ever said Dara wasn’t good at nut-shelling things. With the bare bones of a case she has laid down, I might suspect them of murder if I didn’t know them so well.

“But having me play Dead Simon? Come on, guys. I felt like a shit heel for lying to Margate. What about what this will do to my family? From a phone call I got, they already know. How can I forget their pain and go live the high life?” I need a drink. This time I settle for some wine I find.

“We’ve got no choice, Simon. If we come clean now the police will think they have the real killers and stop looking. It’ll be like OJ in reverse.” Dara joins me on the couch with a bottled water. Robert’s moved on to oohing and ahing over my new wardrobe. I think he’s part magpie on his mother’s side. “Besides, what if the killer is insane? He could decide to kill you too. Simon Douglas can protect himself in a way Simon Carpenter never could. Please don’t make us go through that awful twenty minutes again if there’s something you can do to prevent it. I swear it would kill me this time.” That’s what made me give in, the look in Dara’s eyes. I know it wouldn’t physically kill her but what it would do to her emotionally I didn’t want to be responsible for if I could help it. I just have one proviso.

“I just have one proviso.” Dara looks at me expectantly as Robert reenters the room with a brand new shirt on. It’s a deep blue silk and looks great on him. It’s a bit big with the cuffs going halfway down his palms but since he likes that look it’s cool. “I’ll feel like shit doing this under any conditions so we need to make it more constructive, you know? We can’t just enjoy the high life and hope ‘my’ killer is found. We’ve got to do everything we can to solve this ourselves.” I’m not disappointed with only getting a scowl from Dara. She’s the designated level head in our circle of friends. Robert exceeds the expectations I had for gaining his support.

“Oh cool! We get to be like that Justice guy in those books you wanted me to read!” ‘Wanted me to read’. That’s a tacit admission Robert never opened one single book I loaned him. If it isn’t a magazine with a hot guy on the cover, Robert doesn’t read it.

“Sounds more like Stephanie Plum to me,” is Dara’s sour answer. The literary reference surprises me. As a lifelong South Jersey resident, Dara is very sensitive about the state’s portrayal in all media. I’ve often had to hear her going on about Janet Evanovich denigrating New Jersey and its residents for the sake of cheap laughs. Frankly, I think Evanovich is writing documentaries. I mean, how can anyone write about life in Trenton and not go for laughs? I know better than to mention that right now. “I hope you two realize this is not a book, movie, or TV show. Just because we suddenly have a mystery doesn’t mean we just as suddenly become good detectives. It might sound good when Tim Cockey writes it but we don’t have an outline to follow or someone writing our lines.”

“Dara, of course we don’t expect things to go like that! We’re just gonna be in a better spot than the police to dig up dirt. We figure out who the suspects are, get as much as we safely can on them, and then turn it all over to the boys in blue as soon as we have anything solid. Simple.” Dara is appeased but Robert isn’t. I bet Robert had visions of a us becoming a road show version of Murder She Wrote dancing in his head. I kinda do too. Worried Dara might be figuring that out, I glance her way. She’s doing the exaggerated watch checking thing.

“I hate to break up this little party, girls, but my last class for summer semester is in ten hours and I have to get home. After lunch today I shouldn’t ditch the parents yet either.” That would be Margie and Stan McCray. If there were an Olympic event for insane married couples, America would have brought home the gold every year since they wed. I love them dearly but cannot imagine having to live with them. It’s a miracle that with a father and stepmother like them Dara turned out as normal and well-adjusted as she has.

“Who is it this time: Dad or Mom?” Robert is convinced the McCray marriage is on its last legs. He could be right but he’s been saying that the whole time he’s known Dara. “It’s gotta be your mother. I had an uncle who was totally nutso for two years after his bypass.”

“I’m not sure you’re diagnosis is right but Mom is definitely the crazy one right now. Dad’s never been the easiest guy in the world to live with but Mom gets homicidal about even small things lately.” Dara gets up to give Robert a quick peck and I get a ‘god, it’s great you didn’t really die’ hug. “Can we hook up at Max’s Old Place around seven tomorrow? You guys can bring me up to speed on the Hardly Boys investigation while I’m making sure there’s no murders waiting for me at home when this is all over.” The Hardly Boys comment gets her flipped off by both of us as she exits. She’s pleased. A double flip-off is rare indeed.

“Finally!” is all Robert says once she’s gone. “We better get you more presentable before this Joe gets here. Take a bath and your usual after-bath shower and I’ll have something more Douglas picked out for you to wear.”

“Dead man clothes. Ik.” Despite that concept, a long soak does sound good. The shower part sounds even better since I didn’t get to shower off my last soak at Michael’s place. Michael! “Robert, you have to call Michael! I don’t know how we’re gonna run this scam but I do know Dieter and Michael have to be included. If we need people to watch our backs, there’s no one I’d want more than them.” I can see Robert agrees.

“Me and Dara already tried calling them. Michael doesn’t answer and we can’t reach the restaurant. Dieter’s at that Anime thing in New York. I’ll catch up to him at Max’s apartment when I can. Now go. If you don’t start the bath, you’ll never finish, and if you never finish we’ll never get out of here.” Robert logic at its best. I start to head for the cavernous bathroom to strip when it strikes me as silly. It’s been years, not counting drunken slips, since me and Robert were lovers but during that time I think we saw each other out of clothes more than in them.

“Don’t pick anything I wouldn’t buy with a better budget. I don’t want to look like I’m playing dress up.” Robert doesn’t even look up as the last thing I’m wearing hits the ground. I don’t want him to want me anymore but a small appraising glance would have been nice.

“There’s no worries there, ‘Mon. Everything here is your taste. It’s kinda weird. It’s like you guys were the same person in two different places.” Leaving Robert to perfect my look, I head to wash up. There I confirm that everything material in a rich guy’s life is better. The water is set to the perfect temp immediately and the pressure is amazing. So’s my train of thought. Right back to my fucked up family it goes.

Sam must be on Cloud Nine And A Half right now. Now I’m not just disowned but as dead as Christian Slater’s career as well. Doing the back from the dead thing eventually will be sweet just to see the look on ex-daddy’s face. The others will be suffering big time. Annette and Mum must be in serious pain and I bet Angelica will try to fly home. I guess it all depends on how far along in her umpteenth pregnancy she is. Living on the West Coast and being almost constantly pregnant makes any trip problematic when she has time to plan. Getting home in days might be impossible. Kid bro’ Jamie hasn’t been heard from since a few weeks after Annette’s one day marriage when he headed to Florida with friends. I could be done pretending to be a Douglas by the time he even hears I’m dead.

Somewhere in this it sneaks up on me the family I knew about wasn’t all the family I’d had. I had a twin brother and now he’s dead. Why hadn’t I felt that mystical connection they say twins share? Is this another failing of mine? Sam says I’m a disappointment as a son. Was I that bad a twin too? And mental images of this other Simon come easy. My face and my clothes on a body lying lifeless in a parking lot I crossed for years. It couldn’t have been a mugging if my wallet was still on him. I know for a fact I left a hundred bucks in it. ‘Sides, anyone hard up for cash would have sold Sydney’s knife.

Dara and Robert are right that he at least would be a suspect. I’d heard Robert bitch last month that Dieter lost one of the knives so the cops would just say that the murder weapon is the one missing from the box. For his sake, Dara’s, and even for my own peace of mind we really do have to solve this murder, even if we have to do it on our own. Maybe the psycho will even expose himself somehow. No one mentioned it to my face, but I know from the news that everyone assumes the killer got the wrong brother. That means he really could strike again.

With a start, I realize there’s been one helluva time lapse between that last thought and now. The hooch and the stress have put me out in a bathtub for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. Feeling now like a prune, I let the water drain and then take a quick shower to clean off the filth I’ve been lying in for god knows how long. I step out finally to find the clothes laid out as promised. No briefs or boxers included. Robert could have remembered I don’t wear them but I doubt it. It’s more likely Other Simon went commando too. (another similarity and a new twinge of pain) As I dress I hear voices. TV, I suppose.

I supposed wrong. Robert has been entertaining this Joe person while I was indisposed and in his favorite way. Joe looks like a rumpled god while Robert nurses a drink, looking as innocent as a baby. That’s how I know they did something. Looking innocent is something Robert can only achieve when he’s done something devilish.

Did I mention Joe is a god? Good. He’s my age but looks ten times better. Hard body without being a gym clone or a musclehead. He’s got to be six foot tall with what I bet is usually immaculate chestnut hair and brown eyes that scream sex. I’ve seen models with less defined cheekbones and jaws and those lips of his were made to suck on. I can’t blame Robert for having fun. I’ve been looking at him for only seconds and already I can picture kissing him so hard I could crawl down his throat.

“Thank god you’re okay, Simon. Margate found me at the gala after Gamez called her. We were wrecked until we learned the police had confirmed the dead man wasn’t you.” Simon. Margate. So Joe isn’t the chauffeur like I assumed he was but how much more is he? He wasn’t Simon’s lover if he can take the E ticket ride we call Robert Janes so easily while I was dozing in the bathroom. Still, no matter what his relationship with my twin, he looks like he doesn’t know whether to cry from thinking his Simon was dead or because he apparently isn’t. “I think this was worse than that plane going down and us not knowing you hadn’t boarded as planned. Did you get to meet him before...” Now I know why the guy is familiar. Joe looks like an older version of Johnny West, the guy I lost my virginity to. I realize I have to shut him down before he trips me up. I look right at him and then pointedly glare at Robert. The message could be ‘not in front of a stranger’ or ‘I can’t believe you met him and did him while I was in the other room’ but whatever way Joe takes it, it works and he shuts up.

“Joe got here right after you started soaking. We peeked in and you were already asleep. He says Miss Derwillion got a call from the Philadelphia police on her way home. I raise an eyebrow and Joe takes his cue.

“They’re taking over the investigation. Since the other Simon had no enemies it makes sense someone was after you. That puts all the suspects in the city.” Somewhere along the line Joe buttoned his shirt up wrong and I just now notice. I don’t know if his Simon would smirk when he noticed but I can’t help it. Joe blushes when he sees where I’m staring and fixes it. Robert stays cherub like. “Some detective, Levy or something, wants you to call him as soon as you get up tomorrow. Later today, I guess. Mrs. O’ll have the number.”

“Mrs. O?” Bless you, Robert. It’s a blessing information is something else that he can get out of a man.

“Our housekeeper, Mrs. O’Henry. She’s run the house since Simon’s mother was a girl. She’s been a spare mother to everyone who has ever lived there.” Joe looks at me funny. I guess the mention of either Mrs. O or mother was supposed to get a reaction. My all purpose scowl will have to do. “You ready to go? Margate can drive herself to her morning meeting but her where she needs to be in the afternoon requires her to show up in style. A stud like me in a chauffeur uniform fits the bill and for that I need some sleep if I want to pull it off.” Joe says this jokingly and he may not even realize the truth of what he’s said. He truly is a walking wet dream but he doesn’t act like it. It’s like finding out Brad Pitt is just one of the guys. Robert’s laughed like Joe has said the funniest thing he’s heard all day. I’m not sure if Robert really likes Joe or just wants another romp later. I hope it’s the former. The guy’s starved for affection. True affection anyways. Physical affection he gets in spades. The trouble is any lover he’s ever let himself care about has gone on to inflict even greater emotional pain than even his parents dished out and that’s a pretty high standard to achieve. My bet already on Joe is that he wouldn’t hurt ‘Ert. Listen to me. I’m passing myself as a dead twin with all the hurdles and obstacles that comes with it and I’m worried about Robert’s love life. Above and beyond for friendship, that’s me.

“I’m ready...if the car’s bar is stocked.” He gives me a calculated look Joe can’t see. I guess he has some plan in mind that calls for me to drink and ride. Seeing as how I’m one giant nerve at this point it’s a plan I probably would have followed without any urging. Still, it’s best if I play it Robert’s way. He might suck at long-term planning but no one can improvise their way out of the problem at hand like this guy.

Once down at the car Robert has Joe open the bar right off. He doesn’t stay in the back with me tho’. Armed with a supply of wine coolers he hops in front with Joe. I get a worried look from Joe but a noncommital nod from me assures him this arrangement is fine. Joe can’t suspect my motive is to give Robert plenty of time to interrogate him about the dearly departed. I also do really need some alone time so it works to all our benefits. Well, not totally alone. Comrade Stoli is handy to keep me company again.