The Third Twin Part 51

"Yes, please. I hate to ask you to do this-but it's for you as much as for me."

"Relax, Dad-what could happen?"

"Maybe I worry too much. I guess there's no great danger in going to a girl's apartment."

"What if the real Steve is there?"

"Check the cars in the street. He has a Datsun like yours; that's another reason the police were so sure he was the perpetrator."

"No kidding!"

"You're like identical twins, you make the same choices. If his car is there, don't go in. Call me, and we'll try to think of some way to get him out."

"Suppose he walked there?"

"He lives in Washington."

"Okay." Harvey stood up. "What's the girl's address?"

"She lives in Hampden." Berrington scribbled the street address on a card and handed it over. "Be careful, okay?"

"Sure. See you sooner, Montezuma."

Berrington forced a smile. "In a flash, succotash."

56.

HARVEY CRUISED UP AND DOWN J JEANNIE'S STREET, LOOKING for a car just like his own. There were lots of elderly automobiles, but no rusty light-colored Datsuns. Steve Logan was not around. for a car just like his own. There were lots of elderly automobiles, but no rusty light-colored Datsuns. Steve Logan was not around.

He pulled into a slot near her house and turned off the engine. He sat thinking for a moment. He would need his wits about him. He was glad he had not drunk that beer Uncle Jim had offered him.

He knew she would take him for Steve, because she had done so once before, in Philadelphia. The two of them were identical in appearance. But conversation would be more tricky. She would make references to all sorts of things he was supposed to know about. He would have to answer without betraying his ignorance. He had to keep her confidence long enough to find out what evidence she had against him and what she planned to do with her knowledge. It would be very easy to make a slip and betray himself.

But even while he thought soberly about the daunting challenge of impersonating Steve, he could hardly contain his excitement at the prospect of seeing her again. What he had done in her car had been the most thrilling s.e.xual encounter he had ever had. It was even better than being in the women's locker room when they were all panicking. He got aroused every time he thought about ripping her clothes while the car swerved all over the expressway.

He knew he should concentrate on his task now. He must not think of her face contorted in fear and her strong legs writhing. He ought to get the information from her and leave. But all his life he had never been able to do the sensible thing.

Jeannie called police headquarters as soon as she got home. She knew Mish would not be there, but she left a message asking her to call urgently. "Didn't you leave an urgent message for her earlier today?" she was asked.

"Yes, but this is another one, just as important."

"I'll do my best to pa.s.s it on," the voice said skeptically.

Next she called Steve's house, but there was no reply. She guessed he and Lorraine were with their lawyer, trying to get Charles freed, and he would call when he could.

She was disappointed; she wanted to tell someone the good news.

The thrill of having found Harvey's apartment wore off, and she felt depressed. Her thoughts returned to the danger that faced her of a future with no money, no job, and no way to help her mother.

To cheer herself up she made brunch. She scrambled three eggs and grilled the bacon she had bought yesterday for Steve and ate it with toast and coffee. As she was putting the dishes in the dishwasher, the doorbell rang.

She lifted the handset. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Jeannie? It's Steve."

"Come on in!" she said happily.

He was wearing a cotton sweater the color of his eyes, and he looked good enough to eat. She kissed him and hugged him hard, letting him feel her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest. His hand slid down her back to her a.s.s and pressed her to him. Today he smelled different again: he had used some kind of aftershave with an herbal fragrance. He tasted different, too, sort of like he had been drinking tea.

After a while she broke away. "Let's not go too fast," she panted. She wanted to savor this. "Come in and sit down. I have so much to tell you!"

He sat on the couch and she went to the refrigerator. "Wine, beer, coffee?"

"Wine sounds good."

"Do you think it will be okay?"

What the h.e.l.l did she mean by that? Do you think it will be okay? Do you think it will be okay? "I don't know," he said. "I don't know," he said.

"How long ago did we open it?"

Okay, they shared a bottle of wine but didn't finish it, so she replaced the cork and put the bottle in the refrigerator, and now she's wondering whether it has oxidized. But she wants me to decide. "Let's see, what day was it?" "Let's see, what day was it?"

"It was Wednesday, that's four days."

He could not even see whether it was red or white. s.h.i.t. s.h.i.t. "h.e.l.l, just pour a gla.s.s and we'll try it." "h.e.l.l, just pour a gla.s.s and we'll try it."

"What a smart idea." She poured some wine into a gla.s.s and handed it to him. He tasted it. "It's drinkable," he said.

She leaned over the back of the sofa. "Let me taste." She kissed his lips. "Open your mouth," she said. "I want to taste the wine." He chuckled and did as she said. She put the tip of her tongue into his mouth. My G.o.d, this woman is s.e.xy. My G.o.d, this woman is s.e.xy. "You're right," she said. "It's drinkable." Laughing, she filled his gla.s.s and poured some for herself. "You're right," she said. "It's drinkable." Laughing, she filled his gla.s.s and poured some for herself.

He was beginning to enjoy himself. "Put some music on," he suggested.

"On what?"

He had no idea what she was talking about. Oh, Christ, I've made a slip. Oh, Christ, I've made a slip. He looked around the apartment: no stereo. He looked around the apartment: no stereo. Dumb. Dumb.

She said: "Daddy stole my stereo, remember? I don't have anything to play music on. Wait a minute, I do." She went into the next room-bedroom, presumably-and came back with one of those waterproof radios for hanging in the shower. "It's a silly thing, Mom gave it to me one Christmas, before she started to go crazy."

Daddy stole her stereo. Mom's crazy-what the h.e.l.l kind of a family does she come from?

"The sound is terrible, but it's all I've got." She turned it on. "I keep it tuned to 92Q."

'Twenty hits in a row," he said automatically.

"How do you know about that?"

Oh, s.h.i.t, Steve wouldn't know Baltimore radio stations. "I picked it up in the car on the way here." "I picked it up in the car on the way here."

"What sort of music do you like?"

I have no idea what Steve likes, but I guess you don't either, so the truth will do. "I'm into gangsta rap-Snoop Doggy Dogg, Ice Cube, that kind of stuff." "I'm into gangsta rap-Snoop Doggy Dogg, Ice Cube, that kind of stuff."

"Oh, f.u.c.k, you make me feel middle-aged."

"What do you like?"

"The Ramones, the s.e.x Pistols, the d.a.m.ned. I mean, when I was a kid, like really really a kid, punk was it, you know? My mom would listen to all this cheesy music from the sixties that never did anything for me. Then, when I was about eleven, suddenly, bang! Talking Heads. Remember 'Psycho Killer'?" a kid, punk was it, you know? My mom would listen to all this cheesy music from the sixties that never did anything for me. Then, when I was about eleven, suddenly, bang! Talking Heads. Remember 'Psycho Killer'?"

"I sure don't!"

"Okay, your mother was right, I'm too old for you." She sat beside him. She put her head on his shoulder and slipped her hand under the sky blue sweater. She rubbed his chest, brushing his nipples with her fingertips. It felt good. "I'm so glad you're here," she said.

He wanted to touch her nipples too, but he had more important things to do. With a huge effort of will he said: "We need to talk seriously."

"You're right." She sat up and took a sip of the wine. "You first. Is your father still under arrest?"

Jesus, what do I say to that? "No, you first," he said. "You said you had so much to tell me." "No, you first," he said. "You said you had so much to tell me."

"Okay. Number one, I know who raped Lisa. His name is Harvey Jones and he lives in Philadelphia."

Christ Almighty! Harvey struggled to keep his expression impa.s.sive. Harvey struggled to keep his expression impa.s.sive. Thank G.o.d I came here. Thank G.o.d I came here. "Is there proof he did it?" "Is there proof he did it?"

"I went to his apartment. The neighbor let me in with a duplicate key."

That f.u.c.king old h.o.m.o, I'll break his scrawny neck.

"I found the baseball cap he was wearing last Sunday. It was hanging on a hook behind the door."

Jesus! I should have thrown it away. But I never thought anyone would track me down! "You've done amazingly well," he said. "You've done amazingly well," he said. Steve would be thrilled by this news; it lets him off the hook. Steve would be thrilled by this news; it lets him off the hook. "I don't know how to thank you." "I don't know how to thank you."

"I'll think of something," she said with a s.e.xy grin.

Can I get back to Philadelphia in time to get rid of that hat before the police get there? "You've told the police all this, have you?" "You've told the police all this, have you?"

"No. I've left a message for Mish, but she hasn't called yet."

Hallelujah! I still have a chance.

Jeannie went on: "Don't worry. He has no idea we're onto him. But you haven't heard the best part. Who else do we know called Jones?"

Do I say, "Berrington"? Would Steve think of that? "It's a common name...." "It's a common name...."

"Berrington, of course! I think Harvey has been brought up as Berrington's son!"

I'm supposed to be amazed. "Incredible!" he said. "Incredible!" he said. What the h.e.l.l do I do next? Maybe Dad would have some ideas. I have to tell him about all this. I need an excuse to make a phone call. What the h.e.l.l do I do next? Maybe Dad would have some ideas. I have to tell him about all this. I need an excuse to make a phone call.

She took his hand. "Hey, look at your nails!"

Oh, f.u.c.k, what now? "What about them?" "What about them?"

"They grow so fast! When you came out of jail, they were all jagged and broken. Now they look great!"

"I always heal fast."

She turned his hand over and licked his palm.

"You're hot today," he said.

"Oh, G.o.d, I've come on too strong, haven't I?" She had been told this by other men. Steve had been kind of reticent ever since he came in, and now she understood why. "I know what you're saying. All last week I was pushing you away, and now you feel like I'm about to eat you for supper."

He nodded. "Yeah, sort of."

'That's just the way I am. Once I decide for a guy, that's it." She bounced up out of the couch. "Okay, I'm backing off." She went into the kitchen nook and took out an omelet pan. It was so heavy she needed both hands to lift it. "I bought food for you yesterday. Are you hungry?" The pan was dusty-she did not cook much-so she wiped it with a dishcloth. "Want some eggs?"

"Not really. So tell me, were you a punk?"

She put down the pan. "Yeah, for a while. Ripped clothes, green hair."

"Drugs?"

"I used to do speed at school whenever I had the money."

"Which parts of your body did you pierce?"

She suddenly remembered the centerfold on Harvey Jones's wall, of the shaved woman with a ring through the lips of her c.u.n.t, and she shuddered. "Only my nose," she said. "I gave up punk for tennis when I was fifteen."

"I knew a girl who had a nipple ring."

Jeannie felt jealous. "Did you sleep with her?"

"Sure."

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"Hey, did you think I was a virgin?"

"Don't ask me to be rational!"

He held up his hands in a defensive gesture. "Okay, I won't."

"You still haven't told me what happened to your dad. Did you get him released?"