She grabbed Thomlinson’s index finger and used it to poke at the four highlighted Twins she had unearthed. “You see them? You think we’re gonna have better luck when we type in ‘Turner’?” What came next was placing the cursor on each Twins and depressing both the CTRL and ESC keys, bringing them to mostly remote news articles referencing twins. It appeared that most were about the playing prowess of the Minnesota Twins. “You, Cedric Franz Thomlinson, are goin’ nowhere till this is done! You got that?”
Yes! cheered Thomlinson. “I won’t budge,” is what he told her.
Leticia stared at the screen and shook her head. “How far back do you wanna go?” she asked, surrendering to fate.
Thomlinson grinned and awarded her a vial of Visine.
“Cute.”
“Keep it within the United States. For now. And give the Guinness Book of World Records a sweep while we’re at it. Disregard anyone who would now be over sixty or under twelve.”
Leticia started counting on her fingers. “A math whiz, I’m not,” she said, catching Thomlinson’s grin
“Since there’s no way to detect newborns as being identical, I’m hoping for an entry later in life. It’s a long shot, but under the circumstances, our only shot.”
Manicured fingertips danced across the keyboard, turning the computer’s screen into a kaleidoscope of newsprint.
After five hours and forty-six minutes of squinting, moving on, and squinting again, their zigzagging cross-country cyberjaunt produced four possibilities. Onetime residents of Ohio, Arkansas, Georgia, and West Virginia would now become the focus of Thomlinson’s investigation.
Leticia clicked PRINT, and the pair watched as their nearly six hours of arduous labor filled one sheet.
The Gem City Chronicle Dayton, Ohio: February 4, 1967
Proud parents, Helene and Paul Matthews of St. Finbar’s parish applaud vigorously as unique identical twins, John and Kathleen, take a curtain call after their school’s performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Southern District Gazette DeWitt, Arkansas: June 29, 1964
Dwayne and Ernestine Parkins mourn the loss of their two-year-old daughter, Connie May. She is also survived by grandparents, Sonia and Sunny-Bob Peters, Claire and Leroy Parkins, and identical twin brother James. In lieu of flowers the family asks that donations be made in Connie’s name to the March of Dimes.
The Bibb County News Macon, Georgia: January 4, 1987
Education: Twins magazine reporters expected to arrive at Central High on Thursday to interview Tulia and Earnest Gibbons, our fine state’s unique set of identical twins.
The Pendleton Press Franklin, West Virginia: November 1, 1996
Seeing double on Halloween? At St. Elizabeth’s annual jack o’-lantern fund-raiser, the best costume award went to five-year-olds Angus and Cassie Claxonn of Oak Flat, who came as themselves. The youngsters are a rare breed. A set of opposite-sex identical twins. Foster mom, Raven’s Breath, isn’t telling us how that happened. Trick or treat? We’re in the dark on that one.
“Raven’s Breath? What kinda name is that?” said Leticia.
Thomlinson wasn’t sure. “Is there any way of telling where these twins are now?”
“I’ll give it my best shot.”
Leticia cross-referenced the names through every possible entry these twins might have made through life. A kaleidoscope of records was considered. They included twin networking groups and armed forces records, as well as death records. When all was complete, Thomlinson had what appeared to be promising addresses for the Matthews and Gibbons twins. Since Connie May Parkins was dead, James Parkins was in the clear. There was no record of any address for the Claxonn twins. Not even in Oak Flat, West Virginia.
Leticia loaded the collected data on the three sets of viable twins back into the computer. There was one remaining search to consider. Again, her fingers danced across the keys. She was looking to see if any of the six had ever been arrested for a crime. Both she and Thomlinson were left staring at a blank screen.
As far as CyberCentral was concerned, the six were as clean as the winds of winter.
Chapter 25
Angus was in the shed. The game board, originally designed for Monopoly, now had a New York City tourist map affixed to it, with a cellophane grid of squares overlaying it. One of the sound chips embedded under the surface of the map wasn’t working. The chip, designed for use inside talking or musical greeting cards, and activated when the card was opened, resembled a shiny new dime. Angus studied it closely under the magnifying glass. He’d have to go online, order a new one, download the singing voice of Old Blue Eyes, and slip it back into its sleeve under the Statue of Liberty National Monument. Of course, he’d lay out the extra bucks for an overnight delivery. What good was the game if it didn’t sing?
“Angus!”
His sister was a screamer. It usually meant she saw a spider.
“What is it this time?” he hollered back.
“It’s got a zillion legs! Come quick.”
He put down the chip and headed inside to deal with the skittering demon. En route, he remembered the last time he heard those lungs in high-pitch mode. It wasn’t that long ago.
“Angus!” It sounded more like the shriek of a wounded hawk than a human scream, and it awakened him. It was nearing four in the morning, and the small house was otherwise quiet. Where was his sister? And, more important, where was Father?
“Angus!”
He followed the anguish-filled scream to the cellar, finding his sister, stripped naked and bound to the porcelain enamel-topped table in the room behind the furnace. Father lay sprawled in the corner, his arms and face covered in sweat; his pants at his knees; a honing blade at his side. He was breathing heavily and reeking of alcohol. Had he succumbed to its anesthetizing effects? Angus hoped so. He shook him. Father made no sound or movement.
He approached Cassie. Tears trickled down her face, where eruptions of exposed tissue oozed blood.
“He raped me after butchering my face,” she whimpered.
“Why didn’t you call out before…?”
“He said he’d kill me if I made any noise. I waited until I figured he’d passed out.”
“Shsss. It’s okay. I’m here.”
“Please. Help me.”
Angus unfastened leather straps, took Cassie into his arms, and carried her up to their cramped sleeping quarters, his eyes coming to rest on the corner of the glass face of a Pachinko machine that they had ceased to play with. It served now as a catchall for soiled clothing. Shoving the laundry aside, he used his fist to shatter the glass and collected the ball bearings contained inside. Running to his dresser, he retrieved a sock and poured in the half-inch spheres. Thus armed, he returned to the room and beat his father to death.
Chapter 26
Thomlinson, Aligante, and Driscoll were seated around the Lieutenant’s desk in what had become a war room. A detailed map of the city was displayed on an upright particle-board behind them, red thumb tacks denoting where the bodies had been found. Driscoll was discouraged. To date, there had been no calls to the Tip Line from anyone seeing anything suspicious in the two restrooms, on the bridge, or onboard the USS Intrepid. These sons of bitches were good, he thought.
He glanced over to the corner of his desk where the two-inch letters of the New York Post’s headline stared back at him: DOUBLE
TROUBLE!! He had alerted the media that the string of killings may have been committed by a set of male and female identical twins. The populace at large was urged to report any sightings of such look-alikes.