In his Daddy's Shadow - 7. Chapter 7

Early the next morning, Dave received word that the twin in the hospital had passed away. Fingerprint records confirmed that it was Joe, and not Don. As soon as his identity was double checked and identified, Dave called Warden Patterson.

“I warned you too late, Warden,” Dave said. “The prisoner you’ve got in solitary is Don, Joe’s twin brother. They switched places as I had feared. Have you any idea how they had the opportunity to do so.”

“I think I do,” Patterson said. “We allow conjugal visits once a month. You’ll find this hard to believe, but Joe indicated that he had a male lover, named Daryll Forester. He listed him on the request sheet for conjugal visits. Daryll arrived and nobody recognized him. Security tapes show that he had a full beard and a mustache. He was allowed into Joe’s confinement room, and they had plenty of privacy. That was when they probably made the switch.”

“But how did they undo the shackles?” Dave asked.

“Since it was a conjugal visit, we temporarily removed Joe’s shackles.”

“I should be shocked, but nothing those two fiends do surprises me anymore. It’s possible they were lovers, but it’s more likely they lied, so they could exchange places and each would have some time outside the prison walls.”

“What do you plan to do?” the warden asked.

“I have options, but tell me, when was the last conjugal visit?”

“The day before you came to interview Joe.”

“Then I interviewed Don, but he was still on the outside when the four witnesses, who testified against his brother, were killed. We have far better evidence of his guilt, but this will solidify our case. I need to tell you that Joe Franklin is dead. He was killed last night in a police shootout.”

“Wow! That’s a kick in the ass, the warden said. “He should have stayed in jail. He’d still be alive. Shall I give Don the good news, or do you want to hold it from him for a while?”

“I’ll come in later today. Please let me tell that smirking bastard that his brother is dead. It’ll give me great pleasure.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

*****

Dave returned to the prison late in the afternoon. He figured that he could go straight home after the interview. Once again, he was taken to the small interrogation room, and Don was brought in wearing heavy shackles around his ankles. The moment Don spotted Dave, he snarled.

“What the fuck you doin’ here?” he asked. “I told you that I don’t know nothin’ about nothin’.”

“Of course, you do. So does your brother, your twin brother. I believe his name is Joe,” Dave teased Don a little, and Don was visibly shaken. His cockiness and his smirking seemed to have vanished for the moment.”

“What are you talking about? My name’s Joe, and if I have a brother, I have no idea where he is.”

“You may not know his whereabouts, but I sure do, Don.”

“I told you. I don’t know what you’re talking about. My name is Joe Franklin.”

“Then let me spell it out for you, Donald, baby. Joe was killed in a shootout at your father’s house last night. He tried to break in, and was apprehended by the police we sent to protect your dad. Foolishly, he put up a fight, drew a gun, and forced the police to shoot him.”

“That’s bull shit. You’re just trying to get information from me, but how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t know nothin’.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Dave said. He reached into the inside breast pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. After he opened it up, he handed the paper to Don.

“Here’s a picture of Joe on a slab at the city morgue. Would you like to identify him?”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know who this is, and my name’s Joe.”

“It’s okay, Don. Your mother is in custody, charged with aiding, abetting, and harboring known felons. We brought her to the morgue, and she identified the corpse. She broke down completely. We had to sedate her.”

There was no doubt anymore, Don was shaking and trying not to cry. Dave took advantage of the situation, and he asked Don, “How does it feel when someone you love is murdered?”

Don got hold of himself. “I keep telling you. My name is Joe,” he insisted. “There’s no way you can tell which brother I am.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, punk, but we have lots of evidence of who you are.”

An imaginary light flashed in the room, and Don blurted out, “If you can prove I’m Don, then you know I’m not Joe, so I didn’t rape those women and you’ll have to let me go.”

Dave got hysterical with laughter. “Sorry, low-life, but we have all kinds of evidence that you committed murder, and I’m about to read you your rights and arrest you.”

“What murders?” Don asked innocently.

“I didn’t say, murders,” Dave said. “I said you committed murder, singular. How did you know I was talking about multiple murders?”

“Okay, detective, who is it I was supposed to have murdered? My brother and I have, I mean had, the same DNA so your forensic evidence won’t stand up.”

“We have other hard evidence besides your DNA, smart ass.”

Don looked a little more frightened. “I don’t believe you,” he said.

“I’ll bet you didn’t know that although you had the same DNA, you and Joe had different fingerprints. Speaking of fingers, Don, where’s your pinky ring, the one with your birthstone?”

“How do you know about my ring? For your information, I lost the stone and I don’t wear it anymore.”

“Did you wear it up until the time you lost the stone?”

“Sure. Where is all this leading to?”

“I found the garnet stone, you piece of shit. You want to know where? In the bed of your third victim, Carolyn Shaw. The owner of the store where you bought the rings confirmed that two identical rings were purchased at the same time. Joe’s ring was locked up with his other personal belongings when he was admitted here, and it’s perfectly intact. His stone matches the one we found at the crime scene, and we found the empty setting in your mother’s home. You are so busted, buster. The four women you killed all testified against Joe at his rape trial, so we have motive also.”

Dave read Don his rights and told him that he was officially arrested for murdering four women.

“By the way,” Dave added, “because of the nature of the crime, and because you’re a flight risk, you are being held without bail. I’m going to arrange for you to be brought back to the city jail and officially arraigned. In the meantime, you can rot in solitary confinement. I won’t be in a rush to transfer you anytime soon. Finally, I’d like to point out that the state of California recognizes capital punishment. You can look forward to the gas chamber. I can’t wait to be a witness to your demise.”

Dave asked the guards to return the prisoner to his cell. He couldn’t wait to get home and shower the dirt off him, but he had one stop to make.

When Dave came out, and revealed that he was a gay detective, the Los Angeles Times wrote an editorial praising him for his courage, and standing behind him all the way. His first stop after leaving the prison was The Los Angeles Times to give them an exclusive. He dictated the whole story to one of the reporters, and made sure to give credit to Vincent, his son James, and Gary Barton’s son, the three men who found the small garnet in the bed of the third victim.

The story was in the morning edition the following day, and by noon, Pacific time, the news was flashed around the world. Of course, my parents called immediately to let me know how relieved they were, and expressing joy that they would be home in a few more days. I was not very happy. I didn’t want to be separated from James? I loved him so much. And what about Vincent and Dave?

You may have figured out by now that I worry a lot. I never stopped to think that James and I were brought together by a happy set of circumstances, and Vincent and Dave were brought together by fate, pure and simple. In this case, fate was a murder. We were soulmates, the four of us. Nothing was going to separate us.

Let me start by telling you what happened to Vincent and Dave. Dave had been on the force for twenty-one years, and he was fully vested in his retirement pension. He and Vincent made a joint decision. On the day James and I were to go off to college, Dave was going to retire, and Vincent was going to terminate his employment with my parents. They made plans to open a detective agency together, and Dave was going to move into Vincent’s house.

As for James and me, I told you we were soulmates. Fate stepped in as it always does for soulmates. One evening, just before my folks came home, he and I were lounging in bed, hugging, and fondling each other.

“I’m excited about going to college,” I told James, “but I don’t want to be separated from you, Jim.”

“I feel the same way,” he lamented. “Where are you going?”

“I’m tired of posh private schools with a bunch of snobs for classmates. I’ve applied for UC at Berkeley, and I was accepted. If you’re staying in L.A. I can try to transfer to UCLA.”

James jumped up. “I’m going to Berkeley also,” he said. “The angels are looking over us.”

“My father was unhappy about my choice of school,” I continued. “He wanted me to go to Princeton, his alma mater. He was there on an academic scholarship. Otherwise, he could not have afforded to go there. I had long conversations with him. It took a lot of persuasion, but I made him see, how I lived in his shadow, and how I needed to have a life of my own, and be among ordinary people. I guess I got through to him, because he finally approved my choice.

That night was the first night James and I fell asleep crying, but the tears were evidence of our joy, not sorrow. The next morning, we called the housing department at Berkeley, and we arranged to share a dorm room. I couldn’t believe how accommodating they were. Rooms had already been assigned, and they had to move two other students around to grant our request.

About a week after my folks came home, we got a new cook, so I invited James to dinner, and of course, Vincent was always welcome at our table, so I invited Dave also. My parents wanted to hear for the thousandth time, all about how the four of us were instrumental in solving the serial killings.

“It’s like one of my movies,” my dad said. “Maybe I’ll give a friend of mine a hint that it would make a great plot. He’s a screen writer.”

I waited until dessert was served, and I asked for everyone’s attention. “Mom, Dad,” I said, “I have something to tell you.” I hesitated, and my father encouraged me to continue with his eyes. “I’m gay,” I said simply, “and I’m hopelessly in love with James.”

What happened next was surreal. My mother was sitting next to James. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. My father started to laugh so hard that if he had a belly, it would have shaken like jelly, as the old rhyme goes.

I was really floored. I didn’t know what to do, so I went on talking. “We’re going to Berkeley together in the fall, and we’ve arranged to room together.”

My dad finally got himself together. “Son,” he said, “I’m in the entertainment business, and your mom is in the fashion industry. Did you really think we didn’t know that you were gay? We’ve been waiting for you to tell us.”

Then he turned to James, whose hand was still being squeezed by my mother. “Thank you, James, for making Claude so happy. He’s always lived in some sort of shell, and you’ve helped him escape from it.”

I mustered all the courage I could, and said, “That’s another thing, Dad, I hate the name Claude. I’m going to change it as soon as possible.”

“Please don’t change it,” James yelled out. “Claude was my grandfather’s name. He was awarded The Medal of Honor posthumously. He was a real Korean War hero. He fell on a hand grenade and saved a half dozen lives, while sacrificing his own. I think it’s yet another act of fate that you have his name. Please, wear it proudly.”

In that moment my life was changed forever. I suddenly loved that name. Since I was always referred to as Gary Barnett’s son, nobody knew that Claude Barnett was my name. James loved the name, and I determined to honor his wish that I keep it. Now I could move out of my father’s shadow. I would let everyone know that I was Claude Barnett, and make a life of my own, a life with James at my side.

Suddenly, I was so overwhelmed with happiness, that I went around the table kissing everyone, including my macho father, the hero of the silver screen.