G'Day To Die Part 23

My complexion glowed in the light. My hair looked casually windblown. My smile held mystery. My eyes sparkled with a "come hither" look. Good G.o.d, I looked sensational. "Wow."

"Nice, huh? See? I told you all you had to do was relax."

"Do you have a price list for your wedding photo packages?"

"On my website. Search Guy Madelyn, and that should get you there. Does this mean you've narrowed your field of eligible suitors to one?"

Did it? Had my heart made the decision without informing my brain? Did I know subconsciously? Had I always known?

Yeah, I think I had.

I smiled at the revelation. "I know the one."

"Great. We do honeymoon packages, too. Have you discussed your wedding trip yet? Islands are the big thing. How about a destination wedding? You and a handful of friends and family could fly to Tahiti, or Bora Bora, or Moorea, and the most critical detail you'd have to worry about is making plans early enough to insure that everyone who doesn't have a pa.s.sport has plenty of time to apply for one."

"Speaking of pa.s.sports, I still have yours." I swung my bag off my shoulder and poked through the jumbled contents, yanking out Nana's bloomers and my plastic bag of wet clothing. "Somewhere. I need to get rid of some of this stuff. I think I've reached critical ma.s.s."

"Would you like me to hold those for you?"

"That would be great. And while I have you here, would you sign the group card for Heath? I think your signature is the only one that's missing, other than Jake's. He had issues with the sympathy thing." I dug out a pen. "Do you have enough hands?"

"No problem. I juggle more equipment than this when I'm on a job." He shoved the clothing under his arm, then went down on one knee to sign the card. I grabbed a handful of pa.s.sports, flipping them open one by one. Osmond Chelsvig. Margi Swanson. Osmond Chelsvig. Margi Swanson.

"If your pa.s.sport was pink, I could find it in a second."

"Sorry. Same old navy blue as the States."

Alice Tjarks. Lucille Ra.s.smuson. Lucille was wearing her brooch with her late husband's face on it. Wow, his cigar had come out Lucille was wearing her brooch with her late husband's face on it. Wow, his cigar had come out really really well. well. d.i.c.k Teig. Guy Madelyn d.i.c.k Teig. Guy Madelyn. "Found it!" I angled the page away from the sun's glare to regard his photo once again. "For a good-looking guy, you really do take a horrendous picture. This doesn't look anything like you." I eyed the dates on the right. "You were a St. Patrick's Day baby! Oh, my G.o.d, you're not going to believe this, but you and Nora Acres were born on the very same day: March 17, 1943. Small world, huh?"

"Anytime you get a group together, two or three people will always share the same birthday. It's a statistically proven fact."

The next line gave me pause. "You were born in England?"

"Yeah, my dad worked as a newspaper correspondent for a few years during the war. High risk, low pay. He and my mom didn't stay long after I was born."

"That's such a coincidence." I looked at him as if for the first time and frowned in disbelief. "Did you know Nora was born in England?"

"Really? I thought she was Australian through and through." He stood up and handed me the card. "Trade you."

I handed over his pa.s.sport. "She was orphaned in England and transported to Australia for adoption. I guess that happened to a lot of children after the war." I searched his face, unable to reconcile what I was thinking. "She lived a pretty hard life in the Outback. Maybe if she'd lived in Canada, she'd have had something to show for her fifty-seven years other than wrinkles. I can't believe you're fifty-seven. You look at least a decade or two younger."

"I'll take that as a compliment." He shook out Nana's bloomers. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you struck me as more of a Victoria's Secret kind of gal."

I s.n.a.t.c.hed the undies from him and glanced around the deserted beach. "I bet you wouldn't be so cheeky if there were children around. Where are the kiddies, anyway? I thought this place was supposed to be their favorite haunt."

"I expect they're in school. Australian school-children don't take long summer breaks. That's an American peculiarity."

I scrutinized his features as I jammed the plastic bag and bloomers back into my shoulder bag. Was it my imagination, or did he resemble Heath through the eyes and mouth? My notion was completely absurd, and yet-"Did your parents take a lot of pictures when you were a baby?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do you have an alb.u.m with a lock of your hair, and a christening photo, and all the statistics people mark down for newborns? You know. Baby's first year?"

"Is that a polite way of asking if I'm adopted?"

My heart pumped double time. "Are you?"

"No, I'm not adopted! And if I don't have a baby alb.u.m, it's because parents in the forties didn't bother with things like that, especially during wartime."

"A lot of parents never told their children the truth."

"Sorry, Emily, but you're way out of line. If you're trying to prove that Nora Acres and I had some connection because we have the same birthday, you're going to end up looking very foolish."

Spoken like a man without an ounce of female intuition. "Do you remember the photo Nora showed you in Port Campbell?"

"Vaguely. What I remember most was that it was about to disintegrate."

"It showed Nora posing with her sister, Beverley, and their mother. The twins were in pinafores and had s.h.i.+rley Temple banana curls."

Guy lifted his brows. "And?"

"Okay, you might think I'm really grasping at straws, but what if the reason you never had a baby alb.u.m was because your parents never saw you as a baby? What if Nora's photo is actually a picture of her mother...and another child who was born in England on March 17, 1943?"

He struggled to keep a straight face even as laughter exploded from his chest. "You think the other child is me? Why would I be posing with Nora Acres? Better yet, do I look like a Beverley to you?"

"No! But you were born in England. The English have been known to stick their male offspring with girls' names-Evelyn, Marian, Carol, Beverley Beverley."

"Are they also guilty of dressing little boys in pinafores?"

"I've seen some of my grandmother's family photos where you couldn't distinguish the girls from the boys because they were all in dresses and pipe curls. People did that back then. Little boys didn't get into trousers or have their hair cut until they went off to school."

"And they all ended up in therapy."

"Seriously, I think I'm onto something. The twins were placed in different orphanages during the war and never saw each other again, so the only link Nora had to her past was that photo. She a.s.sumed the other child in the photo was her sister, but what if it wasn't? What if it was her brother? What if the children weren't identical twins? What if they were fraternal twins?"

"I'm not adopted!"

"Oh, my G.o.d, Guy! You may have found a sister you never knew you had! Don't you believe in serendipity?"

"I believe in good fortune happening by accident. I don't don't believe in pipe dreams. Now, will you drop it?" believe in pipe dreams. Now, will you drop it?"

"But think what this could mean to Heath! You could provide the closure he and his mother had been looking for for so many years, and that would be so meaningful to him. You look like him, you know. I didn't see it before because I wasn't looking for it, but you have the same full lips, the same blue eyes. You even have the same physique! You could have DNA testing done to eliminate all doubt. You have to talk to him, Guy. This is so amazing! You come to Australia to meet the relatives, and you end up with one more than you expected. A nephew! We need to speak to Henry. Heath is supposed to call him later, and when he does, maybe you can-"

"I told you to drop it!"

"But don't you want-"

"NO! I don't don't want! Kee-REIST, what the h.e.l.l is wrong with you? You couldn't leave well enough alone. You had to keep picking and picking. And that's a d.a.m.n shame, because I liked you, Emily. I really did." want! Kee-REIST, what the h.e.l.l is wrong with you? You couldn't leave well enough alone. You had to keep picking and picking. And that's a d.a.m.n shame, because I liked you, Emily. I really did."

Liked? Uh-oh. Past tense wasn't a good sign. "I'm sorry, Guy. I've been acting like an unfeeling, insensitive clod. I just get so excited when I start connecting the dots. This has to be a huge shock, and I haven't allowed you any time for it to sink in. Why don't we go back to the cafe and-" Uh-oh. Past tense wasn't a good sign. "I'm sorry, Guy. I've been acting like an unfeeling, insensitive clod. I just get so excited when I start connecting the dots. This has to be a huge shock, and I haven't allowed you any time for it to sink in. Why don't we go back to the cafe and-"

"What a lousy way to learn you're not who you think you are."

Guilt lodged like a hairball in my throat. "I'm sorry," I rasped, hoping a whirlpool would appear at my feet and swallow me whole.

"They could have told me when they were alive, but no, I had to find out after they were dead."

I placed my hand on Guy's forearm. "They probably had a very good reason for not telling you."

"It was all lies. There was no newspaper job in London. It was one giant cover-up to keep the truth from me. But I couldn't understand why. The newspaper clippings, the old family records, why would they want to hide those from me? Madelyn was one of the most respected names in Australian history. You'd think they would have been proud of that. But that's exactly why they had to keep it from me: because if I started asking questions, their world would collapse like a house of cards."

I could hear him talk; I just wish I understood what he was saying. "Um, I'm a little confused. Would you mind backing up to the part about newspaper clippings and old family records?"

He regarded me with eyes so distant, I wasn't sure he could actually see me. "I found them in the attic after my dad died-after the nephrologist told me that in addition to my being diabetic, my blood type was incompatible with my dad's, which meant, he couldn't have fathered me. I found everything-travel doc.u.ments, pa.s.sports. My parents left Canada right before the war for Australia. I found clippings about the Meridia Meridia and photos of my dad with his Aussie relatives. News articles about a s.h.i.+p that carried English orphans to New South Wales in nineteen-forty-six. A record of adoption for an English male child named Beverley Gooch by Nicole and Guy Madelyn. and photos of my dad with his Aussie relatives. News articles about a s.h.i.+p that carried English orphans to New South Wales in nineteen-forty-six. A record of adoption for an English male child named Beverley Gooch by Nicole and Guy Madelyn. My My adoption papers. I was apparently born in England, but my parents adopted me in Australia, then whisked me back home to Canada even before the ink had dried. I guess my dad didn't want the Aussie relatives finding out that Guy Junior, no longer known as Beverley, wasn't the genuine article. What a blow to the ego, eh? A man so inept, he can't get his own wife pregnant, so he needs to settle for someone else's kid." adoption papers. I was apparently born in England, but my parents adopted me in Australia, then whisked me back home to Canada even before the ink had dried. I guess my dad didn't want the Aussie relatives finding out that Guy Junior, no longer known as Beverley, wasn't the genuine article. What a blow to the ego, eh? A man so inept, he can't get his own wife pregnant, so he needs to settle for someone else's kid."

"It's not settling! Adopting a child has to be a wonderfully rewarding experience. Your dad couldn't have thought that."

"Then why the lies? Why the isolation? I'll tell you why. Because he was so ashamed, he couldn't face telling them the truth! So he cut off all ties to them so he wouldn't have to. I knew something was wrong. My dad always gave off these tense, angry vibes that would earn you a good smack if you crossed him on certain days. He was so cold and secretive. And that was the other thing. I wasn't blind. I wanted to know why I didn't look like either of my parents, and you wouldn't believe the double talk my dad dished out to explain it. I think that's the reason I went into photography. I wanted to find a face that looked like mine."

"And now you've found one!" I enthused. "Heath! Did you get pictures of him? Could you see the resemblance?"

Something dark and disturbing flickered in his eyes. "I didn't need to see him." He removed his wallet from his back pocket and slid a photo out from its plastic sheath. "I knew the moment I saw this."

He handed me a photo of a young woman with bobbed hair who was cuddling two toddlers in frilled pinafores and pipe curls. "This is Nora's picture. What are you doing with it?"

"It was in the same box as my adoption papers. When my mother delivered us to the orphanage, she apparently left a photo with each of us, only mine didn't include any names. I didn't know who the three people were until Nora showed me her photo, then it became fairly obvious. The three of us had been a family at one time. It was a photo of my biological family."

"So from that first day at Port Campbell, you knew Nora was a relative?"

"I knew she was a relative. You You made the nightmare complete by telling me she was my twin. What a great way to ruin a gold mine tour." made the nightmare complete by telling me she was my twin. What a great way to ruin a gold mine tour."

"You knew, and you didn't say anything?"

He reacted as if he'd been slapped. "What? Give up the celebrity of being a Madelyn to admit I was brother to a pathetic old crone whose biggest thrill in life had been to visit a Big Banana and a Big Oyster?"

"Yeah, but she was your sister! Did it really matter what her taste was in tourist attractions?"

"She was an embarra.s.sment! Can you imagine the looks on my kids' faces if I introduced them to the aunt they never knew? You think they'd want to introduce her to their friends? Maybe she could have entertained them by killing insects with her bare hands! How do you think that would have gone over?"

"She wasn't a freak," I said quietly.

"The only reason you can say that is because she wasn't related to you! In the neighborhood where I live, with the high-cla.s.s people I run with, she'd be a freak."

I inhaled a calming breath, but it didn't do much good. "I'm not sure why I ever thought you were such a nice man. You're nothing but a...a world-cla.s.s sn.o.b! And for your information? Nora had more cla.s.s than you could ever think think of having. Here's your picture back." of having. Here's your picture back."

He seized my wrist. "Like I said, Emily, I liked you, so I'm sorry it's come to this."

"What-!" I wrenched back on my arm. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Getting rid of leaks. Sorry, baby doll, you know too much."

"About your family history? Who cares about your stupid charade?" Which is when I realized that Guy Madelyn cared. He cared very much. "Oh, my G.o.d. You You killed her. You killed Nora!" killed her. You killed Nora!"

"You saw the shape she was in. She was way overdue. I just gave nature a little nudge before her fool son could track me down on any of the new internet adoption sites. You told me yourself he was getting close. So it was either take care of the problem now or risk having her show up on my front doorstoop. And that last part wasn't an option."

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d! You drugged her wine at the vineyard." Which must have required some fancy sleight of hand considering he hadn't been anywhere near her at the wine tasting.

"You know about the overdose?" He clucked his disgust. "Autopsies are a real pain in the a.s.s. However, in a tour group this size, I can't be the only person taking insulin tablets. And since I have no connection to Nora, what possible motive could I have had to kill her?"

"You spiked her wine with insulin? You killed your only sister by sending her into insulin shock?"

"You're not hearing me. I didn't want want her as a sister. And I didn't touch her wine. I dropped the crushed tablets into her cuc.u.mber raita at the Indian restaurant the other night. It mixed up incredibly well in that thick yogurt base. I doubt she ever tasted it." her as a sister. And I didn't touch her wine. I dropped the crushed tablets into her cuc.u.mber raita at the Indian restaurant the other night. It mixed up incredibly well in that thick yogurt base. I doubt she ever tasted it."

"But she didn't take ill until the next day! Do you know how many hours you made that poor woman suffer?"

"She didn't look as if she was suffering too badly."

"Not suffering badly? She died!" I yelled, driving my foot into his kneecap.

"OW! You-!" He yanked me against his chest and grabbed my hair, jarring every bone in my body and all thirty-two teeth. My bag fell off my shoulder. The photo blew away.

"Is that how you killed Claire?" I yelled into his face. "Did you send her into insulin shock, too?"

"Claire Bellows? Why would I kill her? I didn't even know her."

"You didn't know Nora, either!"

"And thankfully, it's going to remain that way. Look, Emily, I'm sorry to have to do this, but one of us needs to make an exit, and it's not going to be me."

He tramped into the surf, pulling me by the hair behind him. My mind raced. Adrenaline shot through me. Oh, my G.o.d. He was going to drown me in the kiddie pool!

"h.e.l.lLLLLLLLLP!" I shrieked. Hey, it always worked for Bernice. "HELP ME! SOMEBODY h.e.l.lLLLLLP!"

"Jeesuz Mighty." He clamped his hand over my mouth and jerked me off my feet, crus.h.i.+ng me against him.

"MMMMMMMMHHHHHHPPPPPP!" I pounded his forearms and flailed at his legs, my limbs whipping around like eggbeaters. I pounded his forearms and flailed at his legs, my limbs whipping around like eggbeaters.

He waded deeper into the surf, dragging me with him. Oh, G.o.d! Oh, G.o.d!

I bared my teeth and bit down hard on his finger.

"Aaarhh!"

"I'm glad Nora never found out you were her brother!" I screamed, when his hand flew off my mouth. "She didn't have to live with the disappointment!"

He plunged my head under the water.

Foam. Bubbles. m.u.f.fled quiet. Nooo! Nooo!