The Case of the Vanishing Twin

"Hey, Marco, did you hear the news this morning?" asked Wheeler.

"No. I purposely don't listen to the news in the morning so that I don't start the day pissed off," replied D'Agosta.

"There was another homicide, same MO. The problem is, they found the body down at the Berkeley Marina. One shot to the groin, one to the forehead. A man in his mid-thirties. This has to be our killer. Based on a receipt found in the victim's pocket, the Berkeley PD found his car at The Wolf restaurant in Oakland. Maybe they'll at least keep us in the loop on this one because of that," said Wheeler. "Our killer is going off the rails and picking up the pace. That's two homicides in two days. What the hell is going on?"

"Let's give Berkeley PD a call and see what we can work out," said D'Agosta.

"Definitely," replied Wheeler. "So does this mean that we have to rule Donna out? Or could it possibly be her brother, Donald? Jesus. This is getting weirder and weirder."

"Hey, maybe we can get a warrant to check out the GPS in Donald's car and see where he went last night," said D'Agosta.

"Excellent idea. Let's do that. The murderer has got to be one of them, for Christ's sake," said Wheeler.

D'Agosta picked up his phone to call his favorite judge.

11:05 a.m.

"Hey, Wheeler. It's a go on the warrant. Judge Davis gave us the warrant to check the GPS on Donald Dayton's car. I'll bet you a lunch that the GPS is going to place his car at the Berkeley Marina," said Detective D'Agosta.

"I'm not going to take your bet because I think you're right," replied Wheeler. "But let's go rattle Donald's cage and see what scurries out."

"Let's get Eric Nelson from the stolen car division to go along with us. He's a whiz at downloading the location history of a car. That will save us a lot of time," said D'Agosta.

Five minutes later, Eric Nelson walked into the Homicide Division.

"Hey, guys. Where are we going?" he asked.

"We have a suspect in a homicide that occurred last night, and we want to see if we can connect his car to the location and time of the murder," replied D'Agosta.

As the two detectives and Eric were getting ready to head on over to Donald Dayton's home, the phone rang.

NIKKI FONTAINE INVESTIGATIONS

GRAND AVENUE, OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA

July 6, 10:55 a.m.

"Jesus goddamn Christ," yelled Jessie as she was staring at her computer monitor.

Jessie had been spending the last several days focused like a laser researching Donald Dayton and his family's background to try to shed light on the current case involving him and his sister Donna.

Nikki is not going to believe any of this. I'm not sure I believe it. Now I'm convinced--we're in the middle of a another Twilight Zone episode.

Max had heard Jessie yell and walked over to her office to see what was going.

"Hey, hon, what's up? I heard you yelling just now. Is everything okay?" asked Max.

"Yeah--no, everything is not okay. I just found out some weird-ass stuff. I need to fill Nikki in on the details. Come with me. You're not gonna believe this shit," exclaimed Jessie.

Jessie and Max walked up to my door.

"Hey, Nikki. You got a second?" asked Jessie.

"Yeah. Okay. Come in and have a seat, both of you," I said with a confused frown displayed on my face. "What's up, Jessie?"

"Okay. You guys are gonna have to bear with me because this is some strange shit. We're talking Twilight Zone strange."

"All right, Jessie. Go for it," I said.

"You remember, you asked me to dig into Donald's entire family?"

"Yes, I remember. Please keep going."

"Okay. Here goes. So Donald was born on February 6, 1987. He's 36 years old. His parents were Margo and Henry Dayton. Margo died during childbirth, and Henry was killed in a car accident in 2013. After that, Donald was raised by his grandparents on his mom's side."

"You said Donald. What about Donna?" asked Max.

"Yeah, what about Donna?" I repeated.

"I'm getting there. Fasten your seat belts, kiddies. Okay. I'll take a little shortcut right here so you guys don't blow a gasket. Donald is an only child. He doesn't have a sister."

"What? Wait a minute," I interjected. "Donald says he has a sister that hurts him sometimes. I saw a cut mark on his arm that he said she did with a steak knife. I staked out his house and followed Donna on June 28. She went to The Layover Bar & Lounge on Franklin Street. She met a guy at the bar and left with him. I lost them, and he turned up dead two days later. I know I didn't imagine her. She was a beautiful lady who walked right out of Donald's house.

Who the hell's he talking about if he doesn't have a sister?"

"He's delusional. Donald and Donna are one and the same. Donald is Donald and Donna."

"Okay. What the fuck--" Max started to say.

"Hold on. This is just starting to get good," said Jessie, with a voice full of excitement.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I asked.

"I told you, this is weird stuff. So it turns out that Donald's mother was pregnant with twins, one boy and one girl. The girl was going to be named Donna. What happened was, she died in utero. I did some further checking. When one twin, or any multiple, as they call it, dies in utero, the remaining twin, or whatever, or the mother, absorbs the fetal tissue from the dead fetus. Usually, that's all that happens. No special medical treatment is necessary unless some other condition is present that requires it.

"In Donald's case, something so rare happened that it's only happened a few times in human history. Not only did Donald absorb the fetal tissue, but he also absorbed his dead twin's personality! I told you this is some weird shit.

"I dug further and found out that Donald has been seeing a therapist for most of his life helping him deal with this. He has a form of multiple personality disorder. Usually, when someone has this condition, they refer to it as dissociative identity disorder, or DID. When someone has this psychological condition, they can have up to ten or fifteen distinct personalities bouncing around in their head, and any one of them can rise to the top and take over the person at any time. The person then takes on that specific personality and other traits. When they switch back to their principal or another of their personalities, they have no memory of the different personalities. It's a type of amnesia.

"What makes Donald's case so strange is that he is aware of his sister. He may not be aware when she takes over or what she does when she does take over, but he is aware that she exists. So she, Donna, might well be a murderer, and even though Donald is carrying out the murders, he is not aware of it. When she checks out, and he's back in control, he has no memory of what has happened.

"I have a sneaking hunch--and this is me speaking, not any medical text or research paper--that the Donna persona has the power to take over the weaker Donald persona at will. Then she can go and do her murderous deeds and run back and hide inside Donald and let him deal with it.

"I think that's why the police can never find her because she doesn't really exist.

"Well, like it or not, that's what I was able to find out. I yield the floor, ladies," concluded Jessie.

I said, "Are you--"

"What the fuck? You must be kidding," interjected Max. "I have a question. Who is our client? Is it Donald? If it's Donald, does it include Donna? You lost me in this one. Drinks are on me tonight."

"So you're telling me that I followed Donald dressed as Donna the other night?" I said.

"It has to be," replied Jessie. "There's no Donna."

"Well, shit," I replied. "Donald sure looks fine when he dresses up. Jesus. I'm gonna need therapy myself before this damn case is through."

OAKLAND POLICE DEPARTMENT

HOMICIDE DIVISION

July 7, 10:05 a.m.

"This is Detective Wheeler. How may I help you?"

"Good morning, Detective Wheeler. Guess who this is?"

"I can tell that we've been talking on the phone way too much. Hi, Nikki, what's going on this time?"

"I have some crucial information about Donna Dayton that you've just got to hear. My employee Jessie found out something that will make you light-headed. Do you and Detective D'Agosta have time to drop by my office sometime today?"

"We're walking out the door right now to pay a visit to Donald Dayton. We've got a warrant to check his car's GPS to see if his car was at the Berkeley Marina last night. Did you see the news this morning? There's been another homicide with the same MO as our new serial killer. This time they found the body by the water at the Berkeley Marina."

"Jesus," I said. "What's that, number four?"

"As far as we can tell, yes," said Wheeler, "unless there are more that we don't know about yet. But our killer is rapidly picking up the pace. There have been two homicides in the last two days. We need to find this killer before the public starts panicking and the Mayor starts questioning our abilities.

"How about we stop by your office this afternoon after we've processed Donald's car?"

"That's fine," I replied. "We'll be here. And be prepared to fall off your chair when you hear what we have for you."

"Wonderful. I can't wait," said Wheeler. "See you later."

"Good-bye, Detective."

1527 FARALLON WAY

OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA

July 7, 11:50 a.m.

Detectives D'Agosta, Wheeler, and computer tech Eric pulled up in front of Donald and Donna Dayton's home. A 2023 Audi A6 was sitting in the driveway. They walked up the stairs to the front door and rang the doorbell. After about 20 seconds, Donald Dayton opened the door.

"Oh, it's you again. What is it you want this time?" asked Donald.

"Can you tell us where you were last night between seven and eleven?" asked Detective Wheeler.

"I was home all night. I was watching a silly sci-fi movie on Netflix, and then I did some reading. Why?"

"I don't think you're being truthful with us, Mr. Dayton," said Wheeler.

"Are you calling me a liar?" asked Donald.

"We don't resort to name-calling. But we were parked two houses down from your house last night, waiting to see if your sister, Donna, left your home or returned to it. She is a person of interest in several homicides in Oakland and Berkeley.

"A funny thing happened last night. We watched you walk out of your house and get into your car at about 7:20, and then you drove off. So we know right off the bat that you are lying to us. Where did you go last night? We were still here when you got back home just before eleven. If you hide anything from us, it's just going to make things harder for you."

"I'm telling you the truth. I don't remember going anywhere last night," exclaimed Donald.

"Okay," replied Wheeler. "If that's how you want to do it. We have a warrant here, signed by a judge, allowing us to access the GPS tracking system in your car and inspect your car's location history for last night. This gentleman with us is Eric, and he will be the one performing the search of your car's location history. Would you please get the keys to your car for us, Mr. Dayton?"

"I can't believe this," replied an agitated Donald. "Here you go."

Detective Wheeler handed the keys to Eric.

"Okay, Eric. It's all yours. Go see what you can find for us."

"Give me five minutes, and I'll have this car's locations from last night," said Eric.

Five minutes later, as advertised, Eric was completed with his GPS location check on Donald Dayton's Audi A6.

"I downloaded the information onto my iPhone. Just as you suspected, this car was at the Berkeley Marina last night from 9:40 p.m. to 10:10 p.m. It looks like it came straight to this location after that."

"Thank you, Eric."

"Donald Dayton, based on the evidence we have collected so far in this case, and the fact that you lied about where you were last night, that you were, in fact, at the scene of a homicide, we are going to place you under arrest for the murder of Randy Paulson. Please turn around and place your hands behind your back." DONALD'S CAR STAYED AT THE RESTAURANT

"This is insane," said Donald. "I'm telling you that I was at home. I didn't murder anybody. You're making a huge mistake."

"That's what they all say just about the time we're slapping handcuffs on them," said D'Agosta. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. If you can't afford an attorney, one will be provided to you. Do you understand your rights as I have just read them to you?"

"Yeah, yeah, I understand," replied Donald.

"Then I'd ask that you exercise your right to shut up and stop talking," said D'Agosta.

Detective D'Agosta placed Donald Dayton in the back seat of the unmarked police car, with Eric sitting next to him, and was transported to the Oakland jail on 6th Street and booked into the jail, charged with Randy Paulson's homicide.

NIKKI FONTAINE INVESTIGATIONS

GRAND AVENUE, OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA

July 7, 1:50 p.m.

Nora was just hanging up from a phone call when the front door to the office swung open, and Detectives D'Agosta and Wheeler strolled in and walked up to Nora's desk.

"Hi, Nora," said Detective D'Agosta. We're here to see Miss Fontaine."

"I'll let her know you're here. She should be right out," said Nora.

"Good afternoon, Detectives. Why don't you come to my office? Nora, please ask Max and Jessie to join us. Thank you."

Max and Jessie walked over to my office and sat down at the extra chairs I had brought into my office.

"I believe you know Max and Jessie, my associates," I said.

"Of course," said Wheeler.

"Nice to see you again, ladies," said D'Agosta.

"So, how did things go with Donald Dayton?" I asked.

"Good for us, horribly bad for him," replied Wheeler.

"What happened?" I asked.

"To start with, he lied about where he was last night. We were staking his house out two nights ago, hoping Donna would show up or we'd catch her leaving. We saw Donald leave and then return several hours later. He told us he was home all night. We got a warrant to check his car's GPS location history, and his car had been at the scene of the homicide at the Berkeley Marina two nights ago. Based on that information, and his lying to us, we arrested him, and he is now a guest at the Oakland jail," said Detective Wheeler.

"Jesus," I said. "Well, I think we have some information that might shed some light on why Donald lied to you about where he was last night. I'll just have Jessie explain to you what she's been able to find out, and then we'll go from there. Fasten your seat belts; this ride might get bumpy.

"I know it's a long story, Jessie, but please repeat the whole thing so the Detectives can digest it all. Thank you."

"Okay," said Jessie.

Jessie described everything she had found out about Donald's mother being pregnant with twins, one of the twins dying, and Donald absorbing the dead female twin's personality. And also the fact that the female character would take over Donald's male personality and do things beyond Donald's control. Plus, Donald thought that Donna might be going out and hurting people, including cutting him with a knife.

"Jesus Christ," exclaimed Detective Wheeler. "That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard. So does that mean that we can't hold Donald responsible for any crime committed while Donna was in control of his mind and body?"

"That's way above my pay grade," I replied. "I have no idea what the law does with something like this. There probably isn't any law dealing with this situation. There probably haven't been more than a small handful of similar situations in human history. Surely not enough times that someone needs to make laws to deal with it."

"Well, they're going to arraign Donald this afternoon, and a judge will set his bail. He's got enough money that he'll be able to make bail, even if it is a high one," said Wheeler. "You'll probably be hearing from him sometime later today or tomorrow. In the meantime, we'll go back to the station, and maybe we can make something out of all this craziness. "Thanks for sharing your information with us. It gives us a better picture of what's going on, even if it still is a confusing mess. Keep us posted if you find out anything else you think we should know. Thanks again, all of you. Great job, Jessie."

The two detectives drove back to the OPD knowing more than they did at the start of the day but were smothered in confusion simultaneously.

"How about we take off at four and go to my place and drain one or two bottles of red and try to make some sense out of this mess?" I said to Max.

"I'm right there with you, darlin'," replied Max.

NIKKI FONTAINE'S RESIDENCE

ST. CHARLES STREET, ALAMEDA

July 7, 5:05 p.m.

Max and I arrived at my place in separate cars and walked into the house. After setting our purses on the table next to the coat closet, we headed to the kitchen, and I opened a bottle of red zin. After kicking off our shoes, we settled into the sofa in the living room.

"Let the decompression begin," said Max as she took a slow sip of her wine.

"So tell me what you think about this Donald/Donna fiasco," I asked.

"I'll probably need to be on the other side of three glasses of this wonderful red zin before I can even begin to wrap my mind around this conundrum," replied Max.

"If this crazy story is true, they're going to have to start adding or rewriting criminal laws to cover it," I said. "I mean, if one of Donald's alter egos was in charge of his thinking and actions, how could he be held responsible for his actions? On the other hand, it looks like he's the person who committed these homicides. They have to charge someone with the murders. What a mess."

"I'm just as confused as you, darlin'," replied Max. "But there's a scientific explanation for this situation. It's some crazy shit."

"Okay. That's settled. What will be will be, is how I'm looking at it. It looks like your glass needs a refill," I said.

"Amen, sista. You know how wine affects me."

"I know. Why do you think I'm so eager to give you refills?" I replied.

I set my glass down on the coffee table and pressed my lips lightly against the side of Max's neck, and then kissed her on her ear. Max started purring, prompting me to reach my hand over and gently pull Max close enough to direct my next kiss to Max's luscious lips and kissed her deeply and passionately.

"Oh, baby," said Max while trying to control her rapidly increasing breathing.

I responded by carefully taking Max's wine glass, placing it on the coffee table, and pulling Max down with me as I reclined down onto the couch and released the full force of my passion.

We came up for air just long enough to finish the first bottle of wine, and then I opened a second bottle; we relocated upstairs to my bedroom, where we found shelter in each other's arms and shared the pent-up passion that had been building up for the last several days. Neither of us seemed interested in dinner.

NIKKI FONTAINE INVESTIGATIONS

GRAND AVENUE, OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA

July 8, 10:45 a.m.

Max and I were able to drive directly from my home in Alameda to the office on Grand Avenue because I had told Max to keep several changes of work and going out on the town clothes in one of my spare bedrooms for situations just like this. You just never knew when an amorous visit would turn into an overnight adventure. I kept some of my clothes at Max's apartment for the same reason. I love the flexibility this affords us.

It was starting to be another hot day in Oakland and the entire Bay Area. Summer was beginning in earnest and was a welcome time of year. There were lovely beaches in Alameda, as well as art fairs and festivals everywhere for couples and families to enjoy just about every weekend. Today was Friday, and Max and I were planning a leisurely drive down the coast on Highway 1 just for the fun of it. I thought we'd spend Saturday night at a hotel in San Simeon in a room that had a fireplace. These were special rooms beautifully located within 50 feet of the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean.