Tracked Down

"So, before he gets back, would you like me to take you someplace? You don't want to stay around until we pin down which twin is alive and which one dead?"

I paused, but on the whole . . .

"No, I think I'll give this one the benefit of the doubt for now. I've seen him in action—and been in action with him. I just feel like believing him."

Clarke gave me a grin. "I gotta tell you that this guy pans out for me. He just seems like the Ken Sheffield I know."

"Unless the two of them have been trading off for years in preparation for something like this," I said.

"I guess," Clarke said. "But this one and I talked while we were down in Frederiksted. We talked about you, and how good you are in the clutch. I was going to stick around here until Ken got back, and we were sort of wondering . . . well . . ."

"Whether the three of us could party?" I said. And then when he didn't answer right off. "That sounds good to me."

"Well, Ken and I cruise together sometimes, and one of the things we like—"

"You two want to double me, don't you?" I laughed.

He looked sheepish.

"Sure. That sounds fine to me. You're both hunks."

He grinned and pulled out his cellphone. "Let me track him down on where he is now and how long he thinks it'll be before he's here."

As he was making the call, I picked up the photograph of the Sheffield family. The more I looked at it the more it seemed that the photos I'd seen of the Kevin Sheffield matched that of the older Sheffield boy in this photo than they did the twins. Could it be, I wondered. Had anyone checked on where the older brother was and what he'd done in life? Were we all being played for fools?