Duplicate

By Harris Dickson Shortle

No man in Louisiana would have believed the fearless advocate John Laronde might be panicked by a snapshot. But it had taken him quite by surprise. It had come so suddenly.

Everything was going along as normal for John Laronde. Now a prominent attorney in Louisiana, he was certain he and Ruth had left the past in the past. But when a series of photographs revealing his past, all mysteriously marked Duplicate, turn up in stacks of mail awaiting him in his office, he suddenly realizes that someone out there knows the secret only he and Ruth should know. And even stranger, the snapshots have been mailed from different cities and on different dates, a clue the sender has followed their trail from New York City to Louisiana. Suddenly John and Ruths stable life is thrown into chaos as the sender begins taking diabolical delight in tormenting them.

When a murder shocks them all, an entire community will be shaken with a truth hidden for twenty-six years.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493157044

Harris Dickson Shortle

Harris Dickson Shortle, a cum laude graduate of The Sewanee Military Academy, was a student of Latin and Caesar’s Gallic Wars, from which he gleaned knowledge of Roman and Gallic tactics and of the ancillary Gallic challenges generated by their renowned leaders. He has great appreciation for the Italian culture from their 1600s on.

Book preview

Prologue

John and Ruth Laronde wanted to begin a family soon after they became established at Dead Cypress Camp but deferred it until their anonymity seemed reasonably assured.

John’s sickening dread had been that some former classmate with no ability to build a metropolitan law practice would try his luck among the cypress brakes, or any party of investors from the east might bring a tourist to slap him on the back and guffaw, Hello, Francis! Francis Coulter! What are you doing here?

John had been salutatorian of his law class at Columbia, not quite achieving valedictorian as his father had in his. He had been an avid tennis player who had lost few interscholastic matches and no intramural ones. He won tactfully but decisively, always respecting a good opponent. John complimented each vanquished foe as though he had been just lucky to have won.

Daily John demonstrated his abilities in his practice of law in a professional, refined manner, providing each client more than was expected.

Yet warily as he scanned every stranger, nobody ever pointed an accusing finger. Eight years of security had given them the confidence to finally begin their family.

After John’s days of lawyering, he would hurry home to be with Ruth as she sewed for their child, who was anticipated eagerly.

They talked of the baby’s future in the grandest of terms. Ruth carried low and forward, experiencing unexpected discomfort from time to time. August of 1915 brought with it intolerable humidity in addition to the late summer heat, which took blackout tolls on Ruth, but she didn’t complain. For her safety and that of their child, John took her to see Dr. T. P. Singletary, founder of Baton Rouge General Hospital.

When they had parked the car in the hospital’s oyster-shell lot, John took Ruth’s hands in his. He looked her in the eye warmly.

Ruth, we both know how much this baby means to us now and will mean to us from now on, so if you have any reservations about Dr. Singletary or the hospital, please be open about them. His reputation is excellent, and I want only the best for you and the baby. Don’t suffer any emotional discomfort because of any misgivings you feel toward him. Since your father is an obstetrician, you should be able to judge readily if he is right for you. If he isn’t, we will find another doctor.

Thank you, sweetheart. That makes a big difference to me.

John helped Ruth from the car gingerly, and they headed toward the double front doors to the registration desk in the waiting room, passing workers and debris that goes with expansion construction. The way the reception supervisor was looking down at some papers reminded them of someone who had been sucking on green persimmons.

John and Ruth approached the reception area slowly. John’s right hand was cupped beneath Ruth’s left elbow to support her as she struggled her way toward the desk. When they got close enough, John could read the name on her tag: Renee Abinette, R.N.

Ms. Abinette, we are John and Ruth Laronde. Ruth has an appointment with Dr. Singletary at ten thirty this morning.

We were expecting you. An examination room is available. Dr. Singletary will see you there.

Thank you, Ms. Abinette.

When Dr. Singletary came into the room with Nurse Verloin, he was smiling as he introduced himself.

I am Dr. Thomas Singletary. I have been looking forward to meeting both of you, first from talking with John, who explained your pregnancy as only a nervous father-to-be can, and secondly because he indicated you are nearing term.

John and Ruth both looked at him and laughed.

I didn’t realize I sounded that anxious, John said.

New fathers seldom, if ever, do.

Ruth laughed. It’s permissible for him to be concerned, but he doesn’t want anyone else to be. That is one of his endearing traits.

Although neither of them could compare Dr. Singletary openly to Ruth’s father, a practicing physician in Lower Merion Township, Pennsylvania, close to Bryn Mawr College where Ruth had graduated, they had kindred feelings for him because of professional similarities and the same warm, genuine goodness. Although soft-spoken, he enunciated clearly to avoid any misunderstandings. His personality was so engaging both of them were at ease even though Ruth felt hugely uncomfortable.

Dr. Singletary examined Ruth and pronounced her fit, although he was concerned about her blackouts.

Since the baby is low and forward and there have been blackouts, I feel strongly that Ruth should be admitted to the hospital until the baby is born. That’s not an order. You are welcome to leave now, but based on what we know plus what we won’t know until the test results are back, I think Ruth should stay here under my supervision. Birth is imminent.

John was crestfallen. He had wanted to be close to Ruth every day as their baby approached. He agreed to her hospitalization but only under Dr. Singletary’s care.

Each day, and sometimes twice when he could get away, John drove from Dead Cypress to Baton Rouge General until August 27. John loved Ruth so deeply that each time he drove to see her he recited the last stanza of a poem he remembered from Blackmore’s Lorna Doone, hoping to make the miles pass faster.

ZZZZZ

Hence may I ensue, love,

All a woman’s due,

Comforting my true love,

With a love as true.

ZZZZZ

Ruth’s labor pains became closer together, and on the twenty-eighth, Helen was born at 5:30 p.m. To John, she was the most beautiful baby in the world! The first time he held her, one would have thought he was handling the finest of Limoges. She squalled like the others in the nursery, but to John it was an aria. Ruth was obviously weak but her glow said she was blessed by her beautiful child, the product of their undying love.

John attended to his rough-and-tumble practice with great aplomb and extended his backwoods reputation, while his Ruth, the incomparable Ruth, went about her drudgery with a song. Ruth always sang, whether cooking, washing, mending, cleaning, or tending the growing Helen who, from the time she was in diapers, would play with spoons in the muddy yard at Dead Cypress Camp—her sandy hair awry. He revered those memories as he considered vindication for his actions of years earlier.

Edward Carey, a tough but fair lumber baron and railroad president, retained John occasionally to defend an employee in the criminal courts or to draw contracts for hauling logs. Since each matter was handled so deftly, the transactions became larger and larger. So when Mr. Carey’s company took over its recently purchased line, John was virtually forced to relocate to Rochelle to handle the increasing cases.

Before committing to this move, he and Ruth considered the relocation with trepidation. Each expressed concerns the larger town on the railroad trunk line would expose them to more gadabouts who would see them, but they had risked it. After a few years, when all appeared safe, they bought Windsong. He and Ruth, with five-year-old Helen giving her brand of help, restored the manor and the outbuildings to their former grace. It became a showplace and a festive gathering spot.

From the time the Larondes bought Windsong, Helen had begun her campaign to have her very own horse. Ruth told John she felt Helen’s want for the pet had been romanticized by books she had read about handsome, heroic knights riding courageous steeds to rescue damsels in distress. The desire was emphasized by the fun her friends had told her they had riding theirs for pleasure and in horse shows. Having outlined the responsibility an equestrienne takes on her shoulders, John could not dissuade Helen.

John’s friend and client, Wendell Hughes, his accountant, whose son, Josh, was going east to college that fall, needed to find someone to care for his gelding while Josh was away. That remark registered in the back of John’s mind while he was drafting the particulars for Wendell’s will and helping set his house in order. Wendell’s wife, Sarah, had passed away the previous year, and Wendell was in the process of selling their raised cottage with its long, wide veranda and the other properties that reminded him of his wife of twenty-three years.

While John’s thoughts noted the comment immediately, he didn’t mention it until all the necessary information for the documents was noted for dictation.

When he had all the facts he needed, John approached Wendell about Josh’s horse to see if this would be a worthwhile investment for Helen and for them.

Tell me about Josh’s horse, Wendell. John asked.

"His name is Snip-Snap, he is 15 hands and is about five years old. When he was shod last week, I had Steve Lindley, the vet, come out to check him because we can’t keep him while Josh is away. There won’t be anyone to take care of him. Steve said he’s fit as a fiddle.

"He and Josh are quite attached to each other. Josh has doted on Snip-Snap since he was a cute, playful but gangly, dapple gray yearling. Every time Josh walks toward the fence, Snip-Snap whinnies softly to hurry Josh along with the carrots, apples, or other treats he knows Josh is bringing for him.

After he has meant so much to Josh and Josh to him, we want to find him a good home, someone who will care for him as Josh has.

Is he gaited?

Yes. And he is versatile enough for Josh to hunt him and show him in five-gaited equitation, even some jumping classes. Because of this, he has two saddles, two bridles, several bits, a couple of hackamores, a halter, a martingale for shows, blankets, brushes, and curry combs, all the necessities. Why do you ask?

John explained. Helen wants us to get her a horse, but we are a little skeptical. As a ten-year-old, it’s time to consider one for her. She is always around them and loves them. Whenever she goes to the home of a friend who has a horse, apples or carrots seem to disappear rather mysteriously.

He went on. "We have room to build a small barn with stalls, a tack room, and feed storage if a horse is something she will enjoy. And we have more than enough room to put in a paddock. But first she must prove to herself and to us she deserves to own one. They are great fun but much work and no small degree of responsibility.

"Josh and Helen can arrange a meeting at your place to visit Snip-Snap and to inspect the tack. We will be there with them. There is to be no mention of our buying Snip-Snap. Not even Josh is to know. Helen is responsible and attentive. If she takes care of Snip-Snap as we believe she will, we can tell her the horse is hers after she has bonded with him and cared for him properly.

If there is agreement that Snip-Snap is right for Helen, we will buy him, but Snip-Snap will stay in his own barn until Helen learns to care for him and we get our barn built. Agreed?

Yes, and they shook hands on it.

That evening at dinner, Helen was so happy she was bubbly and fidgety as they were being seated. Hardly had they put their napkins in their laps after John said grace when she began.

Mommy! Daddy! The most wonderful thing happened today after I got home from school!

John and Ruth said almost in unison, And what was that, dear?

"Josh Hughes rang me this afternoon. That surprised me. He is older and is graduating from St. Jude’s this year. When Elvira told me who was on the line, I couldn’t imagine why he would be asking for me.

He said he needed someone to take care of his horse, Snip-Snap, while he is away at college. When he asked if I would be interested, I was so surprised I jumped at the chance. It would help him, and I’ve always wanted a horse! May I please?

John felt he and Ruth knew what Helen was going to ask, but hadn’t anticipated her degree of enthusiasm.

Helen rang Josh after dinner from the phone in the hall. John, still in the dining room relaxing over coffee and a brandy, could hear his daughter’s excitement. Josh, guess what? My parents said I may take care of Snip-Snap for you. We will be there tomorrow afternoon between five and five thirty to let my parents see him and spend some time with him, if that’s all right with you.

Helen was up at the crack of dawn and greeted her father at breakfast, Oh Daddy, I am so excited I hardly slept last night. You will be on time, won’t you?

Josh welcomed the Larondes and was joined shortly by Wendell. The whole group gathered at Snip-Snap’s stall. Helen and Josh went straight to Snip-Snap while the parents inspected the leathers, keeping an eye on the children at the same time. Snip-Snap began nuzzling at Josh’s pockets for carrots. Josh didn’t have any. This was to be Helen’s time with her new charge.

Helen had a carrot cut into small pieces for Snip-Snap. She put the first piece in the palm of her hand and offered it to him. He sniffed her and the carrot, finally taking it from her hand delicately with his soft lips that tickled her hand.

She looked up, smiled, and giggled as she said, I think he likes me.

Josh said, I’m sure he does. You have been kind to him. He will always remember that, and you.

May I ride him a little?

He is ready to have his evening feed, but I don’t think there will be anything wrong with a short ride for the two of you to get acquainted.

They went to the tack room for a bridle, saddle, and blanket. Josh started to put the blanket on Snip-Snap’s back, but Helen stopped him.

If I’m going to be taking care of him, I might as well start now.

Josh showed Helen how to put on the blanket, saddle, and bridle. He was surprised by how well she did. She had a smooth and efficient manner about her.

How about a leg up, Josh?

All you have to do is take the reins in your left hand like this, just as though you are going to get into the saddle. Touch his left front fetlock lightly with the toe of your boot. Go ahead. Do it now.

Helen did, and her face shone with delight as Snip-Snap knelt so she could step into the stirrup. Helen giggled and Josh laughed. From then on, they would be fast friends.

Josh gave her instructions and Helen rode for a few minutes under the watchful eyes of Wendell, Josh, John, and Ruth. She settled into the saddle as though she had been riding Snip-Snap for years—gentle, but firm with the reins. He responded fluidly; his walk, rack, trot, and easy canter were symphonies. Even the changing of leads was smooth. Helen beamed, knowing she had ridden well, and her control of this new addition to her activities had impressed the onlookers.

She stepped from the saddle with the assurance of one who had a successful initiation. She was serene in the day’s gloaming.

John saw how neat and clean the premises were for a small barn with stalls, tack room, and feed area. Wendell told him how hard Josh had worked to keep the stables with everything in its place as if Sarah were still a living equestrienne. He said he did that as a tribute to her memory, even though her prized mare had been sold shortly after she died.

Every morning as John was getting ready for the day, he could see Helen on her bicycle by six heading down the cotton wagon road parallel to the highway to see Snip-Snap before she went to school. He watched as carrots and apples disappeared in small chunks into Helen’s pockets—treats for Snip Snap. Each evening she would greet her father just before dinner having hurried to see and care for Snip Snap and still smelling of the barn. John marveled at how she always seemed to have just enough time to wash, dress for dinner, and arrive once again a proper young lady.

He noted that increasingly Helen’s life revolved around that beautiful horse, as she never wanted to be away from him. In her free time, she was always polishing his saddle and bridle, brushing his coat, cleaning his hooves, braiding his mane, or riding him as proudly as though he was the most valuable of Arabians. To her he was! When John and Ruth saw her love for the animal, they granted her wish.

That chosen evening at dinner, John, Ruth, and Helen were talking about Helen’s activities of the day and her wish to go to a different school when John said, Helen, you have been so good with Snip-Snap in the face of all your other commitments. Your mother and I feel you should know Snip-Snap really is yours. We arranged it with Wendell from the beginning so long as he agreed to not say anything to you about it. We wanted to be confident Snip-Snap was right for you and you would take good care of him.

Helen put her palms on her cheeks in surprise and shrieked with joy. Tears streaked down her lovely face. She sobbed with visible joy as she thanked and hugged her father and her mother. She was deliriously happy!

Although Rochelle had a relatively new and growing public school system, Ruth told John she felt its offerings would not contribute to Helen’s successes later in life.

Often, Helen comes home and make comments like, I’m bored with this. Sometimes the teachers have to go