Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

see him come in. As she looked up, she held her phone to her ear, smiled, and signaled both hello and wait . He sat next to her, asked the night bartender for a beer, and looked at her as she began to speak into the phone.
    “Polly? … Hi. This is Max. Listen, I’ve been trying to get hold of you for a couple of days now. Your husband never stopped by to pick up that quilt …”
    Jack hadn’t really been paying much attention to her conversation other than to note that it sounded like she finally got hold of Polly. But he noticed when her voice suddenly dropped to a whisper: “Oh my God.”
    He looked over and saw the color draining from her face. She slumped and it looked like the life was being sucked out of her. “Max?” he said.
    There was no sign from her that she had even heard him; she was so focused on whatever was being said on the other end of the line. “Yes, I see … If there is anything I can do …” Then she slowly took the phone from her ear and closed it gently, muffling its snap as she looked down at the bar.
    Jack was sure that he saw her eyes beginning to well up with tears and he reached over to touch her shoulder. “Max, what …”
    His question was interrupted by Patti’s arrival, “Hey, Jack.” Then before she could say anything else, she saw the look on Max’s face. She stopped, looking back and forth between them. “Max? Jack? What’s going on?”
    Before he could respond, Max looked up at him as a tear spilled down her cheek. “He’s dead,” she croaked in not much more than a whisper.
    Jack spoke first as Patti looked on, confused by what she was saying. “Max? Did you just say someone’s dead?”
    She nodded her head because she couldn’t get the words out. Jack got up from his seat, stood next to her, and put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and he gently pulled her close. He felt her shudder as she took a deep breath. Then she pulled away and looked up at him.
    Before he could say anything, she wiped her cheeks with her hand and answered his questions. “Malcom, Polly’s husband, is dead.”
    “What? How?” said Jack in stunned disbelief.
    “He was the man you fell on.”
    Now it was Jack’s turn to blanch. “What?”
    “He never came home from the race. So on Monday, she called the Ipswich Police. They told her that an unidentified man in running clothes had been found in the woods during the race. She went down, and it was him.”
    “You’re shitting me,” said Jack. It seemed impossible to comprehend what he had just been told.

CHAPTER 63
    ALFRED AND THOMAS WERE IDENTICAL twins, so identical in fact that it was difficult for even their mother to tell them apart. Occasionally, they did twin switches as an innocent prank, and when revealed, those pranks always got a laugh because everyone was fooled. Sometimes, though, a prank went wrong, and when that happened, it was always Thomas who got the blame. No one ever knew how much that hurt him.
    When the summer weather was really hot, they would play with their friends down by the river. An old rope hung from a tree at the river’s edge, and they’d use it to swing out over the river before dropping off into the cold water. It was during their twelfth summer that it happened. It was terribly hot. A bunch of them were meeting by the river to swim and cool off. Alfred and Thomas were the first ones to arrive, and Alfred beat Thomas to the swing. He swung out over the river, and when he let go of the rope, he tried to do a somersault before hitting the water. He didn’t spin fast enough, so he fell into the water backward and upside down. The tide was dropping and the water was shallower than usual. He must have hit his head and broke his neck, because he slowly floated to the surface.
    Thomas raced home for help in a panic. When he ran into the house and told his mother what had happened, she panicked. In her confusion, she called him Alfred, assuming that Alfred would never have done such a stupid thing. Thomas never corrected her.
    To his surprise, Thomas found that the days that followed were magical. He was fawned over. He was the special one. As he watched his twin being buried, he made the decision to remain Alfred forever.
    Now, for the entire drive home from Rye, Alfred felt triumphant. He was going to show them all. Everyone always said his brother was the smarter one, but he was the smart one. He was alive and his brother was not.
    * * *
    Once home, Alfred checked the paper