So instead of approaching Sam directly, Henry McCoy tried to learn all about him first. He had, in fact, stalked his twin — not for any bad reasons, Marge insisted. Just to get to know him in a secondhand way so that he wouldn't make some dreadful gaffe when they did meet.
Henry took an apartment in Chicago and got a sales job with a farm implement company that allowed him freedom of movement, and started "studying" Sam, learning all about him so he could decide when and how to approach him in person.
He learned about Sam's car dealership-something he knew about since he, too, had been interested in car sales and had worked for several dealerships, but hadn't been an owner. He researched local papers for any mention of the Claypools and learned that Sam had been in a civic choir for some years. Henry, too, had a good voice and was interested in music. He started thinking they might get along well, with these common interests.
“Then why didn't he arrange to meet your husband?" the sheriff asked.
“Because Sam was. . well, daunting. Very formal, rather cold. Except with customers."
“So Henry approached you, instead?" Taylor asked.
“Oh, no! No, he didn't," Marge exclaimed. "The first time I saw him, really saw him, was here. Looking in the window of the dining room the first night. In all those years I'd wondered about Sam's birth brother, it had never occurred to me, for some reason, that they might be identical twins instead of fraternal. And to see Sam sitting at the table in the lodge and the same person looking in the window. .”
Jane remembered the moment all too well. If this was true — and she wasn't convinced it was — then Marge hadn't seen a scary stranger in the window.
She'd seen her husband's doppelganger. Even though she'd known he had a twin, that must have been a horrible shock.
“You're certain you hadn't seen him before?" Taylor pressed the point.
“No. Really. But I knew there was something odd going on. Or at least I thought so. But I thought maybe I was going crazy. For about the last six months, I kept having the feeling we were being watched," Marge said. "We'd go to a movie or a concert and I'd have the sense that somebody was looking at us. And every time a strange car would park on the street, I'd think it was someone observing our house. It made me terribly nervous and upset. But I had no proof. Just a feeling.”
She thought for a moment. "Maybe I had seen Henry before. One time I saw Sam in the grocery store parking lot. I guess now it must have been Henry. I must ask him about it. When Sam came home that night, I asked him what he was doing there, and he said he wasn't anywhere near the store that day. I was sure it was him and for some reason he was lying to me."
“Did you talk to Sam about it, the feeling of being followed and observed?" Jane asked. She hadn't meant to say anything, but it popped out. Sheriff Taylor gave her a quick, critical glance, but waited for Marge's answer.
“I tried to. Once. It made Sam so angry that I didn't mention it again."
“Why did it make him angry?" Taylor asked. "Because he had the same feeling," Marge said. "Oh, he didn't admit it. But I'm sure that's what itwas. He was hateful about it. Said I needed to take more estrogen, that I was getting the middle-aged crazies. That I ought to see a shrink, except it would be a waste of money. Sam wasn't—" Her voice caught. "Sam wasn't a very loving person. Not affectionate. But he wasn't nasty like that. I was stunned by it. That's how I knew that he'd been upset about being watched before I ever mentioned it. The only other thing it could have been—" She stopped.
“What's the other thing?" Taylor asked.
“It's so stupid. I thought maybe Sam was the one spying on me. Or somebody he'd hired was doing it. Men his age sometimes get tired of their wives. And it crossed my mind that he might be trying to — to `get' something on me he could use to divorce me. Something like an affair that he could use against me. Sam. ." She paused and drew a long breath and sat up very straight as if to brace herself against her own words. "Sam didn't really like me very much, you see. I'm not sure he liked anybody. But I really bored him. I think he only married me because I was pretty when I was a girl. And he wanted a family. Children. When we realized — a long time ago — that I'd never have any babies, he just lost interest.”
Jane could almost hear her heart breaking for Marge. Such a terrible admission.
“He wouldn't let me get a job," Marge said. "He felt it would reflect badly on him. Make people think the car dealership wasn't successful. ." Her voice trailed off.
“When did Henry plan on approaching your husband directly?" the sheriff asked.
“I don't know. You'll have to ask him. Where is he?"
“I don't know yet. I have my people out looking for him now."
“Henry will tell you everything. He meant no harm, he was just nervous about how Sam would act when they met. It was terribly important to him that they get off on the right footing."
“And did they ever meet?" Taylor asked.
“No," Marge said with a shuddering breath. "Not alive. Henry found out about us coming up here to look over the camp. There was a little article in the local paper about this committee, you see. He managed to arrive a day earlier, hide his car, and set up a tent out in the woods somewhere."
“Why?" Jane asked.
Marge shrugged. "I don't know. You'll have to ask him. I guess he was just in the habit of watching Sam, maybe wanting to see what he was like when he was away from work. I don't know. He was in the woods that night—"
“The night your husband was killed? The second night you were here?”
Marge nodded. "Couldn't you feel it? That we were being watched from the woods?" she inquired of Jane, who made noncommittal noises. "Sam stayed back after the rest of us left. He didn't tell me why. Well. . I didn't ask, to tell the truth. I was so uneasy myself that all I wanted to do was get to the cabin. Henry didn't say so, but I think he might have come out of the woods then and introduced himself, except that someone else came back."
“Who?" Jane and the sheriff said at once. This time he made a rude shushing gesture at her.
“I don't know. Henry wouldn't tell me. He said I was better off not knowing until—" She started sobbing again.
“Until what?" Taylor asked when her crying subsided slightly.
“Until he could prove what he'd seen."
“And what did he see?"
“He won't tell me. But he'll tell you. I know he will. He was only trying to protect me. He just told me he saw someone return and — and kill Sam.”
The cabin was eerily silent for a long moment.
“Why didn't either of you just tell me this at the time?" Taylor said.
“Because I was afraid you'd blame Henry," Marge said. "Henry wanted to tell you. He knows who killed Sam, but he said the person had on gloves. That there would be no fingerprints on that frying pan."
“Did he say if it was a man or woman?”
Marge shook her head. "He was careful not to. But he'll tell you now. Now that Sam's been found."
“How did the body disappear?" Jane asked.