Indistinguishable

By: Lilith Langtree

 

In`dis*tin"guish*a*ble, a. Not distinguishable; not capable of being perceived, known, or discriminated as separate and distinct.

 

Chapter 1

"When do you go back?" Seth asked before he finished off his water, crunching the few remaining ice cubes.

I was only in L.A. for a few days until I had to make tracks back to Austin for a location shoot. I was starting to regret my choice of vocations. Being a movie producer was more work than it was worth. When I'm not raising money for my directors, I'm hand holding the overbearing cast members.

"Wednesday. I hate my job."

Seth shushed me. "Pshaw, you love the limelight, schmoozing, and name dropping. Don't give me any of that job hating crap."

A thin smile crept up my face. "Okay, so the job has its perks."

"I heard Colin Farrell is in your newest."

I nodded. "Yeah."

"And?"

"And what?"

A wry smile spilled across his face. "Fuck him yet?"

"Seth!"

Laughter bubbled up. "Don't tell me you haven't fucked him. I thought you got off on those Scottish guys."

I wadded up my napkin and tossed it at him. "I get off on Irish guys, thank you very much. And he's Irish."

Seth guffawed, "See, I knew you fucked him."

The waiter returned with the check, and I grabbed it before Seth could. "My buy."

The waiter glanced in Seth's direction and back at me with a funny look. "I'll take that when you're ready, ma'am."

I flittered around in my purse for a moment and tossed a twenty on the table. "Call me tomorrow and we'll go out or something."

He smiled as I got up. "Farrell fucker."

I sighed and smacked him on the head before I left. Actually I hadn't fucked Colin. Not for lack of trying. But I sure wasn't going to tell Seth that. I have had enough grief for one week.

While I was in L.A. I wanted to stop by Mencho's on Rodeo Drive and pick up a new outfit for the inevitable cast party following the shoot. It had been a grueling eight weeks and I was in a piss-poor mood. Shopping usually alleviated my piss-poorness. I left the top down on the way over and relished the feel of the smog-filled air wafting through my hair. I had been gone from L.A. for too long and hadn't realized how much I had missed the smell.

It took almost fifteen minutes to find a parking spot and my mood wasn't getting any better. However, when I spotted a shiny red Corvette darting into traffic, I took its spot and thusly saw the light at the end of the tunnel of my bad day.

"Ms. Harris, it's good to see you again."

The saleslady welcomed me with open arms. Okay, I was a regular. "Hi, Melissa. It's been a horrid day and I need to purge."

She frowned sympathetically. "Oh, you poor dear!"

I love it when they kiss up. "I need something flashy and conservative --- in a burnt-orange." I could see the fear behind her eyes. "I'm kidding."

She exhaled in relief and placed her hands on her chest to slow her heart. "Oh, don't do that to me. I nearly had a fit."

Melissa had fits. The rest of the world fainted.

We spent the better portion of an hour choosing a variety of outfits to try on and I locked myself behind the slotted door of a dressing room.

Chapter 2

"I'll take this one, Melissa."

She smiled with satisfaction. "Would you like me to put this on your account, Ms. Harris?"

Her words were lost on the cool air-conditioning when I spotted the gentleman at the front of the store. He was my height and slim of build. It was his eyes that caught me first though. Even in the business, you don't see many people with true ice blue eyes.

"Yum."

Melissa caught my train of vision and turned to look. "You have very good taste. His name is Nathaniel Chase."

I took hold of Melissa's arm. "You have to introduce me."

"Go to the counter and I'll butter him up for you."

I nodded and watched as she greeted him. She showed him a little skirt set, and eventually his eyes drifted over to the counter where I was now standing. I brushed my hair to one side and tried to show a little leg in the process, nonchalantly of course. Just a little taste --- something to wet the palate. Moments later, he was there for an appetizer. I was relatively easy to woo this afternoon and, when he asked me to dinner, I accepted without any fanfare.

Chapter 3

The next morning, I woke feeling satisfied and worn to the bone. It turns out that Nathaniel was endurance champion of the world. I didn't think I would ever get him off. Not that I minded in the least bit. It had been forever since a guy could last that long with me. I dragged myself out of bed and to the shower, letting the water restore my sore muscles and wash away the previous night's activities.

I let out a little yip of surprise at the tint of red that I saw washing down the drain. My fingers slid down to that little private place and felt the raw skin. I guess he was a bit rougher than I was used to. S'ok, it was worth it.

As always, I could count on the traditional phone call while I was still in the shower. That's why I had an extension installed right by the stall. I turned off the water and pushed the shower curtain aside by the third ring.

"Sandra Harris."

"Ms. Harris?" asked the authoritative voice on the other end of the line.

"That's me."

The caller cleared his throat. "Ms. Harris, this is Detective Blake, L.A.P.D."

There is something about a phone call from the police that seems to chill my blood. Even if it's just a call for a contribution, the cops creep me out. "Uh, okay."

"Ms. Harris, would you remain on the line for a moment. A patrol car should be at your apartment in a presently, and I'd like you to accompany the officer."

Now I was worried. "What's this about?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Harris, I can't tell you more over the phone. Please wait until the officer gets there and go with him. He's going to bring you to see me."

My mind started to race in five directions at once, and it was getting me nowhere, which inevitably pisses me off. "I'm in the shower. May I get dressed before your goon hauls me off."

That got him. "Oh, uh --- my apologies, Ms. Harris. Of course."

The doorbell went off. "He's here now. Bye." I didn't wait for him to say goodbye and wrapped a towel around my body while I made my way to the door. I checked the peephole and unlocked the door.

"Come in, officer. The detective called. I need to get dressed."

He was all open eyes and open mouth. I had lost my sense of embarrassment long ago, in junior high school when little Jimmy Hauserton pulled down my shorts in gym class and exposed my pink panties to all the boys and girls standing around pointing their collective fingers at me . The one thing I remembered most about that day was pulling my shorts back up and kicking little Jimmy in the balls, before walking over and planting myself on the gym bleachers, daring the rest of the crowd, with my eyes, to say something.

I didn't put on any airs about trying to look presentable. Obviously, there was something wrong and the police thought I might know something or other. So, I tossed on a sweatshirt and tap pants and slipped into a pair of grey canvas mules. Tossing a brush through my hair and later onto the make-up table was my final cue to grab my purse and T.J. Hooker and make tracks.

On the drive over, I had asked repeatedly about why I was needed and was denied each and every time. That is, until I recognized the route we were taking. Seth's house was only two blocks away.

My anger turned to concern. "Is it Seth? Has something happened to my brother?" The officer looked at me out of the corner of his eye. The look wasn't comforting. Fuck!

The car came to a stop in front of the house, and my gaze was locked onto the myriad flashing lights of other police cars and a single ambulance.

"Ms. Harris?"

My hands were shaking and I couldn't open the car door, try as I might.

"Ms. Harris, wait and I'll get the door for you."

My head started to pound and my vision blurred, focusing only on the front door. My trance was broken when the officer opened the door, and I bolted past him and under the yellow crime scene tape.

"Seth!" I yelled.

An officer posted at the front door held his hands out to stop me, and I grabbed his wrist, twisting him to the side. Most guys never expect a girl to have offense skills. He was shocked, but the guy in the cheap suit behind him was smart enough to only put one hand up and well away from me.

"Get the fuck out of my way. Seth! Where's my brother?" I yelled.

"Ms. Harris. Your brother is dead."

It felt as if he had slapped me in the face. I recoiled and my back slammed up against the entryway wall. My mind went blank and came back instantly to yesterday afternoon and our lunch, Seth calling me a Farrell-fucker. It's funny what pops into your mind.

"Ms. Harris?"

"Where is he?"

The detective shook his head. "You really don't want to see him, Ms. Harris. The killer --- it's not a nice scene."

My head snapped up. "He was murdered?"

He shook his head, and it finally dawned on me why he wanted me at the scene. "You thought I might be the killer."

He didn't seem comfortable with the statement. "Certain things lead us to believe you might be involved."

"He was my twin, you fucker! Why would I kill my own twin?"

The detective didn't have a chance to answer before a couple of guys carting a gurney with a large black bag atop came out of the background. It was a body bag. I was familiar enough with the type, considering how many horror movies I had been involved in. Except it wasn't a stuffed dummy or an actor in the bag. It was my brother, my twin.

I held my hand out to stop them. "I want to see him."

The detective shook his head again. "I don't think that's wise, Ms. Harris."

I rung my hands together. "Don't you need someone to identify the body or something? I mean ..."

"Ms. Harris, we know it was your brother. His wallet was in his pants pocket."

My breath started speeding up. "But ..."

"I know it's not real unless you see him. But --- well there isn't much to see."

My mouth hung open and my eyes were wide with confusion.

"The killer took his head and his hands, Ms. Harris."

Bile rose in my throat and I covered my mouth. I turned and raced out to the front yard, retching along the way, falling to my knees in agony. My head pulsed and my stomach heaved. I hadn't had a chance to eat breakfast and I was very thankful.

Cool hands held my head until I was through. The detective called one of the paramedics over as things seemed to go dark. The last thing I remember was the paramedic's voice saying that I was going into shock.

Chapter 4

I woke up later in a hospital bed, with an I.V. stuck in my arm and a police officer sitting in a chair right outside my door. The one thing I was surprised about was the leather restraints that held my arms and legs down.

"Hey." I called to the officer.

He looked at me and reached up to a hand mike that was attached to a shoulder strap. "She's awake."

A few minutes later, the detective arrived with a doctor in tow. The doctor took my vitals and gave me a general once over. I waited with impatience. "Can you release me now?"

The detective shook his head. It was becoming a habit with him. "I'm sorry Ms. Harris. We aren't able to let you go just yet."

My mind was going a thousand miles an hour. "Look, my brother was just killed. I think I am entitled to a little freak out. I'm not going to hurt anyone, okay?"

A somber look covered the detective's face. " Doctor, can we have a couple of minutes together?"

The doctor nodded. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't stress her out, she's had a very strong shock to her system."

After the doctor left, he reached into a inner coat pocket and produced a small card which he began to read from. "Ms. Harris, you have the right to remain silent. If you give up this right, anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot pay for an attorney, then one will be appointed to you by the state. Do you understand these rights as I have read them?"

I couldn't say anything. I was too flabbergasted from what he was saying. I just nodded.

"I'm sorry Ms. Harris, a verbal response is needed."

"Y-yes. I understand."

He continued, "Keeping in mind these rights, would you like to make a statement."

The wash of confusion finally passed and anger was bubbling up again. "What the fuck is this about?"

"The murder of Nathaniel Chase. The person that was in
your --- brother's house."

I gulped in a mouthful of air. "Nathaniel?"

The detective squinted at me. "We found his emergency I.D. bracelet on the floor under the bed. I missed it the first time around. We thought it was a clue to the identity of the murderer. Further investigation led us to the body's true identity.

"Let me tell you what I think happened, Ms. Harris. You picked up Mr. Chase at Mencho's on Rodeo Boulevard, and proceeded to your --- brother's house where you had intercourse with him. And, after he found out you were in fact a man, he became abusive, whereupon you killed him with a straight knife that you kept in the bedside table.

"Later you decapitated him and cut off his hands, which we later found at your other apartment. My guess is that you could pass the body off as your non-existent brother, in some fucked-up attempt to live full time as a woman without anyone getting suspicious."

I responded in kind. "Of all the screwed-up ..."

I was interrupted by the doctor returning. "What in the hell are you doing, detective?"

He spun on his heel and walked out of the room. "My job, doctor."

The doctor followed him out and they were almost out of earshot, but I caught the conversation.

"She doesn't realize what is going on, detective."

"Bullshit, and she's a he in case you haven't noticed."

"I've contacted her personal physician, detective. She did have --- or rather Seth Harris did have a twin sister, Sandra. She was killed when she was eight years old. By a drunk driver, right in front of his eyes. It scarred him, detective. It scarred him so badly that his personality split in two.

"It seems he has been working through his problem for the last seventeen years. If what you have told me about the scene at Seth's house is the truth, I would conclude that a part of his psyche saw Sandra being harmed again, and Seth took over and killed the man harming his sister. In doing so, he killed his own male self and disposed of any identifying evidence, effectively killing off his male half in favor of the more pure role of his sister."

The detective seemed to mull it over for a moment because there was only silence.

"So --- she blocked it all out is what you are saying."

"Not necessarily. She may have rationalized any action she found explainable and blocked out that which she could not rationally handle."

"It's a load of crap doc. But the way the jury system works, she's going to wind up in the nut house. So, what's the use?"

"It's not the justice system that worries me, detective. It's that poor girl's soul."

I don't know what the hell those two are talking about, do you, sis? Fuck 'em, Seth.