Fatal Identity (18 page)

But what if it was really true? Marcie sighed deeply. If Mercedes had refused to sleep with Brad, he could have been desperate enough to turn to another woman. And now that Mercedes was dead, that other woman might still be in the picture. Perhaps that was why Brad took so many business trips. He could be seeing the other woman.

Marcie felt a pang of jealousy so intense, it made her gasp. But she had no reason to be jealous. Brad had promised her nothing. What Beau and Rhea had assumed was interest, might be simple kindness on Brad's part. Of course he liked her. Marcie knew that. But his affection for her could be simply as a sister-in-law.

“Marcie?”

Marcie jumped as Brad appeared next to her. Color rose to her cheeks, and she was glad it was dark so he couldn't see her blush. “Brad! I . . . you startled me!”

“I'm sorry.” Brad set down the tray he'd been carrying, and Marcie noticed it held two brandy snifters, a bottle, and a plate of assorted cheeses and crackers. “You looked so serious. Were you solving the world's problems?”

Marcie smiled back. “Not really. I was just trying to remember how to turn on the lights in the Jacuzzi.”

“I'll do it.” Brad hurried to a redwood bench by the side of the Jacuzzi, and opened the hinged top. When he came back, he was carrying a remote control. “It's all electronic. Number seven controls the lights.”

Marcie smiled as Brad pressed the button, and the lights in the pool and the Jacuzzi came on. Then he pressed another series of buttons and suddenly the area twinkled with lights. “What do the other buttons do?”

“There's a diagram tacked up on the inside cover of the bench. Number one turns on the Jacuzzi, two starts the jets, three controls the spots on the palm trees, four lights up the deck, five turns on the speaker system, six is for the rose garden, and seven turns on all the underwater lighting.”

Marcie nodded. “It's a good thing there's a crib sheet. I'll never be able to remember all that.”

“I wouldn't either, but Mercedes hated electronic gadgets, and she always asked me to do it. Are you in the mood for some music?”

“Sure.” Marcie nodded. “That's button number five?”

“Right. There's also a switch for radio, CD player, or satellite. And there's a little radio dial on the bottom, so you can choose which station you want.”

“Don't confuse me,” Marcie warned him. “Just put on something nice and relaxing.”

“I'll switch it to CD. I programmed some classical music before I came out here.”

Marcie raised her eyebrows, as Brad turned on the speaker system and strains of Tchaikovsky floated out of the speakers. It was very romantic to sit in the Jacuzzi and sip a liqueur while listening to classical music. It was the perfect setting for a seduction. Or was that only wishful thinking on her part?

Brad put the remote control down on the apron of the Jacuzzi. “Have you ever had Grand Marnier before, Marcie?”

“Uh . . . no. I haven't.”

Brad handed her a snifter, took the other one himself, and slid into the Jacuzzi opposite her. “Take a sip. I know you're going to love it.”

Marcie brought the snifter to her lips and took a sip. It was delicious and she smiled. “I like it, Brad! It tastes like oranges.”

“That's right. But be careful how much you drink. It's orange-flavored brandy, and it packs a wallop.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Marcie couldn't help feeling somewhat disappointed as she took another sip. She'd obviously been wrong about the evening Brad had planned for them. If he'd wanted to seduce her, he would have encouraged her to get a little tipsy.

“You don't work tomorrow, do you?”

Brad was looking at her expectantly, and Marcie shook her head. “No. I'm off until Monday.”

“Great! What do you say we give Rosa the day off and take the twins to Disneyland?”

“Well . . . sure. That would be wonderful. But I thought we were taking them there next weekend, for a birthday celebration?”

“I don't think that's a good idea, Marcie.” Brad looked very serious. “You see, that's what Mercedes had planned. And they know it. If we follow her plans precisely, the twins might start missing her even more. I thought we'd do Disneyland tomorrow with a couple of their friends, and then we'd plan some kind of surprise for their actual birthday. Since they've always wanted to learn how to ski, I thought maybe we'd take them to Aspen for the weekend. If you don't have to work, that is.”

Marcie nodded. “That makes a lot of sense. And I don't have to work next weekend. Dave says I'll be through with all my scenes by Friday, and then there's only dubbing to do.”

“Great!” Brad took another sip of his brandy and put the glass down. “Give me your feet, Marcie. I'll massage them.”

Marcie was puzzled. “My feet? But . . . why?”

“I used to always do that for Mercedes. The cement floor on the soundstage used to make her feet ache. Of course, maybe that sort of thing doesn't bother you like it used to bother Mercedes.”

Marcie laughed. “I don't know if it's the power of suggestion, but now that you mention it, my feet are killing me.”

“Ah ha!” Brad reached out to grab them. “Take another sip of brandy, and lean back and relax. You're going to love this. Just wait and see.”

Marcie sighed as Brad propped her feet on his lap and began to massage them. She'd never had a foot massage before, and it was heavenly. “Maybe you should go into the massage business. That feels wonderful!”

“I'm even better with backs, but that's hard to do in a Jacuzzi. You really have to be stretched out flat on a bed.”

Marcie took another sip of brandy to keep from saying the wrong thing. Did he want her to stretch out flat on a bed? And if she did, would he do more than massage her back?

“What do you think, Marcie? Should I take the Daimler or the Silver Ghost to Disneyland? Or do you think the kids would be more comfortable in a regular car?”

Marcie raised her eyebrows. “You mean you'd take one of your antique cars on the road?”

“Why not? We won't get there as fast, but it might be fun. Maybe I should use the 1927 Rolls-Royce limo. Then the twins could take two friends apiece.”

Marcie took another sip of brandy, and wondered if she was losing her mind. She remembered Mercedes telling her that Brad never used his antique cars. “But, Brad . . . Mercedes said you never drove her anywhere in your antique cars.”

“That's true, but only because she didn't want to ride in them. When they held the premiere for
Torch
last year, I wanted to take her in the Silver Ghost, but she said she'd rather ride in the studio limo.”

“Oh.” Marcie nodded, and reached out to refill their glasses. This was wonderful brandy, and she was beginning to relax for the first time tonight. “But you offered to take her?”

“Several times. Mercedes really didn't care for antique cars. I remember the first time I showed her the Daimler. I drove it to the studio so she could see it.” Brad sighed, and then he smiled. “It's beautiful, Marcie. And I bought it in mint condition. I was so proud to own something that exquisite!”

Marcie nodded. “Wasn't that the royal family car? I seem to remember something about the Windsors always having a Daimler.”

“That's right!” Brad beamed. “A Daimler was the finest automobile that money could buy back then.”

“Mercedes was impressed?” Marcie asked the question, even though she thought she already knew the answer. It would have taken more than an antique car to impress Mercedes.

“She said, ‘That's very nice, dear.' She had a two-hour break for lunch, so I suggested we drive to one of her favorite restaurants for lunch. But she said she'd rather stay on the lot, and not go anywhere at all.”

“She didn't want to go for a drive?” Marcie felt very sorry for Brad. Even if Mercedes hadn't felt like going for lunch, she could have let him drive her around the block.

Brad shook his head. “She wasn't interested at all. And then I asked her to sit in the driver's seat so I could take a picture, but she wouldn't get in.”

“Why not?”

“She said it smelled old and musty inside, like somebody's cellar.”

“I see.” Marcie nodded and took another sip of her brandy. That just proved there were two sides to every story. While it was true that Brad had never taken Mercedes for a ride in one of his antique cars, it was only because she'd refused to go. And that made Marcie wonder if there were also two sides to the gossip Rhea had told her today. Of course, it wouldn't be right to ask Brad something that personal, but she was simply dying to know.

“What's the matter, Marcie? Don't you believe me?”

“Oh, I believe you.” Marcie took another sip of her brandy. “I know Mercedes never liked antiques. When our parents died, I practically had to twist her arm to get her to take Mother's ring and Dad's pocket watch. She took them for the twins, but she didn't want anything for herself.”

“Why not?”

Brad looked curious, and Marcie did her best to explain. “I think it all started when we were kids. We had a huge family of aunts and uncles and cousins, and they all passed things around. It was a way of saving money. If you had a baby, you borrowed the crib, and the bassinet, and all the things you need once and never need again. Buying new clothes is a big expense, and kids outgrow them before they're worn out. Our family passed them on from child to child, until they finally did wear out.”

“That makes sense.” Brad nodded. “Go on.”

“I never minded wearing hand-me-downs, but Mercedes hated it when she got older. I remember once, when she was a high school freshman, she got invited to the senior prom. Cousin Mary had a perfectly nice prom dress she'd worn only once, but Mercedes really didn't want to borrow it.”

“Did she?”

“Mom made her. We couldn't afford a new dress for her. Mercedes went to the prom, but she didn't have a good time, and she blamed it on the dress. When she came home, she told me she'd never allow herself to be saddled with someone else's possessions again. That same night she vowed to make so much money, she could afford to buy everything new. It was an obsession with her, Brad. She hated secondhand things, and antiques were secondhand things to her, even if they were historic or valuable.”

Brad sighed. “That explains a lot. Thanks for telling me, Marcie. Now I know why Mercedes wasn't thrilled when I bought her an antique diamond necklace for our last anniversary.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, sipping their brandy. And then Brad smiled at her. “I'm sorry I didn't get back in time to see your big scene today, Marcie. How did it go?”

“Fine. Dave said we got it on the first take. He seems to be satisfied with my work, Brad. Now let's just hope that Ralph thinks it's good, when they screen it tomorrow.”

“Everything I saw you do was perfect. You're a natural, Marcie. And I'm glad you're doing the earlier scenes in the movie. You're much more believable than Mercedes was.”

“I am?” Marcie was clearly shocked. “But I'm not an actress. And Mercedes was.”

“That's why you're more believable. Mercedes had to play an innocent, trusting wife, and that was very difficult for her, because it was totally out of character. You
are
innocent, and it comes across on the screen.”

“But I'm not!” Marcie felt herself blushing. “I may be innocent about some things, but I'm not totally naive!”

Brad laughed. “I didn't mean that as an insult, Marcie. I just meant that you're very naive about men.”

“Well, you're wrong!” Marcie jerked her feet away, and sat up straight. “You might not know it, but I lived with a man when I was in college. And I can tell you, I learned a lot!”

“Did you, now?”

Brad was grinning at her in a very infuriating way, and Marcie felt her temper rise to the boiling point. “Look here! I'm tired of being treated like some poor innocent little hick from the country. Rosa babies me, and you tease me, and all the people at the studio think I'm Miss Goody Two-shoes. Well, I'm not! Everybody seems to think I'd curl right up and have an attack of the vapors, if a man so much as kissed me. And I can assure you, I wouldn't!”

“You wouldn't?”

“Of course not! I've been kissed before, and it's no big deal.”

He was still grinning, and Marcie had the urge to dunk him under the water. But before she could give way to her impulse, he said something that made her stop cold.

“But you haven't been kissed by me.”

Marcie's mouth opened and then closed again. This was absurd! It was so absurd, it took her a moment to gather her wits to reply.

“You've really got an inflated ego, Brad James! Just because you swept my sister off her feet, doesn't mean you could do the same thing with—”

Marcie's protest ended in shocked silence as Brad covered the distance between them in one step. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid it would burst in her chest. He caught her in his arms and tipped her head to the side. And then his lips came down on hers, even though she tried to push him away. This wasn't a romantic kiss. It was a challenge!

She fought the urge to go limp in his arms, to open her lips and taste the warm thrust of his tongue. She felt as if she were falling down swiftly; her breath caught in her throat, and it was impossible to breathe. The sensation was exactly the same as the kiss-me-quicks her father had driven over so long ago, and she felt the identical soaring, sinking feeling that made her toes tingle and her blood race singing through her veins.