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Authors: Joanne Fluke

Fatal Identity (6 page)

BOOK: Fatal Identity
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The baggage supervisor was very apologetic as he explained that Marcie's suitcases had been traced to Chicago. He'd called, and the supervisor at O'Hare had promised that they would be sent on the first available flight to Los Angeles. Unfortunately, that flight wouldn't land until three in the morning. No, Marcie didn't need to come back to the airport to pick up her luggage. The airline would send someone out to deliver it to her door the next day.
“It's a good thing Shirley Whitford packed a carry-on for me.” Marcie sighed as Sam loaded the small bag in the trunk of his car. “At least I have the bare essentials, but I'm going to need a change of clothes for tomorrow. Do you think they'll deliver my suitcases early in the morning?”
“Maybe, if you're lucky.”
“What do you mean?” Marcie gave him an anxious look as they got on the freeway and headed off toward the house in Mandeville Canyon.
“I lost a suitcase on my last trip from New York. They delivered it ten days later with tags from Washington, Texas, Nevada, and Hawaii.”
“Oh, dear!” Marcie frowned. “But you did get it back, right?”
Sam nodded. “I did. And everything was inside, including the smoked whitefish I'd bought at Zabar's. It was a little worse for the wear, after its long vacation.”
“Oh, no!” Marcie giggled. “Well, I don't have anything perishable in mine. Just some clothes and . . . Oh, they've put up lights!”
Marcie gasped as they stopped at the wrought-iron gates at the base of the winding driveway. The ten-foot walls surrounding her sister's estate were lit with bright floodlights . “They didn't have all these the last time I was here. It's lit up like a fairy-tale castle.”
Sam nodded. “The lights are new. Mercedes had them installed with the security system. They're decorative, but they're also functional. Without the lights, you couldn't see who was coming up the driveway on the closed-circuit monitors.”
“Closed-circuit monitors?” Marcie was puzzled. “That sounds very sophisticated.”
Sam rolled down his window and picked up a telephone. “It's state-of-the-art. This telephone rings in the house. That lets Brad know we're here. He'll check the monitor to make sure it's us, and then he'll click us in.”
There was a click and the gates rolled back. Sam replaced the phone and drove forward. As soon as his car had cleared the gates, they closed again.
“Good heavens!” Marcie was definitely impressed. “But I don't understand, Sam. Mercedes told me there was very little crime out here. Why did she need such a fancy system?”
Sam shrugged. “It's a big estate. And Mercedes was a very well-known actress. I don't think she was being overly cautious, especially since Brad was away on business so often.”
“I suppose that's true.” Marcie nodded, but she was still surprised. Mercedes had never mentioned being afraid to stay alone before. Had she sensed she was in some kind of danger? She'd have to ask Brad when the time was right.
Brad was waiting for them by the front door, and Marcie almost cried as she caught sight of his grief-stricken face. A wave of pity swept through her, and suddenly she was very glad she'd flown out to California to help. It was clear that Brad wasn't coping well, and the twins were probably devastated. Marcie wasn't sure what she could do to comfort them all, but she was determined to try.
The first time Marcie met Brad, she'd felt a twinge of uncharacteristic envy for her twin sister. Brad had dark wavy hair, and blue eyes so deep, they were almost purple. His skin was tanned to a rich copper color, and he had the body of a natural athlete. Mercedes had told her he worked out at a health club every morning, and the results were quite apparent. Although Brad was over six feet tall and very well-muscled, there wasn't an ounce of fat on him.
Brad and Mercedes had made a stunning couple, the perfect match in a Hollywood dream. When their wedding picture had appeared in the
Los Angeles Times,
one showbiz reporter had nicknamed them Cinderella and Prince Charming.
As soon as Sam stopped the car, Marcie got out and ran to embrace Brad. There were tears in her eyes as she held him tightly.
“Marcie. I'm so glad you're here.”
Brad's voice was shaking, and Marcie was sure he'd been crying. Poor Brad! What an awful tragedy!
“Are you all right, Marcie?”
Marcie nodded. Thanks to Sam, she was back in control. And not a moment too soon! “I'm fine. At least I'm as fine as I can be . . . under the circumstances.”
“Here, I'll get that.” Brad hurried to the back of the car, where Sam was unloading her carry-on bag. “Thanks, Sam. I just couldn't face a trip to the airport. You're a real friend.”
“Hey . . . I'm always here to help.” Sam handed over the bag with a smile. But Marcie noticed a flicker of emotion on Sam's face, and she instinctively knew that these two men weren't friends.
Brad didn't seem to notice. Either he was too upset to be observant, or she was imagining the whole thing. After all, they were walking toward her and both men were smiling.
“Come in for a drink, Sam?”
Sam looked ready to refuse, but then he glanced at Marcie. “Okay. But I can only stay for a couple of minutes. I've got an early meeting with a client tomorrow.”
Brad opened the front door, and they all went inside. Marcie was ready to greet the twins, but they didn't run down the stairs to hug her, as they usually did. “Are the twins in bed already?”
Brad shook his head. “No, they're at Rosa's. I thought it might be best for tonight. I knew you'd be tired after your trip, and I wasn't sure what shape you'd be in . . . I mean the shock and all.”
“But are
they
all right?”
Brad nodded. “They're doing better than we thought they would. And they wanted to stay with Rosa. She's like a second mother to them, you know.”
Marcie nodded, even though she was disappointed. Brad was right. Rosa had taken care of the twins when they were babies, and Trish and Rick often stayed overnight with her. It was probably for the best, at least on this first night.
“Scotch?” Brad turned to Sam as they walked down the hall to the den.
Sam nodded. “That's fine.”
“Marcie? You look like you could use a drink.”
Marcie hesitated. She rarely drank, and when she did, it was one glass of white wine. Now that she knew what Mercedes had been drinking on the night she died, she didn't want to ask for the same thing.
“I have a very good bottle of Chardonnay. And an excellent Riesling. Or there's a very nice chilled Beaujolais.”
“Well . . . all right. I'll have a glass of the Beaujolais.” Marcie gave him a smile. It would be a breach of good taste to refuse, and a glass of wine might relax her and help her to get a good night's sleep. She'd need all her strength tomorrow, when the twins came home.
Marcie sat down on the leather couch and watched as Brad opened the EuroCave wine cooler Mercedes had told her about. Beaujolais was red wine, if she remembered correctly. She held her breath as he extracted the cork and gave a small sigh of relief as he poured it into a glass. It was red, thank goodness!
As Brad handed her the glass of Beaujolais, Marcie noticed that Sam was smiling at her approvingly. Had he guessed that she was avoiding white wine for Brad's sake? If so, he was very perceptive.
Brad poured Sam's scotch in a crystal tumbler and handed it to him. “Here you go, buddy. Why don't you try my massage chair? It takes out all the kinks. I'll sit over here with Marcie.”
Marcie glanced at the massage chair. It was another expensive purchase that Mercedes had told her about, a leather desk chair with remote-controlled rollers, designed to ease back pain while you were working.
Sam switched on the chair and leaned back with a smile on his face. “Very nice. My partner has one of these. It's a little expensive for my taste, though.”
“Not really.” Brad shook his head. “Especially when you consider what a good masseuse charges. I figure this chair paid for itself in the first month.”
“Well . . . that might be true in your case, but I don't have a masseuse. Do you have back trouble, Brad?”
“Not anymore.” Brad gave him a grin. Then he turned to Marcie. “How long can you stay, Marcie?”
Marcie frowned slightly. “I'm not really sure. As long as you need me, I guess. I'm sure the school will grant me a leave of absence.”
“Good.” Brad nodded. “I want you to feel that this is your second home, Marcie. Mercedes would have wanted it that way.”
“Thank you.” Marcie smiled at Brad. Then she turned to look at Sam. He was leaning back in Brad's massage chair, wearing a very startled expression. But before Marcie could ask him what the matter was, Brad took her hand.
“Another thing, Marcie, while we're on the subject. If you want any of Mercedes's things . . . as far as I'm concerned, they're yours.”
Marcie took a sip of her wine and blinked back tears. Mercedes's things. She hadn't even thought about the task that lay ahead of her, going through all of her sister's possessions. It was bound to be painful, but that was why she was here. It would be cruel to ask Brad to do it alone.
“Thank you, Brad. That's very generous. Perhaps we could go through them together, and put some things away for the twins. When they get a little older, they'll want some of their . . .” Marcie cleared her throat and choked back a sob. “. . . their mother's things to remember her by.”
“Of course.” Brad nodded solemnly and squeezed her hand. “I was hoping you'd help me with that, Marcie. I wouldn't know what to save for them. Another drink, Sam?”
Sam looked very uncomfortable as he shook his head. “No, thanks. I really have to be going.”
“Just a second. I'll open the gates for you.” Brad stood up and went to a box on the wall with flashing red lights. He punched in a code and returned to shake Sam's hand. “Thanks, Sam. I appreciate all you've done for us.”
“No problem.” Sam nodded. “I can see myself out.”
“Oh, I'll walk out with you!” Marcie jumped to her feet. “I'd like to check to make sure I didn't leave anything in your car.”
Marcie hoped she hadn't been too transparent as Sam followed her to the front door. She knew she hadn't left anything in Sam's car, but she needed a private moment with him.
It was a beautifully clear California evening. The night breeze was gentle, barely moving the heavy palm fronds in the two tall trees that bordered the driveway, and Marcie could smell the scent of sweet flowers blooming as she walked Sam to his car. For one brief moment she thought about Minnesota and its icy cold winds and deep snowdrifts. Then she put the freezing temperatures firmly out of her mind. No wonder Mercedes had moved here! California was wonderful!
“Do you want me to open the trunk?” Sam took out his keys.
“No. I know I didn't leave anything. I just wanted to talk to you, alone.”
“Are you all right?” Sam turned to her with concern.
Marcie nodded. “Yes, thanks to you. You made me feel much better, Sam, and I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate it. But I do have one question before you go.”
Sam gave her a quizzical look, and Marcie took a deep breath. She might as well just blurt it out. “You looked so startled when Brad told me to regard this as my second home. Why?”
“Sorry, Marcie.” Sam turned away from her slightly. “I really can't tell you right now. You'll have to be patient, okay?”
“Uh . . . okay.” Marcie was still puzzled, but she put her arms around Sam and gave him a big hug. Sam had been her sister's friend, and she hoped he'd be hers, too. The hug felt good, especially when Sam put his arms around her and hugged her back. Sam made her feel safe, as if nothing bad could ever happen to her again.
“Marcie? Do you want me to drop by tomorrow, after my meeting? I can help you and Brad make all the arrangements.”
The arrangements? For a moment Marcie was confused, but then she realized that Sam was referring to the funeral arrangements. “It's kind of you to offer, Sam. Everything will be a lot easier if you're here.”
“Promise me you'll try to get some sleep?”
Marcie nodded. “I will.”
Sam gave her another little hug, and then he opened his car door. He reached inside, pulled out a card, and handed it to her. “This is my private home number. Call me anytime, day or night. If I'm not there, the service will find me for you.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Marcie gave a little wave as he slid behind the wheel. She stood and watched as he started the car and pulled out of the driveway, red taillights disappearing around a bend in the road. She wasn't sure why, but she felt a terrible sense of loss.
She heard the gates at the bottom of the driveway slide closed, and she knew that Sam was gone. Suddenly, the night felt chilly, as if Sam had taken all the warmth with him. Marcie shivered and turned to walk slowly back to the house. She wondered why Sam had told her to be patient. It didn't make any sense at all.
 
 
The only light in the house came from the husband's bedroom window. It cast a gold rectangle on the surface of the pool, and he shuddered. He couldn't think about her now. There was work to be done. The evil red was hiding somewhere here in the darkness, and it was his duty to ferret it out and destroy it.
No rest for the wicked
. The Red Lady had told him that, and then she'd laughed.
And you're a very wicked boy, aren't you, Jimmy?
He'd nodded. That was what she expected. And then she'd laughed again.
That's why Uncle Gene came to see you. He adores wicked little boys.
BOOK: Fatal Identity
13.72Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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