Fatal Identity (9 page)

“Oh, come on, Aunt Marcie.” Trish gave her a very adult look. “You don't have to watch your weight like Mom always did. You're nice and thin.”

“So was Mom!” Rick glared at his twin sister. “She just had a real thing for chocolate, that's all. As long as we hid our candy bars, she was just fine. Do you like chocolate, Aunt Marcie? I can't remember from the last time.”

“Of course, she does.” Trish gave a disgruntled sigh. “Remember when we all went to Hampton's last year? Aunt Marcie ate almost a whole piece of Chocolate Death by herself.”

Marcie raised her eyebrows as she joined the twins at the table. They were acting normal, almost too normal. They'd always been very sensitive, and it was possible they were putting on a cheerful act for her. Perhaps it was time to ask how they really felt.

“Are you guys okay?” Marcie faced them. “I mean,
really
okay?”

Rick shrugged. “Not really. We're just trying to cope.”

“It's true.” Trish nodded, and her lower lip quivered. “We're really sad, but we cried a lot before you came. Rosa says we should cry if we feel like it, and talk everything over so it won't hurt so bad. Are you all right, Aunt Marcie?”

Marcie sighed deeply. She had to be honest. “I think so. I still feel awful, though. I wish the whole thing was a bad dream, and I could wake up.”

“That's how I feel!” Rick gave her a shaky smile. “When I went to bed last night, I thought maybe I'd wake up and Mom would be back. But then I woke up at Rosa's, and I knew Mom was really dead.”

Trish nodded. “I did the same thing. I'm glad you came out here, Aunt Marcie. Now it'll be almost like normal. You're going to stay with us for a long time, aren't you?”

“I'll stay for as long as you need me.” Marcie reached for the two bags of presents she'd picked up at the mall. “I brought you something from Minnesota, but my suitcases haven't come yet.”

Rick smiled. “That's okay, Aunt Marcie. We can wait.”

“But you don't have to.” Marcie handed the bags to Trish and Rick. “Sam Abrams took me to the mall, and I bought you new presents.”

“Do you like Sam?” Rick looked interested.

“Very much. Do you like him?”

“We adore him!” Trish spoke up. “Sam's practically one of the family. Even Mom used to say that.”

Even Mom?
Marcie frowned as she heard an undercurrent of wistfulness in Trish's voice. She had no idea what it meant, but she was sure she'd find out. The twins were very open about their feelings and they seldom kept secrets.

“These things for my hair are really neat.” Trish reached across the table to hug her aunt. “Thank you, Aunt Marcie.”

“You're welcome, honey.” Marcie turned to Rick, who'd just unwrapped his book of baseball statistics. “I hope you don't have that book, Rick. I wasn't sure.”

Rick shook his head. “I don't have it. And it's small enough to carry in my pocket. Thanks, Aunt Marcie.”

“Here you go.” Rosa set a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches on the table. “Eat these before they get cold.”

“We will!”

Both twins spoke at once and Marcie smiled. But they didn't act as enthusiastic as they'd sounded. Trish picked up her sandwich and nibbled, and Rick chewed his much slower than usual. The twins were definitely subdued, but that was understandable. She was just beginning to get over the shock of Mercedes's death, and it was bound to take them much longer.

“I've got an idea.” Marcie smiled at them. “You two eat, and I'll tell you about the time your mother ate a whole chocolate pie.”

“She didn't!” The corners of Rick's mouth turned up in a grin.

“Oh, yes, she did. I was right there when she ate it.”

“All by herself?” Trish looked intrigued.

“Yes, and she was only ten years old, just like you two. And to make things even worse, that was the very pie your grandmother was planning to take to the church bake sale.”

“Uh-oh! Tell us, Aunt Marcie . . . please?”

Both twins spoke at once, and Marcie grinned. Rick had taken another bite of his sandwich, and Trish was reaching for her milk.

“Grandma had set the pie out on the window ledge to cool.” Marcie began her story. “And your mother came home from school and smelled it the minute she opened the door. Chocolate pie was her absolute favorite.”

Trish was grinning. “Did she get into trouble with Grandma?”

“She would have been in really big trouble, if she hadn't come up with a plan. But maybe I shouldn't tell you about it. It might give you ideas.”

“We've already got ideas.” Rick laughed. “Come on, Aunt Marcie. We want to know more about Mom when she was young.”

“Okay, then.” Marcie smiled as she began to tell the story. Sam Abrams was right. Talking about Mercedes was the best way to keep her alive in their hearts.

CHAPTER 5

“Marcie?” Brad knocked on the connecting door. “Are you ready?”

“I'll be right out, Brad.” Marcie took one last look in the mirror. She knew she'd never looked better in her life. Mercedes had been right to criticize her wardrobe. Although Marcie hadn't realized it before, she'd been wearing clothes that weren't very flattering.

Her suitcases had finally arrived, two days later than the baggage supervisor at the airport had promised, and they bore tags from five different airports. When Rosa had unpacked for her, Marcie had examined her clothing with a critical eye. Her things were serviceable, but they weren't very stylish. And there were several outfits she probably wouldn't have purchased at all, if they hadn't been on sale.

Trish and Rick had been in her bedroom when Rosa hung up her clothes. Marcie had noticed they'd exchanged meaningful glances. Then Trish had spoken up.

“Aunt Marcie?” Trish had looked a little nervous. “We don't want you to take this wrong, but . . .”

“. . . but we think you should wear some of Mom's clothes.” Rick had finished the sentence for her. “We think they'd look really good on you, and we'd like you to have them.”

They'd both looked up at her expectantly, and Marcie had smiled. They'd obviously been trying not to hurt her feelings, but it was clear they thought her clothes weren't right for California.

“Well . . . all right. But only if you're sure it won't bother you.”

“It won't.”

Both twins had spoken at once, and Marcie had smiled at them fondly. The twins often spoke together, or finished each other's sentences. From their earliest years, they'd seemed to know exactly which words the other would say. She'd been the same way with Mercedes. Trish and Rick had been confined together in their mother's womb, and perhaps they'd been able to communicate even then. And ever since their birth, they'd shared their own private world. Although they were no longer physically linked, there was perfect understanding between them.

Trish had marched to the closet and pulled out a lovely dark blue suit. “I think you should wear this when you go to Sam's office. Mom always said it was perfect for business meetings.”

“It's beautiful.” Marcie had reached out to touch the soft material. But would it upset Brad if she wore that outfit?

“It won't bother Brad.” Rick had caught her hesitation. “He never . . .”

“. . . even noticed what Mom wore.” Trish had nodded.

Marcie had smiled at them. They were very perceptive, and they'd known exactly what she'd been thinking. “Okay, I'll wear it. But if you change your mind, all you have to do is—”

“We won't.” Rick had returned her smile. “We talked about it last night, and we decided her things should stay in the family. And you're Mom's family.”

Trish had nodded. “Mom had a lot of pretty clothes. And yours are . . . uh . . .”

“Pretty awful?”

“Well . . . no.” Rick had looked very serious. “They're not exactly awful, Aunt Marcie. They're perfect for a schoolteacher in Minnesota. But out here . . .”

“. . . people dress up more.” Trish had jumped in. “Since Brad said he talked you into staying for at least a month, we think you should use Mom's clothes. I mean . . . you wear the same size, and you used to exchange things all the time when you were kids and . . .”

“. . . and we know she would have wanted you to have them.” Rick finished the thought.

The twins had stayed in her room for two solid hours, going through their mother's closet, and pointing out the things they thought would look especially good on her. They'd even urged her to try on a few outfits, and they hadn't seemed the least bit upset. Marcie had promised them she'd wear their mother's dark blue Chanel suit to the meeting in Sam's office this morning, for the reading of Mercedes's will.

Marcie smiled as she took one last look in the mirror. Quality clothing really made a difference. She felt much more self-confident as she walked down the stairs to join Brad and Rosa. They were the three principals, not counting the twins. Since the children were minors, they weren't required to be present. Sam was the executor, and he would look after their interests.

When Sam had told her that she was a principal, Marcie had wondered what her sister had left to her. Then she remembered that they had divided their parents' valuables after their deaths. Mercedes had probably left her their father's pocket watch, and their mother's antique opal ring. If that was the case, Marcie planned to keep the ring for Trish and the pocket watch for Rick.

“Miss Marcie! You look wonderful!” Rosa gave her an approving smile. “Don't you think so, Mr. Brad?”

Brad nodded. “You certainly do. That's strange. I never noticed how much you looked like . . . I mean . . . you do look a lot like her, you know.”

“I'm sure that's because I'm wearing one of her outfits. Does it bother you, Brad? I can always go up and change.”

“No, it's fine.” Brad slipped an arm around her shoulders and lowered his voice. “I like it, Marcie. It's almost like having her back with me again. I always loved the way Mercedes looked in that suit.”

Marcie gave him a happy smile. The twins had been wrong, and so had Rosa. Brad
had
noticed what Mercedes had worn!

“I was hoping you could use some of her clothes.” Brad opened the door and escorted her out. “I don't think I'd like it if a stranger wore them, but you're family.”

Brad opened the rear door for Rosa, and then he turned to Marcie. “Sit up front with me, Marcie. You'll be able to see more of the sights that way.”

Marcie sighed as she got into the passenger side of Brad's Jaguar. Such luxury! The supple leather upholstery seemed to cradle her softly, and she was beginning to understand why someone would spend a small fortune on a car. This was particularly true for Brad, who spent a lot of time in his car. Mercedes had told her that Brad logged over fifteen thousand miles a year, commuting to financial institutions and meetings as her investment counselor, and to the stables in Ojai where they kept their prize racehorses.

“You like it?” Brad smiled at her as he started the car and pulled out into the driveway.

“It's fabulous! And it's quite a change from my old Volkswagen. I hope my Beetle doesn't find out I've been unfaithful to her with other cars. If she suspects anything at all, she'll break down in the middle of a snowbank.”

Brad laughed. “You call your car Miss Ladybug, right?”

“Yes.” Marcie looked over at him in surprise. “How did you know that?”

“Mercedes told me. She said you always name things, and you were the one who named her sink disposal.”

“It's true. When the twins were little, Mercedes wanted to make sure they didn't turn on the disposal. I told her to name it Chomp, and it worked.”

“That's right.” Rosa spoke up from the backseat. “They were into everything else, but they never touched the switch to the disposal. They were afraid Chomp would chomp them.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes, watching the Los Angeles skyline pass by. Then Brad took the entrance to the Santa Monica Freeway, and Marcie gasped. “I can't believe all these cars! It's not rush hour, is it?”

“No, this is fairly light.” Brad maneuvered his way to a faster lane. “During rush hour we wouldn't even try the freeway. It's a giant parking lot.”

“Where are all these people going?” Marcie stared at the hundreds of cars that stretched out as far as she could see.

“All over the city. The rapid transit system here is such a joke, people almost have to drive. They've tried car pools, but they don't work very well, since there's really no central business district, and everyone has a different place to go.”

Marcie nodded. “Los Angeles is awfully big, isn't it?”

“It's huge. And when it grew, it sprawled out in every direction it could. You've heard of the San Fernando Valley?”

“Mercedes was working at Universal Studios, the last time I came out for a visit. It's in the valley, isn't it?”

“That's a good example.” Brad smiled at her. “It used to take her almost an hour to get to work. And the studio's only fifteen miles from our house. These freeways were built years ago, and they can't handle today's traffic. Everyone jokes about gridlock, but that's what we'll have if we keep on going the way we are.”

For the rest of the ride, Marcie stared out the window as Brad pointed out landmarks. They passed the two triangular buildings in Century City, the Convention Center, which always reminded Marcie of an oversized field house, and the round, mirrored Bonaventure Hotel. Then Brad pulled up in front of a huge black marble building that must have been at least twenty stories high.

“Sam's office.” Brad gestured toward the entrance.

Marcie was almost speechless as she stared at the huge building. “All this?”

“No.” Brad laughed. “Sam has a suite on the seventeenth floor. The building's owned by the bank on the ground floor, and they lease out the rest.”

A valet parker rushed up to open her door, and Marcie got out. Then Brad led them into the lobby where there were two banks of elevators.

“This side.” He pressed a button on the left bank, which had a plaque that identified it as the North Tower. “The ones on the right only go up to the tenth floor. These start at the tenth and go up to the twentieth.”

Marcie nodded, but she didn't quite understand. If an elevator picked them up on the ground floor, how could it start on the tenth? She almost asked Brad, but she didn't want him to think she was a total hick. She'd ask Rosa later, when Brad wasn't around.

The elevator was paneled with wood and mirrors, and Marcie checked her appearance again. The twins had been right. This lovely blue suit was perfect for a business meeting and she thought she looked very cosmopolitan. If she didn't ask any stupid questions, everyone would think she belonged in a beautiful building like this.

Marcie stifled a gasp as the elevator rose swiftly upward. She felt as if she'd left her stomach on the ground floor. It reminded her of the “kiss-me-quicks” back in Minnesota. When she and Mercedes had been very small, their parents had taken them out on the road to Cold Spring, and they'd driven up sharp little hills their mother had called kiss-me-quicks. At the very top, right before the rapid descent, there was a moment of weightlessness. Marcie still remembered how they'd gasped and then giggled, clutching their stomachs as the car fairly flew down the hill. They'd asked why these hills were called kiss-me-quicks, and their mother had promised they'd experience that same, breathless feeling again, when they kissed the man they loved.

Marcie sighed. She'd never experienced that breathless feeling from a kiss. Perhaps it was just an old folk tale. Without really being aware of what she was doing, she glanced up at Brad, and wondered if his kisses could make her feel breathless.

“Something wrong, Marcie?” Brad smiled down at her.

Marcie blushed. She was ashamed of herself. She really shouldn't be thinking romantic thoughts about her sister's husband. “No. I just . . . uh . . . I've never been in an elevator that went this fast before. It's almost like a ride at an amusement park.”

“That reminds me.” Brad looked thoughtful. “We should take the twins to Disneyland before you go back. They've got a couple of new rides, and Mercedes was planning on taking them there for their birthday. What do you think, Rosa?”

Rosa nodded. “That's a good idea, Mr. Brad. Trish and Rick love Disneyland.”

Just then the elevator beeped and slowed. Marcie felt the kiss-me-quick feeling as it stopped, and she resisted the urge to giggle as the doors slid open. Sam certainly didn't need to go to Disneyland, not when Sam's office was in a building like this. She almost envied him. Sam got to ride on the equivalent to a roller coaster every day he went to work.

“Oh, how beautiful!” Marcie stepped off the elevator and into a lobby with deep blue carpeting and two blue leather couches that were several shades lighter than the grass cloth on the walls. The end tables by the couches were made of rosewood, and each had a bouquet of dark red, silk lilies in a tall, navy blue ceramic vase. Although Marcie was sure that there were no natural flowers of that rich, deep red hue, she still reached out to touch a petal. The bouquets were so realistic, they had almost fooled her.

“This way.” Brad led them through a door and down a wide corridor with the same carpeting and the same blue grass cloth on the walls. There was a double door at the end of the corridor and he opened it to usher them in.

“Good morning.” A secretary with lovely, snow white hair greeted them. “Mr. Abrams will be with you in just a moment. Please follow me to the conference room.”

As they entered the conference room, Marcie looked around in delight. Here the color scheme changed to a restful gray and mauve. The carpeting was a deep shade of gray, so dark it was almost black, and there were beautifully framed charcoal prints on the mauve-colored walls. The conference table dominated the center of the room, a shining oval of blond Philippine mahogany, with a floral centerpiece of freshly cut white daisies arranged in a low, wide crystal bowl. There were four gray leather swivel chairs arranged around the table, and on the tabletop, in front of each chair, was a pad of yellow legal paper and a pen.

“Please make yourselves comfortable. Mr. Abrams will be with you in just a moment.” The white-haired secretary smiled at them. “Would you care for coffee or tea?”