by Joanne Fluke
“But he’ll just tell me not to sign the will until he gets home!” Marcie frowned. “And I’ll agree with him.”
George shook his head. “No, you won’t. Tell Brad that Sam is really pressuring you. You’ve got to get him off your back, and you can’t see what harm it’ll do to sign the new will. Promise him that when you two get married, you’ll tear up the new will, and the old one will be in effect.”
“Well . . . okay.” Marcie nodded. “But why go through this elaborate charade? What do you think will happen?”
“It’s simple, Marcie. We’re giving Brad a deadline to arrange a hit on you to get the money.”
“A hit on me!?” Marcie’s mouth dropped open. “Don’t be ridiculous! Brad loves me! Why, he’d never . . .”
“I hope you’re right.” George sighed. “But meanwhile, we’re setting you up as a decoy.”
“That’s insane!” Sam put his arms around Marcie. “There’s no way you’re going to use Marcie as a decoy! It’s much too dangerous!”
George held up his hand. “Calm down, Sam. Marcie’s not really going to be a decoy. I’ll have the bank notify me immediately if and when Brad makes a withdrawal! And the moment Marcie makes her second call, she’ll rent a hotel room and stay there with the twins, until this whole thing is over.”
“Wonderful.” Marcie looked at George and sighed. “If I’m not home, just who is this mythical hit man supposed to kill?”
“A policewoman who’ll stand in for you. And there’s no way the hit man will succeed, not with all the undercover policemen we’ll have staking out the house. What do you say, Marcie? Will you do it?”
Marcie sighed and then she nodded. “I’ll do it. It’s a perfect way to prove you’re wrong. I’m going to make you eat your words, George.”
“Wait a second, Marcie.” Sam gave her a hug. “Are you really sure you want to do this? George seems to think his plan is foolproof, but sometimes these things go wrong.”
Marcie hugged him back. “Thanks for worrying about me, but I have to do it. And you’ll help me if you’re really my friend. I’m tired of hearing all these suspicions about Brad. I’ll do anything to prove that he’s innocent.”
He crouched outside the window and watched through the glass. His love was alone, paging through the diary. He could understand the reason behind her frown.
The diary contained many secrets between its covers, and there was mention of the warning he had given her. But she had ignored that warning, and wrapped herself in a cocoon of loneliness. She had been so helpless, so needy. And she had failed to realize that the balm for her wounds, the solution to the terrible, aching void inside her, had waited for her in the magical labyrinth of her own guest cottage.
She had not known, and that guilt rested squarely on his shoulders. He had kept from her the secret of his presence. It had been a tragic error.
But that was past him now, and the future was no longer the bleak gray emptiness that he had foreseen. The impossible had become reality. She was back in the body of her twin sister. Fate had granted him another chance to prove that he was worthy of her love. Only one thing threatened his new serenity. The husband. Somehow he had to keep her from marrying him.
The night winds were sharp, and he shivered as he crept closer to the house, kneeling down on the soft, wet earth. No one knew he was about and there were many times when he felt invisible. She did not know he existed, although he had joined her at the studio, been close when they went skiing in Aspen, even watched the husband please her body. He was a cousin of the wind, a palpable presence who could wreak great destruction, and then vanish on the gentle breath of a summer breeze.
But the husband was his enemy, a clear and present danger. He must not let the husband deceive him again.
The memory of that first deception made the red mist shimmer under his feet, and he stomped it down before it could rise. He would think about it later. Not now. Now he had work to do.
The housekeeper came in, and they began talking about the children, who were tucked safe in their beds in the non-red rooms. He listened for a few moments. The children were of no interest to him. And then they said good-night, and she went up the stairs to bed.
Her light went on, a brief glimmer that pierced the darkness of the night, as she undressed and put on the beautiful green nightgown. He watched, imagining all the perfectly ordinary tasks that mortal angels were required to do before they were permitted to sleep. The teeth were brushed, the face washed, the alarm clock set, the covers turned back. And then the light clicked off, and his ally, the night, was back in command.
His legs were stiff when he got to his feet, thankful that it was safe to move without caution now. The night was peaceful, and deep, and black, but he knew the path as well as he knew the back of his hand. He smiled as he passed the rose garden and, a moment later, the tennis court. What would they say if they suddenly discovered him walking down the path in the night?
Imagining such an incident made him chuckle. They would be surprised, perhaps even shocked, but as long as he had a reasonable explanation, they would not be unduly alarmed. They had seen him many times before. That was the beauty of the game. They all thought they knew him, but, of course, they were wrong.
Pappa Sutton’s was crowded, even at one-thirty in the morning. It was a fifties bar and grill, frequented mostly by the show biz, artsy crowd, gay and straight combined. Jerry walked in and made his way to a table in the back, near the old-fashioned jukebox.
“Could I get you something to drink?” An athletic-looking waiter-wearing a white shirt open at the neck, yellow- and green-checkered Bermuda shorts and a leather apron-appeared at his table almost immediately. His teeth were so even, they had to be capped, and his smile was totally engaging. There was no doubt that he was an aspiring actor, earning his living as a waiter until he got his first big break. Jerry had been in Los Angeles for quite a while now, and he’d never met a waiter who admitted to being merely a waiter. They were always aspiring actors, or struggling screenwriters, or would-be directors.
“I’ll have a double scotch on the rocks. Chivas, if you have it.”
“We have it.” The waiter eyed Jerry’s Rolex watch, a birthday gift from his lover. “Nice watch. You must be in the biz.”
Jerry was about to deny it, when he remembered that Worldwide Studios was looking for some fresh new faces for a sitcom they were casting. This kid would be perfect for one of the minor characters. “That’s right. And you want to be an actor?”
“That’s right.” The waiter looked surprised. “How did you know?”
“Just a lucky guess. Can you ride a horse?”
“Sure.” The waiter grinned. “I grew up on a ranch in Wyoming.”
“Good enough.” Jerry handed him a card. “Send me a résumé, and I’ll see what I can do about getting you a couple of auditions.”
“Wow! Thanks!” The waiter’s smile widened until it was completely genuine. “That’s really nice of you. You don’t need to meet with me . . . uh . . . personally?”
Jerry caught his implied meaning and shook his head. “Ten percent of your earnings is all I expect. Just make sure I’ve got that résumé bright and early Monday morning.”
“Yes, sir. And thanks a lot!”
Jerry sighed as he watched the waiter rush off to get his drink. He remembered being that enthusiastic once, but that was when he’d first moved here. He’d gotten a break then, too. His lover had set him up in the agency business, but he’d demanded a lot in return. Jerry was beginning to realize that the price he’d paid had been much too high. And he was still paying, with no end in sight.
Fifteen minutes later Jerry was sipping his second scotch, but it wasn’t working to ease the pounding pain in his head. He was afraid tonight would be another lost night. It had become a pattern with him. He’d drink until the pain went away, and then there would be a terrifying blank period when he was bombed out of his skull. He’d always managed to get himself home, but
he woke with no memory of how he’d gotten there. It was a vicious cycle he was trying to break with very little success.
“Hi, Jer.” Beau LeTeure waved from across the room, and made his way through the crowd to Jerry’s table. “Are you here with someone?”
Jerry shook his head. He wasn’t about to admit it, but he’d come here looking for Beau. One night, in group, Beau had mentioned that this was his favorite hangout, and Jerry had come here several nights in a row, looking for him.
“I’m alone, too.” Beau looked a little uncertain. “Mind if I join you?”
Jerry shook his head. “I was hoping you would. I hate to drink alone.”
“Drinking a lot, Jer?” Beau eyed the glass in his hand.
“Yeah. Too much. But it helps the pain, you know?”
Beau nodded. “Why don’t I set you up with my doctor, Jer? It could be something simple that he could fix. You can trust my guy to keep his mouth zipped. He’s a good guy, and he’s seen everything before.”
“Well . . . maybe.” Jerry sighed deeply. He’d put off going to the doctor for over a year, and he’d suffered through countless pounding headaches. There were times when he felt like he had a rodent caged in his brain, scratching and biting until his mind screamed with agony.
“Don’t let a little thing like fear stop you.” Beau grinned at him. “Think how good you’ll feel if it’s nothing serious.”
“But what if it is?” Jerry took another big swallow of his drink.
“Either way, you win. You’re imagining the worst anyway. You might feel relieved, even if you find out it’s true.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Jerry sighed and nodded. “Okay, Beau. I’ve put it off for as long as I can. I’ll go see him, I promise.”
Beau grinned. “And I’ll take you, to make sure you get there. I’m not working next Monday. Is that good for you? Or shall I try to make an emergency appointment?”
“I’ve waited this long. I guess I can wait another week.”
“That’s the stuff.” Beau patted him on the shoulder. “You feel better already, don’t you?”
Jerry blinked and then he nodded. He wasn’t sure why, but he did feel better. Perhaps the support group really had helped. He’d agreed to let Beau take him to the doctor to find out what was causing his excruciating headaches. And he was much more comfortable with the fact that he was gay. One more week of pain and fear to get through, and he’d have an answer. And maybe after the doctor had made his diagnosis, he might even consider reclaiming his life, and calling it quits with his lover for good!
CHAPTER 21
It was Tuesday evening, and Marcie was talking to Brad on the phone. She’d asked Sam and George to come to the house to make sure she said the right things, and they were sitting on the couch, listening to her side of the conversation.
Brad had called on Sunday evening, and Marcie had told him about her new will, leaving everything to him. She’d gotten Brad’s number, so Sam could contact him, and Sam had called Brad on Monday, confirming that Marcie had been in to sign the will. The first part of George’s trap had been set according to plan.
Just a few minutes ago, Sam had called Brad from this same phone, saying he needed a full accounting of Brad’s withdrawals by the end of the week, so that Mercedes’s estate could go through probate. Now it was Marcie’s turn to put the second part of the plan into effect. She’d just finished telling Brad she was changing her will again, on Sam’s advice, naming the twins as her beneficiaries, until the matter of the missing funds could be resolved.
“I don’t think you did anything wrong, darling. I know you used that money to pay Mercedes’s bills. But Sam is really giving me a hard time about it. He’s insisting I sign that new will Thursday.”
Marcie turned to give Sam a desperate look. She didn’t like lying to the man she was going to marry, but there wasn’t any other choice. George’s friends at the police lab had given him the information he’d requested. The scrapings the medical examiner had taken from Mercedes’s fingernails did contain particles from the glove. George was right. It really looked as if Mercedes had been murdered. Now Brad was a suspect in a real police investigation, and this was a chance to prove that the man she loved was innocent.
“But, Brad . . . I don’t see what harm it would do to sign it. It’ll get Sam off my back. And after we’re married, I’ll just cancel that will, and the previous one will go back into effect. As Sam pointed out, it’s just an interim arrangement.”
Marcie gave Sam the high sign. Brad had agreed. Sam held up a note card and Marcie read it. It said, Make sure he stays at that number.
“Of course. I love you, too. And one more thing, darling. If Sam needs to contact you again, you’ll be at the same number, won’t you?”
Sam nodded as Marcie gave him the high sign again. She was a very good actress, and everything rode on this performance.
“Yes, I wish you were here, too. But I know how important your meetings are. I’m fine, Brad . . . really. This is just one of those horrid inconveniences, that’s all. And Sam is positively paranoid about that money. Oh, just a moment, darling. Rosa’s calling me. Hang on for a second, will you?”
Marcie frowned and jotted a quick note to George. He wants to know if I’ll be home, in case he needs to call.
George smiled. Brad was really sweating. If they put on enough pressure, he was sure that Brad would hire the hit man again. Then he nodded to Marcie and scrawled a reply. We’ll forward your calls to the hotel. Tell him you’ll be home.
“Sorry about that.” Marcie gave a little laugh as she got back on the line. “The twins just wanted to say good-bye, before they left on that school campout.”
Sam and George looked surprised. This wasn’t part of the scenario.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? The whole class is going up to Arrowhead. They’ll be back by the time you get home. I hope you do call, darling. I’ll be here all alone, and it’s going to be boring. I gave Rosa a couple of days off so she could spend some time with her sister.”
Marcie winced as Brad told her he loved her and he missed her. She felt like an absolute traitor for telling him so many lies. “Yes, Brad. You know I do. Good night, darling. I’ll be waiting when you get home.”
“Great job, Marcie! Especially the bit about being here all alone.” George jumped up from the couch to pat her on the back as she hung up the phone.
Marcie frowned. “Yes. I guess my acting classes paid off. I’m a wonderful liar.”
“Hey, Marcie.” Sam slipped an arm around her shoulders, and gave George a warning glance. Marcie obviously felt guilty, and they certainly didn’t want her to call Brad from the hotel and tell him what they’d coerced her to do. “Brad’ll thank you when this is all over. And there’s even an added bonus, if you think about it.”
“What do you mean?” Marcie looked puzzled.
“Let’s say you’re right, that Brad has absolutely nothing to do with this, and the crazy fan killed Mercedes. Since you look like Mercedes and you’re finishing her part in the movie, he might just be after you, too.”
Marcie frowned as she considered it. “Yes . . . I guess that’s possible. But what’s your point, Sam?”
“This little trap of George’s might catch him. After all, you’ve told everyone you’ll be here alone, haven’t you?”
Marcie nodded. “Yes. Everyone thinks I’m going to spend a long, relaxing weekend here, all by myself.”
“Perfect.” George smiled. Sam was on the right track. If Marcie thought she was helping to catch the real killer, she wouldn’t have second thoughts about lying to Brad. “Sam is right. There’s no reason for the crazy fan to suspect it’s a trap, and it’s a perfect opportunity for him to try to kill you. If we get lucky, we could catch him.”
“I never thought of it that way.” Marcie gave them a small smile. “That makes me feel better.”
Sam nodded. “Brad’ll be very proud of you when he finds out you helped set the trap that caught the r
eal killer.”
“Do you think so?” Marcie looked a little happier as she considered it.
“I’m sure of it. If I were a suspect in a murder case, I’d be very grateful to the person who proved my innocence. Come on now. I’ll help you pack and take you over to the hotel.”
“Rosa did it before she left. Are you sure it’s all right for the twins to stay with her, instead of at the hotel?”
“It’s fine.” George nodded. “You told them the house was being fumigated?”
“Yes. It was the best excuse I could think of.”
George smiled at her. “It’s a very good excuse. The police should be here any minute, and then we can leave. Sam’ll get you all settled at the hotel, and I’ll transfer your calls. Just make sure you stay in your room, so the hotel switchboard doesn’t pick up.”
“It’s a good thing I had Rosa pack some of my books.” Marcie sighed. “It’ll drive me crazy if I have to watch television twenty-four hours a day.”
Sam noticed that Marcie looked depressed at the thought of staying in her room, and he had a sudden inspiration. “Forget the hotel, Marcie. Why don’t you stay at my place? I’ve got a guest room and a separate phone. You can use the pool and soak in the Jacuzzi all day if you’d like. And you can still get your calls.”
“Oh, that sounds much nicer than being cooped up in a hotel room!” Marcie began to smile. “Would that be all right, George?”
George had to hide a grin, as he pretended to consider it. The three of them had been thrown together all week, and he’d been watching Sam and Marcie. Whether Sam realized it or not, he was in love with Marcie. And Marcie certainly seemed to be fond of Sam. With Brad out of the picture, something might develop, something that could be very good for both of them.
“I don’t see a problem, Marcie. The only reason we were putting you up at a hotel is so that no one can locate you. Sam’s condo complex will serve the same purpose.”
