by Joanne Fluke
For a brief moment, right after she opened her eyes, Marcie didn’t know where she was. Then she remembered and smiled. Sam’s guest room was very nice, with blue- and white-striped wallpaper and white curtains at the windows. She hadn’t thought she’d sleep well in a strange bed, but she’d been so tired when she’d gone to bed last night, she’d fallen asleep the moment she closed her eyes.
Marcie glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table and gave a little cry of remorse. It was already past nine, and she’d wanted to get up early and make coffee for Sam before he went to the office. She jumped out of bed and slipped into the robe Rosa had packed for her. Then she opened the door, and walked across the hall to tap softly on Sam’s bedroom door.
“Sam? Are you there?”
There was no answer, and Marcie hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. There was a thermos sitting on the counter, with a note propped up beside it. This coffee should still be hot by the time you get up. Have a cup, and as soon as you’re coherent, call me at the office.
Marcie laughed and poured herself a cup of coffee. It was almost as good as Rosa’s, and she sipped the hot liquid appreciatively. Sam had already told her that his office number was programmed on his phone. She carried her coffee over to the stool by the phone, and dialed the code he’d given her.
“Good morning. Mr. Abrams’s office,” a cheerful voice answered on the second ring. “This is Miss Collins. May I help you?”
“This is Marcie Calder. Mr. Abrams asked me to call.”
“Yes, Miss Calder. He’s expecting your call. Just a moment, and I’ll buzz him.”
A moment later, Sam’s voice came on the line. “Hi, sleepyhead. Did you just get up?”
“I’m afraid so.” Marcie giggled. “Thanks for leaving me the coffee, Sam.”
“No trouble at all. I just wanted to tell you that I transferred all my calls to the office. If the phone rings, it’ll be for you. Shall we try it, and see if it works?”
“That’s a good idea. But do you have time?”
“Of course. My next client isn’t scheduled until eleven. Just hang up, and I’ll call your number at the house.”
“All right. Good-bye, Sam.”
Marcie hung up and waited. A moment later Sam’s phone rang. She picked it up and said hello, expecting to hear Sam’s voice again.
“Miss Calder?”
A strange voice came through the receiver, and Marcie frowned. “Yes?”
“This is Bernie, down at the garage. I’m calling to tell you that your Mercedes is due for a tune-up.”
“Uh . . . thank you very much, Bernie.” Marcie recovered quickly. This was a call that had come in to the house number. “I could bring it in on Monday, if that’s all right with you.”
“That’s fine. About nine? Or is that too early?”
“It’s just fine. I’ll be there. And thank you for calling, Bernie.”
Marcie hung up, and the phone rang again. This time it was Sam.
“Hi, Marcie. I got a busy signal the first three times I dialed you.”
Marcie laughed. “That’s because I was on the phone. It was the garage, calling to tell me I needed a tune-up.”
“And they called your house?”
“They must have. They certainly didn’t know I was here at your condo.”
“Great. Everything’s working all right then. Just make yourself at home, and if you go out on the patio, take the phone with you.”
“I will. What time are you coming home, Sam?”
“I’ll try to get out of here by five-thirty. Barring complications, it’s a fairly light day. We can order in pizza or Chinese for dinner.”
“Why don’t I cook?” Marcie smiled. “I haven’t cooked for ages, and I enjoy it. Is meat loaf all right?”
“It’s great. But my cupboards are pretty bare, and you can’t go out shopping. George wants you to stay put.”
“I’ll call Von’s Market. They deliver. And don’t worry if you get hung up at the office, Sam. Meat loaf keeps.”
“Marcie?” Sam sounded amused. “Are you sure you won’t marry me?”
“What?!”
“Just kidding. But it’s very unusual to find a woman who doesn’t mind when you’re late. See you when I get home, Marcie.”
Marcie hung up the phone with a smile on her face. If she didn’t love Brad, she’d be very tempted to think seriously about Sam’s offer. He’d make an excellent husband, and he’d certainly be good to the twins. He already was. If Sam ever married, his wife would be a very lucky woman.
When Jerry walked into Hampton’s, Beau was already there waiting for him. He made his way to the table in the back, sat down, and tried to look cheerful.
Beau looked sympathetic. “Problems, Jer?”
“Yeah.” Jerry tried to steady his shaking voice, but it was apparent he couldn’t control his anxiety.
“Here. Have a sip of scotch.” Beau gestured toward the drink he’d ordered for Jerry. “You want to talk about it?”
Jerry nodded. “Do you know who my lover is?”
“No. You never mentioned his name.”
“Any guesses?”
Beau shook his head. “Not really. All you’ve ever said is that he was handsome and about your age. That fits almost everyone I know.”
“Good.” Jerry sounded relieved. “Look, Beau . . . can I tell you something in confidence? It’s really important.”
“Of course, you can! That’s what our group is for. We’re supposed to learn to trust each other. And we’re also supposed to swear never to betray a group member’s trust.”
“Okay.” Jerry nodded. “I need to ask you a question. Have I ever acted weird to you? Like I was spaced-out, and I didn’t know what I was doing?”
“No. I don’t think so. What’s this about, Jer?”
“My lover says I have these lapses when I’m not all there. You know about the headaches and how I drink to get rid of the pain?”
“I know.” Beau nodded. “That’s why you’re going to the doctor on Monday.”
“Well . . . sometimes I black out, and other times I guess I keep right on functioning, except I’m not myself. My lover’s noticed it a couple of times, and he’s told me about the crazy things I’ve done.”
“But you don’t remember it?”
Jerry shook his head. “Not at all. It’s a complete blank. He told me about one time when I picked a fight with a guy at a bar, and it turned into a regular brawl. It must have been true, because I woke up the next morning with a black eye.”
“But you’re not a violent guy, Jer. Picking a fight is completely out of character for you.”
“I know.” Jerry sighed. “That’s what’s so scary. I could handle it, if it was just a fight in a bar, or acting weird at a party. Everyone gets a little crazy once in a while, right?”
“That’s true.”
“But last week, I got out a jacket I hadn’t worn in a couple of months, and I found a necklace in the pocket. I didn’t recognize it, and I have no idea how it got there. And this morning, at the office, I was cleaning out some files, and I found a picture of Mercedes Calder wearing that same necklace.”
Beau frowned. “Look, Jer. You were Mercedes’s agent. Maybe she asked you to keep it for her.”
“Maybe. But the point is, I don’t remember it at all. And I’m not sure that’s what happened. You see, I used to be a guest at Mercedes’s house quite often. If I was there, and I went into one of my crazy periods, I could have stolen that necklace!”
“That may be true,” Beau agreed. “But chances are you didn’t. There’s probably some perfectly reasonable explanation of how that necklace got in your pocket.”
“Maybe, but there’s no way to ask Mercedes now. And that means I’ll never know what happened. I’m just not sure what I should do.”
“Return it, and say she left it at your office. You stuck it in a drawer, meaning to return it the next time you saw her, but you forgot all about it. No one will b
e the wiser.”
Jerry nodded. “That’s exactly what I was planning to do . . . until I got the bank statements.”
“What bank statements?”
“Hers. Since I was her business manager, the bank always sent the statements to me. I guess I’m still on their mailing list, because the statements came today. I was going to send them over to Sam Abrams’s office. He’s handling all that now. But I opened them to see if some checks I’d written had come in, and I noticed that almost sixty thousand dollars had been transferred to that account, and then withdrawn.”
“I don’t see why you’re concerned, Jer.” Beau frowned. “Brad probably withdrew the money to pay some outstanding bills. Or perhaps Marcie did.”
“That’s just it, Beau. They didn’t. These were cash withdrawals, and Brad always pays the household bills by check. And I know Marcie didn’t withdraw any money, because she mentioned she’d never been to the bank.”
Beau nodded. “Okay. But I don’t see the problem, Jer. All you have to do is to ask the bank who signed the withdrawal slips.”
“I did.” Jerry looked very upset. “I called the bank immediately. And they told me the withdrawals were made in Brad’s name.”
Beau looked puzzled. “Okay. So Brad withdrew the money. Why is that a problem?”
“Maybe he didn’t. There are two other people who had the right to sign Brad’s name. Sam Abrams had Brad’s power of attorney. He’s the family lawyer. He could have signed it.”
Beau nodded. “Did he?”
“I haven’t had the guts to call him and ask. You see, there was another person who had the legal right to sign Brad’s name. His business manager. And that’s me.”
Beau looked at Jerry with sudden understanding. “You’re afraid you withdrew all that money when you were in one of your blank periods, and now you don’t remember it?”
“Exactly. And if I did, I can’t find any record of where it’s gone. No big deposits to my checking account, no major purchases, no cash stashed around the house. Nothing.”
Beau nodded. “I can understand why you’re so upset. But you’re jumping the gun, Jer. You’ve got to ask Sam Abrams whether he withdrew that money before you start blaming yourself.”
Jerry nodded and stood up. “I will. First thing tomorrow. Thanks for listening, Beau. You’ve been a real friend. But now I think I’d better go home and get some sleep. I’m starting to get another headache.”
“Are you sure you want to be alone tonight?” Beau stood up, too. “I can stay with you, if it’ll help.”
“Thanks, but I think I’d rather be alone.” Jerry shook Beau’s hand and made his way to the door. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he didn’t trust himself around anyone right now. He could have another blank period and do something horrible.
As Jerry got into his car and pulled out into traffic, his hands were shaking. He couldn’t help wondering what else happened that he didn’t remember. He could be a rapist, or even a murderer!
Suddenly, Jerry’s hands started to shake so violently, he had to pull over to the curb. He was sure he’d stolen Mercedes’s necklace. And it looked as if he’d taken her money. He had the combination to the security system because Brad had mentioned that they were using their anniversary as a code. What if Mercedes hadn’t accidentally drowned in the pool? He could have murdered her in cold blood, and he’d never even know he’d done it!
CHAPTER 22
“That was a great dinner, Marcie.” Sam leaned back on the couch. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help with the dishes?”
Marcie smiled as she stacked the dishes in the dishwasher. “No, thanks, Sam. I like to putter around in the kitchen. Besides, you worked all day, while I just lazed around your place.”
“There’s no way you lazed around today. Somebody made that delicious meat loaf, and those creamy scalloped potatoes, and that tasty spinach soufflé.”
“It didn’t really take all that long.” Marcie’s smile stretched to the limits. It was obvious that Sam had enjoyed her cooking. “The only thing that took any time was the homemade apple pie.”
“Homemade apple pie?” Sam made his way to the kitchen. “How did you know that was my favorite?”
Marcie turned to grin at him. “The twins told me. They said that Rosa always made apple pie when you came over for dinner, so I grabbed her recipe before we left the house.”
“Smart thinking. Did you get any ice cream?”
“French vanilla. Rosa wrote a note on her recipe card. See?”
Sam looked down at the card. It said, A la mode French vanilla for Mr. Sam. Then he sighed with regret. “I don’t know if I can handle my usual serving tonight. I really made a pig of myself with the meat loaf.”
“What’s your usual serving?”
“Three pieces.” Sam’s eyes widened as Marcie took the pie from the oven, where it had been warming, and set it on the table. It was golden brown on top, and juice had bubbled up through the little slits she’d cut in the crust. Suddenly, the whole kitchen was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of apples and cinnamon and nutmeg, and Sam groaned as he broke off a piece of flaky crust and let it melt in his mouth. “On second thought, maybe I’ll go for it. Start me with one and see what happens.”
He looked at the gates in the distance with longing. He didn’t like being on the outside, but he knew it was no longer safe to hide himself in the labyrinth. Something was different. Something was wrong. No cars had gone in or out since he had been here, and that was very unusual. The green panel truck was late. It always brought the fresh produce for her dinner. And the man who delivered the meat hadn’t come today, either.
He moved a bit deeper into the trees, and watched the house through his binoculars. At first he had thought that she was there, but now he knew better. The little mannerisms he loved were missing. This one didn’t push her hair back from her neck with her left hand, or open the kitchen door with her foot. She didn’t bend from the waist when she picked up the newspaper, and she failed to tuck her feet up when she sat in the chair. This was not her. It was her stand-in, who walked through the house and pretended to read in the chair. Her stand-in postured in front of the window and ran useless water in the sink.
There were other people in the house who didn’t belong there, either. He’d caught a brief glimpse of a man in the shadows when she had opened the door, and where there was one man, there would be more. The men were concealed very well, but he knew the house and where they were hiding. One by the pool; he had seen the bushes move with more than the winter wind. And another in her bedroom, behind her sea green drapes. The binoculars had shown him the tips of two shiny black shoes. A third was in the den, behind the couch. He had seen her turn to talk to him. And the fourth had a place in the hallway, behind the door. That was why she had been very careful not to open it all the way.
He knew he had to be cautious. The shadowy men and her stand-in were performing the drama of her life. This was the trap they’d planned that night in the den, the trick to catch a killer. But the husband would be smart enough to stay out of the trap. He was sure of that.
He huddled at the base of a tree, and let the binoculars drop to hang from their strap around his neck. The woods were cold and damp, and he was glad he’d worn a warm coat. He would not move until it was absolutely necessary. Only then would he let himself in through the gates, and perform his part in their scenario.
They had just finished watching Moulin Rouge, and Marcie dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. Then she smiled at Sam. “I just love that last scene. And it makes me cry every time I see it. John Huston was a great director, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was . . . although he did do a couple of films that weren’t very successful. Freud comes to mind.”
“I’ve never seen that. Do you have it?”
Sam laughed and shook his head. “They ran it once, at four in the morning, but I haven’t seen it since. How about watching Prizzi’s Honor?”
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“I’d love to. I missed it when it came out. But don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
“I cleared the decks today, so I’m not going in. And I think I’m too jumpy to fall asleep. Let’s make another batch of popcorn and watch movies all night.”
“That’s a wonderful idea!” Marcie smiled at him gratefully. “I know I couldn’t sleep, either. I keep wondering what’s happening at the house, and waiting for the phone to ring.”
“You find the movie. It’s in the bookcase in the den, and all the titles are arranged alphabetically. I’ll get the popcorn.”
Marcie glanced at the grandfather clock in the hallway as she went to get the movie. It was only ten-thirty, and she sighed deeply. She’d hoped the killer would strike by now, and everything would be over. This would be a long, sleepless night, and she was glad she was here with Sam, and not alone in a hotel room.
The movie was right where Sam had said it would be, on the shelf between David O. Selznick’s The Prisoner of Zenda, and Hitchcock’s Psycho. Marcie grabbed it, and then she noticed another tape with a blue cover in the P section. It was labeled Passover Seder with Zayda and Bubbe. She pulled that out and carried both tapes to the living room. If they were going to stay up all night, they’d need more than one movie.
A few moments later, Sam came in from the kitchen carrying a huge bowl of popcorn. He set it on the table in front of the couch and smiled at her. “Here we are. Popcorn straight from the microwave. It’s one of my few culinary talents.”
“It smells wonderful.” Marcie took a handful and munched. “And it’s absolutely delicious. Do you have any other favorite recipes?”
Sam nodded. “Absolutely. I can heat bagels in the microwave, and I’m very good at thawing those frozen burritos you buy at the grocery store. And last week I perfected my recipe for grilled cheese sandwiches. All you do is toast the bread, put two slices of cheese between the slices, and nuke it for twenty-five seconds.”
