by Joanne Fluke
“Oh, Sam.” Marcie giggled. “I think you need a wife.”
“I know that, honey. But you’re taken.”
Marcie winced. She hadn’t meant to start all that again. And Sam had called her honey. Of course, it was probably a slip of the tongue, but she’d be wise to change the subject, before it turned into an uncomfortable evening.
“I brought out two tapes, Sam.” Marcie picked up the tape in the blue cover, and turned to him with a bright smile. “I’ve never seen Passover Seder with Zayda and Bubbe, either.”
Sam laughed so hard, he almost dropped the bowl of popcorn, and Marcie stared at him in confusion. “Did I say something funny?”
It took Sam a moment to stop laughing and then he nodded. “Zayda and Bubbe are the Yiddish words for grandfather and grandmother. It’s a home movie, Marcie. My older brother filmed one of our Passover seders, and I transferred the film to video.”
“Are you in it?”
Sam nodded. “David’s ten years older, so I’m just a toddler. It’s not exactly a starring role. I spend the whole seder being passed from lap to lap and, at one point, I manage to get down and crawl around the table.”
“I’d like to see it. Do you have any more tapes of you, when you were growing up?”
Sam nodded. “David was quite the amateur filmmaker. I have videos of Sammie’s first haircut, Sammie gets long pants, and Sammie in the first grade Thanksgiving pageant.”
“I want to see that one first!” Marcie grinned at him. “What part did you play in the pageant?”
“I’m afraid I was cast as a turkey. I had the best gobble in the class.”
“Don’t feel bad about it,” Marcie giggled. “I didn’t even have a speaking part. I was a stalk of corn.”
“But you have blond hair! That made you a natural. It was obviously typecasting.”
Marcie laughed. “I wouldn’t talk, Sam. After all, you were a . . .”
“I know.” Sam interrupted her. “I put my foot in it that time. And some of my clients would definitely agree with you. Are you sure you want to watch all these old home movies? It could be pretty boring.”
Marcie shook her head. “It won’t be boring. I’d like to see you as a little boy, Sam. I bet you were cute. Why don’t you get that Thanksgiving one right now and show it to me.”
“Well . . . all right. As long as you sign an agreement promising never to mention it to another living soul. I was a terrible ham.”
“Turkey,” Marcie corrected him. “They didn’t have ham at the first Thanksgiving dinner. Hurry up, Sam. I want to see it. And bring back everything else you have.”
Sam sighed as he got up from the couch, but Marcie noticed that he was smiling as he went off to the den to get the tapes. She felt a rush of affection for him, and for one brief moment, she felt a twinge of alarm. Was she being disloyal to Brad by liking Sam? But that was silly. There was no reason why they couldn’t all be good friends. The twins adored Sam, and now that she’d gotten to know just how nice he was, she could easily understand why they’d wished their mother had married him.
Lisa Thomas paged through a magazine, but her eyes weren’t on the pages. She was alert to any sound outside the windows. She knew the danger of getting too complacent on an assignment like this. After hours of inactivity, it was easy to relax and fail to notice the danger signs.
She got up and walked to the kitchen, intending to get a diet Coke out of the refrigerator. Then she remembered her briefing, and reached for juice instead. Marcie Calder never drank diet Coke. She wasn’t engaged in the same Battle of the Bulge that Lisa was. But Marcie was fond of orange juice. Even though Lisa hated orange juice, she poured herself a big glass and forced herself to sip it with a smile on her face.
Lisa was about to go back to her chair and pretend to look through another magazine, when the beeper she carried in her pocket began to vibrate. She turned her back to the window, and spoke softly into the receiver. “Yes?”
The voice was low, little more than a whisper. “Blue Ford just went through the gates. Single white male in his mid-thirties, brown hair. He knew the combination.”
“Okay. Did you alert the rest of the team?”
“Affirmative. They’re in position and standing by. Good luck, babe.”
Lisa felt her heart pound, and the adrenaline surged through her veins. This was it, the moment they’d all been waiting for. Even though she was nervous, she made herself turn calmly and walk toward the glass doors that led to the patio. They’d decided to stage their trap there, where the team could be concealed more easily.
Who was in the Ford? Lisa set her glass down on a nearby patio table, and positioned herself so she could see anyone approaching from the house. She pretended to be admiring the night, out for a casual stroll around the pool, but she was alert for any sound that wasn’t a part of the natural night. It was difficult to pretend to be nonchalant when, at any given moment, the hired killer might strike.
Lisa took another deep breath and forced herself to stand immobile, staring calmly off at the rose garden. This type of assignment wasn’t new to her. She’d been a decoy several times before. One had been a dope deal, when she’d posed as a desperate junkie looking for a fix. In another, she’d been a woman walking alone at night, a convenient target for a mugger who’d been working the area. The third decoy assignment had been for Vice, and she’d helped to catch a rapist. But her former assignments had been a walk in the park compared to this.
She moved around the shallow end of the pool, and sat down on a redwood bench. This was where she would stay until something happened. Since she could no longer see a reflection in the windows of the house, it was a blind position. She had to trust her life to her back-up team.
Lisa tried to convince herself that she was perfectly safe. Six good men were in place, and they were all crack shots. There was even a bonus. George Williams, himself, was concealed in the bushes at the deep end of the pool. And even though Detective Williams had been retired for over ten years, whenever cops got together, they still talked about some of the amazing collars he’d made.
So why was she nervous? Lisa gave a wry smile. Detective Williams wasn’t sitting out here as an unarmed decoy. She was. And her life was on the line. Lisa Thomas could lose her life tonight, and it could happen at any second. All it would take was a carelessly aimed shot, or a moment of indecision, and she would be dead. But this was why she’d become a cop. To help people and to save lives. Marcie Calder’s life was at stake tonight, as well as her own. If they didn’t get him now, he’d try again.
Lisa prayed for something to happen. Anything. The suspense was almost unbearable. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a movement near the rose garden.
Lisa’s first instinct was to dive for cover, but she forced herself to stay in place and wait. They had to catch him in the act, or they wouldn’t get a conviction.
That was when something went wrong. Drastically wrong. There was a single gunshot and Lisa reacted by diving for cover behind a large potted palm.
Then pandemonium broke out, as the back-up team rushed forward. Lisa got to her feet just in time to see a man slump to the ground just steps from the rose garden.
Detective Williams motioned her over, and Lisa stared down at the man on the ground. A bullet through the head. Quick. Painless. Exactly what he’d probably planned on doing to her.
Even though she tried not to react on a personal level, Lisa couldn’t help but wince. This man looked nice, not like a hired killer at all! But if a hired killer walked around looking the part, he wouldn’t last long in the business.
“Lisa! Are you okay?”
Lisa nodded. The shakes would come later, when she realized how close to death she’d come. For now, she was just grateful that her ordeal was over.
The youngest member of the back-up team looked up, and Lisa saw fear in his eyes. He’d been assigned to the team at the last minute, and she was almost sure he’d been the one to fire.
“Somebody’d better call for an ambulance. This guy’s still alive!”
CHAPTER 23
Sam ejected the movie, and turned to Marcie. “You don’t really want to watch Sammie’s First Bicycle, do you?”
“I certainly do.” Marcie nodded emphatically.
“But why? It’s just ten boring minutes of me wobbling around and falling over.”
Marcie considered it for a moment, and then she laughed. “It’ll make me feel better to see someone else falling off a bike.”
“Are you telling me that you’re a fellow bike-faller-offer?”
“I am.” Marcie laughed. “Mercedes and I got bicycles for our sixth birthday. Mercedes jumped right on and rode around the block, but it took me a week of skinned knees to learn.”
“Did your father hang on to the back to steady you?”
“Of course. And the poor dear probably thought he’d be running along behind my bike for the rest of his natural life.”
“But you finally learned, didn’t you?”
“Oh, yes.” Marcie laughed again. “I still remember the day I finally learned to ride. My dad started me off around the block, steadying me around the first corner. And then he let me go and walked back to the house.”
“And you didn’t know he wasn’t there?”
Marcie nodded. “Exactly. I rode around the second corner just fine. And the third. But when I approached the house and saw him waiting for me on the front steps, I promptly fell over.”
“I think they learn that in fathers’ school. My dad did exactly the same thing to me. Did he make you get right back on and ride?”
“Oh, yes.” Marcie nodded again. “He told me to pretend that he was back there every time I got on my bike. It’s a funny thing, Sam. Even after he died, I still felt that Dad was right there behind me, protecting me so I wouldn’t hurt myself. He was a wonderful man, Sam. He’s been gone for over ten years now, but I still miss him.”
“I miss my father, too.”
“When did he die?”
“Oh, he’s not dead. He’s living in New Mexico with my mother, but it’s not the same. He’s getting old, and he has some serious health problems. I miss the tower of strength he used to be when I was a kid.”
They sat in reflective silence for a moment, and then Marcie smiled. “Come on, Sam. We’re getting what Mercedes used to call the middle-of-the-night-sads. Let’s watch the bicycle episode. That’ll cheer us up.”
“Oh, sure.” Sam got up and went to the cabinet to put it on. He was grinning as he sat back down on the couch. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one falling off.”
But before Sam could reach for the remote control to start the action, the telephone rang. They both stood up, nearly colliding, but Sam motioned for Marcie to sit back down.
“I’ll get it, Marcie. And try to relax. It could be a client with a problem.”
Relax? Marcie sat back down on the couch and crossed her fingers for luck. There was no way she could relax until Sam came back to tell her who’d called. It just had to be George. Sam had been a true friend, and watching the movies had been diverting. But Marcie knew she couldn’t take much more of this waiting.
Sam was back in less than a minute, and he had a peculiar expression on his face. It was a strange combination of satisfaction and regret.
“They got him?” Marcie jumped to her feet as Sam nodded. “Thank God!”
But Sam still looked disturbed, and Marcie began to fear the worst. “What’s wrong, Sam? Was it anyone we know?”
Sam nodded again, and then he sighed. “I’m afraid so. But something went wrong, and they shot him in the head. They’re rushing him into surgery right now, but George says he’s not expected to make it.”
“Not Brad?!” Marcie felt her anxiety reach a frightening peak, as she stared into Sam’s unreadable face.
“No. Not Brad. It was Jerry Palmer.”
Every light in the house was ablaze as Marcie and Sam drove through the gates. They were greeted at the door by a uniformed officer, and led directly to the den, where George was waiting for them. He looked very grim.
“Sit down, Marcie. I need to talk to you. You, too, Sam.”
As Marcie sat down on the leather couch, she shuddered. What if George hadn’t set his trap? She could have been sitting right here when Jerry came through the gates and tried to kill her!
George turned to Marcie. “I want you to think carefully, Marcie. Jerry had a combination to the gates, and he headed straight for our decoy. But we don’t have a motive. Can you think of any reason why Jerry might have wanted to kill your sister?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” Marcie considered it. “He might have been angry because she fired him as her agent.”
George shook his head. “That’s weak, but it’s all we’ve got. Now, how about you? Can you think of any reason why Jerry wanted to kill you?”
“I have absolutely no idea! I thought Jerry was a . . . a friend. I can’t believe he tried to kill me!”
“Sam?” George turned to him.
“Beats me.” Sam looked just as confused as Marcie. “You didn’t get a chance to ask him?”
“I’m afraid not. The gunshot wound rendered him unconscious. We rushed him off to the hospital, and they’re operating to remove the bullet, but it doesn’t look good.”
“Is he going to die?” Marcie clasped her hands tightly in her lap, to keep them from trembling.
“The doc at the scene used the word critical. That’s all I know. But he promised to keep me posted.”
“At least this proves that Brad is innocent.” Marcie gave a big sigh of relief. But George didn’t nod, or smile, or say anything at all. He just continued to look grim. “George? Brad isn’t still a suspect, is he? I mean . . . you caught Jerry red-handed!”
George frowned. “They’re closing the file, Marcie. As far as the police are concerned, Jerry’s their man, even without a confession. Personally, I’m not so sure.”
“You’re still concerned about the missing money?” Sam raised the question.
“You bet I am! It’s entirely possible Brad hired Jerry to kill Mercedes. And he could have hired him again, to get rid of Marcie.”
“I don’t believe it!” Marcie shook her head. “You have absolutely no basis for suspecting Brad . . . do you?”
George sighed. “No. No reason. I just do, that’s all.”
“Brad didn’t take any more money from the account.” Sam pointed out. “I checked with the bank at the close of business today.”
“I know. I checked, too. But he may have promised to pay Jerry later, after Marcie was dead.”
Sam nodded. “Okay. That’s one possibility. But there’s also the possibility that your trap didn’t work at all. Jerry could have merely been an innocent bystander.”
“But you said he tried to kill the decoy!” Now Marcie was confused.
“No. I didn’t say that at all. I said he headed straight toward her. And he had his hand in his pocket. When he started to withdraw it, one of the SWAT team fired. It wasn’t until later that we discovered Jerry wasn’t carrying a weapon. All he had in his pocket was this antique diamond necklace.”
George placed the necklace on the table, and Marcie gasped. “This necklace belonged to Mercedes. I recognize it.”
“So do I.” Sam nodded. “I was there when Brad gave it to her on their last anniversary.”
Marcie looked up at George. “Maybe Jerry was keeping it for her, and he was just returning it to me.”
“Then why didn’t he call to tell you? And why did he suddenly decide to return it so late at night? It just doesn’t track. The man definitely looked guilty about something.”
“Perhaps he stole it, and then had second thoughts,” Sam suggested. “Where was it kept, Marcie?”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea. Upstairs in her jewelry box, I suppose.”
“Marcie’s right. She kept it in her jewelry box.”
Marcie whirled to see Bra
d standing in the doorway, and she rushed over to hug him. “Oh, Brad! I’m so glad you’re here!”
“So am I, darling.” Brad hugged her back. “I never would have forgiven myself, if something had happened to you! Pour me a drink, will you, Sam? I think I need one.”
Sam went to the liquor cabinet to get Brad’s drink, and Marcie led him over to the couch. When they were seated again, George turned to Brad. “Did they tell you what happened?”
“Yes. Jerry Palmer! I still can’t believe it! I owe you a debt of gratitude, George. If you hadn’t set up that trap, he might have actually—” Brad shuddered, and pulled Marcie close to him. “I don’t even want to think about what could have happened.”
George nodded. “Sorry, Brad. I know this has been a shock, but I need to ask you some questions.”
“Of course. I imagine you’re wondering why I flew back here tonight.”
George nodded again. “That’ll do for starters.”
Brad took the drink Sam handed him, and took a hefty swallow. “That telephone call from you threw me into a panic. I knew Marcie hadn’t made any withdrawals, and I hadn’t, either. Naturally, I assumed it was a banking error, so I called and had them fax me a complete record of all the transactions.”
“And that was when you realized that I was right? That the money really was missing?”
“I certainly did!” Brad sighed deeply. “And it looked bad for me, especially since I had no idea where the missing money went. The whole thing had me completely stymied . . . until this morning.”
“What happened this morning?” George took over the questioning again.
“I had a stockholders’ meeting at WesTech. That’s a company Mercedes and I invested in last year. One of the other stockholders mentioned dividend checks, and everything fell into place.”
Marcie felt her anxiety begin to abate. Brad obviously had an explanation for the missing funds. “What fell into place, darling?”
“When Mercedes hired Jerry as her business manager, she gave him permission to sign her name. And since I was out of town so often, I gave him permission to sign my name, too. When the dividend checks came in, they went to Jerry’s office. He signed our names and deposited them to our account. And if Jerry could sign our names to deposit funds, he could also sign our names to withdraw.”
