Fatal Identity (16 page)

“That's true.” Sam nodded. He felt sick inside. While he'd been unable to visualize Brad actually drowning Mercedes, he found he could easily imagine him on the phone, arranging for her death.

“That's enough for now. Let's go join Marcie on the set. I promised her we'd drop in after our talk.” George stood up to shake Sam's hand. “Thanks, Sam. That makes three suspects with motives.”

Sam clicked them off on his fingers. “There's the crazy fan. He could have done it. And it's possible Brad arranged a hit for money he thought he'd inherit. But who's the third suspect?”

“It's obvious.” George opened the door, and they stepped out into the sunlight. “The third person is the one who actually inherited. Marcie Calder.”

CHAPTER 12

It was Marcie's first real day off in over two weeks. No dialogue coaches, no acting lessons, no rehearsals. And when Brad had suggested they all spend the day at the racetrack watching one of his thoroughbreds make his debut, she'd jumped at the chance to do something different.

Brad's excitement was contagious, and Marcie felt her spirits soar as they parked in the special section for owners and walked past the beautiful garden area near the entrance to the track. Everyone they passed was smiling, and the whole crowd seemed to be in a holiday mood. She turned to Brad and asked, “Why is everyone smiling?”

“They're happy. Watching the races is a lot of fun.”

When Brad went up to the window to show his season pass and collect their box tickets, Trish leaned close to Marcie. “I know why they're smiling, Aunt Marcie. Everybody comes here to gamble, and they all think they're going to win. And the races haven't started yet, so . . .”

“. . . so they haven't lost any money yet.” Rick finished the thought for her. “Mom told us that, the last time we came here. She said all the people on the plane to Vegas are happy, too. But on the way home, the only people smiling are . . .”

“. . . the newlyweds!” Trish giggled. “Mom didn't approve of gambling. She said it was . . .”

“. . . a disease. And we should be very careful never to catch it.” Rick reached out to take Marcie's hand. “Do you think she'd be mad, if she knew Brad was letting us bet on the races?”

Marcie shook her head. “I don't think so. I'm sure she'd say it was a learning experience.”

“But what are we going to learn, Aunt Marcie?”

Brad came up just in time to hear her question, and he winked at Marcie. “I can answer that. You're going to learn to put your money in a savings account, and not take it with you to the track.”

Trish and Rick burst into laughter, and so did Marcie. Then they all linked arms and rode up the huge escalator to find their box seats. They had a box built for six, and as soon as they were seated, Brad handed each of them a program, a pencil, and a copy of the racing form. “Okay. You read about the first race and pick your horse. And when you've decided, I'll place your bets.”

Marcie listened as the twins discussed the pros and cons of the horses in the first race. Trish wanted horse number three, because the jockey was wearing blue, and Rick preferred number seven, because he liked the name. Finally, they'd marked their choices, and Brad turned to Marcie. “Which horse do you want?”

Marcie looked down at the program. She'd been so busy listening to the twins, she hadn't picked a horse. “Uh . . . I'll take number two.”

“Number two?” Brad's eyebrows shot up. “But, Marcie . . . number two's never finished in the money. And look at the odds. Eighty-seven to one!”

Marcie nodded. “That's why I picked him. If I win, I'll collect a lot of money. And if I lose, it's only two dollars.”

“Okay. Number two it is.” Brad jotted it down in his book. “Now, how are you betting? Win, place, or show?”

Marcie looked confused and Brad explained, “If you bet a horse to win, he's got to come in first. If you bet to place, he can come in first or second. And if you bet him to show, he can come in first, second, or third. Just remember, if you bet him to show and he ends up winning, you don't earn as much money.”

Marcie nodded. “Then I'll bet him to win.”

“You're not going to hedge your bet, huh?” Brad sighed as Marcie shook her head. “Okay. You're the boss. Number two to win.”

Rick and Trish exchanged meaningful looks. Then Rick spoke up. “We'd like to change our bets. We're going with the number two horse, the same as Aunt Marcie.”

“You're kidding!” Brad turned toward them in surprise. “Are you sure? I saw him run last week, and he finished dead last.”

Trish nodded. “That's okay. We want to bet on him anyway. He's probably embarrassed because he finished last, so he'll be trying even harder today.”

“Okay.” Brad turned away, but Marcie saw the corners of his mouth turn up in a grin. “I'll be back in a flash with your tickets.”

While Brad was gone, they talked about the horses for the next race. And when they'd picked their next choices, Marcie decided the time was right to ask a question. “Do you guys like Brad?”

Rick shrugged. “He's okay. Actually, he's been . . .”

“. . . a lot better lately.” Trish finished the sentence for him. “He talks to us now, and he never used to. I think he knows he won't get . . .”

“. . . anywhere with you, if he's not nice to us.” Rick turned to give Marcie a serious look.

Marcie felt her pulse race, but she managed to keep her face composed. “You think Brad's trying to get somewhere with me?”

“Oh, sure.” Trish nodded. “He wants to stay in the house. He likes it. And the only way you'll let him stay is if you like him.”

Marcie frowned slightly. The twins were very cynical, and she wondered what had made them that way. “Well . . . maybe he just likes me. And maybe he just likes you. Did you ever think about that?”

“Well . . . maybe.”

Rick didn't sound convinced, and Marcie was trying to think of a suitable reply, when she saw Brad climbing the steps to the box. He was carrying a bag and several tickets.

“Here you go.” He handed out the tickets, and then he dropped the bag on the table. “Two orders of nachos. I didn't want anybody to starve before the race started.”

Rick was smiling as he reached in the bag for the snacks, but Trish just stared at Brad with a puzzled look on her face. “Maybe Aunt Marcie's right . . . and you really do like us?”

Brad was clearly shocked. “Of course, I like you! Whatever gave you the idea I didn't?”

“Oh, nothing.” Trish's face turned pink, and Marcie knew she wanted to eat her words. But she recovered quickly. “I think we're just experiencing temporary feelings of insecurity, because of the trauma of our loss. At least that's what the school shrink says.”

“Right.” Rick chimed in to save his twin from further embarrassment. “We're in transition now, but we ought to be making an adjustment to our crisis quite soon. It's just a good thing we're not prepubescent. Then we'd have to deal with the instability caused by hormonal changes at the same time.”

“What?!” Marcie looked at them with alarm. “Who told you all that?”

Rick looked slightly embarrassed. “Oh, no one actually told us. We just . . . uh . . .”

“. . . read it in the file, when the school counselor got called to the office.” Trish winced a little. “Well, it was
our
file, and we figured we had . . .”

“. . . a perfect right to read it.” Rick drew a deep breath. “You're not mad at us, are you, Aunt Marcie?”

Marcie shook her head, but there was no way she could maintain a sober expression. She started to laugh and Brad joined in. Soon all four of them were laughing, and the tense moment was forgotten.

“What are they doing over there?” Trish pointed to the group of emergency vehicles that were parked at the far end of the track.

“They're getting into position, in case there's an accident.”

“I see the ambulance.” Rick nodded. “That must be for the jockeys. But what's that big truck?”

“It's an ambulance for the horses. There's a team of doctors on duty inside, in case one of the horses gets hurt.”

Trish looked interested. “Doctors? You mean like . . .”

“. . . veterinarians?” Rick finished the sentence for her.

“Exactly right.” Brad smiled at them. “It's a regular horse hospital inside. Would you guys like to see it?”

Rick jumped up. “Could we? That'd be great! I want to see what kind of equipment they have. I still don't see how they can get a horse . . .”

“. . . on a stretcher.” Trish interrupted him. “Come on, let's go!”

Brad turned to smile at Marcie. “Would you like to come along?”

Marcie considered it for a moment, and then she shook her head. She was interested, but it was good for Brad to be alone with the twins. “I think I'll just sit here and relax. You can tell me all about it when you get back.”

“Could we see the paddock, too?” Trish looked hopeful. “I'd like to see if . . .”

“. . . number two looks nervous. Can we, please?”

Brad turned to Rick. “You guys are really something! Trish starts to say something and you finish it. And if you start first, she says the last word. How do you do it?”

“It's easy.”

Both twins spoke at once, and Brad laughed. Then he looked at Marcie. “Can you finish their sentences, too?”

“No.” Marcie smiled, but she didn't say what she was thinking. When they'd been growing up in Minnesota, she'd often finished Mercedes's thoughts, and Mercedes had finished hers.

Brad turned back to the twins. “Something like that would come in really handy at board meetings. Could you guys teach me how to do it?”

“I don't think we can.” Trish shook her head. “You see, you almost have to be . . .”

“. . . a twin.” Rick finished the sentence with a laugh.

“Okay, okay.” Brad held out his hands. “Let's go look at the horse hospital. And then I'll take you down to the paddock and you can pick the horses you like for the next race. I suppose you'll want a—”

“. . . hot dog on the way back.” Marcie finished Brad's thought, and the twins started to laugh. “See? You don't
have
to be a twin to do it.”

When they walked away, the twins were still laughing. Marcie was pleased to see they were walking on either side of Brad, holding his hands. Coming to the track this afternoon had been a marvelous idea. The twins were beginning to develop a closer relationship with Brad, and that was very good. All it took was a little time together, and they'd think of him as part of their family.

But how did
she
think of Brad? Marcie frowned slightly as she considered it. She liked him. A lot. Perhaps too much for a brother-in-law. She didn't want to leave him to go back to Minnesota.

Marcie slipped off the lovely blue sweater she'd found in her sister's closet, and sighed as she looked out over the track. Thinking about Brad always made her feel warm, and a little uncomfortable. And she'd thought about Brad a lot in the past few weeks. What would happen to him when she left?
If
she left?

When she'd called Mr. Metcalf to request a leave of absence, he'd told her not to worry, that she was entitled to eight weeks with full pay and an additional four weeks with half-pay. If she added in the sick days she'd never used, it would take her to the end of the school year. Then it would be time for a contract renewal, and she had to make a career decision. Did she want to go back to teaching? Or would she rather move to California, and let another teacher have her job?

Sam had pointed out that she was now a rich woman. She could pursue her own interests, and never have to worry about money again. That was a big factor. Was it fair to go back to her job in Minnesota, when there were so many other teachers who really needed the position?

Marcie sighed. She remembered a seminar she'd attended last year, sponsored by a local women's group. The topic had been self-esteem, and the speaker had asked them to introduce themselves, and tell the group one additional fact about their lives. Shirley Whitford had given her name, and then she'd said, “I'm married to a wonderful man, and we have two children.” Harriet Scharf had been next, and after she'd given her name, she'd announced, “I love to bake cookies, and someday I'd like to write a cookbook.”

Marcie's heart had hammered hard as she'd waited for her turn. Then she'd said, “My name is Marcie Calder, and I'm a teacher.”

When everyone had finished, the speaker had explained that the second part of the introduction had been a personality test. If you said something personal, as Harriet Scharf had, it meant you were comfortable with your life, and you had high self-esteem. And everyone had said something personal except Marcie, who'd defined herself by her profession.

Driving home in the inky blackness of a Minnesota night, Marcie had realized that she had no hobbies, no outside interests, no personal life outside the school. Teaching was her whole life. And perhaps that was why she was so reluctant to give it up now, even when she was free to do so. It meant taking a long, hard look at herself, and redefining what she really wanted to do with her life. Of course, she wanted to be a mother to the twins, but she was wise enough to know that it was dangerous to make them her whole purpose for living. She'd known mothers who'd done that, and they had been devastated when their children had grown up and left home.

What would she miss if she gave up her job and moved out here to California? Marcie thought it over carefully. She'd enjoyed teaching for the first few years, but it had turned into a ritual of boredom lately. She had no real control over the curriculum, and she'd been required to teach the same projects, over and over, with each new class of students. Every year the routine was the same. She taught a drawing class, a painting class, a crafts class, and a design class. How many macramé plant hangers could you make before you never wanted to see a ball of twine again?

But would she miss her roots in Minnesota? Marcie had thought it over carefully, and she'd decided she wouldn't. The nuclear family had gone with the death of her parents, and she'd sold the family home. She still exchanged the occasional letter or card with uncles, aunts, and cousins, but the only time she saw them was at their annual family reunion. She could always fly back for that, and take the twins with her. It would be good to give them a sense of family. And the family reunion was always held in the summer, thank goodness!