Fatal Identity (17 page)

Marcie had called Shirley Whitford the night before, and asked her to give Miss Ladybug a good home. Shirley had been very grateful, and she'd admitted that she thought that Marcie would be foolish to come back before winter was over. The wind chill factor had been minus forty, and Marcie had heard the howling winds rattling against the windows in Shirley's living room. Shirley was right. There was no way she'd miss the hardships of Minnesota winters.

The first month of snow was wonderful. Marcie loved the soft white blanket of snow that shrouded the familiar landscape and turned it into a fairyland of glittering icicles and snug houses capped with gleaming white roofs. Towering trees with bare branches that resembled stark black fingers stretched up toward the pale winter sun, and children dressed in brightly colored parka frolicked in a sparkling white world. But the novelty wore off very quickly, when the snow became an obstacle.

Tons of dirty snow were piled in banks by the sides of the road, so motorists could inch their way down icy thoroughfares. Wet boots left muddy tracks on every floor. Wool coats smelled like wet dogs until they dried. And anyone who hadn't lived in snow country couldn't believe how heavy and awkward a snow-filled shovel could be. And then there was the cold.

When the temperature was below zero, even taking out the garbage called for survival gear. Lips chapped, lungs hurt with the freezing air, and fingers were unwieldy in heavy gloves. Just last week, when Sam had asked her what winter was like in Minnesota, she'd told him to try wearing oven mitts to unlock his door, and he'd get the general idea. No, she wouldn't miss Minnesota winters at all. Not one little bit.

Marcie laughed. She'd just done an excellent job of persuading herself to stay in California. The twins would be delighted. They loved their school and their friends, and she knew they didn't want to leave. Rosa would be delighted, too. She was used to life in California, and although she'd agreed to go anywhere with her babies, Marcie knew she'd rather stay right here in a familiar setting.

Sam would be happy. He loved the twins, and he'd told her he didn't want them to move away. And she was sure that Brad would be very relieved to know she was staying. But should she make such a big decision on the spur of the moment?

As always, caution won out. Marcie sighed and shook her head. She was ninety-nine percent positive she wanted to stay in California, but she'd give herself another week to mull over the possibilities. Brad was leaving on a business trip tonight, and she'd wait until he came home to make her final decision. Perhaps she'd ask Rosa to fix something special for dinner on Friday evening when Brad came home—a standing rib roast, or rack of lamb. And then, after the twins were tucked in bed, she'd invite him to join her on the patio, and she'd tell him.

Just anticipating that moment made Marcie's eyes sparkle. She was sure Brad would open a bottle of champagne to celebrate. And then he'd hug her, and tell her how pleased he was. He might say more about how close he was beginning to feel toward her. And then, perhaps, he'd even kiss her.

Marcie's face turned pink, and then bright red. It was happening again, that warm, breathless feeling that always rushed through her whenever she imagined Brad's kisses. But she was being ridiculous, indulging in a fantasy that was terribly adolescent. Brad had told her that he was beginning to feel very close to her, but that was only normal. She was here, she looked like Mercedes, and she was living in her sister's house and finishing her sister's work. She was Bad's closest link to Mercedes. They were all in transition, just like the school psychologist had said.

Marcie drew a deep breath and nodded. She had to be very careful not to let her emotions run away with her. Brad was a handsome man, a nice man, a loving man, and it was only natural to feel affection for him. Soon things would be settled, and everything would return to normal. And when it did, she was sure she'd get over the foolish notion that she was falling in love with her dead sister's husband.

CHAPTER 13

Marcie tiptoed down the hallway, the revolver in her hand. They were there, in her bed, the two people she'd trusted most in the world, the two people she'd loved with all her heart. But her love had turned to hatred, when she'd learned how they had betrayed her, and now her beautiful face was contorted with rage. She would exorcise them like demons, drive them out of her life and send them scuttling back to the depths of hell. She was an avenging angel, and they were sinful worms she would crush beneath her heel.

Slowly, very slowly, she inched open the door. Her hands were steady. Her eyes gleamed with the same cold steel that she held in her hand, the killing instrument, the weapon of death that she would turn on them without mercy.

Her lips parted and she made a sound, a hiss of wrath that ended in a subhuman growl. They looked up, and she took a dark pleasure in their startled confusion, at the way their fingers scrabbled for the blankets in a futile attempt to cover their shame. And then her pleasure heightened as their fear bloomed and spread to abject, cowering terror. Their time had come. Revenge would be both hot and sweet.

She raised the gun, bringing the luster of the cold blue metal to the burning glow of malice deep in her eyes. And then, quite deliberately, she pulled the trigger.

The gunshots bounced and echoed for a moment. Then they faded away to silence. She watched, eyes blazing with fervor, as the life fled from their blood-spattered faces.

Then, almost imperceptibly, her expression began to change. She blinked in confusion, as if she were waking from a nightmare. Then she looked down at the gun she still clutched in her hand. Puzzled. Why did she have it? And then as realization began to dawn, she glanced toward the bed again.

Now her expressions changed like wildfire. Shock. My God! And horror. What had she done!? She shuddered, and let the revolver drop from her nerveless fingers. And then her mouth opened and released a keening wail that ended only when she crumpled to the floor and curled her body into a whimpering circle of unending pain.

“Cut!” Dave Allen's voice was shaking, and he swallowed hard. Everyone on the set burst into spontaneous applause, and Dave and Jolene rushed to help Marcie up.

Marcie blinked, and then she smiled. “Was that all right?”

“All right!” Dave threw back his head and laughed. “Jesus, Marcie! That was fucking incredible!”

“We don't have to do it over?”

Dave shook his head. “Nope. It doesn't get any better than that! You've got the rest of the day off, kiddo. See you bright and early Monday morning.”

Twenty minutes later, Marcie was sitting in front of the mirror while Rhea Delaney styled her hair. She was dressed in jeans and a blouse, her usual attire for trips to and from the studio.

“Very sexy.” Rhea smiled as she brushed Marcie's hair up and back, securing it with a gold barrette. “What's the occasion?”

“Uh . . . well . . . I'm not sure.”

“A man.” Rhea answered her own question. “It's always a man when a woman's eyes sparkle like yours. So he's finally getting serious, huh?”

“Who?” Marcie felt her face grow hot, and since she was facing the mirror, she could actually see the blush rising to color her cheeks.

“Brad. We all figure it's only a matter of time before he begs you not to leave him.”

Marcie whirled around in the chair to look at Rhea in surprise. “Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely. Beau noticed it first. Of course, he's always had his eye on Brad.”

“Uh . . . his eye?”

Rhea laughed. ”I'm sure he'd like to have more than that, but Beau's not doing any more than looking right now. He just broke up with the guy he'd been living with for ten years, and it'll take him a while to get over it.”

“Beau is gay?”

Rhea nodded. “Does that bother you?”

“Not at all. But why does Beau think Brad is interested in me?”

“It's a lot of little things, and they all add up. Brad sent you flowers, and he never sent them to Mercedes. And he always hugs you after you finish a tough scene. And he comes to take you out to lunch at least twice a week.”

“That's true.” Marcie nodded. “But Brad's just being supportive. He wants me to finish this picture for Mercedes.”

“That's what I thought. At first I was sure that Beau was imagining things, but then I saw the way Brad looked at you the last few times he's been here. He never came to watch Mercedes, you know. And then Jolene noticed, and so did Tom and Reuben. And just the other day, Lee commented on it.”

“I guess everyone noticed but me.” Marcie gave a little self-conscious laugh. “But really . . . I think Brad just likes me because we're related. And don't forget that I look exactly like Mercedes when I'm on the set.”

“That's true, but I don't think Brad is looking for another Mercedes.”

“Why not?”

Rhea looked very uncomfortable. “Let's just forget I opened my big mouth, okay?”

“No way.” Marcie shook her head. “I want to know what you mean.”

“Well . . . I know they were having problems at home. Mercedes said something that made me think they were getting ready to break up.”

Marcie looked shocked. “What did she say?”

“I'm not sure I should tell you. Mercedes didn't exactly confide in me. It was just a slip of the tongue.”

“Come on, Rhea. You've told me this much. You can't stop now.”

“Well . . . two months ago she came in looking like death warmed over. Beau and I worked on her for over an hour, but she still looked terrible. She told us she'd been up all night, and she couldn't keep anything down.”

“The flu?”

Rhea raised her eyebrows. “That's what Beau thought. But then I remembered that she'd been gaining weight lately, and I wondered out loud if she was pregnant.”

“What did she say to that?”

“She laughed. And then she said it was impossible, unless we'd seen a star in the East.”

It took Marcie a moment to get it, and then she sighed. “Oh, dear!”

“Hey . . .” Rhea patted her shoulder. “I don't know whether she lost interest in him, or he lost interest in her. But I do know their marriage wasn't working. Mercedes told us she hadn't slept with Brad in over six months.”

 

 

The twins were in bed, and Marcie and Brad were lingering at the table on the patio, sipping coffee. Marcie felt wonderful. Her part in
Summer Heat
was almost complete, and soon she could get on with her life. Before she'd left the studio this afternoon, Dave Allen had given her a copy of his newest script. If the studio liked the final print of
Summer Heat,
Ralph Buchannan was sure he'd be able to get the project funded. Dave wanted Marcie to play the lead, opposite Lee Thorpe. But Marcie wasn't sure she wanted to do it. Finishing
Summer Heat
had been fun, but acting was a full-time profession. She wanted to have more time to spend with the twins, and she was still considering what Sam had said about pursuing her art.

“That was a great dinner, Marcie!” Brad smiled at her.

Marcie smiled back and her heart beat a bit faster. Brad looked incredibly handsome. “Thanks, but I didn't make it. Rosa did.”

“Then I'll have to tell her.” Brad cupped his hands toward the kitchen. “Great dinner, Rosa!”

Rosa's voice floated out of the open door. “Thanks, but I didn't plan it. Miss Marcie did. Do you want dessert on the patio?”

Brad turned to Marcie, and she shook her head. “No, thanks. I'm stuffed.”

“We'll wait until later, Rosa,” Brad called out. Then he turned to smile at Marcie again. “How about a quick swim? I need to burn off some of that dinner.”

Marcie hesitated. She hadn't been in the pool at all, even though it had looked very inviting. She wasn't sure she'd ever feel right about using the pool again, after what had happened to Mercedes.

“I'm sorry, Marcie. I just didn't think.” Brad looked embarrassed as he realized the reason for her hesitation. “But I think all of us have to get over our fear of the pool. That's why I took the twins swimming last Friday, before you came home from the studio.”

“The twins went swimming in the pool?” Marcie looked up at him, startled.

“Yes, and we had a wonderful time. Even Rosa went in, and she hates to swim.”

“You're right, Brad.” Marcie sighed deeply. “I know it's silly to avoid the pool, but . . . I just can't help thinking . . .”

“I know.” Brad reached across the table to clasp her hand. “Just remember that it was an accident, a tragic accident. And now we have to get on with our lives.”

Marcie opened her mouth to say that perhaps it hadn't been an accident, that George believed Mercedes was murdered. But George could be wrong. There was no proof. Why upset Brad needlessly?

“What's wrong, Marcie?”

Marcie realized that Brad was frowning, and she quickly shook her head. “Nothing, Brad. And you're absolutely right. It's not rational to be afraid of the pool.”

“I've got an idea.” Brad gave her hand a little squeeze. “It's pretty cold for swimming, so let's use the Jacuzzi instead. And while you're changing, I'll get us both a snifter of Grand Marnier. Would you like that?”

Marcie nodded quickly. “It sounds wonderful, Brad. But won't the Jacuzzi take some time to warm up?”

“I turned it on when I came home. I thought maybe you'd like to relax after your long day at work.”

Marcie smiled as Brad got up and hurried toward the house. Sitting in the Jacuzzi would be nice, and it had been very thoughtful of Brad to turn it on for her. Luckily, she'd left her bathing suit in the cabana, when she'd sunbathed last weekend. She supposed Brad was right about the pool. It was silly not to use it. She'd force herself to go in one of these days, and get past that initial hurdle.

The white bathing suit was right where she'd left it, hanging on a hook next to the mirror. Marcie undressed and slipped it on quickly, giving her reflection an approving glance. She was losing that alabaster skin tone most Minnesotans wore all winter, and she could see the effects of her weekend tanning session. If she spent more time in the sun, it wouldn't take long for her to look like a native Californian.

Marcie gathered up a white silk robe and several fluffy beach towels. Brad was right. The air was nippy tonight, and they'd be cold when they got out of the Jacuzzi. Then she hurried out to the patio again, and climbed into the Jacuzzi.

She gave a sigh as she stepped into the tub and felt the hot water caress her body. What luxury! She'd always wanted to have an outside Jacuzzi, but it had been impossible in Minnesota. Now here she was, immersed up to her neck in lovely warmth, while steamy vapor rose toward a dark sky that was studded brightly with stars. March in a tropical climate was truly wonderful. If the other teachers could see her now, they'd be green with envy.

Since the house was isolated, there were no drapes on the downstairs windows. Marcie could see Rosa bustling around the kitchen, giving the counters a final wipe. Then the kitchen light went out, and Rosa disappeared from view. It was almost ten o'clock, so she'd probably gone to her room to watch the news on her private television.

There he was! Marcie's heart beat faster as she watched Brad come down the spiral staircase. He was dressed in a robe, but he wasn't carrying a towel. It was a good thing she'd brought one out here for him. He walked through the living room and went into the den, where he opened the doors to the liquor cabinet. She saw him take out a bottle and pour amber liquid into two crystal snifters. That must be the Grand Marnier he'd mentioned. Marcie had never tasted it, but Brad had seemed pleased when she'd agreed to try it.

Marcie slid over a bit and positioned herself so the stream of bubbles massaged her back. It felt wonderful, but she wasn't relaxed yet. She wouldn't be, until she told Brad about her decision to stay in California. She was terribly nervous about his reaction, but she wasn't sure why. He'd told her he wanted her to stay. And he'd encouraged her to give up her teaching job. But would he be as delighted as she
wanted
him to be?

Everyone at the studio seemed to think that Brad was falling in love with her, but Marcie didn't see how that could be true. She wasn't as beautiful or as talented as Mercedes had been, and she was a novice in Brad's high-powered world. How could she ever hope to fit into his lifestyle?

She smiled as she remembered the first formal banquet she'd attended with Mercedes, and how nervous she'd been because she hadn't known a fish fork from a salad fork. She wasn't much more sophisticated now. She knew zero about fashion, zilch about foods with foreign names, and zip about how to make small talk with the rich and famous. Wouldn't Brad prefer a woman who was as socially correct and sophisticated as Mercedes had been? Then she remembered what Rhea Delaney had told her, and she frowned slightly. Had her sister's marriage really been in trouble? Or was that just studio gossip? And was it true that Brad and Mercedes hadn't been sleeping together?

Marcie sighed. It was really none of her business. There were lots of reasons why a married couple might not sleep together, and Mercedes had explained that they had conflicting schedules. That was why they'd had separate bedrooms. She was sure Brad hadn't lost interest in Mercedes. That seemed quite impossible. Perhaps Mercedes had been trying some kooky religion that encouraged celibacy. Or a strange, new health kick. She'd always been big on pop fads. Or perhaps she'd merely been in one of her outrageous moods, and Rhea had taken her seriously. Mercedes had always loved to shock people.