Fatal Identity (22 page)

No. He couldn't give way. He had to concentrate on the rhyme to keep the shovel moving. Three, four, open the door. The door to the red room
. Open it! He's waiting for you! Now get on that bed and stop crying!

The shovel wavered in his shaking hands, but he forced himself to dump the dirt in. He couldn't think about that now. It drove him crazy. The rhyme. Miss Razel's rhyme would save him. Five, six, pick up sticks. Seven, eight
. . . You're late! I told you to come home right after school! Uncle Stan has been here for an hour, waiting for you
! Nine, ten, a big fat . . . Ben. Uncle Ben, the worst of them all.
Come here, little boy. You know what I want, don't you? That's a good boy. You be nice and still, and I won't have to tie you down, hmmm? Now turn over. Ah, yes . . . and get ready. 'Cause here comes . . . Papa!

No! Never again! The red mist covered his shoulders, but he fought it back as he stomped down the earth, the way he'd stomped Uncle Ben, before he'd run away to hide with the rats in the alley. Never again. He'd seen to that. Uncle Ben was gone. And so was the Red Lady. And the red room was destroyed by the ancient elements. Now he was the powerful one, the one everyone respected—the Uncle!

He opened his mouth to shout his triumph, and the red mist crawled in, filling his nostrils, his lungs, and his mind. But that didn't matter. He'd buried his prey, covered the evil red thing with layer upon layer of deep, dark earth, so that it could never again see the light of day. The red evil was dead, and he was alive. He was a survivor despite the tremendous odds.

Had he finally done it right this time? Would he be able to keep his mind and destroy the red mist inside him? It would happen one day. His adoptive mother, the librarian, had taught him that. It was the story of human initiative. From pauper to millionaire. From humble beginnings to president of the United States. It was the American Dream, and he was an American. If he tried and tried, over and over again, he would finally succeed.

For a moment, he thought he was going to win his final triumph. Right here. Right now. With his love inside the window, looking out into the darkness, where he protected her. But that was not to be. Not this time. He felt his mind start to shrivel and burn, and he cringed as the red fingers tightened. His mind was in a vise, caught firmly as the red fingers plucked, and tore, and squeezed out his essence, replacing his soul with a deep, black void.

CHAPTER 16

It had been one of those mornings when everything had gone wrong, and Marcie had trouble forcing a smile as she got into the studio limo. Rick had left his baseball card album out on the patio table, and when he'd gone out first thing in the morning to pick it up, he'd discovered that the cover was missing. The baseball cards were still intact, and Marcie had promised to buy him a new album, but it was disturbing. The only explanation Rosa and Marcie had been able to formulate was that a small animal, like a fox or a rat, had come into their yard through the security bars and dragged the leather cover off to eat it.

“What's the matter, Marcie?” George turned to look at her as he stopped the limo just outside the gates, and watched to make sure they closed properly.

Marcie shrugged. “Nothing, really. It's just been one of those weekends when everything goes wrong. The coffee grinder broke this morning, so I had to have instant, some animal ate the cover off Rick's baseball card album and I don't know where to get another one just like it, I set my alarm clock wrong, so I had to rush, and Brad's gone on a business trip, and I wanted to ask him about some wedding plans.”

“Wedding plans?” George glanced at her. “Whose wedding plans?”

“Mine. I mean . . . ours. Brad and I are getting married.”

“You're getting married to
him?
” George's hands tightened so hard on the wheel, his knuckles were white.

“Yes.” Marcie gave him a happy smile. Talking about her wedding made her feel much better. “Everything is going to be so perfect, George. I'm staying right here in California, and we'll be a real family. Naturally, we'll keep the house. The school psychologist agrees that the twins need a sense of continuity, and I'd want to keep it anyway. It's a beautiful place to live.”

George frowned and took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at her. “Aren't you . . . rushing into things?”

“I don't think so. And we're not getting married for at least six months. We want to give the twins plenty of time to adjust to the idea.”

“Okay.” George gave a brief nod. “Have you told the twins yet?”

“Yes. And they said they were happy for me. Of course, they're not as delighted as they will be when they think it over, but they weren't against it. Oh, George! Isn't it wonderful?”

“Yes. It's very exciting for you.”

George's hands gripped the wheel even tighter, and Marcie could tell he was upset. “What's the matter, George? Don't you approve?”

“It's not my business to approve or disapprove. I'm just your driver. But Marcie . . . I think it's only fair to tell you that Brad is a suspect in your sister's murder.”

“What murder?” Marcie gave a deep sigh. “You're the only one who thinks that Mercedes was murdered. The police still say that it was an accident.”

They were nearing the studio, and George pulled out of traffic and parked at the curb. Then he turned to face her. “Look, Marcie. I know I don't have anything concrete, but those threatening letters exist. I didn't make them up out of thin air. And I'm positive your sister was murdered. I want you to be very cautious until I can prove it.”

“I
am
being cautious. I've got you to protect me, and I'm living in a house with a state-of-the-art security system. But I refuse to be paranoid, and I think you're going overboard with this suspect list of yours. Brad didn't have anything to do with Mercedes's accident. You know that as well as I do. You only suspect him because he inherited money from her.”

“That's true.” George nodded. “But don't forget that he had the means, and he had a motive. He had the code to the security system, and he needed money for those thoroughbreds of his. Don't forget that he assumed he'd inherit everything from Mercedes.”

“But he didn't. I did!”

“That's right. And now he wants to marry you. Doesn't that strike you as slightly suspicious?”

Marcie glared at him. “No. It doesn't. Brad loves me and I love him. And I refuse to listen to any more!”

“Okay.” George nodded. “I won't mention it again. It was my duty to warn you, and I did. But I wish you'd take my warning seriously.”

“How can I be serious about that suspect list, when I'm on it myself?” Marcie faced him angrily. “You know that's absolutely ridiculous!”

“Of course, I do. But you did have a motive. And Mercedes might have told you the security code. I can't knock suspects off the list, just because I like them. That isn't good police work.”

“But I was in Minnesota! There's no way I could have murdered my sister!”

“Sure there is.” George looked very serious. “You could have arranged a hit on Mercedes. Life is cheap. A couple thousand would have done it. And then you waltz out here as the grief-stricken sister.”

“How could a murderer be grief-stricken?”

George shrugged. “That wouldn't be difficult. Everyone at the studio says you're an extremely good actress. And after you convince everyone you're truly inconsolable, you inherit everything and marry your sister's husband.”

“That's sickening! I loved my sister! How can you even think that I would . . .”

“I don't.” George reached out to take her arm. “I don't think for one moment that you did it, Marcie. I'm just showing you the way cops think.”

Marcie was silent for a moment, and then she nodded. “You're right, George. Cops
do
think that way. And that's why I wouldn't make a good cop.”

“That's probably true. You're very trusting, Marcie. There are times when I wish I could be that trusting. But cops tend to be cynical, and you don't have a cynical bone in your body.”

“Well . . . maybe one.” Marcie giggled. Her good spirits restored. It was a relief to know that George didn't really suspect her. “My left elbow's been feeling a bit cynical lately.”

George laughed, and Marcie could tell that he was relieved. “We're still friends then?”

“Always.”

“Good.” George put the car in gear and pulled out from the curb. “I hope you still feel that way when I prove that Mercedes was murdered.”

“Of course, I will. Why wouldn't I?”

“I'm afraid you'll be on the suspect list. And so will Brad. The police will come around to ask you a lot of questions.”

Marcie shrugged and leaned back in her seat. “We can handle it. And as long as there's no law about two suspects falling in love and getting married, it won't bother us a bit.”

 

 

Marcie stood in the reception line, dressed in a lovely white bridal gown. Her smile was radiant as she greeted the people who had come to celebrate their wedding day. Her handsome husband stood at her side, his arm possessively around her shoulders. Every once in a while, he gave her shoulder a loving squeeze.

“I'm so glad to meet you.” Marcie looked up at her husband's mistress with the eyes of a trusting spaniel. “We're having a little house-warming party when we get back from our honeymoon. I really hope you'll come.”

The beautiful redheaded woman looked shocked for a beat, and then she smiled. “Why, thank you! I'd love to. So nice of you to invite me.”

“Who was that?” Marcie's mother tapped her on the shoulder. She looked upset as the beautiful redhead made her graceful way through the milling crowd to join the party in the other room.

“Craig's secretary. Isn't she pretty?”

“Yes.” Marcie's mother stared off toward the spot where the secretary had disappeared. “Do you know much about her, dear?”

“Not really. But Craig says he can't get along without her. She practically runs his whole office.”

“Let's hope that's all she runs.”

Marcie turned to look at her mother. “What do you mean, Mom?” She seemed to be a very nice person.”

“I'm sure she is, dear.
Very
nice.”

Marcie looked into the camera with a slightly puzzled expression. It was clear she didn't understand her mother's implication. There was a beat of silence, and then Dave yelled, “Cut! Very good, Marcie.”

“Thanks, Dave.” Marcie slipped out from beneath Ashley Thorpe's arm. “Okay, Lee. You can move now.”

“Thank God! My arm was starting to cramp. Where did you get that innocent expression? It's incredibly effective.”

“Mercedes and I had a cocker spaniel when we were kids, and Cookie always gave us that look when she wanted us to pet her. We always did, so it must have worked.”

“Well, it was perfect!” Sandra Shepard patted Marcie on the back. “I really believed you were totally naive, and I wanted to pull you away for a nice, long, mother-daughter talk.”

“She's right, Marcie.” Dave Allen came up to join them. “Your take is wonderful. I think it's because you're so naturally trusting.”

Marcie laughed. “Thanks . . . I think. Do you really think I look that innocent?”

“Absolutely!” Rhea Delaney nodded. “It's all in the hairstyle. Loose and fluffy. So natural it looks like you set it in curlers yourself.”

Beau LeTeure shook his head. “The hairstyle's nice, but I made her up to
look
innocent. It's that primrose blusher I put on her cheeks.”

“Don't forget the costume.” Elena Garvey turned to smile at Marcie. “I designed a beautiful fairy-tale wedding gown. All you have to do is look at her, and you know she thinks she'll live happily ever after.”

Marcie looked down at the gown and nodded. “It's gorgeous, Elena. Maybe I should borrow it for my wedding.”

“Your wedding?” Dave looked shocked. “You're getting married?”

Marcie nodded. She hadn't meant to break the news of her engagement quite yet, but now the cat was out of the bag.

There was shocked silence on the set for a moment, and then Ashley Thorpe threw his arms around Marcie and gave her a hug. “Congratulations, sweetheart. I knew Sam would get up the nerve to ask you sooner or later.”

Marcie winced. Sam again. “It's not Sam. Brad proposed to me on Saturday. And I accepted.”

“Well . . . that's great, honey!” Sandra put on a big smile. “When's the happy day?”

“Not for at least six months. We wanted to give the twins time to adjust to the idea.”

“That's wise.” Elena nodded. “And, of course, you can borrow the gown . . . can't she, Dave?”

Dave smiled. “Naturally. Send it out for cleaning, Elena, and then have it delivered to Marcie's home.”

“Are you going to invite us? I didn't get to go to your—” Jolene stopped and looked embarrassed. “I mean . . . I haven't been to a wedding in ages, and I just love weddings!”

Marcie smiled at her. “We haven't really made any plans yet, but, of course, you're all invited. I thought we should keep it small, because of . . . the circumstances and all.”

There was another uncomfortable silence, and then everyone began to congratulate Marcie at once. Reuben Lowe, the head cameraman, came on the set to promise her he'd do a video of her wedding, and Tom Porter climbed down from the catwalk where he was adjusting the lights, to hug her. Dave called Ralph Buchannan, who said he wanted to host an engagement party, and the actress who played the mistress started to make arrangements for a studio bridal shower.

After about five minutes, Ashley Thorpe came up to Marcie and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, blushing bride. You just promised to love and obey me, so I'm ordering you to come to my trailer to rehearse our next scene.”

“Careful, Marcie.” Dave Allen laughed. “Don't forget that scene we just shot.”

Marcie looked puzzled. “The wedding scene?”

“Right. And we're doing the honeymoon next. I think it's only fair to warn you that Lee's a method actor.”

 

 

Marcie was still laughing as she stepped inside Lee's trailer, but she quickly sobered when she saw his face. “What's wrong, Lee?”

“Look, Marcie. I know I'm about to jump in where angels fear to tread, but I think you ought to think very carefully about marrying Brad.”

“But why?” Marcie felt a sense of dread as she looked up into Lee's unyielding face.

“Sit down.” Lee motioned toward the couch. “And then listen carefully. I'm going to tell you something in the strictest confidence. I want you to promise you'll keep my secret.”

Marcie sighed. Another secret to keep. But Lee looked so serious, she had to agree. “All right, Lee. I promise. What is it?”

“Your sister and I got to be very good friends on this picture. Do you understand what I mean?”

“I . . . I think so.” Marcie clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling. Mercedes had been a beautiful woman. And Lee was a handsome man. They'd been thrown together constantly on long work days, in and out of each other's trailers, rehearsing romantic scenes. “Are you trying to tell me that you and Mercedes had an affair?”

Lee nodded. “That's right. But even more important than that, we were very good friends. And good friends who are also lovers discuss some very personal details.”

“But . . . I thought you had a happy marriage.”

“I do. I've never had an affair before, and I doubt I'll ever have another. Mercedes was the exception. I love my wife. And I loved Mercedes. She knew that, Marcie, and neither of us had any plans to continue our affair after the picture was over.”

“Then why did you . . .” Marcie stopped, unsure of how to phrase her question.