Fatal Identity (24 page)

But then it changed, slowly at first, so subtly he had no warning. Harder. Rougher. Until the pleasure faded, and he cried out for it to be finished. This was more like a rape than a loving encounter. What had happened since the last time they'd been together? And why was his lover punishing him? He didn't dare to ask. He'd seen his lover fly into a rage before, and that was something he didn't want to experience again.

Jerry buried his head in the pillow and endured his punishment. If he objected, he could be risking another long separation. His lover might even decide never to meet him like this again.

At last it was over, and his lover kissed him gently, sweetly. “Sorry, Jer. I guess I got a little carried away. It's been so long.”

“Yes.” Jerry nodded gratefully, basking in the kindness. “I know what you mean.”

But later, after his lover had left, and he'd bathed his bruised body, and had a stiff shot of brandy, Jerry wondered if love was worth this kind of pain. Wouldn't it be better to find someone new, someone who really cared about him as a person? He was nothing more than a whipping boy, a pawn for his lover's games. There was a nice man he'd met at one of the meetings. Beau LeTeure. He'd been Mercedes's makeup man. Beau was handsome, and he was kind. And he'd just broken up with the man he'd lived with for ten years. Beau liked Jerry, and they were on the same wavelength. His lover had abused him, too.

A billboard T-shirt he'd seen in a shop in Westwood suddenly flashed through his mind. It had read
MY NEXT LOVER WILL BE NORMAL
. It would be wonderful having a normal lover.

Jerry pulled the covers up to his chin and stared up at the dark ceiling. He knew he should break off this relationship, but he couldn't seem to gather the strength. It would be like killing off part of himself, a vital part of his history. They'd been together for too many years to separate now.

 

 

Marcie limped into the lounge and sank down in a chair. To her chagrin, she'd twisted her ankle on the beginners' slope. Two paramedics had taped it and carried her down the slope on a stretcher. Her injury wasn't terribly painful, but everyone had stared at her, and it had been a very embarrassing experience.

“Marcie!” A familiar voice called out from the bar. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Sam? What are
you
doing here?”

“You first.” Sam smiled as he carried his drink over to her table. Then he saw the tape on her ankle, and his smile changed to a frown. “Are you badly hurt?”

Marcie laughed. “The only thing that's badly hurt is my pride. It's just a slightly sprained ankle, Sam. I was showing off for the twins, and I fell down the slope.”

“That answers part of my initial question. You're here with Trish and Rick?”

“Yes. And Rosa, and Brad, and Jerry Palmer. It's a birthday skiing trip for the twins. But what brings you to Aspen? I didn't know you skied.”

“I don't. I'm here on business. One of my clients owns this ski lodge, and I'm up here a couple of times a year.”

“Mr. Sam!” Rosa bustled up to the table. “My goodness! This is a real family gathering!”

“It certainly is. Can I get you girls a drink?”

Rosa shook her head. “Not for me, Mr. Sam. I just came in to check on Miss Marcie, but now that you're here, I won't worry. I promised the twins I'd come right back out and watch them practice their turns.”

“Nice outfit.” Sam grinned as Rosa hurried back out the door. “Where in the world did she get a yellow parka with purple and blue flowers on it?”

“The ski shop at the mall. We all went shopping together, and she picked it out. She said it reminded her of a blanket someone sent her from the old country.”

Sam laughed. “That pattern wouldn't be bad on a blanket, especially if you covered it up with a bedspread. How about a hot buttered rum, Marcie? They're very good here.”

“I really don't think I'd better . . .” Marcie stopped and reconsidered. She wasn't going back out on the slopes. The paramedics had told her to stay off her ankle for the entire afternoon. “On second thought, that sounds lovely, Sam. If you've got time, we can watch the twins from the window.”

Sam nodded. “I've got time. I'm here until tomorrow evening. And now that I know you're here, I hope you'll all join me for dinner. There's an excellent Yugoslavian place about a mile from here. The owner's another client.”

“You have two clients in Aspen?” Marcie was surprised. Aspen was a long way from Los Angeles.

“I have ten clients in Aspen. I used to live here before I moved to California. Excuse me, Marcie. I'll be right back with our drinks.”

Marcie watched as Sam walked toward the bar. It was a strange coincidence, running into Sam in Aspen. But it was a nice coincidence, especially since she couldn't go back to join everyone else outside. She was glad Sam was here. Now she'd have someone to talk to while the others skied.

Sam was back in a moment, holding two steaming cups. “Here you are, Marcie. The specialty of the house.”

“Thank you.” Marcie took her cup and set it down on the table. Then she smiled at him. “”I'm really glad you're here, Sam.”

Sam smiled back as he sat down across from her. “So am I, Marcie. You'll join me for dinner, then?”

“Well . . .” Marcie frowned as she glanced down at her ankle. “I'm willing, but you may have to carry me.”

Sam stood up and bowed. “My pleasure.”

Before she could do more than gasp, Sam scooped her up in his arms and was carrying her to the window so they could watch the slopes. Marcie was slightly embarrassed. People were staring at them. But she had to admit that being in Sam's arms made her feel comfortable and safe.

“Miss Marcie?” Rosa came rushing in. “The twins want us to watch them . . . oh my!”

Marcie felt a blush rise to her cheeks, and she tried to act as if being in Sam's arms was the most natural thing in the world. “Yes, Rosa? The twins want us to watch them do something?”

“Uh . . . yes. They're going to ski right past the window and practice their turns.”

Marcie frowned as Rosa turned on her heel and started for the door. “Rosa? Where are you going?”

“Outside.” Rosa gave her a big smile. “You don't need me, Miss Marcie. You're in good hands now.”

 

 

He caught a glimpse of her face, radiant as she watched the children. For one brief moment, he experienced a pang of horrible jealousy. He wanted to be there at her side, to have her turn and look up at him with the same trusting love and blind devotion. But then he decided that such emotion was entirely unsuitable for a man in his position. He knew he couldn't have her, not really, and certainly not in the way he dreamed. It was clearly impossible.

He spotted the housekeeper near a pine tree by the edge of the slopes, watching the children. She was a good woman, an excellent caretaker for the family. And his love was a perfect mother. Perhaps that was why she wanted to marry the husband, to form another complete family. Mother, father, two children, and housekeeper. It was neat and tidy, the perfect family circle. But the family that she dreamed of would be fatally flawed with the husband at its head.

He wished that there were some way to tell her, to appear at her side and warn her of the folly of marrying the husband. But he could not risk exposure. He'd risked enough by leaving his sanctuary to come here to Aspen.

He took one last look at her beautiful face, and then he forced himself to turn away. He could do nothing but pray that she would recognize the danger without his guiding hand. There was still time for her to escape the horrible fate that clearly awaited her, a fate that would be administered by his hand. The last thing he desired was to hurt her, but the battle of the red had definite rules. He could resist, and he could delay the inevitable. But eventually he would have to obey.

CHAPTER 18

A week had passed since their skiing trip, and Brad was gone again. This time he had meetings in Chicago that would last for five days.

Marcie had spent a restless night. Things weren't the same when Brad wasn't home. Just knowing that he was next door, behind the connecting door, made her feel safe and loved.

She had slept late, and she was just getting dressed when Rosa knocked on the door. “Miss Marcie? The head gardener's here, and he says the crew can't start unless you give him the money for last month.”

“Last month?” Marcie frowned as she slipped into a pair of jeans, and searched through the closet for a suitable blouse. “Brad's handling all the household accounts, just like he did for Mercedes. Didn't he pay the gardening bill?”

“I don't think so, Miss Marcie. At least, he didn't ask me to mail any checks.”

Marcie sighed. Since Brad was gone, she'd have to deal with it. Perhaps he'd just been too busy to make out the checks.

“All right, Rosa. Give the head gardener a cup of . . .” Marcie stopped in mid-sentence, remembering Brad's caution about inviting people inside the house. “Do you know him? I mean, personally?”

“Not personally, Miss Marcie, but he's been working for us for over six years.”

“Okay. Invite him in for a cup of coffee, and tell him I'm just getting dressed, and I'll be down in a minute.”

Marcie pulled out a red blouse and was just preparing to put it on, when a line from one of the threatening letters flashed through her mind.
Red is the color of blood
. No one had heard from the crazy fan since Mercedes had died, but Marcie put it back on the hanger and pushed it to the very back of the closet. She'd wear the green blouse with the white collar. Everyone seemed sure that the crazy fan was gone, but she was still nervous about wearing red.

The head gardener was sitting at the table chatting with Rosa about his grandchildren when Marcie came down. He was an older Japanese man, and he seemed very nice when Rosa introduced them.

“Please sit down and finish your coffee.” Marcie smiled at him. “I'm sorry you didn't get paid last month. My fiancé takes care of all the bills, and he's out of town on business right now. If you wait just a moment, I'll get the checkbook and write you a check.”

The gardener looked very distressed as he shook his head. “I'm sorry, but I can't take a check, Miss Calder.”

“Why not? Isn't that how we usually pay?”

“Yes.” The gardener nodded. “But the bank returned your last check. They said there were insufficient funds.”

Marcie frowned. “Oh, dear! I guess I'd better have a talk with the bank. I do have some cash, though. How much is the bill?”

The gardener handed her the bill, and Marcie frowned. She had enough cash to pay it, but that would leave her with very little money, and Brad would be gone until the end of the week. Unfortunately, she had no choice. The gardening had to be done, and that meant the bill had to be paid. When Brad got back, she'd have a talk with him about putting more money in the household account, so something like this wouldn't happen again.

“Thank you, Miss Calder.” The gardener was all smiles as she counted out the cash. “I'll tell my men to start now.”

After the gardener had left, Marcie sank down in a chair. “I think I need some coffee. And then I'd better call the bank.”

Rosa placed a cup of coffee and a tray of croissants on the table. “Here, Miss Marcie. Why don't you have some breakfast? And then you can go down to the bank and straighten everything out. That's what Miss Mercedes always did.”

“This has happened before?”

“Oh, yes. It used to drive Miss Mercedes crazy when Mr. Brad didn't pay the bills. Everyone called her, and she didn't want to be bothered.”

“All right then.” Marcie nodded. “I'll go down to the bank right after I finish my breakfast. I need to get more cash anyway. And while I'm down there, it might be a good idea to transfer some funds and open another account in my name.”

 

 

Marcie smiled as she got out of the Mercedes and turned it over to the valet parker. Valet service at the bank! She could imagine what her friends in Minnesota would say if she told them about this!

Since Marcie had signed authorization cards in Sam's office, there had been no need to actually go into the bank. Marcie assumed she'd have to show identification and introduce herself, but the young man who greeted her at the door seemed to know who she was.

“Miss Calder. How nice to see you! Please follow me.”

Marcie was surprised as he led her through the bank. There were no lines and no tellers, just a beautifully decorated waiting room with leather chairs and tables for writing.

“Could I get you some coffee?”

Marcie nodded. “Yes. That would be wonderful. But I need to talk to someone about my accounts.”

“Of course.” The young man smiled. “Please have a seat, and I'll bring you your coffee. And then I'll come to get you as soon as one of our account executives is free.”

A moment later, Marcie was sipping excellent coffee from a china cup. She could hardly wait to call Shirley Whitford and tell her how they did banking in Southern California! Coffee, leather chairs, and account executives. There were even telephones on every table, and she noticed a copier and several computers attached to a printer at a large workstation against the wall.

A few minutes passed as Marcie admired her surroundings. Then the young man came back into the room and motioned to her. “Please follow me, Miss Calder. Mrs. Marcusso is available now.”

Marcie smiled as the young man led her to a door. He opened it and motioned her inside. An older woman in a business suit waited behind a desk. A small gold sign on the desk identified her as Adrienne Marcusso.

Mrs. Marcusso stood up as Marcie entered. “I'm glad to meet you, Miss Calder. Please make yourself comfortable.”

Marcie sat down in another leather chair in front of the desk, and pulled out her checkbook. “Thank you. This is a beautiful bank. I've never seen anything like it.”

“It's lovely, isn't it?” Mrs. Marcusso smiled. “Let's see . . . you're from Minnesota, aren't you?”

“Why, yes! How did you know?”

“Mr. Abrams mentioned it when he brought us your signature cards. It's nice of you to drop by to see us, Miss Calder. We like to know all of our clients personally.”

Marcie nodded. “You knew my sister?”

“Yes, I did. We were very sorry to hear about her accident.” Mrs. Marcusso gave her a sympathetic smile. “Which account balance would you like to examine first?”

Marcie handed over her checkbook. “This one, I guess. The gardener mentioned that there was a problem with a check we sent him last month.”

“I'll have the balance in just a moment.” Mrs. Marcusso typed a series of numbers on a computer keyboard. Then she jotted down a figure on a piece of paper and handed it to Marcie.

Marcie was shocked as she read the figure. “There's only three hundred dollars in this account?”

“Yes. There was a substantial withdrawal last Friday. You'll find that figure at the bottom of the paper.”

“Oh.” Marcie frowned slightly as she glanced at the paper. Brad had withdrawn five thousand dollars.

“There's really no problem, Miss Calder.” Mrs. Marcusso smiled at her. “One of your sister's treasury bonds just came due, and we'll be happy to transfer the funds to this account.”

“You can do that?”

“Of course. We've done that many times in the past. Shall I make the transaction for you?”

Marcie frowned. “I'm not sure. I think I'd better check with Mr. Abrams. I wouldn't want to do anything that could cause a problem later.”

“That's always wise.” Mrs. Marcusso smiled. “Would you like me to get him on the phone for you?”

Marcie looked surprised. “That would be nice, but I can call him from the other room. I don't want to take up too much of your time.”

“That's no problem, Miss Calder. That's why we're here, to serve all your banking needs. I'll place the call, and then I'll make a trip to the main computer area to get a printout of all your account balances.”

Mrs. Marcusso picked up the phone and dialed. She obviously knew Sam's number, because she had his secretary on the phone almost immediately. “This is Mrs. Marcusso from Trans-World Mercantile. Miss Calder is here with me, and she'd like to speak to Mr. Abrams on a matter of some urgency. Yes, certainly we'll hold.”

Marcie took the phone and smiled at Mrs. Marcusso. “Thank you.”

“I'll get those printouts now. Just press the buzzer on my desk if you need me.”

It took only a moment, and Sam came on the line. “Marcie? What's wrong?”

“I'm not sure if there's anything wrong. But you told me to check with you before I made any decisions. Mrs. Marcusso says one of Mercedes's treasury bonds just came due. Should I ask her to transfer the money to the household account?”

“Not unless the balance is low. That's not an interest-bearing account.”

“It's very low.” Marcie frowned as she glanced at the paper again. “The balance is only three hundred dollars, and I had to use all my cash to pay the gardener before he'd start work. He wouldn't take a check, because the last one bounced.”

“That's odd. There was a balance of over twelve thousand dollars in that account when I had you sign the signature card.”

“That's what I thought.” Marcie's frown deepened. “Our bills must have been enormous.”

“Have you made any large withdrawals?”

“No. But Brad took out five thousand before he left on his business trip.”

There was a long silence, and then Sam spoke again. “I'll drive right over. Don't do anything until I get there, Marcie. I want to check all the withdrawals before we transfer any funds.”

“Thanks, Sam. I'll wait for you.”

Marcie hung up the phone and pressed the buzzer for Mrs. Marcusso. If Rosa was right and Brad hadn't paid the bills, where had the money gone? She wished she could ask Brad, but he wouldn't call her until tomorrow evening, and he hadn't mentioned the name of his hotel. There was probably a very simple explanation, but she had no idea what it was. Thank goodness Sam was coming down to help her straighten everything out!

 

 

Marcie was still frowning as she drove back to the house. What Sam had discovered at the bank wasn't good news. During the past month, sixty thousand dollars had been transferred to the joint household account, and now there was only three hundred left. Marcie had followed Sam's advice and taken her name off the joint account. Then she'd opened another account in her name. No more treasury bills could be transferred without her approval, but that still didn't solve the mystery of where the money had gone. Marcie was sure that Brad had used it to pay some of Mercedes's bills, and Sam had agreed to meet her back at the house to go over the household ledger.

When Marcie pulled up the driveway, she spotted Sam's car parked near the palm tree by the front door. The problem must be serious. He certainly hadn't wasted any time getting here!

“What's the matter, Miss Marcie?” Rosa looked worried when Marcie came into the house. “You're as white as a sheet!”

Marcie gave her a reassuring smile. There was no sense in upsetting Rosa. “It's just a little banking problem. Where's Sam?”

“In the den. I fixed a tray of sandwiches. He said you'd be working through lunch. And George Williams called. He said he'd be joining you.”

“George is coming here?” Marcie was puzzled.

“Yes. Mr. Sam said he called him from his car phone, and I'm supposed to buzz him in when he gets here. I fixed enough lunch for all three of you.”

“Thank you, Rosa.” Marcie drew a deep breath. “I guess I'd better get in there and help Sam with the books.”

When Marcie opened the door to the den, Sam was sitting behind the desk, going through a ledger. He looked up and smiled. “Hi, Marcie. Is this the only household ledger?”

“I think so.” Marcie frowned slightly. “I know that's the one Brad uses. I've seen him writing in it.”

” And you keep the unpaid bills here?” Sam motioned toward one of the pigeonholes in the desk.

“Yes. If a bill comes in the mail, I stick it in there. Then Brad writes the total in the ledger, and pays it at the beginning of the month.”

“Brad writes all the checks?”

Marcie nodded. “I asked him to keep on doing it. He paid all the bills for Mercedes, and he promised me he'd take care of everything after we were married. It seemed silly to switch back and forth for such a short time.”

“Of course. A perfectly rational decision, under the circumstances. But the bills haven't been paid this month.”

“Are you sure?” Marcie glanced at the ledger. All the amounts were written in next to the creditors' names.

“Look at this.” Sam flipped back to the previous month and showed her the little green check marks after the amounts. “When Brad paid a bill, he checked it off. These are paid.”

Marcie frowned as Sam turned the page to the current month. “There aren't any check marks.”

“Right. That means he didn't pay them.” Sam patted the stack of bank statements on the corner of the desk. “If he'd written the checks on the first of the month, some of them would have cleared by now.”

Marcie nodded. “But there may have been other bills that aren't in the ledger. These are just running expenses, like the power bill, and the telephone, and things like that.”