by Joanne Fluke
“Well?” George faced him squarely. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
“No. But I think whoever wrote these letters is.”
“Agreed.” George gave a slight smile, acknowledging the joke.
“Of course, these letters could be nothing more than the ravings of a harmless psychotic.”
George nodded. “That’s true, too. But do you know what Mercedes was wearing the night she died?”
“She’d been swimming her laps, so I assume it was a bathing suit.”
“A red bathing suit.”
“I didn’t know that!” Sam frowned, and reached for the first letter again. “‘Red is the color of blood’?”
“You got it. Still, that might not figure into it at all. We’d have to assume that the crazy fan was there to see her in her red bathing suit. And that means he had to get in the gates and out again without setting off the alarm. I talked to the security company. They swear that’s impossible.”
“Of course, they do.” Sam nodded. “They don’t want to open the door to any future lawsuits. But are they right?”
“No one makes a security system that’s impenetrable, but this one comes close. And we know the system was armed when Rosa and the twins came home. She remembers she let Rick punch in the code at the gate.”
“Then the crazy fan’s not a suspect?”
“Wrong.” George gave a tight little smile. “He’s still on my list. For all we know, he could have come in before the security system was installed, and holed up somewhere on the grounds. Or he could have sneaked in with the gardening crew, or the bottled water man, or someone making a delivery. It’s even possible he came in when Brad or Rosa drove out. Rosa told me she didn’t check her rearview mirror when she drove through the gates.”
Sam nodded. “You said you have a list of suspects. Do you think someone else might have killed Mercedes?”
“It’s possible, and that’s why I wanted to talk to you. As Mercedes’s lawyer, you have some valuable information. Who had the most to gain financially from Mercedes’s death?”
Sam drew a deep breath and considered it. “Marcie. She inherited the bulk of her sister’s estate. And then the twins, but that money’s in a trust fund, and they don’t get any actual cash until they reach twenty-one.”
“Okay.” George jotted the information down in his notebook. “Let’s forget about the twins for the moment. Who inherited the most after Marcie?”
“Brad. He got everything covered under the community property laws.”
George wrote that down. “That includes the house?”
“No. The house is Marcie’s. It was part of Mercedes’s inheritance from Mike Lang. Since the funds were never commingled, Marcie got everything Mercedes inherited from Mike.”
“I see. And how about Rosa? Did Mercedes leave anything to her?”
“She set up a trust fund for Rosa, to pay her salary until the twins are of age. And after that, there’s a lump sum settlement for her retirement.”
George jotted that down. “Rosa didn’t know about the fund Mercedes had set up for her?”
“I’m sure she didn’t. She told me she thought she’d be out of a job if Marcie took the twins back to Minnesota.”
“Okay. Let’s concentrate on Brad. How much did he inherit?”
Sam hesitated. He knew George wasn’t asking for personal reasons, but there was an issue of confidentiality at stake. George was no longer a policeman. He was a private citizen with no authority to request that kind of information.
“Come on, Sam.” George fixed him with a level gaze. “I know it’s confidential, but it might make a real difference. How much?”
Sam thought it over for a moment, and then nodded. “At least two million, probably more like three. Of course, that’s not in cash. Brad would have to sell off the time-share condo, the thoroughbreds, and the antique cars to liquefy his assets.”
“Could he do that?”
Sam frowned. “Not without taking a beating. Mercedes wanted him to sell their thoroughbreds last year, but Brad said they were running so far in the red, and they’d only realize a fraction of what they’d invested. He convinced her to give him one more year to make a profit.”
“And she went along with it?”
“Yes. I advised against it, but Brad had just bought Metro Golden Mare, and he was sure she’d finish in the money and turn everything around.” George looked at him expectantly, and Sam shook his head. “Unfortunately, the mare is having some physical problems, and she hasn’t run at all this year. Mercedes gave me the bad news when she called on the night she died. I’m sure that’s one of the reasons she decided to move the bulk of her assets to another investment firm.”
“Marcie told me that Brad was shocked when he heard what she’d done.”
“Yes.” Sam nodded. “He seemed to think Mercedes had fired him. But she hadn’t, not really. She set it up so that he’d still handle the investments they’d made together.”
“The thoroughbreds and the antique cars?”
“That’s correct. She moved everything else to another firm.”
George looked thoughtful. “Thoroughbreds are a risky investment, aren’t they?”
“Definitely, especially if the owners bet on their own horses. That’s why I advised Mercedes to cut her losses and get out of the business.”
“Do you think Brad’s a gambler?”
Sam shrugged. “I really can’t say one way or the other. He’s always struck me as the type, but Mercedes never mentioned it.”
“Maybe she didn’t know.” George jotted down a note on his pad. “How about the antique cars? They’re a safe investment, aren’t they?”
Sam shook his head. “Not really. Prices fluctuate, and the maintenance costs are high. The cars have to be stored in a temperature-controlled warehouse, and places like that don’t come cheap. And Brad didn’t buy the cars and restore them. He purchased them at premium prices, and waited for them to appreciate. That hasn’t happened yet.”
“So Brad had plenty of assets, but he couldn’t cash out without taking a loss. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“That’s it, in a nutshell.” Sam nodded. “Mercedes told me that Brad wanted to hold on until the market went up, but he needed more operating capital. And that’s something he was short on.”
“You just painted me a picture of a desperate man. Do you think he was desperate enough to kill Mercedes, to get his hands on her money?”
Sam shook his head. “Absolutely not. Brad’s much smarter than that. Killing Mercedes would have been like killing the goose that laid the golden egg. Her earnings were keeping his investments going. He had nothing to gain by killing her. As a matter of fact, her death put him in an even more desperate position, since the will left the bulk of her assets to Marcie.”
“Brad knew that Marcie would inherit the bulk of Mercedes’s estate?”
“Actually . . .” Sam stopped short. “No. He didn’t. Brad seemed very surprised when I read the will. He said Mercedes had told him that she’d made out a new will, leaving everything to him. I know she intended to do that. We discussed it almost a year ago. I drew up a new will, but she never came in to sign it.”
“So Brad thought he was going to inherit everything. That’s motive in my book. Thanks, Sam. You’ve been a big help.”
“But Brad couldn’t have killed Mercedes. He was at the track that night. You told me that yourself.”
George nodded. “That’s true. But he could have slipped away, and returned before anyone missed him. The track’s only twenty minutes or so from the house.”
“I don’t believe it!” Sam shook his head. “Look, George . . . it’s no secret I never liked the guy, but he’s not a killer. And to do something violent, like drowning his wife? That’s way out of character.”
“True. But if I’ve learned one thing from my years on the force, it’s that a desperate man is totally unpredictable.”
“You think Brad killed Merc
edes!?” Sam was clearly shocked.
“No. I don’t think he’s got the balls to do something like that. But it’s possible he hired someone else to do it. It’s not that hard to arrange a hit. All it takes is money. And you’re a lawyer. You know that makes him every bit as guilty, in the eyes of the law, as the person who actually killed Mercedes.”
“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?”