by Joanne Fluke
“. . . suspicious and figures it out.” Trish smiled. “Give us the facts, George. We’ll help you.”
George looked very serious. “You’ll have to try to be very impartial. You see, this case involves your mother.”
“You think Mom was murdered?” Rick’s eyebrows shot up.
“Maybe. What’s your opinion?”
“I think she was.” Trish frowned slightly. “I don’t believe she just drowned. Mom was a great swimmer.”
George smiled. “Precisely. Now what do they do on television, when they think it’s murder but they can’t prove it?”
“They look for evidence.” Rick jumped in. “And if they can’t find any, they look for someone with a motive.”
“A good motive,” Trish added. “You want us to think of who had a motive to kill Mom, right?”
“That’s right.”
The twins were silent for a moment, and then they both spoke at once. “Brad.”
“He had a motive,” Rick said.
“And he could get in the gates,” Trish offered. “We had the combination, but we were out with Rosa. That means we’re not suspects because . . .”
“. . . we have an airtight alibi.” Rick grinned. “So does Rosa, since she was with us. And Aunt Marcie was . . .”
“. . . back at her apartment in Minnesota.” Both twins finished up at once.
Just then the waiter arrived with their desserts. Marcie picked up her fork; her ricotta cheesecake looked delicious, but she couldn’t eat it now. She waited until the waiter had poured their coffee and left, and then she objected. “You’re all forgetting that Brad had an alibi. He was with the horse trainer, and then he went to the track.”
“That’s not a very good alibi.” Rick corrected her. “He could have slipped away from the track without anyone noticing. And then he could have come back afterward.”
Trish nodded. “He could have picked up some of those betting tickets from the ground, to prove he was there. You remember what happened when we were there, Aunt Marcie. If people lose they just throw them away.”
“Very good!” George gave Marcie a look that made her resume her silence. Then he turned to smile at the twins. “But do you really think Brad had a motive?”
Rick’s eyes narrowed. “Sure, he did. He needed Mom’s money. And Mom was getting ready to cut him off.”
“How do you know that?” This time Sam broke in. “Did you overhear something?”
Rick and Trish exchanged guilty glances. Then Rick spoke up. “Uh . . . not exactly. We got it from . . .”
“. . . another source.” Trish looked very nervous. “A confidential source.”
George raised his eyebrows. “Can you tell us who it is? I won’t question your source unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“You can’t.” Trish looked very upset. “You see, our source is . . . well . . . it’s . . .”
“. . . it’s Mom.” Rick frowned.
George nodded. “She told you that?”
Rick and Trish exchanged glances again. Then Rick spoke. “In a way, she did. You see she . . . uh . . .”
“You might as well tell them.” Trish sighed deeply. “George is a smart cop. He’s going to find out anyway.”
Rick nodded. “I guess so. Mom kept a diary. And we took it out of her room after she died, because we . . .”
“. . . didn’t want Brad to read it.” Trish swallowed hard. “Did we do something wrong?”
George shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong at all. Your mother’s diary was private. Brad had no right to read it.”
“I guess you’re right.” Rick sighed in relief. “But we didn’t have the right to read it, either.”
Trish nodded. “You see, we never would have done it while Mom was alive. We knew it was private. But after she died, we just . . . well . . .”
“We got curious, that’s all.” Rick finished the difficult sentence for his sister. “Maybe we shouldn’t have read it, but we did. And Mom wrote some not very nice stuff about Brad.”
George nodded. “It could be important to my investigation. Would you mind if we had a look at it?”
The twins exchanged glances again, and then they nodded. Marcie noticed they looked very relieved.
“I think you should read it.” Rick gave a deep sigh. “Right, Trish?”
“Me, too. If Mom was murdered, you should catch Brad and put him in jail.”
Marcie bit her lip to keep from blurting out what she was thinking. She didn’t want George or Sam to read Mercedes‘s diary. But perhaps that was foolish. She still didn’t believe that her sister had been murdered. There was certainly no proof to substantiate it. But if George’s hunch was right, and Mercedes had actually been murdered, she wanted her sister’s killer apprehended and brought to trial. Of course, there was no way that Brad was involved. She knew the man who had made such gentle and passionate love to her could never be a cold-blooded killer. The thought was ridiculous! But her sister’s diary might contain a clue to the real culprit.
“Any objections, Marcie?” Sam turned to her. “Legally speaking, the diary belongs to you.”
Marcie shook her head. “If the twins agree that you should read it, I don’t have any objections.”
The twins nodded soberly and Sam smiled at them. “It’s settled then. And now we can get down to the serious business of eating our desserts.”
Marcie picked up her fork again and tried the cheesecake. It was every bit as delicious as it looked. Now that she thought about it, she was almost as relieved as the twins. Mercedes’s diary might contain a reference to the missing money, a big expense her sister had incurred right before her death, or a charitable donation she’d asked Brad to make. It was possible they could solve the mystery tonight, and then she wouldn’t be in the awkward position of having to ask Brad about it when he called.
They were all in the den with a fresh pot of coffee, when Rick and Trish came in.
“Here it is.” Rick handed them the diary. “You won’t tell anyone what’s in it, will you?”
Marcie hugged them both. “Of course not. We’ll make sure to protect your mother’s privacy.”
“You won’t tell Brad, will you, Aunt Marcie?” Trish still looked very anxious.
“No, I won’t tell him.” Marcie promised. “Your mother’s secrets are safe with us.”
“Rosa’s going to let us watch a movie.” Rick spoke up. “She went to the store and got our favorite monster movie. It’s called . . .”
“. . . Creature from the Black Lagoon.” Trish gave Marcie a radiant smile.
Marcie looked worried. “But won’t that scare you, right before bedtime?”
“Oh, it doesn’t scare us.” Rick laughed. “They’re just movie monsters. And if you look real close at the monster . . .”
“. . . you can see the zipper down its back!” Trish chimed in. “Rosa puts the picture on stop frame, so we can see it better.”
Marcie laughed. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning, guys. And don’t forget . . . tomorrow we’re going to the zoo.”
“Right.” Trish nodded. “Aunt Marcie? We wanted to tell you not to get upset over some of the stuff Mom wrote about you.”
“Like what?” Marcie did her best to maintain a neutral expression.
Rick looked embarrassed. “Oh, she mentioned something about how you dressed.”
“You mean like a middle-aged schoolteacher?”
Trish burst into giggles. “Actually, the word she used was frump. But you look much prettier, now that you’re not a schoolteacher anymore.”
“Thank you . . . I think.” Marcie laughed, and the twins hurried away to watch their monster movie. Then she turned to George and Sam. “Would either of you like some brandy with your coffee? After that warning, I might need some.”
Sam got up to get the brandy bottle and poured Marcie a shot. Then he sat down next to her, slipped a casual arm around her shoulder, and they began to read Mercedes’s most intim
ate thoughts.
It was long past midnight before they were finished. When Sam closed the diary and leaned back on the couch, Marcie picked up the brandy snifter, took the last swallow, and gave a deep sigh. Her sister had only written a couple of short paragraphs every evening, but her diary spanned two years. It was a record of her marriage to Brad, and the portrait she had painted of her husband wasn’t very flattering.
“Are you all right, Marcie?” Sam turned to her with a worried look.
Marcie nodded. “I’m fine. I’m just sorry she was so unhappy. Brad told me they were having problems with their marriage, but I had no idea it was this bad.”
“It might not have been.” Sam slipped his arm around her shoulders again, and gave her a little squeeze. “Mercedes never expected anyone to read her diary, and we’re getting a very one-sided picture. Don’t forget that she wrote about the things that were bothering her, not the good things.”
Marcie smiled at him. Sam was very understanding. “Thanks, Sam. And you’re right. If anyone read my diary, they’d be convinced I was a terribly unhappy person. And I’m not.”
George nodded. “Very true. And we have to take that into account. I jotted down the important things we learned. Do you want me to read you my notes?”
“Yes.” Marcie and Sam spoke at once, and Marcie gave a relieved laugh. “We sound like the twins, and we’re not even related. Go ahead, George. It’s hard for me to be objective, but I’d like to know what you think is important.”
George glanced down at his notebook. “She was worried that Brad was having an affair. That may or may not be true. And she didn’t request separate bedrooms, as she told Marcie. That was Brad’s idea.”
“Which may or may not be true,” Marcie pointed out. “Brad told me it was her idea.”
Sam nodded. “It doesn’t really matter whose idea it was. The point is, they both told different stories about it. Someone is lying.”
“Maybe not.” George shrugged. “It may have turned out to be a mutual decision. Perhaps Brad mentioned it first, and Mercedes thought she had to agree. So she blamed him for suggesting it.”
Marcie jumped in. “Or vice versa. Mercedes may have mentioned it, and Brad agreed. Is that really important?”
“Only because it establishes a pattern of poor communication. Mercedes was sure that Brad was no longer interested in her as a woman. And Marcie told us Brad thought Mercedes was no longer interested in him as a man. They were obviously growing apart, becoming indifferent to each other.”
There was a long silence, and Marcie sighed. “I guess you’re right.”
“Then there’s the section where Mercedes writes she was worried about the way Brad was handling her money. That was why she put off revising her will. She’d told Brad she’d already done it, but she hadn’t, and she wasn’t about to, not while she had any doubts about Brad’s management of her money.”
“I can verify that.” Sam nodded. “She had me draw up a new will, but she put off coming in to sign it.”
Marcie began to frown. “But that’s natural, isn’t it? If Mercedes and Brad weren’t getting along anymore, she certainly didn’t want to leave all her money to him. But that doesn’t give him a motive to kill her.”
“Oh, but it does!” George gave Marcie a level look. “It doesn’t matter whether your sister revised her will or not. The point is, Brad thought she had. And he thought he’d inherit everything.”
Marcie turned to George with fear in her eyes. “Surely you don’t think that Brad murdered Mercedes for the money he thought he’d inherit!”
“It’s a possibility. I checked out Brad’s alibi personally, and he was where he said he was that night. He went out to the stables and had a meeting with the horse trainer. That’s confirmed. And then they went out to the track. But there are a couple of strange inconsistencies.”
“Like what?” Marcie could feel her heart pound hard in her chest. George was actually suggesting the man she loved had murdered her sister!
“Brad gave Rosa money and told her to take the twins out to a movie and then for a hamburger. And Rosa said it was the first time he’d ever planned a night of entertainment for them.”
“Did it ever occur to you that Brad was just being thoughtful?” Marcie stared right back at him. “That’s not so unusual, is it?”
George shrugged. “Perhaps not. But the trainer said that there was a period of time when he and Brad were separated at the track. I checked that out, too. I drove from the track to the house, and then back again. Brad had time to kill Mercedes and get back to the track to pick up the horse trainer before the races were over.”
Marcie shuddered. It couldn’t be true! But how could she prove that to George and Sam? “How about the letters from the crazy fan? Surely he’s a suspect!”
“I’m not discounting that. And if it makes you feel any better, I don’t believe Brad killed your sister.”
“Of course, he didn’t!” Marcie drew a big sigh of relief. “Thank goodness you see it that way!”
“But there’s always the possibility that Brad hired a hit man to murder Mercedes. That could account for the missing money.”
“Oh, now wait a minute!” Marcie could feel her anger start to grow. “You’re putting the cart before the horse. You’re assuming that Mercedes was murdered, and you can’t even prove that!”
“Not yet.” George nodded. “But I’m waiting for the police lab to call me about the glove.”
“What glove?” Both Marcie and Sam spoke at once, but this time neither one of them noticed. They were too astonished by what George had said.
“The gardener found a padded glove in the bushes by the side of the pool. And the leather looks like it’s been soaked in chlorinated water.”
Sam frowned. “It could have fallen in the pool by accident.”
“Sure, and pigs could fly.” George laughed. “I don’t think that’s what happened. You see, there are some very suspicious scratches on the surface of the glove, and I think they came from Mercedes’s fingernails. Since the police M.E. took routine fingernail scrapings before he released her body, we’re checking to see if any particles match the leather of the glove.”
Marcie looked at Sam anxiously. “Is that enough evidence to prove that Mercedes was murdered?”
“Not really.” Sam shook his head. “Of course it falls under the heading of circumstantial evidence, but it wouldn’t make for a very strong case.”
“Very true, Counselor. But if my theory about the hit man is correct, everything fits. Unfortunately, we need hard evidence and there’s only one way to get that.”
Marcie experienced a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as George turned to her. He looked very serious. “I need your help to trick Brad into hiring the hit man again.”
“Come on, George!” Marcie sighed in exasperation. “Brad won’t hire the hit man again because he didn’t do it in the first place!”
“But will you cooperate with me? I’d like to set up a trap.”
Marcie frowned. George had a one-track mind. He was convinced that Brad was responsible for Mercedes’s death, and she wished there was something she could do to prove him wrong.
“I think you should cooperate, Marcie.” Sam looked serious, too. “Suppose for a moment that George is wrong. You’d be giving your future husband a chance to prove his innocence.”
Marcie began to waver. Sam had made an excellent point. She had nothing to lose by cooperating, and everything to gain. She was sure that George’s trap would be unsuccessful, and then they’d know she was right, that Brad had absolutely nothing to do with Mercedes’s death.
“Yes, I’ll cooperate.” Marcie nodded, suddenly eager. “Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it!”
CHAPTER 20
Marcie listened carefully as George outlined his plan. When Brad called her tomorrow night, she was to tell him she’d made out her will and named him as the beneficiary. Sam would be on the line to confirm it,
and he’d tell Brad it would be ready for Marcie to sign the next day.
“All right. I’m certainly willing to do that.” Marcie nodded. “I was going to do that anyway, after we were married. Is that all?”
George shook his head. “I want you to go down to the bank on Monday morning, and transfer at least ten thousand dollars to that household account. It has to be available, if Brad wants some ready cash.”
“All right.” Marcie nodded again. “But Brad won’t withdraw any more money. You’ll see.”
Sam shrugged. “I’m not so sure about that, Marcie. He certainly withdrew plenty last month.”
“I know.” Marcie sighed, and turned to George. “Do you want me to ask him about that?”
“No, don’t mention it. We don’t want him to know it’s been discovered yet. But get the number of the hotel where he’s staying. Tell him Sam may need to contact him, in case there’s some question about the wording of your will.”
Marcie nodded, and made herself a note. “All right. I’ll do all that. But I still don’t see why we don’t just . . .”
“Let’s do this my way,” George interrupted. “Don’t forget you agreed to help. If Brad doesn’t fall into our trap, I’ll owe you an apology, okay?”
“Okay.” Marcie nodded, a bit reluctantly. She didn’t like the idea of setting up her future husband for anything.
“Now, Sam . . .” George turned to him. “On Tuesday night, you call Brad and ask him about the missing money. Don’t accuse him of anything. Just say you need a full accounting by the end of the week, so probate can settle Mercedes’s estate.”
“Got it.” Sam jotted down the information.
“If Brad’s guilty, that ought to make him very nervous.” George turned to Marcie. “And if he’s not, it won’t bother him a bit. Now, late the same night, say about eleven, you call him, Marcie. Tell him you’re very upset, that Sam just dropped by and he thinks that Brad has appropriated some of your money.”
Marcie frowned. “Do I really have to do that?”
“Yes. Of course, you should reassure him. Tell him you don’t believe a word of it, and you’re sure he didn’t do anything wrong, but Sam is urging you to make out a new will, putting all the money in trust for the twins. He’s drawing up the papers now, and he wants you to sign them on Thursday.”