Fatal Identity

by Joanne Fluke

  George smiled at him. There was no sense in alarming the twins. “We have to talk to your aunt Marcie. Do you have any idea where she went on her honeymoon?”

  “She wouldn’t tell us.” Trish looked betrayed.

  “But that’s only because she didn’t know,” Rick corrected her. “Brad said it was a secret.”

  Sam nodded. “Did he say anything to you? Maybe give you a clue to where they were going?”

  “Well . . . yeah.” Rick looked at Trish and she nodded. “You first.”

  “Brad said he’d bring me back a shell for my collection. So we know they went to a place with a beach.”

  Rick nodded. “And he asked me if they had any Hawaiian baseball players. Trish and I think they went . . .”

  “. . . to the time-share condo.” Trish finished the sentence for him.

  “You guys are great detectives.” George smiled. “I suppose you’ve got the condo telephone number around here somewhere?”

  Rick reached in his robe pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “Mom left it for us the last time she went to Hawaii with Brad. Trish and I were going to . . .”

  “. . . call Aunt Marcie today.” Trish nodded. “And then when she answered, we were going to hang up quick.”

  Rick looked very guilty. “We know that’s not nice, but we just wanted to see if she was there.”

  Sam took the number, and dialed the phone. He frowned as he listened to empty ringing, and finally he put the receiver down. “What time is it in Hawaii?”

  “There’s a two-hour difference.” Beau glanced at his watch. “That would make it eight-thirty in the morning.”

  “Well, they’re not answering the phone. And we don’t even know for sure if they’re at the condo.”

  “Call the time-share company and ask,” George suggested. “You know the name, don’t you?”

  “Dream West. I remember it from the will.” Sam nodded and picked up the phone.

  “Is Aunt Marcie in trouble?” Trish looked very worried.

  “No.” George tried to lie reassuringly. “We just need to talk to her.”

  “Are you sure Brad isn’t going to hurt her?” Rick looked just as worried as his sister.

  George frowned and avoided the question with one of his own. “Why do you think he’d do something like that?”

  “Because he acts crazy sometimes.” Trish glanced at Rick. “I think we’d better tell them.”

  Rick looked hesitant, but then he nodded. “We’re going to get in trouble for this, but . . .”

  “. . . we peeked in the guest house window one time, when Brad was supposed to be gone on a business trip.” Trish interrupted her brother. “And he was in there behind some boxes, acting very weird.”

  “In the guest cottage?” George frowned as both twins nodded. “What was he doing in there?”

  Rick shrugged. “Cutting up magazines . . .”

  “. . . and pasting letters on a piece of paper.” Trish finished up for him. “We couldn’t see what the paper said, but he looked very weird.”

  “You didn’t tell your mother about it?”

  “No way!” Both twins spoke at once.

  “Because you didn’t want to get in trouble?”

  Rick nodded. “That’s part of it. Mom told us never to go in the guest house. She said it was . . .”

  “. . . dangerous, because everything was piled up in there.” Trish finished the sentence for him. “And we were scared to rat on Brad.”

  Sam hung up the phone with a frown on his face. “I just talked to the booking agent, and she said a Mr. Al Coplin from Chicago was using the condo this week. Do you want me to start calling hotels?”

  “They’re at the condo.” Rick sounded very positive. “You can switch reservations, and you don’t even have to tell the company.”

  Trish nodded. “That’s what Mom and Brad did once. They called this guy and offered him free airplane tickets if he’d switch weeks with them. Why don’t you call Mr. Coplin in Chicago and ask him if that’s what they did?”

  A few moments later, Sam had Mrs. Al Coplin on the phone. Everyone listened to his one-sided conversation, and it was very clear that the twins had been right. Brad had switched weeks with the Coplins, and promised to buy them two first-class, round-trip tickets to Hawaii in return.

  “What now?” Sam turned to George as he hung up the phone. “Shall I try the condo again?”

  George nodded. ”Keep trying until you get Marcie on the phone. If they went out to breakfast, she’s bound to be back soon.”

  He had never liked to play golf, so he stayed inside the labyrinth of his mind. Golf was a boring game. Businessmen were forced to play to make deals, but he wasn’t a businessman, and there was no reason for him to play.

  Most of the men on the golf course were old, and they wore Hawaiian shirts, and shorts that exposed their skinny white legs. It was not a game for spectators. One easily tired of watching the small white ball as it traveled over the immaculately kept grass, to finally drop into a hole marked with a pole and a flag. The holes were all the same. As were the balls. And the clubs. There was no provision for creativity in the game of golf. Perhaps that was why the husband enjoyed it. He was not a creative person. Everything he did was programmed, from the way he combed his hair, to the way he made love to his bride. And when she had served her purpose, she would go the way of the other.

  That thought made him feel anxious, and he was glad the husband was here, and not in the condo with her. He liked her. She was different from the other one, but still the same. It reminded him of his relationship with the husband. They were different, but they were the same.

  Was there some way that he could warn her? He would never try the letter again. That had been a terrible mistake. She had refused to believe him. And then she had shown the letter to the husband, and he had set the wheels in motion that had resulted in her death.

  No. It was better to watch and wait, and guard her against the red. He would stomp it out before it could reach her, render it harmless so that it couldn’t hurt her. If he succeeded in rescuing her, he would be saving himself as well. But the husband had plans for her. He could tell. The husband wanted her money, and he couldn’t get it unless she was dead.

  Dimly, he heard them calling the husband. They were waiting, and it was his turn to play the silly game. That meant he had to go back into hiding and let the husband talk and smile, and go on with his plan. At first it had been just him, Jimmy, the boy alone. Then Brad had joined him, and he had grown so powerful that Jimmy was barely there. Jimmy had been a faint shadow, a mere flicker, a feeble specter obscured behind Brad’s dominant presence. Only one thing possessed the power to make Jimmy strong. Red. Jimmy’s whole purpose for being was to fight the evil red. Brad knew it. And he would use Jimmy when the time was right, to destroy her.

  Marcie tossed her packages on the couch and raced for the phone. It had been ringing when she unlocked the condo door, and she’d almost dropped her keys in her rush to get inside to answer it.

  “Hello?” Marcie answered, expecting to hear a click and then a dial tone. It seemed that whenever she rushed for the phone, the person on the other end of the line would hang up just as she answered.

  “Marcie. It’s Sam.”

  “Sam?!” Marcie’s mouth opened in surprise. “How did you find me?”

  “Never mind that. Is Brad there?”

  “No.” Marcie frowned. “Brad’s playing golf, and he won’t be back until this evening.”

  “Thank God! Now listen, Marcie. Jerry came out of his coma this morning, and what he told us means that you’re in terrible danger! You didn’t sign that will yet, did you?”

  Marcie sighed. She knew what was coming. More accusations against Brad. “I signed it yesterday, at city hall, right after we were married. It’s witnessed, notarized, and completely legal.”

  “Does Brad know that?”

  “Of course. He was there.”

  “Just hear me out,
Marcie. Don’t say a word until I’m finished. And promise me you won’t hang up.”

  Marcie sighed. She supposed she owed Sam that much. “All right. I won’t hang up until you’re finished.”

  “Thank you.”

  As Marcie listened, her frown deepened to a dark scowl. Brad was having an affair with Jerry? Never! And he stole money from Mercedes to pay his gambling debts? Absurd! Brad was the crazy fan? Totally ridiculous! And now that she’d signed her will leaving everything to him, he would use his alter personality, James Bradley, to kill her!?

  “Marcie? Are you still there?”

  Sam sounded anxious, and Marcie had all she could do to contain herself. She felt like slamming the phone down and never speaking to him again.

  “Look, Sam.” Marcie took a deep breath and did her best to calm down. “I really think you need professional help. What you’ve told me is utterly ridiculous, and I don’t believe a word of it. Brad’s a wonderful man, and he’s also my husband. I don’t want to hear another negative word about him from you or anyone else. And don’t bother trying to call me back, because I’m not going to answer!”

  CHAPTER 28

  Marcie had been as good as her word. George and Sam had taken turns calling for a solid half hour, before they’d given up and rushed for the airport. Sam had decided that if Marcie wouldn’t answer the phone, he’d break into the condo and drag her out of danger by her hair, if necessary. George had insisted on going along. His stateside police connections might help. And now they were standing at gate twenty-eight, hoping to buy two tickets from passengers who’d booked in advance on a sold-out chartered flight.

  “Are you sure this is the only flight to Hawaii?” George scowled at the boisterous college students sprawled out on every available chair.

  “This is it.” Sam sighed deeply. “The only other flight leaves later and doesn’t arrive until after nine Hawaiian time.”

  “Okay. I guess we’re stuck with a bunch of college students on Spring Break. At least they always need money. How about the blonde in the pink shorts and the redhead in the jeans?” George motioned toward two girls who were sitting on their luggage near the check-in desk.

  “Okay. Do you want to approach them? Or shall I?”

  “Count me out. You’re the lawyer. It’s your job to be convincing.”

  Sam sighed as he approached the two girls. They didn’t look like good candidates to him, but George could be right. “Excuse me . . . girls? Would you be interested in selling your tickets for double their purchase price?”

  “No way!” The blonde shook her head. “We’d never get on another flight tonight, and our boyfriends are already in Hawaii.”

  The redhead nodded. “She’s right. There’s no way we’re going to give them the chance for a night alone in Hawaii!”

  “But think of all the money you’d have to spend, once you got there.”

  The blonde laughed. “And think of all the girls Phil and Ray might pick up if we’re not there to keep an eye on them. No thanks, mister. Try somebody else.”

  “You bombed out?” George raised his eyebrows as Sam came back.

  “Completely. They’re afraid to leave their boyfriends alone for the night in Hawaii. Maybe we’d get better results if you tried two guys.”

  “Me, huh?” George shrugged. “Okay. I’ll give it a whirl. Those two football player-types by the window might do it.”

  Sam watched as George approached the two guys in jogging suits. They seemed to be listening. One even looked tempted, but the other said something, and then they both shook their heads. When George came back, he had a frown on his face.

  “I was right. They’re football players. But they won’t do it, either. They don’t want to give the rest of the team a head start.”

  “I don’t understand it.” Sam frowned. “When I was in college, I would have jumped at the chance to sell my ticket for a profit.”

  “Maybe their parents are rich, and they don’t need the money. Or maybe spending the night in Hawaii with their girlfriend or boyfriend is more important than cash.”

  “Okay.” Sam nodded. “Let’s pick a couple in love, and try to get their tickets. How about that skinny brunette with the frizzy hair, and the guy with the John Lennon glasses?”

  “Good choice. They look like hungry students. Throw in the money for a meal at the airport restaurant, and they might go for it.”

  Sam put a smile on his face as he approached the young couple. “Hi. My friend and I are trying to buy two tickets to Hawaii. Would you sell yours for double price, plus a free meal in the airport restaurant?”

  “Can we, Pete?” The frizzy-haired brunette looked excited.

  “Well . . . I don’t know.” Her boyfriend frowned. “Are we talking hamburgers? Or steak?”

  “Anything you like. They’ve got a full menu. I’ll spring for fifty dollars’ worth of any entree you like. For each of you.”

  “Well . . . maybe.” The young man looked interested, but not convinced. “With wine?”

  Sam tried not to grin. “With a twenty-dollar bottle of wine. Will that do?”

  “It’s sounding a lot better. But we might not be able to get another flight tonight. And that’d cause us real emotional suffering.”

  “Of course, it would,” Sam agreed. “But I imagine, if I put you up at the Hyatt, you’d forget about your emotional suffering.”

  “Could be. Let’s see . . . two eighty apiece for the tickets. That’s what it’ll cost us to book another flight. A hundred for the meal, and another twenty for the wine. And a hundred sixty for the Hyatt. That comes to eight hundred forty. Let’s call it an even nine hundred. I’m giving you a real break on the tickets. We’ll fly coach.”

  “It’s a deal.” Sam opened his wallet and counted out the cash.

  “Give him the tickets, Sara.”

  The frizzy-haired brunette was all smiles as she handed over their tickets. “Thanks, mister. You just gave us enough money for next semester.”

  “Good.” Sam smiled back. Then he turned to the young man. “What’s your major?”

  “Pre-law.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Sam reached in his pocket and pulled out a card. “When you graduate, come and see me. Maybe we can work out an internship.”

  The young man glanced down at the card, and when he faced Sam again, he looked dismayed. “Sorry, Mr. Abrams. If I’d known who you were, I wouldn’t have given you such a hard time. We’ll be glad to give you our tickets at cost.”

  “Absolutely not.” Sam shook his head. “You drove a hard bargain, and you stuck to it. I’ve got a couple of young lawyers in my office who could learn a thing or two from you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive. Law school’s expensive, and my firm is setting up a scholarship fund. What’s your name?”

  “Mark Adler.”

  “Okay, Mark.” Sam shook the young man’s hand. “Don’t forget about that scholarship fund. Make sure you send me your application.”

  “I won’t forget. Thank you, sir.”

  Sam felt good as he headed back to the spot where George was waiting. Mark Adler would make a fine lawyer someday.

  George grinned as he saw the tickets. “You got them?”

  “I got the tickets, but I think the kids got me. They drove a hard bargain. Come on, George. The sign at the desk said we leave in twenty minutes.”

  “Students?” An amplified voice came over the loudspeaker. “Students? Please listen to me!”

  It took several more calls from the loudspeaker before the crowd of students was quiet. Sam spotted a heavyset woman wearing a purple pantsuit, holding a microphone. She looked more like a harassed elementary schoolteacher than a flight attendant or ticket agent.

  “My name is Miss Ripley, and I’m your tour director. Are we all ready for a nice vacation?”

  Several students cheered, but the rest looked bored.

  “That’s wonderful! Now, I want you to all sit qu
ietly and relax. Our flight has been delayed just a tiny bit, but we should be . . .”

  There were groans so loud, the rest of her sentence was drowned out, and Sam and George exchanged glances. One of the football player-types that George had approached stood up and shouted, “What’s ‘a tiny bit’?”

  “No more than thirty minutes, I promise you. And I know you’re all adult enough to wait for thirty minutes.”

  “Can we board now and wait in the plane?” The football player’s buddy spoke up.

  “No, dear. You see, the plane isn’t here yet. They’re still getting it nice and clean for you. You wouldn’t want to get on a plane that hadn’t been cleaned, would you?”

  “Yes!”

  Several students shouted in unison, and the tour director looked even more harassed. “To pass the time while we’re waiting, let’s all sing a song. What’s your very favorite song?”

  There was absolute silence, and the tour director put on a forced smile. “All right. I’ll choose one.”

  Sam and George exchanged glances as the tour director started to sing “Puff the Magic Dragon” in a quavering soprano. No one joined in, and her voice trailed off. Even if they boarded in thirty minutes, as she’d promised, it was going to be a very long flight.

  It was three in the afternoon when the doorbell rang, and Marcie hurried to answer it. Perhaps Brad was home early. But it was a deliveryman from a boutique.

  “Are you sure this is for me?” Marcie was puzzled.

  “Yes, ma’am. If your name is Marcie James, it’s for you.”

  Marcie began to smile as she tipped the deliveryman and took the package inside. There was only one person in Hawaii who would call her Marcie James. She wasn’t sure when he’d had time to shop, but this was a gift from Brad.

  The package was wrapped in gold paper, and Marcie looked down at it for a moment, enjoying the suspense. Then, when she couldn’t stand it any longer, she ripped off the paper and lifted the lid of the box inside.

  Marcie gasped as she lifted out a lovely red silk negligee with delicate lace trim. It was so sheer, it was almost transparent. A perfect gift from a new husband to a new wife.