Fatal Identity (11 page)

“Please, Mr. Buchannan.” Marcie was embarrassed. “I'm very flattered but I'm certainly no actress. I've only been in one play in my life, and that was in second grade, when I played a stalk of corn in the Thanksgiving pageant.”

Trish nodded sagely. “That's method acting, Aunt Marcie. Mom told us about this class she took once, when she had to be a car. She was trying for a Ferrari, but everybody thought she was an old station wagon.”

“I think you should do it, Aunt Marcie.” Rick spoke up. “If you're lousy, it doesn't matter. They have to ditch the film anyway. But maybe you'll be good. And . . . well . . . if Mom's watching over us, like Rosa says, I know she'd be really happy if you helped to finish her movie.”

Marcie could feel herself beginning to waver. The whole thing was ridiculous, but the twins really wanted her to do it. And it seemed to have snapped them out of their depression, at least momentarily.

“But really, Mr. Buchannan . . . I wouldn't know the first thing to do!”

“That's why you have a director,” Trish explained. “He tells you exactly what to do. Why don't you try it, Aunt Marcie? Rick and I will help you learn your lines and ever ything.”

Rick looked excited. “Come on, Aunt Marcie. It'll be fun. And if you're in the picture, we'll come to the studio every day after school and help you.”

“You're going to show her some of Mom's dailies, aren't you, Mr. Buchannan?” Trish looked concerned. “It's not fair to make Aunt Marcie read cold.”

Ralph Buchannan patted her on the back. “Right you are, young lady. We'll watch some scenes that are already in the can, and then your aunt Marcie can test for the part.”

“You're going to do it, aren't you, Aunt Marcie?” Rick looked up at her hopefully.

“Well . . . I'm willing, but you'll have to get my lawyer's permission.” Marcie motioned to Sam. “He told me I shouldn't agree to anything, unless I consult him first.”

While Sam and Ralph Buchannan discussed it, the twins told Marcie all about their mother's role in
Summer Heat
. Marcie was amazed at how much they knew, and how involved they'd been in the whole process. The school guidance counselor had advised her to get them involved in some outside interest, and this seemed to fit the bill. If she hadn't been convinced to take Mr. Buchannan's screen test before, she certainly was now. Trish's eyes were shining with excitement, and Rick was just as enthusiastic as his twin sister.

“It's just a screen test,” Marcie cautioned them. “I don't want you to be too upset if it doesn't work out.”

Trish nodded. “We won't be, I promise. Right, Rick?”

“That's right.” Rick nodded, too. “We're just excited about going to the studio again, Aunt Marcie. And if you bomb, we'll understand. Mom didn't get every part she tested for, either.”

“What's going on?” Brad came up to join them.

Rick nudged his sister and Trish explained, “Mr. Buchannan said there were too many scenes left in
Summer Heat,
and they'd have to drop it if they couldn't find someone to double for Mom. He asked Aunt Marcie to test for the part, since they look so much alike.”

“That's great!” Brad smiled at Marcie. “You're going to do it, aren't you?”

Marcie smiled back. “I guess so. The twins promised to help me if I get the part.”

“I'll help you, too.” Brad nodded. “We can make this a family project. Isn't that right, kids?”

Trish and Rick nodded, but Marcie noticed that they looked slightly subdued again. They seemed to be a bit uncomfortable around Brad. Perhaps they thought he was intruding on their project with her?

“Okay. It's all set.” Sam came over to join them. “The studio will send a driver to pick you all up at eight tomorrow morning. Ralph's going back to his office right now, and he'll send a messenger over with the scene they want Marcie to do. That'll give you time to study it tonight.”

Brad nodded. “You're going to need an agent, Marcie. I'll go find Jerry Palmer. He was Mercedes's agent.”

“I don't really need an agent, do I, Sam?” Marcie turned him for advice. “I mean . . . it's not exactly the start of a career or anything like that. And even if I get the part, I'll just be filling in for Mercedes.”

“I agree. I don't think you need an agent . . . at least not yet. Let's hold off on that until we see the results of the screen test. Okay, Brad?”

Brad nodded, but he looked disappointed. “Sure. Anything you say, Sam. You're her lawyer.”

“You'll be there tomorrow, won't you, Sam?” Marcie turned to him anxiously.

Sam hesitated. He had a ton of work to do tomorrow, but he couldn't resist the appeal in Marcie's eyes. And the twins were looking at him apprehensively. It was clear that they wanted him there, too.

“I'll be there.” Sam smiled at them, and then he turned to Marcie. “You told me you used to switch places with Mercedes, and I had trouble believing it. This is your chance to prove it. I wouldn't miss it for the world!”

 

 

A sound from the pool area made him jump, and he hurried to the window. His love was there. A lovely angel in a white flowing robe.

Carefully, quietly, he crept out the door. His feet were soundless on the well-watered earth, as he made his cautious way around the hedge. He parted the leaves and peered out, only inches from his lovely angel.

He watched for a breathless moment, drinking in her incredible beauty. And then his eyes widened, and an expression of terror replaced his startled demeanor. The red haze rose like a cloying mist, choking his mind and beginning to drive out all rational thought. But he fought it back with all his strength.

This could not be! It was impossible! He'd felt her wrist and found no pulse. He'd looked into her eyes, empty with death. He'd put his lips to her cold, dead lips, and he'd felt no answering breath. It was impossible to conceive the reality of what he saw. He'd watched her die. He knew he had! But now she was back, alive!

And then the red mist swirled up to claim him, invading every cell of his body, snaking its insidious way into the deepest recesses of his mind. And he slumped to the ground, his body curling into a tight fetal ball, whimpering until the image of her beautiful face faded into merciful blackness.

CHAPTER 7

“Look, Aunt Marcie. They sent George!” Trish raced for the door, and Marcie hastily pushed the series of buttons to cancel the automatic alarm. The twins weren't used to the new security system, and they'd set it off twice since she'd been here. Luckily, the security people checked up with a telephone call before they sent anyone out. Marcie had been able to cancel the alarm by repeating their personal code.

Marcie caught Rick as he was about to dash out after his sister. “Ask George to come in for a quick cup of coffee. Rosa just brewed a fresh pot.”

The twins grabbed George's arms and practically pulled him out of the car, but Marcie noticed that he was grinning. A moment later he was standing in the doorway, smiling at her.

“I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Calder.” George reached out to shake her hand. “I hope everything works out fine for you today.”

Marcie smiled at him. “So do I! And I'm very glad you're driving us to the studio.”

While George went into the kitchen with the twins, Marcie gathered up the things the twins had told her she'd need. There was ajar of her sister's special cream to remove her makeup. A soft towel for her hair, the cotton cape Mercedes had worn to protect her costume, the scene Mr. Buchannan had sent over by messenger, and her sister's personal copy of the script, with scrawled notes in the margins that the twins had helped her decipher. Marcie sighed as she zipped up the small bag Mercedes had always carried to the studio. She hoped she knew her lines. There would be no time to study on the trip to the studio, since Brad and the twins were going along.

Just then Brad came down the stairs, and Marcie turned to smile at him. He'd been very helpful last night, reading her cues and checking to make sure she didn't miss any lines.

“All ready?” Brad smiled back.

“I think so. The studio sent George to drive us. He's in the kitchen with Rosa and the twins.”

Brad raised his eyebrows. “You invited him in?”

“Yes.” Marcie was puzzled. “That's all right, isn't it? The twins said their mother always gave George a cup of coffee if they weren't running late.”

Brad shrugged. “Sure. That's fine. I was just surprised that's all. Most people aren't quite that friendly to the people who work for them.”

“Well, we always do that in Minnesota. If somebody comes in to help you clean your house, or do home repairs, you always give them coffee.

“Minnesota hospitality, huh?” Brad grinned at her. “So that's where Mercedes got it! But you do have to be a little more careful out here, Marcie.”

“Why is that?”

Brad slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze. “You probably knew almost everyone who worked for you. Or if you didn't know them personally, you'd heard of their families.”

“That's true.” Marcie nodded. “Almost everybody is related back there. They say that's why we have such a high percentage of birth defects in Stearns County. Cousins marrying cousins, and that sort of thing.”

Brad looked curious. “Did you have a kissing cousin, Marcie?”

“Oh, yes. Mercedes and I had plenty of kissing cousins but they weren't interested in kissing us. They were all married by the time we graduated from grade school. Mercedes and I were the babies in the family. When we were born, we already had four cousins who were parents.”

Brad smiled at her. “Big family, huh?”

“Very big. When we held a family reunion, we always had a picnic at the lake. Nobody's house was large enough to hold us all.”

“So you knew almost everybody and everybody knew you. Is that right?”

Marcie nodded. “That's right. Especially in St. Cloud. That's where everyone settled.”

“Well, it's not like that out here. Los Angeles has a lot of transients, and some of them aren't very trustworthy. That's why you can't invite everyone in for a cup of coffee. You never know who might come back a week later, and steal everything you own.”

“That's awful!” Marcie looked genuinely shocked. “But why would you hire someone to work for you, if you didn't trust them?”

“That's just it. You don't hire them. You hire a service. And the service hires the personnel they need to do the job. We've had the same gardening service for two years now, but almost every time they come, it's a different crew.”

Marcie drew a deep breath and nodded. “I understand, Brad. I won't let anyone in the house unless I know them. It was all right with George, wasn't it? I mean . . . he's a retired policeman and all.”

“He is?” Brad looked surprised. “I didn't know that. But it was fine, Marcie. I'm sure George is perfectly trustworthy. I just wanted to warn you to be careful in the future.”

Marcie nodded. “Oh, I will be. You can count on it.”

“Okay, then.” Brad gave her a little squeeze and propelled her toward the kitchen. “Let's get George to drive us to the studio. I told Jerry to meet us there at eight.”

“Jerry Palmer?”

“Right. I know Sam doesn't think you need an agent, but Jerry agreed to come unofficially, as a favor to me. I just want to make sure that no one tries to take advantage of you.”

“Oh.” Marcie nodded. “That was nice of you, Brad. But Sam's going to be there, too. I'm sure he can protect my interests.”

Brad didn't look convinced. “I know he'll do his best, but Sam's a layer. He's a fish out of water as far as show business is concerned. Jerry's an agent, and he has lots of experience dealing with studio contracts and negotiations.”

“You mean you don't think Sam is qualified?”

“I don't mean that at all. Sam's an excellent lawyer. We may not need Jerry, but I'd like him to be there . . . just in case Sam needs to ask any questions from an expert in the field.”

“I see.” Marcie gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Brad. This is a brand-new world for me, and I'm glad you're here to help.”

Brad hugged her again and reached out to open the kitchen door. “Anytime, Marcie. I want you to know I'll always be there for you, just like I was for Mercedes.”

 

 

Marcie was mesmerized as she sat in a comfortable chair in the screening room and watched the flickering images on the screen. She'd seen every one of her sister's movies, and there was no doubt in Marcie's mind that the part Mercedes had played in
Summer Heat
was her best performance. It was ridiculous to even consider doubling for her sister in her finest role!

The screen went dark, and Trish leaned over to whisper as they changed to another scene. “She was good, wasn't she, Aunt Marcie?”

“Good?” Rick leaned in from the other side. “Mom was fantastic!”

“Yes, she was,” Marcie agreed. “This was her very best role.”

The screen lit up again, and they leaned back to watch. There was a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of Marcie's stomach. Too good. Perhaps she might have been able to pull it off, if Mercedes had walked through the part, but she'd given
Summer Heat
her all. Mr. Buchannan was wasting his time and his money testing Marcie for the part. There was no way she could do it, no way at all. She might as well back out now and save herself the embarrassment of trying.

Marcie's mind was in turmoil as they watched one of her sister's best scenes, the one that immediately preceded the lines that Mr. Buchannan had asked her to study. Mercedes was playing a wife who was beginning to have doubts about her husband. It was there as a flicker in the depths of her dark green eyes, there in the slight trembling of her fingers as he handed her a drink, there in her reluctance to put the glass to her lips. She didn't yet know what was wrong, but the audience could sense the general mistrust that invaded her whole being.

“What's the matter, darling? Did I make it too strong?”
Ashley Thorpe had just the right blend of sincerity with a hint of menace. Everyone who watched the film would immediately know that he was too nice, too loving, too concerned to be real.

Mercedes's character felt it, too. And Mercedes let the audience know through her body language. She sat just a bit too stiffly on the living room couch, and she hesitated just a little too long before she responded. It was clear to anyone who saw it that she was being very cautious and extremely alert.

“I'm not really in the mood for scotch tonight.”
Her voice quivered slightly, almost imperceptibly.
“I think I'd rather have . . . a glass of wine.”

The screen went dark and Marcie sighed. The clip she'd just watched had run less than thirty seconds. And even though there were only four lines of dialogue, it had told the audience volumes about the story. How could she hope to finish this scene as well as Mercedes had started it? It was as ridiculous as trying to teach a pig to fly!

The lights came up and Marcie blinked. Mr. Buchannan was looking at her expectantly. “Are you ready for makeup, Marcie?”

Marcie was about to tell him to forget the whole thing, that he'd only be wasting his time. Then she caught sight of the twins' anxious faces, and she nodded.

“Your sister's P.A. is waiting to show you the way. I think you met her yesterday. Jolene Edwards?”

“Oh, yes.” Marcie picked up her bag and followed him to the door. Trish had told her that Jolene was her mother's personal assistant. That must be what P.A. meant.

Jolene was waiting right outside the door. She was a petite redhead in her mid-twenties, with gray-blue eyes, a smattering of freckles, and an impish smile.

“Hi, Miss Calder.” Jolene reached out to shake Marcie's hand. “Beau LeTeure is here to do your makeup.”

Marcie nodded. She remembered the thin man with dark hair that Rick had introduced as his mother's makeup artist.

“And Rhea Delaney is back to do your hair! Isn't that wonderful?” Marcie looked puzzled, and Jolene quickly apologized. “I'm sorry. Of course, you wouldn't know. Rhea was your sister's favorite hairdresser, and she's been on maternity leave. She just came home from the hospital a couple of days ago, but she called in and said she wanted to do your hair for the screen test.”

Marcie smiled. “That's very nice of her! Especially with a new baby at home.”

As they walked across the studio lot to the soundstage, Marcie tried not to stare as she spotted several celebrities. Her first impulse was to rush right up and ask for an autograph, but Mercedes had told her about the people she called star gazers, who waylaid any star they saw. Although her sister had always been very polite about signing autographs and shaking hands, she'd told Marcie that it was sometimes a nuisance.

“There's the commissary.” Jolene pointed to a low brick building in the center of the lot. “And . . . uh-oh! There's a tour group. When Miss Calder . . . I mean, the
other
Miss Calder, spotted a tour group, she usually took a detour. They can hold you up for quite a while, with autographs and questions.”

Marcie smiled at the friendly redhead. “I don't think that's necessary in my case, do you?”

“You can never tell.” Jolene grinned back at her. “But if you want to, we'll take the chance.”

The busload of studio tourists pulled up in front of the commissary, just as Jolene and Marcie walked by. Most of the tourists passed them without paying much attention, but Marcie noticed that a heavyset lady in a hideous green and purple flowered dress was staring at her intently.

“Uh-oh.” Jolene grabbed Marcie's arm. “Don't look now, but I think we've been spotted.”

The woman looked uncertain for a moment, and then she hurried through the crowd to hand Marcie a sheet of paper. “Excuse me. Are you somebody?”

Marcie couldn't help it. She started to laugh. “I'm somebody, but I'm not who you think I am.”

“You're not a star?” The woman looked very disappointed. “You look just like Mercedes Calder, but I bet you hear that all the time. She's my son's favorite actress, and I promised him I'd ask for her autograph if I saw her. Are you an actress?”

“No, I'm not.” Marcie gave her a kind smile. “I'm visiting here, just like you.”

The woman looked very embarrassed and Marcie began to feel sorry for her as she began to speak again. “I'm so sorry I bothered you. But you really look a lot like . . . oh, dear! Of course, you couldn't be! Mercedes died in a swimming accident. I read it in the paper.”

The rest of the tour group had moved into the restaurant, and the woman turned to follow them. Marcie reached out to stop her. “Please don't tell any of the others, but I'm Marcie Calder. Mercedes's twin sister. And I'd be happy to give you an autograph, if that would please your son.”

“Oh! My goodness! That's really nice of you!” The woman handed over her paper. “Thank you so much! And . . . I'm really sorry about your sister. All the magazines said she was wonderful person. Will we get to see the movie she was making?”

Marcie looked to Jolene for help, and her sister's P.A. took over the conversation smoothly. “We're not sure yet. It all depends on the screen test Marcie is taking this afternoon. We're hoping she can double for her sister and finish the film.”

“Oh, that's wonderful!” The woman was clearly delighted. “My son will be thrilled. I can tell him, can't I?”

Jolene nodded. “Of course, you can, but please don't mention it to anyone else.”

“I won't.” The woman took the paper with Marcie's autograph and smiled at her. “Good luck, Miss Calder.”

As they walked away, Marcie turned to Jolene anxiously. “Did I make a mistake by telling her I was Mercedes's sister?”