It's A Mod, Mod, Mod, Mod Murder

by Rosemary Martin

  "Wait," I said. "I've got just the thing." I hurried over to my desk, opened the top drawer, and returned with a slim metal instrument. I showed it to Darlene. "One end is to push your cuticles back; the other is to get dirt out from under your fingernails. It's good for your nails, you know. And a lady should always be well-groomed, Mama says."

  "Not now, Bebe. Let's see if this works." Darlene took the grooming tool from me and slowly inserted it into the lock. We heard a pop from the other side.

  "We did it!" I said, shaking Darlene with enthusiasm.

  Darlene turned the knob in her hand, and we were inside the office. "Let's get to work."

  The office was spare. No gold records lined the walls. Vince was a football fan, though. He had a signed ball on a stand, a helmet sitting on top of the filing cabinet, and a pile of football trading cards. A grown man with trading cards! The whole office reeked of his cheap cologne.

  Darlene took the filing cabinet. I took the desk.

  Vince didn't seem to be an overly busy man, I thought as I went through his papers. A mound of solicitations from bands asking him to come hear them play dominated the top of the desk. I read one, and it was full of flattery about Vince's sharp ear for music. That was probably why he kept them on his desk, I thought unkindly—to boost his ego.

  I opened one of the wide drawers on the right-hand side of the desk. A big stack of Playboy magazines met my eye. Ugh! I had never opened one, but knew what they were like—I thought. Maybe just a peek inside one would confirm my suspicions. Gingerly I picked up the top magazine. I let it open to the centerfold and gasped aloud at what I saw.

  "Bebe!"

  Darlene's voice made me jump guiltily. I looked up sheepishly to where she stood at the filing cabinet. "I just wanted to see if they were what I thought they were."

  "Well, now you know. Put that back and get to the rest of the desk."

  I decided to pull each magazine out in case Vince was hiding something in between them. But there was nothing. As I was putting them back, I wondered if Bradley subscribed. The thought made me burn with jealousy.

  Vince's other drawer was crammed full of receipts. Poor Miss Hawthorne probably had to make out his expense report from this mess every month.

  Just then my phone rang three times—the signal that someone was coming into the building. Darlene and I looked at each other, wide-eyed. I said, "Quick, it might be Vince. Let's go hide in Bradley's office. I have the key."

  We slammed Vince's door shut. I grabbed the flashlight from Darlene and led the way to Bradley's office. My fingers were shaking badly, but I managed to unlock the door and then close it behind us.

  Darlene sneezed. Oh, no, not one of her sneezing fits now. She clamped a hand over her mouth and nose and stared at me with bulging eyes.

  We heard someone unlock the door to the main office. Then steps came our way. A key was inserted in Bradley's office lock. Bradley himself was there!

  I pulled Darlene around the corner into the executive bathroom.

  Bradley switched on his light.

  Darlene was trying hard not to sneeze. I put my arm around her for support.

  Then we heard the squeak of Bradley's chair as he sat down. I peered around the corner and saw him take a piece of paper from under his desk blotter. He then dialed a number on the phone. We heard him say, "Hello, darling. Sorry to be late. I'm just going to change my shirt, and then I'll grab a cab and be right over." A pause. Then, "I'll see you in ten minutes."

  He hung up the phone. Instantly I realized that he would be coming our way, because the shirts were right above where we crouched.

  I grabbed Darlene's arm and we tiptoed back to the frosted-glass-walled shower compartment. We stepped inside and closed the door behind us.

  Darlene's body jerked as she tried to hold back a sneeze.

  Huddled with Darlene in the tiny space, I felt sure we would be discovered. I could just make out Bradley through the frosted glass. If he turned and looked at the shower, he'd see us for sure.

  He stripped off his shirt and threw it in a small hamper by the sink.

  My mouth dropped open at the sight of him naked to the waist. My breath came faster. His chest was hairless, golden, and very muscular. If I breathed any faster, I'd hyperventilate.

  He swiped deodorant under both arms, ran an electric razor over his cheeks, and brushed his teeth.

  I was riveted to his every move.

  Darlene made a tiny choking sound in the back of her throat. She was trying hard not to sneeze.

  I was trying hard not to drool.

  Bradley finished buttoning his shirt and then unzipped his pants so he could tuck the shirt in. This was it. I was going to die right now in this shower stall. He was fast, though, and all I caught a glimpse of was white briefs. I tucked that bit of information in the back of my head for further reference.

  Bradley then turned out the light, went back to his office, and was soon heard leaving.

  Darlene released her breath in one great big whoosh of air. "God, that was close."

  "God, he's beautiful," I said, leaning against the shower wall for support.

  "Come on, Bebe; you don't have time to moon over him now."

  "I wasn't mooning. I was appreciating a work of art by God ... oh, Darlene, I just realized something."

  "What?"

  "Bradley took a piece of paper out from under his blotter. I didn't think to look under Vince's blotter."

  "Come on then; let's go back."

  Darlene worked her magic with the little grooming tool. We were once again in Vince's office.

  I hurried to the desk and carefully lifted the blotter. Underneath was a piece of paper. I withdrew it, and Darlene held the flashlight so we could read.

  It was a speeding ticket from an officer in East Bergen, New Jersey, with a time of five forty p.m. dated the day of Philip's murder.

  I said, "This is it. Plenty of time for Vince to make an appearance in Philadelphia, speed back to New York and kill Philip, write the song lyrics on the wall to place suspicion on the others, then go back to Philadelphia as if he never left."

  Darlene grinned. "Bebe, I think we've got our killer."

  "But we still don't know why he did it."

  "Let him tell the police. Come on; let's get out of here."

  I tucked the speeding ticket in my purse, and we left the building.

  Darlene flung herself into Stu's arms. Excited, we told him the whole story.

  "Doll, it looks like you'll be flying on Monday, no problem. Let's all go out and celebrate."

  Darlene smiled. "That's a great idea. Bebe?"

  My mind was preoccupied. I wanted to know why Vince had killed Philip. Maybe some time alone would give me the answer. Plus, I was a little down. Hearing Bradley call the woman on the phone darling had pricked my heart. "Listen, you two go ahead. I just want to go home and get some sleep. I'm supposed to work a few hours for Bradley tomorrow. That means I need to call Detective Finelli and try to set up a meeting for us with him around eight in the morning."

  Both Stu and Darlene groaned. "That early on a Saturday?" Darlene asked.

  "You want your name cleared, don't you?"

  "You're right," Darlene said. "We won't be out late."

  Stu insisted on waiting until I could get a cab before they left.

  I leaned my head back on the seat while the cab took me home in short bursts of speed interspersed by stops. I was feeling queasy from all the excitement of the night and the cab ride. At Lexington and Sixty-fifth I told the driver to stop. I paid him and proceeded to walk halfway up the block to my apartment. Briefs ... he wore briefs, I thought, my head in a cloud.

  The chilly night air made me shiver as a breeze blew threw the trees lining the sidewalk. I rummaged around in my purse, looking for my key in the dim light thrown down by the streetlight up ahead.

  I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I was taken completely off guard when something hard and sharp pressed into my back. A
voice said, "Don't move, don't turn around, or I'll shoot you."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Fear held me frozen in place. The world shrank down to the gun in my back.

  "Give me the ticket. I know you have it."

  Vince's voice. And his smell.

  The gun pressed harder in my back. "The ticket. Now."

  Hands shaking, I reached into my purse, wishing I had some sort of weapon in there. Just as quickly as the thought formed, I dismissed it. I wouldn't have time to do anything with Vince pressing the gun right into my spine.

  "Slowly now. Hand it to me over your shoulder, Miss Bennett," he said sarcastically. "I know you know it's me."

  My hand stilled. "Vince, I don't know what you're talking about."

  He laughed. "Don't play dumb. I know you were in my office. I came back to get the phone number of another chick, one easier on a guy than you. From the street I saw the shadow of a light up there. I guessed it was you snooping around where you shouldn't. Tell me, how did you find out it was me who killed Philip?"

  His confirmation of the fact made me turn to ice. "I didn't—"

  The gun pressed harder in my back. "Don't bullshit me. How did you know?"

  "I-I didn't until you just told me. I mean, I figured from the speeding ticket that you were back in the city when you were supposed to be in Philadelphia." No way was I going to involve Sal or Mr. Duncan in this. Let Vince think I had acted alone.

  I saw a woman walking a little terrier on the opposite side of the street. I wanted to call out to her. Maybe the dog could be a hero.

  Vince must have read my mind, because he moved in closer to me. He put one arm around me, holding my waist, and lowered his head close to mine, making it look like we were lovers.

  "You tell anyone else?" he whispered in my ear.

  "No! No one else knows." Spotting the light in his office must have been enough for him to come here and lie in wait for me. He had missed seeing Darlene and Stu. "Everyone thinks it's someone with a British accent, because that's who threatened me and Darlene."

  "I'm waiting for you to hand over the ticket. Do it now, luv," Vince whispered in a very convincing British accent. "I did try to warn you, but you wouldn't listen, you stupid girl."

  I couldn't believe it. The accent. He'd been the one threatening Darlene and me. The way he was holding me made me sick—that and his cologne.

  Reluctantly I pulled the ticket from my purse and passed it back to him. My curiosity got the better of me. I said, "Why did you do it, Vince? Philip was going to make money for Rip-City."

  Vince squeezed my waist. "That's exactly why I did it. Bradley looks bad, loses his job. I step in and take his place. Drew gave me the idea. It suited both of us. I'd get a promotion, and having Bradley out of the competition makes Drew almost a shoe-in for taking over when the old man finally goes to his grave. And when Drew takes over, he'll remember what I did to help him. I'll be set for life."

  Vince chuckled. "Philip made it so easy for me. I thought I was going to have to shoot him. But when I got to his room, he was getting ready to take a bath while playing his guitar. Fool. Nothing was simpler than putting that plug in the electric socket."

  The woman and her dog went inside a building down the block. Not that she had offered much chance for rescue. I had to somehow defend myself. I would not go down without fighting for my life. But how?

  "So you and Drew planned to kill Philip just to get rid of Bradley? But it hasn't worked. Bradley still has his job."

  "Not once Drew finishes his visit to the old man. That's why Drew came in. He could tell their uncle that he had visited in person and could say that Rip-City was a real mess, that Bradley was screwing his secretary. Again. I admire Drew. He stops at nothing to get what he wants."

  Rage rose inside me at Drew's plan, and Vince's statement about Bradley's love life. I turned my head as far away from him as I could. "And you follow his ideals. Even to the point of murder." Another sickening thought occurred to me. "You killed Patty Gentry too. Why?"

  "In that article she said that she knew who the killer was. I couldn't take any chances. She let me into her room, because I told her I was from Rip-City. Then, when her back was turned, I picked up that belt and took care of her. She was nothing but a woman anyway."

  "You scum! You'll go to jail. Drew won't come to your defense. The police will catch you—"

  "Not with you out of the way. You're the only one who knows. Maybe if you'd gone out with me, I could have taken you into my confidence. We could have had some good times. You could have been more than a secretary at Rip-City if we were together. But now I have to say good-bye, Miss Bennett."

  Oh, God, he really was going to kill me; he was that cold-blooded. I thought of my mother and father. Of Darlene. Of me holding Bradley's baby in my arms and him smiling at me.

  No! No, he wasn't going to kill me.

  The gun pressed into my back.

  I remembered something Mama had taught me about unwelcome male attention. I raised my right foot. With the high, pointed heel of my shoe, I unleashed my fury to come down hard on his instep.

  He let out a loud yelp of pain.

  I twisted in his arms, meaning to poke him in both eyes, but to my surprise I saw a wine bottle come crashing down on his greasy head.

  Vince crumpled at my feet, out cold. The gun skittered across the sidewalk.

  "Jesus have mercy," Harry said. "I thought it was just his finger in your back. He wasn't bluffing after all."

  I threw my arms around him. "Oh, Harry, you saved me!"

  "Nah. You were doing pretty darn good on your own. I just helped out."

  Picking the speeding ticket up from where it had fallen to the pavement, I said, "Can you watch him while I call the police? Are you all right?"

  "I'm okay. Could use a drink. But, yeah, he's out pretty good. You go call the fuzz." He kicked the gun into the bushes.

  I ran upstairs to my apartment and called the police. I told them to alert Detective Finelli that I'd caught Philip Royal's murderer.

  I searched the cabinets and found a bottle of whiskey Darlene kept. Pouring some into a paper cup, I thought Darlene wouldn't mind my borrowing some. On second thought, I splashed a little in a cup for me too and drank it down.

  Downstairs, Harry was sitting on Vince, who was still unconscious. I handed Harry the cup. "Here's a little whiskey against the weather."

  "Thanks, Bebe," Harry said, taking the cup and downing the contents. Then he shook himself like a dog.

  I stood there hugging myself, realizing how close I'd come to death. Realizing how strong I could be when I had to. Everything around me seemed so beautiful. I wanted to kiss the leaves on the trees lining the sidewalk.

  Then we heard sirens. Three police cars arrived. I tried to answer a young officer's questions, but the sight of all the flashing lights and the number of uniformed officers unnerved me.

  I was never so grateful to see anyone when, a few minutes later, Detective Finelli pulled up in an unmarked Pontiac Tempest.

  I threw myself into his arms.

  He stepped back. "What have you done now, Miss Bennett?" he said, with a touch of kindness in his voice.

  The story came tumbling from my lips. Harry backed me up, though he looked decidedly uncomfortable with all the police around.

  Vince came to and was promptly handcuffed. He screamed at me, "You hellcat!"

  Detective Finelli and I ignored Vince, though secretly I felt pleased with the name.

  The detective said, "I'll need you and, er, Harry here to come down to the station and sign a statement first thing in the morning. Bring Miss Roland and Mr. Daniels."

  "We'll do that."

  "And Miss Bennett, I told you all along how dangerous getting involved in a police investigation could be. I hope you see now how right I was." He was back to being the stern detective.

  "I know."

  "So you won't get involved in any police matters again, will you?"


  "Oh, no! Never again," I said.

  Gradually everyone left, leaving me standing there with Harry. I pulled a dollar out of my purse. "Here, Harry, get something to eat. What about a place to stay? Surely there's somewhere you can go?"

  Harry accepted the dollar. "I'll be fine; don't worry about me, Miss Sweet Face."

  "Thanks for what you did for me tonight. I'll never forget it."

  But Harry just waved a careless hand and wandered away.

  I went upstairs and changed into my pajamas and robe. My bed looked pretty enticing, but I knew I had to stay up and tell Darlene what had happened. And Bradley ... But no, I couldn't remember his phone number. Darn my trouble with numbers.

  As it turned out, I lay on the sofa for a minute, and when I awoke it was the next morning.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  I looked at the time: six twenty-five. Darlene wouldn't like it, but I had to wake her.

  Coffee would help, so I brewed a pot, then went to her room.

  Once she was out of bed, Darlene wandered groggily into the kitchen, where I poured her a cup of coffee. While she drank it, I told her the whole story.

  She stared at me. "Bebe, you could have been killed by that nut."

  "But I wasn't. We need to get Stu and go to the police station, and Harry has to come too. Don't forget I'm supposed to work a few hours for Bradley this morning, and he doesn't know what happened yet."

  "Okay." She got up from her side of the table and came around to hug me. "You're the best friend I've ever had, Bebe. Thank you for everything you did for me.

  "Hey, you did just as much snooping as I did. And I couldn't have a better roommate."

  Darlene released me and smiled. "We make a good team. Now let's get ready to make our statement for Detective Finelli. I'll bet he's feeling less than a man this morning, having two girls solve his murder case for him."

  We collapsed, giggling over that thought.

  "And are we agreed that we'll do nothing more about what we heard those guys in the apartment above us say?" Darlene asked.

  "Agreed. I'm not getting involved with any mobsters."

  Darlene and I took turns with the persnickety shower, then ran into our rooms to get dressed.