Murder with a Twist

by Tracy Kiely

  “Yes. He seemed nice enough—but then she found out he was also sleeping with a co-worker.”

  I finally kicked Nigel under the table. “Ow. What the …? Oh, hello, Nan! I didn’t see you come in,” said Nigel. “How have you been?”

  “Good,” said Nan. “I just settled a case for one of my clients. I would have preferred to have seen it go to trial—I’ve never lost a court case yet, you know—but the client wanted the money. It was a pretty big settlement.”

  “Congratulations,” Nigel said. “Now, tell me Nan. What would you consider to be the best Christmas movie?”

  Nan thought for a moment. “Miracle on 34th Street,” she said.

  Nigel and Tom began debating which adaptation was better just as Daphne returned to the table. “Hello, Nan,” she said as she grabbed an empty chair and dragged it to the table. “How are you?”

  “Busy,” said Nan. “I just settled the Dixon case. How about you?”

  “Same,” Daphne said. “Hey, did you read the ruling for Cranshaw? Is that going to affect cases that have already been filed?”

  Nan answered, some long drawn-out response that didn’t interest me. I turned back to Nigel and sipped my drink. As I half listened to Nigel and Tom continue their debate, I looked around the room. Casey Wendell still sat at the bar, occasionally turning in her seat to glance flirtatiously at Nigel. The fifth time she did so, I smiled and waved at her. After that, she stopped.

  A few minutes later, I was surprised to see Toby take a seat at the bar. Not so much because he was out, but because he was out with another woman. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties and apparently was a big fan of blood-red lipstick. I’m sure that she had other features, but the lips were what first caught my attention. From the way in which Toby fawned over the woman, it appeared that his interest was more than professional. I nudged Daphne. “Who’s that with Toby?” I asked, indicating the woman.

  Daphne looked over to where Toby was sitting. Her expression registered surprise. “Of all the … he’s out with her?”

  “Yes, but who is she?” I pressed.

  “Susan Henkley. She’s a broker. I can’t stand her.”

  I looked back at the woman. Once you got past the red lips, the rest of the package came into focus. She had the wiry build of someone who takes their workouts seriously. Her light brown hair hung in a pin-straight curtain halfway down her back. Her face was not unattractive; it was symmetrical with high cheekbones and a straight nose. But there was also an intensity to it that was a little off-putting. I watched as Susan leaned over and whispered something in Toby’s ear. Toby laughed and put his hand on her back.

  “I guess Toby doesn’t share your opinion,” I said.

  “I guess so,” Daphne agreed.

  _____

  It was well after midnight when we returned to our hotel and even later than that when the phone rang. I fumbled for the light before lifting the receiver. “Hello?” I mumbled.

  The voice was gruff and to the point. “Do yourself a favor,” it said, “and go back to L.A. before you get your other pretty leg shot up.” With that the line went dead, which was fine by me. It didn’t seem like it was going to be a good conversation anyway.

  “Who was that?” Nigel asked, as I turned off the light.

  “The Ladies Home Journal,” I replied. “You’ve been selected to receive a free trial subscription.”

  “Tell them no thanks,” Nigel said as he pulled me close. “Their centerfolds are terrible.”

  eighteen

  The next evening found us at Max and Olive’s apartment for their annual “Christmas Cocktail Coterie.” It’s almost as intolerable as its name. However, Nigel’s parents, Doris and Paul, were going to be there, so Nigel and I agreed to go as well. While Paul had learned to tune out his sister, Doris could only take Olive in small doses. As a result, Doris had taken up smoking when visiting. It enabled her to politely disengage when tolerance ran out.

  By the time we arrived, the party was in full swing. Joe answered our knock, his expression stoic. Behind him, the room was packed with men and women, all of a certain age, race, and income. A woman wearing a low-cut, black velvet dress was loudly singing along to Dean Martin’s rendition of “Marshmallow World”. It was not readily apparent why she was crying. Two men in dark suits were noisily comparing their stock options while downing martinis. Another woman was shouting into her cell phone at her children to go to sleep. My initial reaction, to quietly leave, was thwarted by the sudden appearance of Olive. She greeted me warmly; proof that the cocktail in her hand was not her first.

  “Nicole!” she cried. “How lovely to see you. You should wear green more often, dear. It brings out your eyes.” Turning to Nigel she said, “Nigel, dear, is it me or do you get more handsome with every passing day?”

  Nigel laughed. “It’s not you, darling. Don’t be silly. Are my parents here?”

  Olive nodded. “Your father is in there somewhere talking to Max. Your mother is out on the balcony. Again.” Her nose crinkled with disapproval. “It’s such a nasty habit. And so disruptive. It seems like every time we start talking, she has to duck out for a cigarette.”

  As Nigel went to search for his father, a task made easier with Skippy to part the crowd, I went out onto the balcony and joined Doris. In her younger days, she had studied ballet. With her tall, graceful frame, and auburn hair pulled back into a bun, she looked as if she still did. Seeing me, she smiled and waved. “Nic! Thank God. We’ve only been here an hour, and I’m already on my third cigarette.”

  “I’m supposed to tell you that it’s a nasty habit.”

  “So is telling your sister-in-law to put a sock in it,” Doris replied as she gave me a hug. “And then actually putting a sock in it for her. One of these days, I’m afraid she’s going to push me too far. I actually think she’s worse this year.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” I admitted. “Isn’t she always like this?”

  Doris tipped her head in acknowledgment. “Well, yes. She is generally awful. But all the money problems they’ve had this past year have really brought out her inner crab.”

  I glanced around at the expensive decorations and attentive wait staff. “So, this is what money problems look like? It’s quite disheartening when you are forced to see it up close. Do you think they’d be offended if we passed a hat around for them?”

  Doris took a drag and laughed. “Well, as long as it was a hat from Chanel.”

  “Oh, but of course,” I replied as I speared a shrimp off a passing platter.

  Doris helped herself to one as well, and continued in a lower voice, “But they did have to sell one of the beach houses.”

  “Really? I hadn’t heard that. Which one?”

  “The one on Long Island,” Doris said.

  “Ouch. That must have hurt.”

  “Are you kidding? It was the jewel in Olive’s crown. I believe she wore black for months afterward.”

  “So how did all that happen?” I asked.

  Doris shrugged. “Same as it did for most people, I suppose. Housing bubble burst and money was lost.” She glanced meaningfully around at the expertly decorated patio. “Of course, when certain people insist on living a certain lifestyle, the bills can add up. Speaking of those people, she tells me you bought a dog. I think I was supposed to be horrified.”

  “Nigel bought him,” I corrected. “That’s him right there,” I added, pointing through the glass door. Doris craned her neck and peeked in.

  “Christ,” she said.

  “Actually, his name is Skippy. Nigel claims he followed him home.”

  Doris shook her head. “I swear. He gets more like his father every day. I’ll never forget the year Paul came home with an alpaca. Named her Chloe. She was rather sweet, actually. Provided us some lovely sweaters.”

  “Where is she now?”

&
nbsp; “A neighbor with a farm eventually took her. Paul still visits. The alpaca, that is.” Turning back to me, she said, “So what’s all this nonsense about Leo?”

  I told her. She rolled her eyes. “Poor Audrey. Life would be so much easier if Olive didn’t care so much what other people thought,” she said.

  “Speaking of which,” I said, “where is Audrey? I thought she was supposed to be here.”

  “She called about an hour ago,” said Doris. “She said she had a migraine or something. That boy who moons after her all the time—what’s his name?”

  “Toby.”

  “Right—Toby. Well, when he heard that she wasn’t feeling well, he leapt up and ran over to her place like a good little lap dog to see if he could help.”

  “I take it you don’t like him?”

  Doris exhaled a mouthful of smoke before answering. “I wouldn’t say I don’t like him. I’m sure he’s a perfectly respectable young man. He just seems a little … oh, what’s the word?”

  “Spineless?”

  Doris considered it for a moment and then nodded. “That works. I mean, really. He and Audrey went to school together, and everyone could see that he was head over heels in love with her. But rather than propose to her or do something, he moves to Ohio for the year to take over some malpractice case for the firm.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I vaguely remember Nigel telling me about that.”

  “It might have been a good career move, but during the year he was gone, Audrey got engaged to Leo.”

  “Maybe Audrey never felt that way about Toby,” I said.

  Doris shook her head. “No. She did. I could tell. But she’s so damn insecure that she couldn’t see how he felt. When he left, she figured that he never cared. Which left the door wide open for Leo.”

  “Who is now gone.”

  “Who is now gone,” she agreed. “Far be it from me to tell you your business, but do you think it’s wise to find him?”

  I shrugged, removed the cigarette from her hand, and took a drag. “Probably not. He sounds awful. If I do find him, I reunite Audrey with a man who will eventually leave with as much of her money as he can carry. If I don’t, she’ll feel humiliated in front of all her friends and family. Either way, I suspect Olive will find a way to complain.”

  I handed the cigarette back to Doris. She inhaled one last time and then stubbed it out. “Well, look on the bright side. You’re giving her an excuse to do what she loves best.” Smiling, she added, “Remember, the best Christmas gifts are those that delight the recipient, not the sender.”

  nineteen

  Doris and I went back inside. The woman in the black dress had stopped singing. She was still crying. Whimpering might be more accurate. In any case, it was an improvement. From what I could tell, the men in the dark suits were still comparing their stocks; however, it was loud so I may have misheard them. The woman with the non-compliant children had, thankfully, either won or given up the argument. The rest of the crowd was swilling martinis.

  Nigel stood with his father. Paul was an older version of Nigel— tall, handsome, with a head of thick brown hair. Paul’s hair was just starting to go gray, and his eyes were brown instead of blue, but they were surrounded by the same laugh lines. He and Nigel were talking to Max and Olive. “Hello, Mother,” Nigel said to Doris as we approached. He kissed her cheek and then said, “This is Skippy.” Skippy sat down, gave a sharp bark, and raised his paw.

  Doris politely accepted it and shook. “Pleased to meet you, Skippy,” she said.

  Olive maneuvered to Doris’s side. “Did you ever see such a thing?” she asked. “Only your son would ever think of buying such a creature, let alone bringing it here.” She looked askance at Skippy. “God help you when these two have children. Can you imagine?”

  Doris opened her mouth to respond. I quickly grabbed two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and shoved one in Doris’s empty hand. “Cheers!” I said, tapping her glass and taking a sip. Doris paused and then drained hers.

  “Excuse me,” she said, handing me the empty glass. “I need a cigarette.”

  Olive frowned. “Another one?” she called out to Doris’s retreating form. “Honestly, what you need is a little self control!”

  “I’m working on it as we speak,” Doris called over her shoulder as she slid the balcony door shut.

  Max and Daphne appeared. “Doris smoking again?” Max asked, his eyes twinkling.

  Paul nodded. “It waxes and wanes.”

  Max smiled. “Yes. I imagine it does.”

  Olive opened her mouth to speak. I cut her off. “Is Audrey here tonight?” I asked in a voice I knew to be a shade too loud. Olive was predictably distracted.

  “Lower your voice,” she hissed. Pasting a fake smile on her face, she waved to a woman walking by. “Hello, Margie! Having fun? Good.” Returning her attention to us, she said in low voice, “No, she’s not. Claims she has a headache. I don’t know what I’m going to do with her. Have you had any success in finding where he is?”

  Max turned to Paul. “I suppose you’ve heard that we’ve asked Nic here to help us with our little problem. It seems Leo has gone missing.”

  “Nigel was just telling me about it,” said Paul. “Can’t see why you’d want him back. I mean long term.”

  “Or short term,” added Nigel.

  Daphne nodded her agreement. “I, for one, don’t. But if it’ll help Audrey get through her party—that some people insisted on throwing—” she glanced meaningfully at her mother. Olive ignored her. Max chose to study the ceiling. Daphne continued, “Then I’ll do whatever I can to help. She’s been through enough as it is.”

  “And what have you found out, Nicole?” Olive now asked.

  I told her about Fat Saul’s death and my meeting with Frank and Danny and Lizzy. Olive looked disgusted. “You asked,” I reminded her.

  “So, the money that Leo owed to this Fat Saul, he now owes to Frank Little?” asked Max. “How much money are we talking about?”

  “A great deal. From what Frank told me it was more than what Audrey could withdraw without your approval.” I told him the amount. Max let out a string of expletives that would have made my old lieutenant proud. Olive did not appear to share the sentiment.

  “Max, really,” she protested. “As much as I’d like to kill the man, let’s not be vulgar.”

  For Olive, it didn’t matter what the message was as long as it was said with an air of class.

  “And he was having an affair with this Lizzy woman?” Max asked, ignoring Olive.

  I shrugged. “That I don’t know. She said they were just friends. But I suspect her definition of ‘friends’ might be broader than most.”

  “What does she look like?” asked Olive.

  “Very tan, very blonde, very everything,” I said.

  Nigel expanded the description. “Rode hard and put away dirty.”

  Daphne laughed. “I believe the expression is ‘rode hard and put away wet.’”

  Nigel shrugged. “You say tomato; I say prostitute.”

  “Well, in any case, I don’t think we should mention any of this to Audrey,” I said. “I think there is more going on with this woman than she’s saying. Until I find out what that is, I don’t think we should mention it to her. It’ll only further upset her.”

  Doris returned. “Upset who?” she asked.

  Olive sniffed. “Maybe if you’d stop smoking, you wouldn’t miss so much.”

  Doris smiled. “Oh, of that I’m certain.”

  “We were just talking about Audrey,” Nigel explained. “Nic got a lead on Leo. We found a woman who is a kind of friend of his, but they don’t want to tell Audrey just yet. No use getting her hopes up.”

  “Or down, as the case may be,” Doris said. “If Audrey’s father were alive today, there would be no Leo problem
.” She paused and considered. “Actually, there probably would be no Leo. David didn’t put up with his kind.”

  Max smiled. “To absent friends,” he said, raising his glass.

  “To absent friends,” we repeated in kind.

  twenty

  By midnight, I was ready to take up smoking, and the waiter and I were on a first-name basis. It was past time to go home. I found Nigel talking to Daphne and a colorless woman I didn’t remember. Seeing me, she grabbed both of my hands and cooed, “Nicole! Why, look at you! And in a dress! Marriage certainly agrees with you! You look so feminine!” I guessed her to be a close friend of Olive’s.

  I debated telling her that my newly feminine look was more due to hormone therapy than marital bliss, but frankly, I was too tired. I wanted my bed. Nigel frowned at the woman. “Too bad the same can’t be said for every woman,” he said after giving her a long look. Turning to me, he said, “It’s time to go home, dear. Where’s Skippy?”

  Skippy was chewing on something in the corner. I fished what I could out of his mouth. Most of it appeared to be discarded paperwork, mostly receipts: grocery, catering, wine, work licenses, as well as some confetti and toilet paper. What bits I couldn’t retrieve, I left for nature to handle. Nigel and I said our good-byes and left.

  _____

  The next day was Christmas Eve. Nigel woke me at dawn to ask if I wanted my present. “Unless it’s four more hours of sleep, then no,” I replied before shoving my head back under the pillow.

  “But they’re getting restless,” Nigel protested. “And when that happens they start to shed.”

  I cut him off. “Nigel, it’s not Christmas yet.”

  He pushed his head into my neck. “Please?”

  I sighed. “If I give you your present now, will you let me go back to sleep?”

  “Yes,” he said, bouncing the bed with excitement. “I’ll get yours. I was just kidding about them getting restless before.”

  “I would hope so,” I said as I sat up and wiped the sleep from my eyes.