by Tracy Kiely
“Did you know that she was planning on leaving?” Marcy asked.
Billy looked at her in confusion. “She was leaving?” he repeated.
Marcy nodded. “Sure looked that way. Her suitcases were packed. Any idea on where she was going?”
Billy shook his head. “No idea. Honestly. I didn’t know that.”
I found myself believing him. Which really ticked me off. It would be so much easier if Billy had killed Lizzy.
_____
That evening, we were due to join Daphne, Olive, Max, and Nigel’s parents at an art exhibit downtown. It was a celebration of expensive blurry French landscapes, expensive abstract still lifes, and, for good measure, a few expensive nudes. The nudes were—typically— solely female. By the time we arrived, the room was packed with art lovers of all varieties. They ranged from true aficionados to pontificating pseudo-intellectuals. Nigel and I found ourselves behind the latter. She was standing in front of a painting depicting a table, a jug of water, and a plate of cheese and bread.
“As you can see,” the woman said to her husband, “in this piece, the artist is attempting to portray the suffering of the working class poor through the juxtaposition of the cheese and bread.”
Her husband squinted at the painting. “He is?”
“Of course. Here, let me show you.” She put her arm around him and leaned in close. With her free hand, she gestured at the painting. “The jug represents the upper class. As you can see, it’s larger and in the foreground, while the bread and cheese is pushed to the back.”
“You sure know a lot about art,” Nigel remarked loudly.
The woman turned to us in surprise. “Why, Nigel! Hello, dear! I didn’t see you there. Hello, Nicole,” she added.
“Hello, Olive,” I replied. “Hi, Max.”
Max winked at me. “Olive was just enlightening me on the meaning of this picture,” he said.
“Painting, dear,” Olive corrected.
Nigel nodded solemnly. “Yes, I heard, and I agree with you, Aunt Olive. There is a message in this painting. It’s not immediately apparent, of course. Only one truly versed in the language of art would see it.”
Olive glanced back at the painting and then at Nigel. “So you agree with me then?” she asked. “About the suffering of the working class?”
“Hmm? Oh, God no.” said Nigel. “It has a totally different meaning. Look at it again. Jug of water. Plate of bread and cheese. What strikes you, Nic?”
“No meat,” I said.
“Exactly,” beamed Nigel. “Where’s the meat? That’s the message. Speaking of which, I’m hungry. Let’s see if they have any snacks here.”
We walked away before Olive could chastize us and found Nigel’s parents. They were staring morosely at the food table. “This isn’t food,” Paul complained, indicating the spread of celery, carrots, olives, and other vegan staples. “It’s toppings for food. But there’s no food to top.”
“It’s a crudité platter, dear,” explained Doris. “It’s supposed to be healthy.”
“Then why is there a fully stocked bar?” countered Paul. “Are you going to tell me that scotch is healthy?”
“Of course not,” replied Nigel. “But how else do you expect to get the celery down?”
“My goodness, there are so many wonderful paintings here!” Olive said as she rejoined us. “I wish I had more walls at home! Hello, Doris. Hello, Paul,” she continued brightly. “Aren’t you all having the best time? Oh, what an elegant table! Max, be a dear and fix me a veggie plate. I’m famished. Buying art always has that effect on me.”
Turning to Doris, Olive said, “I’ve bought six paintings so far. Can you believe it? Six! But you know me. You’d be hard pressed to find a bigger art lover than me.”
“Or a bigger …” began Doris. Paul quickly handed her a celery stick. She took it and commenced chewing.
“See that painting over there?” Olive asked, indicating a lethargic nude in the bathtub. “I bought it.”
Doris turned and looked. She quickly took another bite of celery.
“It’s quite …” Paul said before trailing off into a dumfounded silence.
“Isn’t it?” Olive agreed excitedly. “Anyway, I’m not sure if I have room for it right now. Would you like it for your house?”
Doris coughed on her celery. I politely slapped her on her back. Paul shook his head. “That’s very kind of you,” he said. “No.”
“But Paul,” Olive began. She was interrupted by the arrival of Toby and Daphne. Daphne was just ending a phone call. She looked tired and frazzled. Toby’s expression was more somber than usual.
“Hello,” Daphne said to us. “Have any of you heard from Audrey? She was supposed to meet me here, and she’s not answering her phone.”
No one had. “Well, I’m sure she’ll be here,” said Olive. “But while we’re on the subject, is there any news about Leo? I don’t think I need to remind you, Nicole, that the party is tomorrow.”
She didn’t. And yet she did it anyway.
“I still don’t know where Leo is,” I said. “But I do have news.”
I quickly told them that Lizzy Marks had been found dead, and the police suspected foul play.
“What do you mean they ‘suspect’ foul play? Isn’t it obvious? Leo killed her,” said Daphne.
“Why do you think Leo killed her?” Toby asked.
Daphne stumbled over her answer. “Well, obviously I don’t know for sure. But Nic said that they were having an affair. Maybe they had a falling out or something.”
“I never said it was certain that they were having an affair,” I protested.
Daphne rolled her eyes. “Don’t be naïve. Of course they were having an affair. Why else would Leo be with a woman like that? The scintillating conversation?”
“I’ll admit it’s the most likely possibility,” I agreed. “The night Fat Saul was shot, he was out looking for Leo. According to Frank, a woman called Fat Saul with some information as to where Leo might be hiding.”
“This Lizzy person!” said Daphne.
“Maybe. The police don’t know yet. And, as of now they aren’t saying anything with regard to a suspect. At least not to me, anyway.”
Daphne stared at me in confusion. “But …”
Olive cut her off. “Oh, dear God. What will the press do with this? Is there any way we can keep it out of the papers? This will kill Audrey.” She opened her purse and began to rummage through it. “Where are my pills? I feel another anxiety attack coming on.” She quickly flipped open the bottle cap and tossed two white pills down her throat. Chasing it down with a gulp of wine, she then turned to me and asked, “What do you plan to do about this, Nicole?”
I stared at her in confusion. “What do I plan to do about what?”
Olive took a deep breath and spoke as one might to a child. “About minimizing the publicity, of course. Can’t you talk to your police friends and make them understand that Audrey has suffered enough? To have her see the sordid details of Leo’s latest betrayal splashed across every tabloid is too much to ask of the poor child.”
“Your estimation of my influence flatters me. And that’s not something I ever thought I’d say. But I have no control over what the police or the press do. Besides, Audrey was bound to find out about their relationship eventually. Just thank God that she didn’t know about Lizzy earlier. The police would definitely have some uncomfortable questions for her otherwise. ”
An awkward silence met my remark. “No one told Audrey about Lizzy, right?” I asked.
Daphne glanced at Olive. Olive pressed her lips together and stuck out her chin. “Well, what if I did?” she said. “After all, I think she has a right to know what her husband is doing.”
My left temple throbbed. “You told her about Lizzy?” I snapped. “Why? I specifically told you not
to! You specifically agreed not to!”
“She needed to know the truth about him,” Olive began.
“She knew the truth about him!” I countered. “She didn’t care! But now the police are going to want to talk to her!”
Olive bristled. “That’s ridiculous. Why would they want to talk to Audrey? She didn’t have anything to do with that woman’s death.”
“How do you know?” I asked. “Were you there?”
“Of course not!” Olive said dismissively. “I just know Audrey. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. The only crime Audrey ever committed was marrying Leo.”
“Well, given her absurd devotion to him, she might be all the more upset at the woman who possibly ratted him out to Fat Saul.”
Olive sniffed. “You know I don’t understand that rough jargon. Please speak English.”
“Gladly. You’re an idiot. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to find Audrey and talk to her before the police do.”
twenty-two
The fact that Audrey wasn’t answering Daphne’s phone calls didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t at home. Happy to have an excuse to leave the art show, Nigel and I made our way to Audrey’s apartment. It was a sprawling, five-bedroom, three-fireplace dwelling in one of New York’s most sought-after locales. Luckily, the guard at the front desk knew Nigel and waved us upstairs. Outside Audrey’s door, our repeated knocks went unanswered. However, I swore I heard faint movement inside, so we persisted. Finally, Nigel called out, “Audrey? Please open up. It’s about Leo. There’s been an accident. He’s in the hospital, and he’s calling for you.”
Within seconds the door swung open. I quickly stepped inside the large foyer before she could rethink her decision. Audrey’s face was puffy from crying. Her hair was disheveled, her nose was red, and I smelled alcohol on her breath. “Leo’s calling for me?” she asked, her voice wobbly, her eyes fearful.
“How should I know?” Nigel answered good-naturedly as he let Skippy off his leash. Skippy gave a happy bark and ran off.
“Wait,” said Audrey slowly. “So, Leo isn’t in the hospital?” Her voice steadied, but the fear in her eyes remained.
Nigel sighed. “It’s called a lie, Audrey. Do yourself a favor and don’t drink your feelings anymore tonight. I have no idea if Leo is hurt or if he’s even calling for you. However, if I had to guess, I’d guess no. Now where’s the bottle?”
“What bottle?”
Nigel rolled his eyes. “The bottle containing whatever it is you’re drinking.”
“Oh. In the kitchen.”
“Thank you. Next, do you have any coffee? I’m going to make you a pot.”
“Um, yes. That’s in the kitchen, too.”
Nigel nodded. “Then, unless you ladies need me, I will be in the kitchen.”
I turned to Audrey. She stared back at me miserable, tipsy, and confused. “What’s going on? Is Leo in trouble? Is he … is he in jail?”
I steered her into the living room. “I don’t know,” I answered. “Should he be?”
“No … I mean, I don’t think so. No, of course not.”
“That’s reassuring,” I said as I gently pushed her down onto a black suede couch. Behind it was a mahogany console table crowded with silver-framed pictures of Audrey and Leo, and a silver bowl filled with Werther’s caramels. I sat down in a gray-and-cream striped wingback chair. On the coffee table between us was another silver bowl filled with more Werther’s caramels. “What’s with all the candy?” I asked.
Audrey looked down at the bowl of candy. Her lower lip trembled. “Those are Leo’s favorites. I keep them around the house for him.”
I restrained myself from asking if Leo was a six-year-old who could be bribed with sweets. “Okay. Listen, I need to ask you something, Audrey. And I need you to be honest.”
Audrey’s gaze slid away from mine and focused on the chair next to me. “Okay.”
“Did you go to Lizzy Marks’s apartment?”
“Whose apartment?”
“Please don’t play dumb with me. I’m in no mood. I’m tired, and I have a headache. I know that Olive told you about Lizzy Marks. What I need to know is whether or not you went to her apartment.”
“No, no, of course not,” Audrey told the chair. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you knew Leo was involved with her,” I answered.
Audrey squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s … that’s not true. You don’t know that. Who told you that?”
“Lizzy, actually. She told me when I went to see her a few days ago.”
Audrey’s eyes flew open, and she looked at me. “Was Leo there?”
“No.”
“What … what did she tell you? Did she say whether she was … did she know where Leo was?”
I helped myself to a Werther’s and leaned back into the chair. “She claimed not to know where Leo was. As for the rest, well, she said a lot of things. Who knows if any of it was true?”
“Was she in love with him?”
“Does it matter?” I asked, popping the candy in my mouth.
“I don’t know. It might.” She stared at me for a moment, seeming to debate something.
“Leo owed a lot of money to a man named Fat Saul. Ever hear of him?”
Audrey shook her head. “No. I only heard him talk about Frank. Frank Little.”
“Yes, I know. Frank worked for Fat Saul. Apparently, Fat Saul wanted Leo to pay back the entire loan.”
Audrey opened her mouth, no doubt to protest that she always covered Leo’s debts, but I cut her off. “It was more than what you could take out without Max and Olive co-signing,” I said. Audrey flinched as if I’d slapped her. “Once Fat Saul called in the loan, Leo dropped out of sight.”
“So you think that’s why Leo’s gone?”
“It’s a possibility. However, the other night someone killed Fat Saul. We know that the night he died, he got a call from a woman and then went out looking for Leo.”
Audrey’s eyes grew wide. “Are you saying that Leo had something to do with that man’s death?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m only telling you what happened. But it is a possibility. If Fat Saul found out where Leo was hiding, and went there, there might have been a fight. It’s possible that Leo killed Fat Saul in self-defense.”
Audrey stared at me. “Do you think that’s what happened?”
“I have no idea.”
Audrey closed her eyes and sank back into the couch. “Oh, God. Where is he?” she moaned.
“That does seem to be the sixty-four thousand dollar question. However, that’s not why I’m here. I need to know if you went to Lizzy’s. The truth.”
Nigel came into the room carrying a tray. Setting it down on the oval coffee table, he handed Audrey a cup of coffee. “Drink this,” he instructed.
Audrey took a sip. Nigel poured me a cup and passed it to me. From somewhere in the house came the sound of something falling over and nails skidding on a wood floor. “What was that?” Audrey asked.
“Reindeer,” said Nigel. “I believe Nic was asking you something?”
Audrey took another sip. Then another.
“Audrey,” I said after her third sip, “I already know Olive told you all about Lizzy. What I need to know now is if you went there.”
“But why?”
“Because she’s dead,” I said gauging her reaction to this news. Audrey didn’t appear shocked. “And when—not if—the police find out that you knew about her, they’re going to want to question you. And they won’t be as nice as me. So, for the last time, Audrey, tell me what happened.”
Audrey took a deep breath and burst into tears. “I didn’t kill her,” she sobbed. “I swear! She was already dead when I got there! Oh God! What have I done?”
twenty-three
It took several minutes to g
et a coherent story out of Audrey. Finally, she told us that after Olive told her about Lizzy, she’d gone home and tried to calm down. “But I was just too mad,” she said, once her tears had subsided. “Why was he with her of all people? I’d given him everything! Everything! And he humiliates me by going off with her! He promised he would stop. After Aunt Olive told me about her, I figured that that’s where he’d been holed up. I decided to go there and tell him what I thought of him. When I got there, I saw that the door was open. I knocked, but there was no answer. So I … I walked in. That’s when I saw her. She was lying on the floor. I knew she was dead. Her eyes …” Audrey closed her own eyes at the memory. After a minute, she continued. “I know I should have called the police, but I just wanted to get away from there. I had to get away from her eyes.”
“What time was this?” I asked.
“About eleven-thirty.”
“Did you see anything that might have indicated that Leo had been there?”
“No. Absolutely not,” she said immediately.
“Take your time. No need to rush your answer.”
She took a deep breath. “I didn’t see anything. I just saw her. And then I left.”
“Did anyone see you there?” I asked.
“No, I was careful not to let anyone see me,” she said with a hint of pride.
I sighed. “Actually, it would have been better had you been seen. The police think Lizzy was killed earlier in the evening.”
Audrey stared at me, her eyes wide. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes. That much I know,” I said.
From the other room came the sound of crashing glass. Nigel put his cup on the table and stood up. “Excuse me for moment,” he said before heading toward the chaos in the other room.
Audrey and I sat in silence listening to Nigel try to coax Skippy back onto his leash. Audrey sat quietly and picked at her nails. “Audrey, if you know something, you really need to tell me,” I said.
Audrey continued to stare at her hands. “I’ve told you everything,” she said, her voice small.
I took a sip of my coffee. I didn’t believe her for one second.