Murder with a Twist

by Tracy Kiely

  After Nigel got Skippy onto his leash, I called Daphne and told her what had happened. “Balls,” she said, her voice annoyed. “The little idiot.”

  “I agree. But she’s in no condition to be left alone. Can you come over?”

  “I’ll see what I can do. I just got a call from one of my clients and have to take care of something for them. If I can’t come, then I’ll send Toby.”

  “Fine. We’ll wait until one of you shows up.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  _____

  Toby arrived twenty minutes later. “What’s happened?” he asked as he shrugged out of his overcoat.

  “When Audrey heard that Leo was seeing Lizzy Marks, she decided to pay her a visit. Unfortunately, when Audrey got there, Lizzy was dead.”

  Toby’s brown eyes grew wide. “That’s not good.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. She tried to drown out the experience with scotch. We made her some coffee, and Nigel took away the scotch …”

  “A good start.”

  “But I think someone should be with her tonight. To put it mildly, she’s a mess.”

  Toby shook his head. “The poor thing. She doesn’t deserve this. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her. I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

  “That’s good, but there’s more. Audrey found the woman dead, but she didn’t call the police. She just left.”

  Toby shook his head. “Oh, Audrey,” he said under his breath.

  “Yeah. Well, I think you’ll agree that this is a problem. She left a crime scene and neglected to call anyone. She needs to rectify that.”

  Toby looked at me, his expression guarded. “What are you suggesting?”

  I blinked. “Wow. Okay. I didn’t think I was being unclear. I’ll try again.” I took a deep breath. “She needs to pick up a phone and call the police and tell them what she knows. Did you get my meaning that time?”

  From the shocked look on Toby’s face, I gathered he did. “Are you crazy?” he hissed. “Can you imagine the field day the press would have if they got ahold of this? They’d crucify her!”

  I stared back at Toby in equal disbelief. “Do you have any idea what the police will do to her once they find out that she was at the apartment of her husband’s lover? And that she found the woman dead and did nothing? What the press would do to her pales in comparison to what the police will do!”

  Toby shook his head. “I understand your concern, Nic. I do. But Audrey was under no obligation to report anything to the police. I would think as a former detective, you’d know that.”

  “Yes, legally she doesn’t have to. But what about her moral obligation? What about what a prosecutor will do with those facts if it comes out? Because, let’s be honest. It will come out.”

  Toby bristled. “Not if I can help it. She’s been through enough. I will not let her suffer anymore.”

  “If she calls the police now and tells them, she won’t suffer. But if she doesn’t, it will only be worse for her.”

  “I disagree and as her lawyer, I will advise her not to talk to the police about this. And, I’d advise you to do the same.” I stared back at Toby in disbelief. He had suddenly morphed into someone quite different. Doris would never think to call the steely-eyed stone-faced man in front of me now “spineless.”

  “You’re making a mistake, Toby,” I said. “But Audrey will be the one to pay for that mistake. Is that what you want?”

  “Of course not,” said Toby. “I only want to take care of her and protect her. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

  Remembering his cozy date the other night, I wondered if that was still true.

  _____

  Nigel and I left a few minutes later. Audrey was slumped in Toby’s arms. Despite the lousy circumstances, she looked happier than I’d seen her all week.

  “Why do I have this nagging suspicion that Olive will still find a way to blame me when this all hits the fan?” I asked.

  Nigel wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulder. “Don’t take this the wrong way, darling, but if you only have a ‘nagging’ suspicion that Aunt Olive is going to blame you, then maybe it was a good thing after all that you got shot and had to quit the department. You must have been a crummy detective.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime. Are you going to call Marcy?”

  “Toby asked me not to. I think I agreed,” I said.

  “Well, to hand Audrey to the police now would be akin to kicking a puppy. I think you can give yourself a break on this one.”

  “I wonder if Marcy would agree. I have a headache from this case,” I complained. “I need a hot bath and then a dirty martini.”

  “Your wish is my command,” Nigel said offering me his arm. “And, if you’re a very good girl, I’ll take you out for a drink afterwards.”

  Before I could answer, my phone rang. According to the readout, it was from either Max or Olive. I looked at it in dismay. “I think this is your Aunt Olive calling,” I said.

  “Oh, well,” said Nigel. “Better to rip off the Band-Aid than to let it linger.”

  “Gee, that’s comforting.” I answered the phone with a lukewarm greeting, while I mentally steeled myself to do battle with Olive.

  “Hey, Detective Landis . . . I mean, Mrs. Martini,” said a deep voice. “This is Jo . . . seph.”

  “Why, hello Joe,” I answered, looking at Nigel in surprise. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I thought you’d like to know something. I know where that scumbag Leo is. I just saw him at a club I go to sometimes. He’s in there throwing around money like it grows on trees.”

  “Technically, it does,” I said.

  “Huh? Oh. Yeah.Well, anyway, I thought I’d let you know. So, we’re good, right? You’re not going to tell Mrs. Beasley about my past, right?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said with true honesty. “Speaking of which, are they home yet?”

  “No. I had to stop in to deliver some things for Mrs. Beasley. I thought I’d call you while I was here.”

  “I appreciate that Joe. What’s the name of the club?”

  “It’s The Lucky Lady. It’s on 83rd and Broadway.”

  “Thanks, Joe. But enlighten me, why are you telling me this? You know as well as I do that Frank Little has put a bounty out on Leo’s head. You could have called Frank and made some money in the process.”

  There was a brief pause. “Yeah, I know. But I know how much it means to Miss Audrey to have Leo at her party. She’s a nice kid. She don’t deserve this. I figured Frank could wait one more day before getting his hands on Leo. But it seemed a shame to ruin Miss Audrey’s party.”

  “You’re a regular softie, Joe. Thanks. I’ll check it out.” I hung up and told Nigel.

  “The Lucky Lady?” he repeated. “Let me guess; it’s listed in the phonebook under ‘I’ for irony.”

  Traffic being its usual fickle self, it was some time later before we arrived at the club. The Lucky Lady was housed in a nondescript kind of building. Shuttered windows. Peeling paint. A heavy steel door. The only bright spot was the neon sign. It featured three naked female silhouettes under the words “LIVE NUDES!” A large man smoking a cigarette and sitting on a wooden stool guarded the entrance. He looked bored.

  As we approached, he recited mechanically, “Twenty dollar cover. Each.” He didn’t mention Skippy. The man looked liked he’d seen everything. Twice.

  Nigel reached into his pocket for his wallet. “Okay, but first can I have your assurance that your sign is correct?” he asked jerking his chin toward the marquee.

  The man glanced up at the sign. “Yeah,” he said. “they’re nude.”

  “That’s not the adjective I’m worried about,” Nigel said as he handed over the money.

  twenty-four

  Inside The Lucky Lady, it
was loud, dark, and smoky. Music blared from tinny speakers. The walls were mirrored and smudged. Colored lights hung from the black ceiling. Down the middle of the room ran a long wooden catwalk. At its end was a partially naked girl swinging on a pole. Low circular tables crowded with leering men filled the room’s remaining space.

  A man walked past me on unsteady legs. Seeing me, he gave a low whistle. Seeing Skippy, he came to an abrupt halt. “What the hell is that?” he demanded.

  “Part of a new act management wants to try out,” said Nigel.

  “Jesus,” said the man, before wandering away. “This place is awesome.”

  From across the room, a twitchy little man with a wiry mustache saw us and rushed over. He didn’t look happy. “Hey, you can’t have a dog in here,” he said. “He can’t be in here. The Board of Health will shut me down.”

  “Oh, let’s be honest,” I said, “If you get shut down, it won’t be because of a Board of Health violation. Now who are you?”

  “The manager.”

  “I gathered that. I meant, what’s your name? I’ll need it for the report.”

  He took a step back. “Report? What report?”

  “The one that is going to cite you for hiring underaged girls,” I said, pointing to the glassy-eyed girl gyrating on the stage.

  The man glanced behind him. “Hey, she’s eighteen. Saw her license and everything. I run a legit business here.”

  “I’ll be sure to mention that in the report. But I still need your name.”

  He paused. “It’s Tim Oberlin.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Oberlin. Now is there a Leo Blackwell here?”

  Tim’s eyes widened. “Why? What did he tell you? ’Cause the guy’s a drunk. I wouldn’t trust anything he said.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Where is he?”

  Tim jerked his thumb to an area behind him. “He’s at a table in the back corner with one of my girls. If you want to talk to him, you’d better do it soon. He’s getting pretty loaded.”

  We walked over to the table Tim indicated. Leo was snuggled up against a busty blonde. Based on her outfit—a corset and fishnet stockings—I guessed that she was between sets. I took a good look at Leo. Thin, with dark hair slicked back, he had high cheekbones and a full mouth. He was the kind of guy whose youth made him good-looking. Once that faded, so, too, would the rest.

  I noticed that while his suit was a custom-cut Armani, it was also somewhat the worse for wear. It had the appearance of doing double duty as pajamas.

  As we approached, Leo drained his glass and waved to the waitress to bring him another. The blonde said, “Honey, slow down. What’s the rush? We’ve got all night.”

  “No rush,” Leo answered, his voice thick. “I’m celebratin’.”

  Nigel, Skippy, and I stopped at his table. “Well, hello, Leo!” said Nigel brightly, as if he’d just happened upon an old friend. “Fancy meeting you here!”

  At the sound of his name, Leo looked up, his gaze unfocused, his expression doubtful. “Do I know you?” he asked.

  “Do you know me?” Nigel repeated, as if amused. “Leo, you kill me. How could you forget your wife’s favorite cousin?” Pulling up two chairs, he indicated for me to sit in one while he sat in the other. Skippy sat between us and stared at Leo.

  “Is that a dog?” asked the blonde.

  Nigel pulled his brows together. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “What dog?”

  “That dog right there!” she said, pointing at Skippy.

  Nigel looked blankly at Skippy and then back at the blonde. “My mother taught me never to contradict a lady.” He paused. “You’re seeing things.”

  The blonde narrowed her eyes, unsure of Nigel’s meaning. “Listen, baby,” she finally said to Leo. “I’ve got to get ready for my act. Make sure you cheer loud for me, okay?” She stroked her long red nails against his cheek, placed a wet kiss on his mouth, and slid out of her seat. No one said a word to her.

  “So, Leo,” said Nigel. “How’s tricks? Wait, let me rephrase that. How are you? Where’ve you been?”

  “Around. Ya know. Busy.” He pronounced this last word as if it was spelled with several “z’s.” “Did Audrey send you here?” He asked.

  “Audrey? No. The little lady and I are here celebrating our anniversary,” Nigel said, indicating me. “Leo, this is Nic. I met Nic here three years ago tonight. She was their opening act back then.”

  I smiled at Leo. “I juggled knives.”

  “Her stage name was Six-Fingered Sally,” Nigel added.

  Leo put his glass to his lips and took a long sip. “What d’ya want, Nigel?”

  “Well, it’s a little embarrassing, but I never got a thank-you card for the wedding gift I sent you. Tell me, did you not like the waffle maker?”

  Leo glared at Nigel. “You think you’re so damn funny. Well, I’m not laughin’. ”

  “Neither am I, you son of a bitch,” countered Nigel, his voice now harsh. “Now, call your wife. For some reason she’s worried about you.”

  Leo shook his head and gave us an odd smile. “She’s worried that I won’t show up for her party? Well, you can tell her not to be. I’ll be home first thing in the morning, and I’ll be at her blasted party tomorrow night. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. But tonight, I’m celebratin’.”

  “What are you celebrating?” I asked.

  Leo gave a broad grin. “My luck.”

  The music suddenly switched to The Divinyls “I Touch Myself.” The curtains pulled back, and Leo’s friend sauntered onto the stage. She waved at Leo and blew him a kiss. I shifted my chair so it faced away from the stage.

  “Would this newfound luck of yours have anything to do with what happened to Fat Saul?” I asked Leo.

  Leo didn’t look at me. His eyes remained fixed on the spectacle behind me. “Yeah. I heard about that. Too bad.”

  “You owed him money, didn’t you?” I asked.

  “Yeah. So what? I’ve got it.”

  “Is that so? Where’d you get it?” I asked. “From Audrey?”

  Leo’s mouth curved into a sly smile. “No, not from Audrey. Not directly, anyway. But it seems she is my lucky lady.” He started to laugh. “Who’d have ever thought she’d be lucky?”

  I reached over and laid a restraining hand on Nigel’s fist. “Does Frank know you have his money?” I asked.

  Leo watched the stage, still laughing. “Yeah. He knows.”

  “Really? When I talked to Frank, he said he hadn’t heard from you.”

  “Yeah, well, shows how much you know. As of this morning, we’ve talked. Ask him yourself, if you don’t believe me. I got his money. He knows that. I didn’t have a beef with Fat Saul, and I don’t have a beef with Frank.”

  Behind me the crowd gave a hoot of approval. Leo craned his neck to get a better look.

  “Seems like Fat Saul might have disagreed with you on that,” I said. “I got the impression that he was looking for you the night he died. He might have thought you’d skipped out on him. Tell me, did he find you?”

  Leo dragged his eyes away from the stage and glared at me. “What the hell is it to you?”

  “Nothing,” I admitted. “But some friends of mine in the department are kind of curious. I told them I’d ask you if I saw you.”

  Leo took another sip of his drink. “You a cop?”

  I shook my head. “Not anymore. But people around you seem to have a nasty habit of dying.”

  “You mean like Lizzy?” Leo asked, his eyes suddenly alert.

  “Oh, so you know about Lizzy. How did you find out?” I asked.

  Leo’s eyes shifted away from mine. “Read about it in the papers.”

  “Papers haven’t reported it yet. Besides, I’m not convinced you can actually read. Try again.”

  “Fine. Frank told me abou
t it when I talked to him,” Leo said.

  “Really?”

  “Really. Look, I didn’t have anything to do with her death.”

  “Still,” I said, “you have to admit, it might look suspicious to those who aren’t cognizant of your stellar reputation.”

  Leo looked at me, confused. “What did you … ?” he began, but the crowd began to cheer wildly, and he focused again on the stage. Seconds later, a lacy black bra flew through the air and landed on our table. Leo went to grab it, but Skippy got to it first. He sat back, the bra dangling partially out of his mouth, and resumed staring at Leo.

  I sighed. Leo was drunk and belligerent. I wasn’t going to get anything more out of him tonight. Nothing coherent, anyway. “Okay,” I said, pushing my chair back and standing up. “I don’t have anything more to say. Nigel, did you want to say anything?”

  Without a sound, Nigel stood up and slugged Leo across the jaw. Leo toppled off his chair and landed in a messy heap on the floor.

  “No, I’m good,” he said. Shaking out his hand a few times, he offered me his arm.

  “May I see you home, Mrs. Martini?” he asked.

  “I’d be delighted, Mr. Martini,” I answered.

  twenty-five

  The next morning we were awakened once again by the sound of the phone. Nigel briefly looked at it before burying his head back into his pillow. “Remind me to have that damned thing disconnected,” he said. “It’s an utter nuisance.”

  The phone continued to ring. I poked him. “It’s an utter nuisance which is A: On your side of the bed and B: Most likely from one of your relatives.”

  “You don’t know that,” Nigel mumbled. “It could be from one of yours.”

  “Doubtful. My family has the good sense not to call before ten a.m.”

  “You forget your Aunt Martha.”

  “That’s true. But as she’s been dead for over a year now, I don’t think it’s her.”

  “You may have a point there,” he said, grabbing for the receiver. “But we’ll see who has the last laugh if you’re wrong.”

  “If I’m wrong, I don’t think anyone will be laughing.”