Murder with a Twist

by Tracy Kiely

  “Hello?” Nigel said, his voice hopeful. “Aunt Martha?” He paused. “Oh, hello, Aunt Olive.”

  I smiled, wiggled my fingers at him, and snuggled back under the covers. “No, I wasn’t asleep,” I heard him say. “Of course not. Why would I be at … seven-twenty in the morning? No, actually, Nic and I were just concluding a most utopian-like … hmmm? No, I suppose you wouldn’t want to hear about it. I see. Really. I see. Well, that is interesting. What? No, we can’t come over for breakfast. No, I’m sorry. I know. I know. Okay. Okay. Okay. That’s right. Bye.”

  “So, what time do we have to be there for breakfast?” I asked from under the covers.

  “Nine-thirty.”

  I sighed. “I think I would have preferred Aunt Martha after all.”

  _____

  As requested, we arrived at Aunt Olive’s at nine-thirty. “Well, Leo’s back,” Olive said, in lieu of a greeting when we entered the room. She was sitting in her favorite chair, wearing a gold silk pantsuit and a peevish expression. Her fingers drummed an angry tom-tom on the armrest. “He showed up early this morning on Audrey’s doorstep, flowers in hand, to beg for forgiveness,” she bit out. She then remarked at length on both Leo’s canine heritage and his mother’s marital status, before ending with a dire prognostication as to the fate of his soul.

  Across from her on the couch, Daphne sipped coffee from a delicate teacup. She also appeared to be in a less-than-joyous mood. Her face seemed thinner, and her eyes were dull. She gave us a half wave and then returned to her coffee.

  “Where’s Max?” Nigel asked.

  “On the phone. Again,” groused Olive. “I swear to God he spends more time on that damn thing than with me.” Max poked his head out from the kitchen doorway. There were dark circles under his eyes. He held a phone to his ear with one hand. With the other he indicated that he’d be out in a minute. He quickly ducked back into the kitchen.

  Olive glared at the space where his head had just been. “See what I mean?” she said.

  “Mother, I’m sure it’s just business,” said Daphne, her voice tired.

  “Well, of course, it’s just business,” Olive snapped. “What else would it be?”

  No one answered. Moments later, Max reappeared, the phone gone. “Good morning, Nic. Good morning, Nigel,” he said, his voice tired. “Can I get you some coffee?”

  “Yes, please,” we answered.

  He disappeared back into the kitchen. Nigel and I sat down. “What does Audrey say about all of this?” I asked.

  Olive rolled her eyes. “I don’t really know. I don’t think Audrey does either. She was clearly relieved not to have to face the party tonight alone, but she is also angry, hurt, and confused.”

  “That’s understandable,” I said. “What does she plan to do about Leo’s debt? Is she going to pay it off ?”

  “I don’t know that either. I didn’t think to ask her. She just called us early this morning to tell us the ‘good’ news that the jackass was back and would be in attendance tonight. It wasn’t a very long conversation.” She glared at us.

  “I don’t understand, Aunt Olive,” Nigel said. “I was under the impression that you wanted Leo to come home in time for Audrey’s party. Well, the party is tonight. You got your wish. I thought you’d be happy.”

  The tom-tom beat abruptly stopped. “Happy? Happy? Are you insane? Haven’t you seen this morning’s paper?”

  “No, actually, I haven’t,” Nigel said.

  Olive reached down to the floor beside her. Picking up a newspaper, she slammed it down on the coffee table in front of us. “Now what do you say?”

  I looked down. It was the Post. In large print, the headline read: “The Martini Knockout.” Underneath was a picture taken of us last night. It was a spectacular shot of Nigel’s fist connecting with Leo’s jaw. It was a little blurry, but there was no doubt that it was us. I was standing next to Nigel, a surprised expression on my face. Next to me was Skippy, the black bra hanging out of his mouth.

  “Oh,” Nigel said.

  “Oh?” repeated Olive. “Is that all you can say? Oh?”

  “Well, there’s no sale at Penney’s, so I guess ‘Oh,’ will have to do.”

  “It’s outrageous! First of all, why didn’t you tell me that you had located him?” Olive fumed. “And second of all, why were you in a strip joint?”

  “We got a tip that Leo was there, so we went there. As you can see, the tip was right.” Pointing at the picture, I said, “What you see here is merely Nigel convincing Leo that he needed to go home.” I paused and then added, “Apparently, it worked because he did just that.”

  Nigel smiled at Olive. “You’re welcome.”

  “Have you no sense?” Olive snapped. “This kind of press is a nightmare. And on the day of the party, too!”

  Daphne regarded her mother with irritation. “Calm down, Mother. Why don’t you take one of your pills?”

  Max came back into the room with the coffee tray. Putting it down squarely on top of the paper, he said, “Olive, dear, it is what it is. There’s no use yelling at anyone, least of all Nic and Nigel.”

  Olive crossed her arms and took a deep breath. Finally, she tipped her head in agreement. “I suppose you’re right,” she said grudgingly. “Besides, we have more important issues to deal with.”

  Max handed me a cup of coffee. “What issues?” I asked.

  Max did not answer. He handed Nigel a cup.

  “Audrey’s birthday is tomorrow,” Olive said. “Which means that we have exactly one day to convince her not to pay off Leo’s debt.”

  Daphne sighed. “I think that ship has sailed, Mother.”

  Olive shot her an annoyed look. “Nonsense. I am quite confident that if we all put our heads together, we can think of something.”

  Max poured himself a cup and sat down. “Well, short of killing the SOB I don’t see what we can do.”

  Olive sighed. “Daphne, be a dear and fetch me my pills. I feel another attack coming on.”

  twenty-six

  It started snowing early that afternoon. By nightfall, the city was covered with a shimmery white powder that made driving a nightmare. However, despite the inclement weather, Audrey’s guests, who no doubt had also seen the Post, were not going to miss this event. When Nigel and I made our way downstairs to the Olmsted ballroom, the party was in full swing and full attendance. A white-tuxedoed band was serenading a crowded dance floor. Waiters assigned with the Sisyphean task of serving champagne busily circled the room carrying silver trays loaded with crystal flutes. Men were laughing. Women were gossiping. Small children were at home with their nannies as Olive—in the spirit of the holidays—had deemed them persona non grata. Select members of various publications were in attendance as well. Olive had insisted that “the elite press” cover the event. I didn’t comment on that decision. It was her oxymoron, not mine.

  On the back wall, above a multi-tiered birthday cake, a projector flashed enormous images of Audrey culled from over the years—from her lolling about in a diaper to her lolling about on a yacht. Nigel and I paused in the doorway and took in the raucous scene before us. “Well, this was fun, don’t you think, Mrs. Martini?” Nigel said to me.

  “Oodles, Mr. Martini,” I agreed.

  “But I think—sadly—that it’s time to leave.”

  “I quite agree. We don’t want to overstay our welcome,” I said.

  “I’ll get our coats.”

  “We’re not wearing any,” I pointed out. “We came from upstairs.”

  “Excellent. One less step to worry about.”

  We each took a cautious step backward when a voice called out our names. “Nigel! Nicole!”

  I turned to see Olive, resplendent in a red satin ball gown, bearing down on us, her expression dire.

  “Dear God,” said Nigel. “As I live and breath, it
’s the Red Queen.”

  I pasted a polite smile on my face and prepared for the worst. Her displeasure, however, was not aimed at me. “Absolutely not! No. I forbid it. Nigel Martini, you are not bringing that dog into this party!” she said.

  Nigel glanced down at Skippy. “Why ever not?” he asked.

  “You know exactly why not,” Olive fumed.

  Nigel affected a look of understanding. “Oh, right. The invitation. Black tie only. But never fear, Auntie dear, Skippy is dressed appropriately.” He lifted up Skippy’s massive head to reveal the black on black silk paisley tie that was neatly knotted around his neck. “I think he looks rather dapper, actually,” Nigel added in a confidential whisper. Skippy barked and wagged his tail.

  “Nigel …” Olive said through clenched teeth.

  I raised my hand. “I completely understand, Olive,” I said. “Perhaps this isn’t an appropriate place for Skippy. We’ll be happy to take him back to our room.”

  Olive’s mouth turned up in a relieved smile. “Thank you, Nicole. I just don’t think … wait,” she paused, giving me a searching look. “You are coming back though, right?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Nigel. “It’ll be impossible to get a sitter at this late date, especially as most of the eligible ones are already busy tonight. But don’t worry. We’ll just say a quick hello and good-bye to Audrey and then be on our way.”

  Olive grabbed Nigel’s arm as he moved to turn away. “You’ll do no such thing.” With a reluctant sigh, she said, “Fine. He can stay. But please try to keep an eye on him. He can be a bit … startling.”

  “You won’t even notice he’s here,” Nigel promised.

  Olive raised her eyebrow. “Yes, well. As long as I notice that you’re here, that’s fine. Now go say hello to Audrey. She’s over there,” Olive said, indicating a large table in the center of the room.

  We dutifully made our way over to where Audrey stood with Leo talking to a few guests. She was wearing a long silver gown with a deep, narrow neckline. Her hair was slicked back. Her makeup was more elaborate than usual, but it still didn’t hide the fact that she was pale and there were faint blue circles under her eyes. Leo stood next to her giving every appearance of the devoted husband. He wore the required black tux, which normally elevates any man’s appearance. On Leo it just looked like he sold a better brand of used cars. I noticed that he was sporting a new bruise on his face thanks to Nigel’s parting shot last night. As we approached, Audrey and Leo saw us and smiled. Only one was genuine.

  “Nic! Nigel!” Audrey said, after excusing herself from her other guests. “I’m so glad you could be here.” Turning back to Leo, she said, “Leo, I don’t think you’ve ever met my cousin Nigel’s wife. Nic, this is Leo. Leo, meet Nic.”

  Around us, all the guests surreptitiously watched Leo and Nigel while pretending to do otherwise. Leo rolled his eyes. “We’ve met, Audrey. The whole room knows that we’ve met. There is a lovely photo on the front page of today’s Post documenting that meeting. So, let’s not pretend otherwise, shall we?”

  “Please, Leo,” Audrey pleaded through a fake smile. “Everyone is watching.”

  Leo, obliging, pasted on his own fake smile. “Fine. It was great to see you last night, Nigel. I look forward to suing you for assault. An assault that was happily captured on camera.”

  Nigel smiled as well. “Nothing gave me greater pleasure! In fact, I look forward to doing it again. And the only thing a jury would convict me of would be not hitting you harder.”

  Audrey winced, but said nothing. “That’s enough,” I said. “You’re making Audrey uncomfortable. Happy birthday, Audrey. You look lovely, by the way.”

  “As do you, Leo,” added Nigel. “By the way, how do you get your tux so shiny?”

  Audrey pretended not to hear Nigel. To me she said, “Thank you, Nic. I love your dress. You should wear pink more often.”

  “Why, thank you,” I said. “But you know, the zipper isn’t latching right. Would you please be a dear and help me with it? I asked Nigel, but he’s all thumbs.”

  “Um … sure, of course,” Audrey stammered, taking a tentative step toward me.

  “Oh, thanks,” I said. “Not here, though. Where are the restrooms?”

  “Over there …” Audrey began.

  Leo interrupted her. “I don’t think you should leave your guests, Audrey,” he said. “I’m sure someone else can help Nic with her problem.”

  “Oh, but we’ll only be a minute,” I said as I pulled Audrey away. Nigel quickly stepped between Leo and us and said, “Do you mind watching Skippy for me for a minute, Leo? I’m going to get a drink. Just be careful what you say around him. He’s been trained to attack when he hears a common everyday phrase.”

  Leo’s eyes grew wide, and he stared cautiously at Skippy. “What is it?” he asked.

  “No, but you’re close,” said Nigel. “I’ll be right back.”

  I dragged Audrey across the room and out of the ballroom. Finding a quiet corner, I turned to her. “What is going on? Why are you behaving like a scared rabbit?”

  Audrey stared back at me, her brown eyes deceptively wide. “Nothing’s going on. Leo came home and told me everything. He’s very sorry. He said he just needed to blow off a little steam.”

  “Blow off a little steam? He disappeared for several days!”

  “I know,” Audrey said quickly, her cheeks flushing a dark red. “But he’s sorry. I’m sure he’ll never do it again.”

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?” I asked.

  Audrey nodded her head. “I do. I told him that I knew he owed people money and that I would take care of it only if he promised to go to Gamblers Anonymous.”

  “And he agreed?”

  She nodded. “He had to. How else is he going to pay it?”

  I didn’t say anything. Leo certainly had had money last night and made it sound as if he’d already paid Frank back. If that were true, then he hadn’t gotten it from Audrey. So, who had he gotten it from?

  I changed the subject. “What about Lizzy Marks? Did you tell him that you knew about the two of them?”

  She looked down, suddenly fascinated with the carpet. “He … he told me about her. They … were just friends. They were more than that once, but it’s over now.”

  “Well, it would have to be, Audrey. The poor woman’s dead.”

  Audrey flinched as if I slapped her. “I’m sorry, Audrey. I don’t mean to tell you your business.” I paused. “No, that’s not true. I don’t want to tell you your business, but clearly someone needs to shove some sense into your head. Leo is a slime bag who is only interested in your money. He is using you. Tomorrow you will turn twenty-five and will gain control over your trust. There will be no Aunt Olive and Uncle Leo to protect you from yourself. It seems to me that if you’re old enough to be deemed responsible to manage that size fortune then you should be responsible period.”

  Audrey’s face bunched, and her eyes welled with tears. As a rule, I don’t kick puppies. However, watching Audrey now, I felt that I had an inkling as to what it must feel like.

  Audrey slowly raised her head. “Please don’t hate me,” she said in a small voice, “but …”

  “Audrey! There you are! Whatever are you doing out here? You have guests to attend to!” I turned to see Olive marching across the lobby, her red dress trailing out behind her, her expression grim.

  Audrey gave me an agonized look and then turned away. “I was just helping Nic with her zipper,” she called out in a practiced cheerful voice.

  Olive shot me a doubtful glance. “Well, this is more important than a zipper,” she said, extending her hand to Audrey. “Mrs. Otterson is asking for you.”

  I remained standing where I was. It was clear that Mrs. Otterson’s interest did not extend to me. Which was fine. I wanted to think.

  twen
ty-seven

  After about twenty minutes, Nigel came out into the lobby carrying two glasses of champagne. “Here you are,” he said as he crossed to where I was sitting. Taking a seat next to me on the leather settee, he said, “I was wondering where you went.” There was a smudge of red lipstick on his right cheek. I reached over and rubbed it off with my thumb.

  “I don’t think this is your shade, by the way,” I said as I took one of the glasses. I took a sip and asked, “Where’s Skippy?”

  “With the owner of the lipstick, a delightful woman named Rose. Apparently, she once had a Vaudeville act that included a dog and a monkey. She’s trying to teach Skippy the basics.”

  “Which part? The dog’s or the monkey’s?”

  “Does it really matter?” he asked.

  “Probably not,” I admitted.

  “How’s Audrey?” Nigel asked.

  “Well, that’s an interesting question. She seems nervous. And unstable. And about ten other anxiety-induced traits. Why don’t we just go with ‘A Hot Mess’ and leave it at that.”

  “A hot mess who is about to inherit an enormous fortune,” Nigel corrected.

  “Right. A hot mess who is about to inherit an enormous fortune and who is married to a gold-digging louse.”

  Nigel leaned back. “I really wish this weekend was over,” he said.

  I clinked my glass against his. “Me too.”

  As we came back into the ballroom, we bumped into Nigel’s parents. Paul was handsome in a fitted tux. Doris looked lovely as always. She was wearing a strapless gown of midnight blue that fell in graceful folds to the floor. Her face was bright with laughter. “Can I just tell you how much I love your dog?” she said.

  Paul wrapped his arm around Doris’s waist and grinned at us. “Your mother is quite enamored with Skippy. She was rewarding him with the bacon and scallop hors d’oeuvres.”

  Doris nodded. “He seemed to prefer those over the crab puffs.”

  “Well, don’t we all?” mused Nigel.

  “Can he visit us sometime?” Doris asked. “I’d love to introduce him to Chloe.”