by Tracy Kiely
“Stop this!” cried Audrey. “Toby didn’t stab Leo.”
I looked at her. “And how do you know that?”
She took a gulp of air before answering. “Because I did.”
forty-four
“Audrey!” exclaimed Olive. “What are you saying?”
“The truth,” I answered.
Audrey looked at me in bewilderment. “Wait. You already knew? Then why did you say Toby did it?”
I shrugged. “I figured if you heard Toby accused of stabbing Leo, you’d be forced to speak up.”
Audrey propped her elbows on the table on sank her head in her hands. “I’ve been such an idiot.”
“Well, yes,” I admitted. “But you didn’t kill him. At least you have that.”
“Wait,” said Toby, turning to Audrey. “So, you did stab Leo?”
A half sob escaped Audrey’s mouth. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I told him that I was done. That it was over.” She pulled her hands away from her face and looked at me. “I told you how he laughed at me. He told me that if I tried to divorce him, he’d not only try to destroy me, but Daphne as well. I couldn’t let him do that. During the party, I saw him go into the bathroom. I waited until I thought he was alone, and then I followed.”
Toby interrupted her. “Wait, Audrey. Stop talking. As your lawyer, I insist that you don’t say another word.”
Audrey smiled fondly at him. “What’s the point, Toby? She already knows. Besides, it’s the truth.”
“Yes, but …” continued Toby.
Audrey spoke over him. “Please, Toby. Let me finish. I’m tired of pretending.” She turned back to me. “Where was I?”
“You followed Leo into the bathroom,” I prompted.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “I followed him in there. I was in a kind of cold rage. It was almost as if I was watching myself rather than actually doing it.”
“Do you hear that?” said Toby. “She was having an out-of-body experience. By her own admission, she was in a dream state.”
No one paid attention to him. Audrey continued, “He was sitting in the chair. His back was to me. I can’t remember if I said anything. I just … stabbed him. Then I walked out.” She shot me a rueful glance. “And then I started screaming. You know the rest.”
Toby grabbed her hand and held it tight. Audrey sat back in her chair. “So, now what?”
“Well, I’m not sure,” I said turning to Max. “What is the charge for stabbing a dead body?”
“I’m a bit rusty on that one myself,” he admitted. “Desecration?”
“Sounds about right,” I agreed. “In any case, it’s better than murder. Lucky for you, someone else got to him first.”
“This is absurd!” snapped Olive. “I refuse to sit here and listen to any more of this nonsense!”
“Well, I think you should,” I said. “It’s about to get interesting.”
Olive’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about who killed Leo,” I replied. “Audrey stabbed him, but as we all know, someone poisoned him. It was the poison that killed him.”
“That could have been anyone,” Olive snapped. “It probably was one of those men who were after Leo before. The ones he owed money to.”
“Well, it is interesting that you bring that up. I don’t know if you remember, but one of your guests, Janet Harris, mentioned something about a rude waiter. She also mentioned that he had a tattoo. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but later I wondered about it. There is a man who works for Frank Little who has a very distinctive tattoo. So, I called Janet Harris and asked her to describe the tattoo, which she very kindly did.”
“And?” said Max. “What did she say?”
“The tattoo she described matches the one belonging to the gentleman in question,” I answered.
“Gentleman might be a bit of an exaggeration,” said Nigel.
“Duly noted,” I replied.
Max frowned. “Does this tattooed man have a name?”
“Yes, he does. I think of him as Talons. However, that’s not his legal name. His real name is Marvin Gibbs.”
“Get out of here!” exclaimed Nigel.
I raised my hand. “Hand to God.”
Nigel shook his head. “Well, he’ll always be Talons to me.”
Max leaned forward. “So, this man … Marvin?”
“Let’s just stick with Talons,” I said. “It’s easier.”
Max nodded. “So, this man, Talons, he killed Leo?”
“Yes,” I answered. “Well, technically.”
Max’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean technically?”
“Well, I mean technically in the sense that he delivered the fatal drink to Leo,” I said.
Everyone began to talk at once. “Who is he?” “How?” “Where is he now?”
I raised my hand to stop the questions. “To answer in the order received. He was a member of Frank Little’s crew. He donned a waiter’s uniform and blended in with the other wait staff at Audrey’s birthday party. He’s now in police custody.”
“So, why did he kill Leo? Did Leo owe him money too?” asked Daphne.
I took a sip of wine. “Well, that’s where it gets tricky,” I admitted.
“Why?” asked Daphne. “Why would it get tricky?”
I took another sip of my wine before answering. “Because he claims he didn’t supply the poison. He says someone else supplied it. Along with the waiter’s jacket.”
Max frowned. “Who?”
I took a deep breath. “Olive,” I said.
forty-five
There were several gasps. Max cursed. Olive stayed very still. She stared back at me almost defiantly. Then she laughed. It had a high-pitched ring to it. “That’s absurd,” she said. “Why would I want to kill Leo?”
“Because he was a public embarrassment to this family. Because he was slowly destroying Audrey. Because he was blackmailing your daughter.”
Olive reached for her purse and took out another pill. She washed it down with a gulp of her gin and tonic. “Mother!” said Daphne. “You can’t take those with alcohol!”
Olive ignored her. Staring at me, she said, “You’ve gone too far, Nicole. I can’t believe you would tell such a horrible lie.” Max pushed back his chair and stood up. He walked over to Olive and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“I assume that this bizarre accusation comes from this man Talons?” asked Max.
I nodded. “It does.”
“Well, I hardly think that that will stand up in court as evidence,” he scoffed. “I don’t know why this man chose to poison Leo, but I think it’s obvious that once he was caught, he tried to shift the blame on Olive.”
“I wish it was only that, Max,” I said. “But, it’s not.”
Max looked uneasily from Olive to me. “I’m sorry, Max. I really am,” I said. “But Olive can’t walk away from this.” I signaled Danny. He got up from his seat at the bar and went into the back office. Moments later he returned with Frank. Upon seeing him, Olive blanched. Danny and Frank walked over to our table. I stood up. “Everyone, this is Frank Little,” I said. “Frank, I believe you know most everyone here. Now would you care to repeat what you told me earlier?”
Frank nodded. “Sure thing. The other day, this lady here,” Frank pointed at Olive, “came here and offered me money to help her get rid of Leo.”
“That’s a lie!” Olive shouted at Frank. Max kept his hand on her shoulder. It now restrained her rather than comforted her.
Frank ignored her. “I told her no. I told her that I wasn’t interested in that kind of work. But Talons followed her outside. He wasn’t particular like me.”
“My client, Mr. Little, is a scrupulous businessman,” interjected Flynn. “I want that noted.”
; Nigel made a sort of coughing noise. So, too, did his father. “Yes, Mr. Flynn,” said Paul with a small smile. “We’ll all agree that Mr. Little is the epitome of conscientiousness.”
Frank glanced suspiciously at Nigel and Paul. “Yeah, well I don’t know about that. But I do know that Talons agreed to do the job for her. He told me. I told him it was a bad idea, but Talons ain’t too bright.”
“Mr. Gibb’s level of intelligence will, of course, be a major factor in our defense,” said Flynn. “He was obviously unduly influenced by a woman of superior intellect and education. I plan on proving that Mr. Gibbs was used as a pawn in …”
“Save it for the judge, Flynn,” I said.
“This is absurd!” yelled Olive. Her voice was getting thicker. Her words were starting to slur. “Are you seriously taking the word of this … this Neanderthal? Why, it’s insulting! It’s ludicrous!”
“Unfortunately it’s also true, Olive,” I said, my tone gentle. “You wanted Leo gone. You couldn’t stand what he had done to Audrey. She’d changed, and you were desperate. Then, somehow, you found out how he was blackmailing Daphne. By the time the papers splattered pictures of the kind of man Leo was for all of New York to see, his fate was sealed. You had decided to take matters into your own hands. You were going to make sure Leo Blackwell never hurt this family again.”
For a brief second, an expression of keen lucidity flashed across Olive’s face. Her eyes locked on mine with an intense gaze. “Prove it!” she snapped. A second later, the expression was replaced with one of confusion. Her face began to crumple. Audrey got up from her chair and slowly walked over to Olive. Kneeling by her chair, Audrey said, “Aunt Olive? Is this true? Did you do this?”
Olive placed her hand on Audrey’s cheek. Her eyes welled with tears. “Oh, Audrey,” she said, her voice a choked whisper. “You’re so beautiful. So much like your father. He was my baby brother. I loved him so much. And when he and your mother died, a part of me died, too. But, I swore to him … to his memory … that I would never let any harm come to you.” She turned to Paul and Doris, her eyes pleading for understanding. “You understand, don’t you, Paul? It’s family. We were raised to stick by each other. Daddy always said that we had an obligation to protect the family.”
Paul regarded Olive with a pained expression. Beside him, Doris grabbed his hand tightly. She nodded at Olive. “We understand, Olive,” she said quietly.
Olive sank back a little in her chair. She turned to Audrey. “He was coming to me in my dreams, you know,” she said softly. “Your father. He told me that he wanted Leo gone.” She looked up at Max. “Remember, Max? I told you about those dreams.” Max nodded, his face etched in misery. Olive didn’t appear to notice. She turned back to Audrey. “You are like a second daughter to me, Audrey. I love you.”
Audrey remained kneeling. She, too, began to cry. “Oh, Aunt Olive,” she moaned.
Olive stroked her face gently. “But now you’re okay. Leo is gone. I made sure of that. I can rest now. I can tell your father that you are safe.” She took another sip of her drink. She seemed to have slipped into another world. She sat calmly; an eerily serene smile on her face. Looking up at Max, she said, “I think I need to lie down, Max. I feel so sleepy.”
Max’s face was a portrait of pain. He forced a smile on his face and nodded. “Of course, dear. Let’s get you out of here.”
forty-six
Max gently helped Olive to her feet. “Where are we going, Max?” Olive asked, her voice sleepy.
“We’re going to get you well,” he said. “Daphne, I will call you when I get her settled.” He threw a challenging look at me. I gave a nod of my head indicating that he could take Olive. Max gave me a brief nod of thanks before gently escorting Olive out of the restaurant.
Once they left, we all sat there in silence. “Where is he taking her?” asked Doris.
“To the nearest hospital or treatment center, I would imagine,” answered Daphne. “She’s bonkers! Those pills have made her go bonkers.”
“Exactly!” said Toby, jumping on the explanation. “That’s exactly what our defense will be. She is clearly addled from the pills and is not in control of her faculties. She needs treatment, not judgment.”
Nigel looked at me questioningly. I shrugged. I’d seen worse defense arguments succeed. After a three-month stint at a plushy rehab spa—one with a calming ocean view, of course—Olive would be deemed rehabilitated. Her attending doctor would then no doubt claim that Olive’s actions were the result of the drugs and not her own rational thinking. Given Leo’s own morally repugnant nature and the likelihood of his own murderous actions, it was unlikely that Olive would face anything more than continued drug rehab and a monitored probation. And based on what Toby was saying, he and Max would throw up enough legal road blocks that would ensure that Olive never saw the inside of a jail. It was one of those truths that people hate to admit, but money buys freedom. And God knows the Martini family had that.
I needed to call Marcy, and I was going to. However, I decided to postpone that phone call until I knew that Olive had been admitted to whatever facility Max was taking her. For some reason, I felt I owed Olive that.
Flynn got up from his bar seat and walked over to me. Reaching into his suit pocket, he pulled out one of his cards. “In my professional opinion, I think your aunt has an excellent chance for an acquittal. Clearly, she was in some kind of fugue state. If you would be so kind to pass along my card, I’d be happy to provide her with a consultation—free of charge, of course.”
I smiled and took the card. “I’ll make sure this ends up in the appropriate hands.” He afforded me an oily smile and returned to his seat at the bar.
I took a sip of my drink. It wasn’t all too bad, really. In a way I’d miss Olive when she was doped up on Valium. It was the only time that she ever called me Nic.
_____
It was late by the time Nigel and I returned to the hotel. After Max took Olive to wherever she’d be spending the next several months, the rest of us stayed at Little’s Vittles. Audrey quietly wept in her seat while Toby tried to comfort her. Daphne then pulled her chair up next to her. Pulling her close, they had a long, private conversation. Whatever Daphne said made an impact on Audrey. She seemed to perk up after their chat, much to the apparent relief of Toby. The two of them held hands for the rest of the evening.
After that we had a surprisingly good time, despite the food. Frank might not know cuisine, but the man knew how to stock a bar. It was after one when we left. It seemed the right time to leave, as Nigel had begun to instruct the bartender on the proper way to shake a martini. He claimed that the trick was to shake the canister to the beat of Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood”. When we finally filed out to our waiting limo, Frank, Danny, and the bartender were all taking turns shaking it to the beat.
forty-seven
I awoke the next morning to a large pair of honey-brown eyes gazing into mine. “Nigel?”
“Yes?”
“Why is Skippy in our bed?” I reached over to the head belonging to the brown eyes and scratched it. Skippy thumped his tail happily.
“He pushed me out about an hour ago,” Nigel answered from the breakfast table.
“You give up awfully easy,” I said. I sat up, stretched my arms over my head, and yawned. “What time is it?”
Nigel looked at his watch. “Ten-thirty. I had breakfast sent up,” he said. He took a sip of what looked like a Bloody Mary. “They sent up some coffee with it, too,” he added with a mystified glance at the silver pot, “although I can’t imagine why. Would you like some?”
I laughed. “Yes, please.”
Nigel poured me a cup and brought it over. Before handing it to me, he bent down and kissed me. “First course,” he explained before handing me the cup.
“You’ll never top it,” I said and took a sip.
He shoved Skipp
y over and sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you this morning?”
“Fine. How are you?”
“I always said half of my family probably should be in jail. I guess it’s a start.”
I scoffed. “You know as well as I do that Aunt Olive isn’t going to do any jail time. Toby, Daphne, and Max will see to that.”
Nigel opened his eyes wide in amusement. “Hey! You just called her Aunt Olive!”
“So I did,” I admitted. “I guess she suddenly seems more like family to me now. After all, while you think most of your family should be in jail, most of mine actually were. At least at one point or another.”
Nigel laughed and kissed me again. “Just one of the many reasons I love you, Mrs. Martini. You help wash away my air of respectability.”
I kissed him back. “Speaking of which, what are your plans for today?” I asked.
“I don’t know. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I believe we are supposed to fly home tonight,” I said.
“You want to postpone that?”
“No, but I believe you are forgetting someone, dear.” I looked at Skippy. He thumped his tail. “I don’t think he counts as carry on.”
“Yes, but apparently he counts as a medical dog.”
I sighed. “I don’t want to know, do I?”
He considered my question. “Probably not,” he admitted. “In fact, the more confused you appear about the whole situation, the better it will be.”
I laughed again and pulled him close. “Deal. Now, until then, why don’t we work on your pesky problem of respectability?”
Skippy let out a protesting bark, but he did get off the bed.
Skippy: 2,468; Us: 1.
recipes
the naughty olive (a.k.a. the dirty martini)
60 ml (2 oz.) gin
15 ml (½ oz.) dry vermouth