A Perfect Manhattan Murder

by Tracy Kiely

“That’s not true,” I said. “Nigel did just as much, if not more, than I did. He’s the one who ended up …”

  “… taking a bullet for Nic,” Nigel finished with a spectacularly failed attempt at modesty.

  Harper looked expectantly at Nigel, her eyes aglow with interest. “I heard. Now, I want to hear every detail,” she instructed.

  Nigel shrugged. “It’s not something I like to make a big deal about.”

  “Says the man who gave six interviews and was the cover story for People,” I said laughing.

  Harper smiled broadly. “Oh! I loved that article. Wait, how did they describe you again?” She closed her eyes in concentration. “‘Nigel Martini is the Cary Grant of our generation—charming, witty, and just a little bit dangerous,’” she quoted.

  I laughed. “God, I wish I had a photographic memory like yours,” I said. “College would have been so much easier.”

  “Wait, you were shot?” Dan suddenly asked. “Is that why you’re using a cane?”

  Nigel glanced down at his leg. “No, that’s from something entirely different,” he said. Ducking his head in embarrassment, he whispered, “I forgot the safe word. Again.”

  “Nigel! Would you stop saying that?” I yelled as I slapped him upside the back of his head.

  Harper let out a snort of laughter. Dan’s eyes widened in shock. Turning to Harper, he asked, “Why didn’t I know about this?”

  “Their safe word?” Harper asked, her eyes bright with laughter.

  Dan frowned at her. “No. About the shooting.”

  “I’m sure I told you about it,” she said.

  “It was in the tabloids,” I said with false innocence.

  “Actually, it was a little higher,” Nigel confided to Dan before winking and adding, “Thank God.”

  Dan’s nose twitched as if suddenly assailed by an unpleasant odor. “I don’t read the tabloids,” he said.

  I turned to Dan, hoping to keep my face straight. “No? Well, then I’ll be sure to get you a subscription for your birthday this year.”

  Harper pressed her lips together in an attempt not to laugh. Dan ignored my offer. “How is it that someone shot at you? When did this happen?” he asked instead.

  “A few months back,” I answered. “We sort of got involved in a murder case.”

  “And I took a bullet for Nic,” Nigel repeated with a grin.

  “You said that already,” I reminded him.

  “It was quite painful,” he added.

  “If I remember correctly,” I murmured, “you said my nurse’s uniform made up for it.”

  A small smile tugged at Nigel’s lips. “True. Which is why I’d do it again.”

  “Well, I think it’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Harper said with a laugh. Slipping her arm through Dan’s, she teasingly asked, “What do you think, Dan? Would you take a bullet for me?”

  “Given my last two reviews, I think the more likely scenario would be you having to take a bullet for me,” he replied as if it were a source of pride. “In which case, perhaps that baby fat might come in handy after all,” he added with a hearty laugh. Seeing Harper’s stricken expression, Dan flung his arm around her shoulders. “Oh, come on,” he chided, giving her a quick side squeeze. “Don’t be so sensitive. You know I’m your biggest fan.”

  “Well, you’re certainly the biggest something,” Nigel muttered under his breath. Harper produced a thin smile but said nothing.

  Dan registered neither reaction; his eyes were fixed on something or someone behind me. Dropping his arm from Harper’s shoulders, he abruptly squared his own and said, “If you’ll excuse me a moment, darling, there’s someone I need to talk to.”

  We watched in silence as he disappeared into the crowd. When he was finally out of view, Harper closed her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t say it, Nic. I already know,” she said with a sigh.

  “I wasn’t going to say a word,” I answered truthfully.

  “Maybe,” she responded. “But you were thinking it.”

  “Thinking what?” I asked.

  Harper stared at me with sad eyes. “You’re thinking that I’m married to the most self-absorbed man on the East Coast.”

  I opened my mouth to form some kind of protest, but Harper continued first, “But you’re wrong,” she said with a shake of her head.

  “I didn’t—” I began, but Harper interrupted me.

  “You’re wrong,” she repeated firmly. “I’m not married to the most self-absorbed man on the East Coast. I’m married to the most self-absorbed man on the planet.” Signaling the bartender, she then asked, “Now, who wants a drink?”

  four

  Once our drinks were firmly in hand, I turned to Harper. “So what happened?” I asked. “I thought you were happy.”

  Harper took a long sip of her gin and tonic before answering. “Gracie happened,” she said. “Dan always told me that he wanted to have children, but when I got pregnant, he behaved as if it was nothing more than a silly hobby of mine. He didn’t come to any of the doctor’s appointments, and he wouldn’t come with me to pick out furniture for the nursery. The night I went into labor, Dan was at the theater reviewing a new show. I texted him and told him to meet me at the hospital.”

  I felt my eyes go wide. “Please do not tell me that he didn’t go to the hospital,” I said.

  Harper shook her head. “Oh no, he came all right. But it was four hours later. Not only did he stay for the entire play, but he went to the office to write up his notes while they were, and I quote, ‘still fresh in his head.’”

  “Oh Harper,” I said, giving her arm a sympathetic squeeze, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  Harper shrugged. “I hardly see him anymore. He’s always working on that damn book of his. I think. But it’s fine. In a way, it’s a good thing. I mean, the scales finally fell from my eyes, and I realized what a colossal jackass he is.”

  “Don’t feel you need to mince words on my behalf,” said Nigel. “Marriage to Nic has cured me of my delicate sensibilities.”

  I let out an inelegant snort. “You wouldn’t know a delicate sensibility if it snuck up and bit you on the ass.”

  “That right there shows how little you know about delicate sensibilities,” Nigel replied waving a scolding finger at me. “They wouldn’t dream of doing something so crass.”

  I swatted his finger before turning back to Harper. “Have you told Dan how you feel?” I asked.

  Harper let out a mirthless little laugh. “Are you kidding? Even if I did, he wouldn’t believe me. His ego has grown to such proportions that I think I could walk up to him, tell him I hated him, shoot him, and he’d still think it was a misunderstanding.”

  “So what are you going to do?” I asked.

  Harper took a deep breath. “Honestly? I don’t know. I mean, I have to think about Gracie.” She paused and added, “Even though he certainly doesn’t.” She took a sip of her drink. “I just know I can’t continue with the way things are anymore.”

  “Meaning divorce?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Harper sighed. “I don’t want to make any rash decisions now, especially when I haven’t slept through the night in months. And if I do decide to leave him, I’m going to need a damn good game plan.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Harper glanced around and lowered her voice. “You’ve heard of a premarital contract, right?”

  “Of course.”

  Harper sighed. “Well, in my stupid naivety, I thought that I didn’t need one. Daddy pushed and pushed for me to get Dan to sign one, but I thought the very idea was disgusting. So I refused. The bottom line is that if I divorce Dan now, he gets half of everything.”

  I did not come from a family of wealth. I did, however, marry into one. The net worth of the Martini family is one of thos
e figures that would cause your fingers to cramp if you were to write it out in longhand. However, compared to Harper’s, they’re barely scraping by. Even half of what little Harper controlled would still be a fortune.

  “Harper,” I began.

  Harper raised her hand to stop me, saying, “Don’t say it. I’m already kicking myself on a daily basis for that decision. But don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out. And in the meantime, I’m focusing on two things: Gracie and not bashing in his face.” She drained the rest of her drink. “Would anyone else care for another one?” she asked indicating her empty glass.

  Nigel glanced down at his unfinished drink and shrugged. “Well, when in Rome, I always say,” he replied as he tossed back the remains.

  “We’re not in Rome,” I pointed out.

  “Yes, but I have it on good authority that all roads lead there,” he replied.

  I considered his point. “Can’t argue with that logic,” I finally agreed as I did the same.

  five

  Dan rejoined us several minutes later. His face was flushed and his mouth was pinched in annoyance. “Is everything all right?” Harper asked, laying her hand on his arm. “You look upset.”

  Dan shook his head, as well as his arm from her hand. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice curt.

  Harper gamely placed her hand back on his forearm and gave it a gentle pat. “Well, why don’t I get you a drink then,” she said soothingly.

  Before anyone could protest her offer to leave the three of us alone, she was gone. Dan ignored us completely, silently staring at some unseen spot on the floor. Nigel gave me a pointed look and mouthed safe word. After several seconds of awkward silence, I asked, “So are you writing the review for Peggy’s play?”

  Dan glanced up blinking as if surprised to find me there. “What?” he said.

  I repeated the question. “Yes, of course, I’m reviewing it,” he said with a sigh of irritation. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  I forced a polite smile. “Well, I just wondered if there might be a conflict of interest, as Peggy is one of Harper’s best friends.”

  Dan snorted. “I think you just answered your question,” he said. “Peggy is one of Harper’s best friends. Not mine. Ergo, no conflict.”

  I took a deep breath and tried not to incite a different kind of conflict. “So will you have to leave right after the play to write the review?” I asked trying to keep the hope out of my voice.

  “No,” Dan replied. “I already turned it in. It’ll go live online first thing tomorrow.”

  “How does that work?” Nigel asked taking a sip of his drink. “Isn’t tonight the opening night?”

  Dan glanced around as if distracted before answering. “Yes, but the days of critics frantically running home to bang out their reviews minutes after the curtain drops have gone the way of the Dodo bird. These days, plays begin well before their so-called opening night. It allows the cast and crew to work out any kinks before it officially opens. Critics are invited late in this preview period when the director thinks the play is ready.”

  “I never knew that,” I admitted as Dan continued to idly scan the room.

  At my answer a distinctly patronizing expression crossed his face. “Yes, well, that’s not too surprising given—” he began, but a sudden movement next to me stopped him. I glanced up at Nigel. Generally, Nigel exudes an air of genial affability wrapped up in a package of absurd good looks. The absurd good looks were still there, but the affability was not. It had been replaced with an almost tangible animosity as he regarded Dan with a challenging stare. Dan blinked at Nigel and quickly looked away. With a faintly apologetic smile, he continued, “Uh … given that it’s not widely known outside of the theater circle.”

  “I see. So what was your opinion then?” I asked as I mentally considered options for Dan’s recompense. A subscription to several tawdry magazines seemed appropriate. Nigel’s reward also contained an element of the tawdry, but in his case it would be appreciated.

  Dan stared at me dumbly.

  “About Peggy’s play?” I prompted. “Did you like it?”

  “Oh,” he said shifting his feet and averting his eyes. “Yes. Her play. Right. Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to make my opinion known until the review runs. Company policy, I’m afraid.” He quickly glanced at us and produced a swift, tight smile. A faint throbbing started behind my right eye. If Dan had disliked Peggy’s play and went on to skewer it with his usual venomous style, there’d be no reason for Harper to divorce Dan. She’d just kill him outright.

  six

  Harper returned a few minutes later. “Our table is ready,” she told us with a bright smile.

  Dan turned and stared pointedly at Harper’s empty hands. “I thought you went to get me a drink,” he said.

  The smile faltered. “I did,” she said quickly, “but then the hostess said our table was ready. You can order when we are seated.”

  “Then what took you so long?” he demanded.

  Harper flushed and produced an apologetic smile. “I had to use the restroom.”

  Dan grumbled something, but Harper ignored him. Turning to Nigel and me, she merely said, “Follow me.”

  With Dan still muttering under his breath, we did. After we were seated and Dan’s drink had been ordered, I asked Harper, “Have you talked to Peggy today?”

  Harper nodded. “Briefly. She was a mass of nerves. But I told her that we’d see her later tonight after the show.”

  The producer of Peggy’s play, Fletcher Levin, was throwing an after-party at his house for the cast, crew, and their families. As Peggy had insisted that Harper and I were “practically her sisters,” we were invited too.

  “Speaking of which,” Harper continued with a pointed look at Dan, “do not use this party as an excuse to corner Fletcher. This is Peggy’s night.”

  Dan’s shoulders stiffened. “Are you serious? Why else do you think I said I’d go to this thing in the first place?”

  Harper tried to keep her emotions in check, but I could tell it wasn’t easy for her. Hell, even I wanted to smack him. “I thought you were going to help celebrate the opening night of one of my oldest friend’s debut play,” she said stiffly.

  Dan rolled his eyes. “Look at it as killing two birds with one stone, if it makes you feel any better,” he said.

  “It doesn’t,” she bit out.

  Dan put his hand palm down on the table. “Come on, Harper, don’t be so naive. I’ve finally found the perfect play to produce. I need investors with deep pockets; investors like Levin. It’s not that complicated.”

  Harper’s eyes narrowed. “I never said it was complicated,” she bit out. “I said it was tacky.”

  Dan let out a snort. “Trust me, Levin won’t see it that way. He’s a businessman. He’ll see it for what it is: an amazing investment opportunity.”

  Harper tried once more. “Dan, please. This is Peggy’s night.”

  Dan threw his hands up in frustration. “So no one can talk about anything else? For Christ’s sake, Harper, don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m not.”

  Dan’s eyes narrowed. Neither spoke. Finally, Dan blinked and looked at his menu. “Fine. Have it your way. I can’t stay long, anyway.”

  Harper regarded him with a neutral expression. “Oh, and why is that?” she asked.

  Dan kept his eyes on the menu. “I have some work I need to do. In fact, I’m going to stay at the apartment tonight.”

  Harper’s mouth pulled down into a slight frown. “I thought you already finished your reviews for tonight,” she said.

  Dan glanced up from the menu and fixed her with a level look. “I have. But if it hasn’t escaped your notice, there are several Broadway shows opening this month. Not just Peggy’s. Those reviews aren’t going to write themselves.”

  Harper took a deep brea
th before continuing. “I realize that, but you aren’t the only theater reviewer on staff. There’s also Zack.”

  Dan scoffed. “Zack is an Assistant Editor,” he said as he resumed his appraisal of the menu. “I am the Editor-in-Chief. There’s a big difference between us.”

  “Is it ego?” asked Nigel with an innocent expression. When Dan stared at him blankly, Nigel nodded encouragingly. “It is, isn’t?” he said.

  Harper smothered a smile. “Speaking of Zack,” she said. “I told Peggy to invite him to the party as well.”

  Dan’s mouth fell open a little at this. “You told her to invite Zack? Why on earth would you do that?” he sputtered.

  “I thought it might be a good idea for him to get to know some of that crowd,” Harper said. “You’ve been having him work all hours with you on your book. I thought he deserved a treat.”

  Dan stared at Harper, his face incredulous. “A treat? What is he, a dog?”

  “Of course not,” she said, “although you’ve certainly been working him like one.”

  Dan gave a grim smile. “Funny, and here I thought I was the one who had been working so hard. Well, since you invited him, you can entertain him. I am not going to change my plans just so I can show Zack a good time.”

  Harper’s nose flared in anger. “Fine,” she bit out, “do whatever you want. Just remember you need to be home by ten tomorrow morning.”

  Dan’s brows pulled together. “And why do I need to be home by ten?” he asked.

  Harper looked down at her menu. “Because Nic and I are going to brunch.”

  Dan’s brows pulled in even farther. “And?”

  Harper’s head jerked back as she regarded him with undisguised ire. “And, you need to watch Gracie.”

  Dan made a noise. “Isn’t that what we’re paying your precious Devin for?”

  Harper’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Not when she has a perfectly capable father who can do it,” she said in a low voice.

  Dan ignored the barb and stared at his menu. “Who’s Devin?” I asked hoping to steer the conversation into more neutral territory.