A Perfect Manhattan Murder

by Tracy Kiely

  Julie shot him a quelling look before turning to Nigel and me with an apologetic smile. “You’ll have to excuse Jeremy,” she said. “He spends so much of his time acting that he sometimes forgets to be human.”

  Jeremy rolled his eyes and took a sip of his wine. “Oh, so we’re just supposed to ignore the elephant in the room?” he asked.

  Julie rolled her eyes in exasperation, “Yes, darling. It’s called conversing in polite society. You should try it sometime.”

  “Sounds deadly dull,” Jeremy observed before taking another sip from his glass.

  Julie shot him a censorious look before turning to me. “How is Harper doing?” she asked. “I was only able to speak to her briefly at the funeral. And of course a receiving line is no place for a heart-to-heart.”

  I took a sip of my own drink before answering. “She’s doing well, all things considered,” I said. “To be honest, I think it’s Gracie that’s kept her sane. She won’t allow herself to fall apart because she knows Gracie needs her.”

  Julie nodded. “She is an adorable baby.” There was a pause as all of us took a sip of our respective drinks. “By the way, who is the young man helping Harper with Gracie?” Julie asked, her voice casual.

  “That’s Devin,” I answered, in an equally causally tone. “Gracie’s nanny.”

  Next to me Jeremy sputtered. “That’s one hell of an ugly nanny.”

  “Well, he’s a guy, so I think that might have something to do with it,” Nigel offered.

  Julie glared at Jeremy. “For God’s sake, Jeremy,” she hissed. “Think before you speak.”

  Jeremy blinked at Julie. “I was kidding, Jules,” he said. “Chill.”

  Julie sighed and shook her head. “Why do I even bring you out in public?” she asked herself. “You’re nothing but a walking social gaffe.”

  Jeremy produced a crooked smile and blew her a kiss. “Yes, but I’m a walking social gaffe that looks good in a suit,” he countered.

  Nigel nodded in understanding. “That’s the only reason I get out as often as I do,” he said.

  Julie laughed and then turned back to me. “So the nanny, huh?” she said before shifting her focus to where Devin now stood with a sleeping Gracie snuggled up against his chest. “Damn. He almost makes childbirth seem worth it,” she said.

  Jeremy snorted. “Not going to happen,” he said.

  Julie’s eye’s narrowed in annoyance. “I don’t see how you have any say in that, Jeremy,” she said, her voice now an icy blast.

  Jeremy glanced down and mumbled an embarrassed apology. Julie shook her head and muttered something that sounded like “jackass.” Perhaps in an attempt to change the conversation, Jeremy turned to me, saying, “So you used to work with the detective that’s investigating Dan’s case.”

  I nodded. “Marcy and I were partners for about five years,” I said. “We worked Homicide.”

  “Why did you leave the Department?” Jeremy asked.

  “The abridged version is that I got shot and ended up on desk duty,” I said. “The desk and I didn’t suit.”

  Jeremy’s eyebrows lifted in interest. “What the unabridged version?” he asked.

  “I got shot in the leg and ended up on desk duty,” I said.

  Jeremy let out a short bark of laughter. “Touché,” he said. “Well, seeing as how you know the lead detective, have you heard if the police have any idea who killed Dan?”

  Julie’s head snapped up at Jeremy’s question. “They have a few leads,” I said with a noncommittal shrug. “But nothing concrete yet. Actually, you two probably would know more than I do. I mean, the theater community is pretty tight. What have you heard?”

  Julie and Jeremy exchanged a cautious glance. “Oh, not much really,” Jeremy said.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, come on,” I scoffed. “I know from Peggy that life amongst the theater crowd is a gossip’s dream come true.”

  Jeremy shrugged. “That may be so, but I don’t feel comfortable slamming a guy at his own funeral. I mean, none of us are perfect. Hell, I’m living proof of that.”

  Julie clinked her wineglass against his. “Cheers to that,” she said wryly.

  “Oh, I know,” I said. “But don’t forget, I knew Dan, too. He wasn’t an easy guy to get along with. You’re not going to offend me by repeating something negative.” Jeremy eyed me doubtfully. “For instance, what are people saying about his affairs?” I asked.

  Jeremy stared at me blankly. “Affairs?” he repeated.

  “You know, with other women,” I said. Jeremy continued to stare at me in silence. “With woman who were not his wife,” I amended.

  Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “Dan was known to be something of an ass, but I never heard anything about him cheating on Harper.” He glanced questioningly at Julie.

  She too shook her head. “First I’ve ever heard of it,” she said.

  “Really?” I said. “That’s interesting.”

  thirty-three

  I was glad when Harper arrived with her father. Donald Remington was a tall, distinguished man with a broad face, a ready smile, and a thick mane of silver hair. He was fiercely devoted to his family and had been devastated when Harper’s mother died last year. Since Diana’s death, Harper said that Donald focused much of his attention and time on her and Gracie. The result was that Donald came to loathe his son-in-law. Now that other unsavory aspects of Dan’s extracurricular activities had apparently come to light, it was a good thing that somebody had killed Dan. Otherwise, Donald would have done it himself.

  Nigel and I made our way over to their side. Donald smiled when he saw me and pulled me into one of his trademark bear hugs. “Nicole!” he said. “It’s so good to see you. How have you been?”

  I smiled back. “We’ve been just fine,” I said. “Donald, you remember my husband, Nigel?”

  “Of course I do,” Donald said as the two men shook hands.

  “It’s good to see you again, sir,” Nigel said. “Sorry it has to be under these circumstances.”

  Donald nodded his head sharply and glanced at Harper. “I swear to God, it took every ounce of my self-control not to stand up during the service and announce to everyone just what kind of man Dan really was,” he said.

  Harper closed her eyes. “Dad,” she began.

  Donald raised his large hand as if to stop her protests. “I know, pumpkin, I know. It wouldn’t have been appropriate, which is why I didn’t say anything. But damn if that mother of his didn’t try my last nerve with her eulogy. Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever heard so many lies told from the altar of a church before.”

  “How are you holding up, Harper?” I asked.

  Harper shrugged. “As well as can be expected. I feel numb, to tell you the truth.”

  I smiled. “That’s probably for the best, actually. You can have a lovely breakdown later when you don’t have an audience.”

  Harper gave a hollow laugh. “Is it weird that that sounds wonderful?”

  “Not at all,” I said.

  “Harper!” a voice boomed out from behind us. Turning, I saw Fletcher striding our way. With him was a striking young woman I guessed to be in her mid-twenties. She had long auburn hair and green eyes that tilted up at the corners. “Harper, I am so sorry for your loss,” Fletcher said as he took her hands in his. “I was just dumbfounded when I heard the news. Is there anything you need, my dear?”

  Harper shook her head. “No, but thank you. I’m fine. Or at least, I will be.”

  Fletcher looked searchingly at her face a moment before releasing her hands. The young woman stepped forward and extended her hand. “I’m Pamela,” she said, in a childish voice. “I’m, like, really sorry someone killed your husband. That must, like, suck.”

  Harper’s eyes widened. Pamela smiled and quickly
shook Harper’s hand before stepping back next to Fletcher. Fletcher patted the young woman on her shoulder and said, “Why don’t you get us something to drink, Pamela? I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  Pamela nodded and gave us all a carefree wave as she wandered toward the bar. Once she was out of earshot, Harper turned back to Fletcher. “Pamela, huh? What happened to Ruby?” she asked.

  Fletcher’s brows pulled together. “Who?” he asked.

  “Ruby,” Harper repeated. “She was at your house the other night.”

  Fletcher continued to frown as he tried to make the connection. Finally, Nigel said, “You might remember her as Rosie,” Nigel said.

  Fletcher’s face cleared in recognition. “Oh, yes. Rosie! I’m not sure where she is,” he said. “Haven’t really seen her since that night.”

  Harper smiled knowingly. “I see. Well, Fletcher, I’d like you to meet my father, Donald,” she said as she turned to introduce the two men.

  Fletcher looked at Donald in surprise. After a quick appraising glance, he held his hand out. “Pleasure to see you,” he said. “Sorry it’s under these circumstances. You probably don’t remember me, but we met once before a very long time ago. I knew your late wife, Diana. I was so sorry to hear of her passing. She was a lovely woman.”

  Donald nodded as he shook Fletcher’s hand. “I do remember you, of course. Thank you. Diana was very special.”

  Both men nodded once more as if to confirm the truth of this statement and released their grips. Fletcher turned his attention back to Harper. “Now, my dear,” he said. “Forgive me if I’m being crass, but have the police made any progress in the case yet?”

  Harper shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of. They have only confirmed that Dan was poisoned.”

  Fletcher stared intently at Harper. “Poison?” he repeated. “How … odd.”

  Harper raised a questioning eyebrow. “Odd? Why is it odd?”

  Fletcher blinked. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Forgive me. I suppose the whole situation is just hard for me to get my head around. A death when one is so young always rattles.” He took her hand in his. “Well, I won’t keep you, my dear. But please know how terribly sorry I am about all of this, and if there is anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to call.” Releasing her hand, he turned to Donald. “Don,” he said. “It was good to see you again. You’ve got an amazing daughter. She’s so much like her mother. I hope to see you both again under more pleasant circumstances.”

  “Thank you,” Donald said.

  Fletcher nodded to Nigel and me before leaving to search for Pamela. When he was gone, Donald turned to Harper and rolled his eyes. “God, but he was always an ass. Your mother couldn’t stand him,” he said. “Who the hell brings a date to a funeral, anyway?”

  thirty-four

  Nigel and I had just returned to our hotel room, when my cell phone rang. It was Marcy. “What’s up?” I said.

  “Hi, Nic,” she said, her voice tight.

  An uneasy sensation slid down my spine. “I know that tone,” I said. “That’s your bad news tone. What’s happened?”

  Marcy let out a sigh and then lowered her voice. “You’re not going to like it, but we got a copy of the security footage from Dan’s apartment building.”

  I sat down in the desk chair. Skippy came over and put his head in my lap. I began to robotically stroke his fur. “Okay. What did you find?”

  “Your friend Harper was lying when she said that she’d never been to his apartment,” Marcy said. “She went there the Friday before he was killed.”

  I closed my eyes in frustration. I had told Harper to tell the police everything. Apparently she hadn’t listened. I let out a sigh. “Damn it,” I said. “What else was on the tape? Did anyone else visit Dan?”

  “Actually, yes. Seems he was quite popular,” Marcy said. “Well, until someone killed him, that is.”

  “Yes, I guess that could be seen as a turning point. So who else paid him a visit?”

  I heard a paper rustle as Marcy looked for the names. “Let’s see,” she said. “Zack Weems was a frequent visitor. But we knew about him already. He was working with Dan on the manuscript.”

  “Right. Did you find it?”

  “That’s another reason I wanted to call you. I didn’t find a manuscript,” she said.

  I frowned. “What do you mean, you didn’t find it?”

  “I mean, there wasn’t any manuscript in the apartment. I even went back and double-checked myself. There’s nothing. And when I say, ‘nothing,’ I actually mean ‘nothing.’”

  “I’m not following you,” I admitted.

  “It’s just that for a so-called ‘work apartment,’ there was a strange paucity of work. As in, there was nothing work-related there at all. No files, no plays, no reviews, no correspondence, and definitely no manuscript.

  “Have you interviewed Zack yet? What did he say about it?” I asked.

  “He says he dropped off the latest copy of the manuscript on Thursday night, which checks with the security footage. He seemed pretty surprised that it wasn’t there. He wondered if perhaps Dan had brought it home,” she said.

  “I’ll ask Harper,” I said.

  “I already did,” Marcy said with a half laugh. “She said there is no copy at the house. I gather that Dan planned on including certain stories about various celebrities in his book. According to Zack, some of them bordered on libelous. He had been trying to convince Dan not to include them in the final copy. I think he was afraid of the blowback and being tarnished with guilt by association.”

  “Zack told me that as well,” I said. “Dan had heard some gossip about Brooke Casey that Zack didn’t want included. I got the impression it wasn’t so much that he thought it was morally wrong, as that he has a crush on Brooke.”

  Marcy laughed. “Yeah. I got that impression, too. So after Zack, we have Jeremy Hamlin. He visited Dan on Wednesday.”

  “Did he say why?” I asked.

  “Mr. Hamlin indicated that it was a business meeting to discuss a play that Dan was producing,” said Marcy. She paused.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “He was very forthcoming when we interviewed him, but when we first told him about the security tape, I got the impression he had no idea what we were talking about.”

  “As in he didn’t know what a security tape was?” I asked.

  “No, more like he didn’t remember going to Dan’s in the first place,” said Marcy. “He claimed that the shock of Dan’s murder had rattled him and it was all very believable, but …” Marcy trailed off.

  “But what?” I prompted.

  “But the guy is an actor, after all,” she explained. “It just made me wonder.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Anyone else?”

  “Yes, Nina Durand visited Dan twice that week. Once on Tuesday and once on Thursday.”

  I sat up a bit straighter. “Well, that’s interesting. I wonder if Nina is our tea drinker?”

  “She is,” Marcy said. “She was completely upfront about their relationship when we interviewed her. Said that it was a brief fling but that it had ended amicably.”

  “And you believed her?” I asked.

  Marcy paused. “I think so?”

  “Are you asking me?”

  Marcy let out a sigh. “I believe her and I don’t. I honestly didn’t get the sense that she was pining over the man. But I do think there’s something she’s not telling us.”

  “Anything else?”

  “There is, but I’m not sure if it’s connected to the murder,” said Marcy. “Around three a.m. on the day of the murder, a cloaked figure entered the building. Couldn’t tell if it was male or female. But whoever it was wasn’t buzzed in. They punched in the building code, so it could have been one of the
other tenants. About a half hour later, the same figure exited the building. We’ve interviewed all the tenants, and so far no one has come forward to say it was them.”

  “Curious,” I said.

  “I thought so,” said Marcy. “Of course, one of the tenants could have had a visitor that they didn’t want anyone to know about. It could be completely unrelated to the murder.”

  “It could be, but that’s a hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

  “I do,” agreed Marcy.

  I was silent for a moment. “So in addition to Harper, Zack, Nina, and Jeremy visited Dan’s apartment.”

  “Right, but only Harper lied about it. That’s the problem,” Marcy said. “Brian is convinced that she’s guilty.”

  “And what about you?”

  She sighed. “I don’t agree with him. I think we’re still missing something.”

  “Well, that’s a good thing, right?”

  “Not really,” she said. “Brian made his case to the Captain and he agrees.”

  “Put it in English for me, Marcy.”

  She sighed. “The judge just granted a warrant for Harper’s arrest.”

  “What?” I yelled. “Seriously? When?” I abruptly stood up, knocking Skippy’s head off my lap in the process. He shot me a baleful stare.

  “A half hour ago,” Marcy said apologetically. “It’s happening now.”

  “Shit,” I said, closing my eyes.

  “Listen, Nic, I’m not saying that I think she’s innocent, but I will admit that my gut is telling me I’m missing something.”

  I rubbed my hand over my face. “Damn it. She didn’t do it,” I said, more to myself than her. “Okay. Anything else?”

  “Well, I’m not sure if this is anything important,” she said, “but we did find an interesting contact on Dan’s phone.”

  “Yeah? Who?”

  “Frank Little,” she said.

  “Seriously?” I said. “Dan was in touch with our favorite sociopathic loan shark?”