Killer Cocktail

by Tracy Kiely

  Placing his elbows on the desk and pressing the tips of his fingers together, Frank regarded us with a genial expression. “Can I offer you something to drink?” he asked. “I’ve just acquired a 1926 Macallan. I hear you’re a man who appreciates a good glass of scotch, Nigel. Can I tempt you?”

  “You can do more than that with a ’26 Macallan,” Nigel said.

  Frank laughed and stood up from his desk. “Good man,” he said with an approving nod. “Nic? How about you? Can I make you a drink?”

  “Yes, please,” I answered. “You don’t marry a scotch man without learning to appreciate the drink.”

  “That is true,” Frank said, as he moved to a wet bar off to one side of the room. He poured out the drinks and we all clinked glasses before taking a sip. I wasn’t actually a huge fan of scotch, but I knew enough about it to know that this was a superior blend.

  Frank sat back down at his desk just as a voice called out, “Dad? Did I hear someone at the front door?” A second later, Danielle’s dark head poked around the open doorframe. Seeing us, she produced a friendly smile. “Well, hello, Mr. and Mrs. Martini,” she said. “How are you?” Seeing Skippy, her eyes widened. “And who is this?” she asked.

  “This is Skippy,” Nigel answered.

  “Well hello, Skippy,” Danielle said.

  Skippy cocked his head to one side and wagged his tail as he stared at Danielle. Nigel nudged him with his foot. “Skippy, don’t be rude. Say hello.”

  Skippy barked and offered Danielle his paw. Danielle politely shook it and said, “It’s very nice to meet you Skippy.”

  I glanced at Nigel, an eyebrow raised. He affected a look of modesty—failed miserably—and mouthed the word “training” at me. I rolled my eyes.

  “Well, I’ll let you get back to your talk,” said Danielle. “It was nice to see you again.” She gave us a little wave and ducked back out into the hallway.

  “You too,” Nigel and I called after her.

  We looked to Frank. His elbows were once again propped on his desk; fingers pressed together. “So what’s this all about?” he asked.

  “There is no polite way to put this,” I said, “so I’m just going to come right out and say it.” Frank raised his eyebrows expectantly. I took a deep breath. “It’s about the murder of Janice Franklin.”

  Frank’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I don’t understand,” he began.

  “With all due respect, I think you do. I think you killed Janice because she figured out that it was you who broke into our house, attacked our employee, and stole our tapes.”

  Frank’s hands landed with a thud on the table. “Why the hell would I do that?” he sputtered.

  “Because you overheard Nigel at the Vanity Fair Party. You knew that our assistant had seen something on those tapes, something that you didn’t want anyone to see. Ever.”

  Some of Frank’s confidence returned. He pressed his fingers together again. “That’s ridiculous!” he scoffed. “What on earth could possibly be on those tapes that I’d care about?”

  I finished my drink before I answered. It seemed bad form to linger over a man’s expensive scotch while you accused him of murder. “How about the fact that Melanie Summers was pregnant with your child?” I asked.

  This time his hands went to the desk and stayed there. He blinked hard and then said, “That’s absurd.”

  “Personally, I would call it obscene, but that’s neither here nor there,” I said. “You were a married man, twenty years her senior, and she was a vulnerable girl,” I continued, raising my voice.

  Frank scoffed at that. “Melanie was many things, but vulnerable wasn’t one of them. She was hard as nails.”

  “I guess the pregnancy changed that,” I said. “She wanted to keep the baby, didn’t she? She wanted you to leave Zelda and marry her. From the sounds of it, it seems she thought that was the plan all along. Remember, Frank. I’ve seen the remaining tapes, you didn’t destroy all of them.”

  Frank shifted his eyes from mine. “I never promised her …” he began.

  “She seemed to think you did,” I said. “She got pretty angry when she realized it wasn’t true. Is that when you decided to kill her?”

  Frank rested his face in his hands, his face pale beneath his deep tan. “I didn’t …” he started and then abruptly stopped. A thought seemed to occur to him. From the groan that accompanied it, it appeared to be an unwelcome one.

  I cut him off. “I talked to Sara Taylor, you know. She told me everything. Sounds like you paid her a pretty penny to stay quiet about Melanie’s pregnancy. Still, it’s not as much as Melanie had to pay, is it?” Frank said nothing. I pressed on, my voice getting louder and louder. “All this time, her death was listed as another tragic celebrity overdose; a cautionary tale to warn kids about the dangers of drugs. When, in reality, it was something far more insidious. A young woman was taken advantage of by an older, powerful man, and then killed when she became a threat to his reputation.”

  Frank remained silent, his head still in his hands. I stood up. “You overhead Nigel on the phone with DeDee at the Vanity Fair Party. You knew she was trying to tell him that Melanie’s EpiPen had been tampered with. You couldn’t let that information get out, could you? You had to get those tapes. And you did.” I took a deep breath. Nigel nodded at me to continue. “But I guess after twenty years, your luck ran out and Janice called in the debt. I’m guessing that she knew what you did, but she wasn’t interested in justice. She was only interested in making sure Christina was cast in your new movie. What happened, Frank? Did she see the picture of you and Barry leaving the Vanity Fair Party? The one with you holding your Oscar? Did she realize that you couldn’t have had your Oscar because you’d given it to Danielle to take home? Is that what happened?” I was yelling now, frustrated at his lack of response. Without a confession, I had very little proof. After a few seconds, I was rewarded with one.

  “You almost had it right,” came the answer. The tension in my neck began to ease. Right until I turned around and saw the gun.

  forty-two

  “Danielle! What the hell are you doing?” Frank yelled jumping to his feet.

  “It wasn’t him. It was me,” Danielle said in a small voice. She was standing in the doorway, the gun in her hand trained on my chest. Nigel shifted in his chair. Danielle briefly glanced his way. “Stay right there,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “I don’t want to have to hurt your dog, but I will if I have to.”

  Nigel caught my eye, and I gave a nod. “Is that the gun you used to kill Janice?” I asked.

  Danielle studied me a moment before nodding. “It is,” she said.

  “Danny! No!” cried Frank in horror. “What are you saying?”

  “I shot Janice,” Danielle said in a soft voice. She looked at Frank, her eyes pleading for understanding. “She was a horrible woman. She was an even worse mother.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying, Danny,” Frank said, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I can help you, but not if you keep talking.”

  “Janice came here looking for you the other night,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “The night you were at that dinner. I could tell she was upset about something. I said that I didn’t know when you were coming back, but she insisted on waiting. I let her wait in the study. She must have waited about two hours.” Danielle looked at Frank. “Before she left, she gave me a letter to give to you. She said that it was vital that you read it as soon as you got home. I read it instead.” Danielle paused and squeezed her eyes shut. “She’d seen the picture in the paper of you leaving the party with your Oscar. She’d seen me leave earlier with one, too.” Danielle opened her eyes and looked at Frank. “But Janice had it backward. She assumed that you were behind the attack. She said she’d keep quiet as long as you gave Christina that role. But I knew she wouldn’t stop there. Women like J
anice never stop. They have to be stopped.”

  I folded my arms over my chest. “Is that why you killed Melanie?” I asked. “Did she need to be stopped, too?”

  Anger flared in Danielle’s eyes. “Melanie was about to ruin my life,” she said. “I couldn’t let her do that. If my mom found out about the pregnancy, she would have filed for divorce. I knew what that would mean. Everything would be ripped apart. I’d grow up being shuttled back and forth between homes just like most of my friends. Except in my case, my homes would be in two different countries.”

  “And yet that’s what happened anyway,” I said, not unkindly.

  Danielle blew out a long breath. “Yeah. But, I didn’t know that then. Then, I just wanted to prevent it. I just wanted to save my parents’ marriage. I just wanted to save my life.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Even if it meant taking someone else’s?”

  Danielle stared at me, her eyes blank. “She was going to ruin everything. Don’t you get it? She had to go.” She looked at Frank. “You understand, don’t you, Daddy? I didn’t want to lose you. I couldn’t lose you. She had to go.” In a firmer voice, she repeated, “Melanie had to go. There was no other way.”

  Frank sank into his chair with a half sob. “Oh, my God,” he moaned as he covered his face with his hands, “Oh, my God. Danny. Danny, why?”

  Danielle stared at him incredulous. “Why? Why? I did it so I could be with you. You always said I was your special little girl. I couldn’t let someone take that away from me.” Danielle’s voice broke. “Daddy?” she pleaded, “Tell me you understand.”

  Frank didn’t answer. He was caught up in his own misery. “Zelda said something to me once. She said to watch you. I didn’t listen to her. I thought she was being silly….”

  Danielle’s focus remained fixed on Frank’s hidden face. Nigel eased himself out of the chair and began to edge his way toward me.

  After a minute, a haunted expression came over Danielle’s face. “Daddy,” she said, her voice pleaded, “I can fix this. I’ll fix this and then we can start over. You’ll see. It’ll be fine.”

  I glanced at Nigel just as Danielle turned toward me and aimed the gun at my chest. Everything seemed to happen at once. The gun went off. Nigel yelled, “Rosebud!” and dove for me. Skippy lunged at Danielle. Officer Hax rounded the corner, her gun drawn and screamed, “Freeze!”

  Then there was a loud crack as my head hit the floor and things went black.

  forty-three

  When I opened my eyes again, Danielle lay sprawled on her back. Skippy sat squarely on her chest, a low growl coming from his throat warning her not to move. Based on her incoherent sobs, it didn’t seem like something we needed to worry about. Frank was on the phone with 911. Officer Hax had her gun trained on Danielle, while she too called for backup and an ambulance. I wondered why we needed the latter until I looked down to see my sweater covered in blood. Nigel saw it too. “Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine,” he kept repeating, his face pale, as he gently patted me trying to find the source of the bleeding.

  “Nigel, I’m okay,” I said looking up into worried eyes.

  “Of course, you are,” he said with an encouraging smile. “I’m sure it’s just a scratch.”

  I struggled to sit up. “Nigel,” I tried again. “I’m okay. I wasn’t hit. You were.”

  Nigel stared at me in confusion. “But, I don’t feel …” he began.

  “You will,” I said, as I yanked off my sweater and gently pressed it against the gaping hole in his shoulder.

  His face went a little paler as he looked down at his arm. “Oh,” he said.

  I sat him up against the wall, keeping the pressure firm. “You okay?” I asked.

  He nodded grimly. “Never liked this shirt anyway.”

  I looked over at Officer Hax. “Did you get it all?” I asked.

  She nodded and tapped her phone. “Loud and clear,” she said. “It recorded perfectly.” She glanced at Nigel. “Ambulance is on its way.”

  I looked back to Nigel. His mouth was pinched in pain. “I’m fine,” he said. He glanced over at Skippy. “Did you see what he did?” he asked. “The way he tackled her? I taught him that.”

  “I saw. Did I imagine it, or did I hear you yell, ‘Rosebud’?” I asked.

  “You didn’t imagine it. That’s his attack word.”

  “Wasn’t that done on an episode of Columbo?” I asked.

  Nigel gave me a weak smile. “I love the fact that you know that.”

  Officer Hax gave a low cough. We both looked over to her. “Um, speaking of your dog,” she said with a nod to Skippy, who was still sitting on Danielle. “Should we get him off of her?”

  Nigel shrugged. “I don’t know. He looks comfortable to me.”

  forty-four

  A few hours later, the doctors had dug out the bullet and patched up Nigel’s shoulder. His face now wore a tranquil expression that I assumed was from the morphine as the nurse had denied his request for a martini.

  My own expression was far less serene. So, too was my mood. In my defense, I was dealing with a seemingly never-ending series of questions from Detective Brady. He was irate. I wondered if I could get a morphine drip too.

  “So, would you care to explain to me how Officer Hax just happened to record the Samuels girl’s confession?” he asked scornfully.

  “I must have dialed her by accident,” I lied. “It was a little chaotic in there.” I saw no point in telling Detective Brady that I had called Officer Hax and arranged everything in advance. As soon as I got Danielle talking, Nigel hit the record button on his phone while I hit the call button on mine. Officer Hax could then listen and come in when needed. It was just too bad she wasn’t a minute sooner.

  “So, your story is that you butt dialed Officer Hax? During a killer’s confession no less?” he asked, his face turning red.

  “I can’t think of any other reason,” I said. “Thank God she was in the neighborhood and got there in time. She’s an excellent officer. I hope she gets recognized for her bravery today.”

  That earned me a glare. “I don’t like to find out people are doing things behind my back,” he said.

  “Then I’d make it a habit not to turn around,” advised Nigel from behind closed eyes.

  Detective Brady looked over to where Nigel lay, propped up in his hospital bed with Skippy curled protectively at his feet. “What the hell do you mean by that?” he snapped. “And what the hell is that dog doing here? He shouldn’t be here. This is a hospital.”

  Skippy raised his massive head and stared at Detective Brady. “Would you care to explain that to him?” I asked.

  Detective Brady apparently did not. He looked away from Skippy and resumed questioning me. “Let’s go over this again,” he said. “You were at Frank Samuels’s house because…why?”

  I sighed and repeated what I’d already said five times now. “I realized that Melanie Summers was pregnant with Frank’s child when she died. DeDee must have seen something on the tapes that led her to believe that someone had tampered with Melanie’s EpiPen. That’s what she was trying to tell us the night she was attacked. I believe I told you this, but you didn’t seem to think it was important.”

  Detective Brady motioned for me to hurry over that part of the narrative. “That’s neither here nor there now,” he said. “According to Mr. Samuels’s statement, you first accused him of the crimes.”

  I nodded. “A bluff, if you will. I really didn’t have any concrete proof it was Danielle. I gambled that if she heard me accuse her father, she’d try and protect him. And it worked.”

  Detective Brady blinked. Twice. “So, if you had no proof, what made you think it was her?” he asked.

  “At one point on the footage, Melanie holds up a cup of pudding and says, ‘I’m in the club!’ I didn’t know until Nigel told me, b
ut ‘In the pudding club’ is a slang term for being pregnant. It struck me as odd that Frank didn’t comment on Melanie’s remark. Until I remembered that Frank went to Harvard too. If he was familiar with the term, there was a good chance that his daughter might be as well. A nearby glass window caught her reflection as she filmed. She appears stunned and then furious. The day before that, Melanie had an argument with someone in her trailer. It’s not clear who she’s talking to, but it is clear that Melanie is furious. When you listen to the fight with the knowledge that Melanie is pregnant, it suddenly makes sense. Melanie was threatening to tell the world that Frank was the father of her baby. Danielle knew that and panicked. She knew that would ruin her parent’s marriage.” I paused. “But it wasn’t until Janice’s death that it started to make any sense. I had seen Janice react oddly to the paper’s coverage of the Oscars when I had lunch with Christina. I had seen the same paper. At first I didn’t see anything odd, but then I looked again. There’s a picture of Frank and Barry holding their Oscars as they leave the Vanity Fair Party. But earlier I’d seen Danielle leaving with a statue. I imagine Janice did, too. She realized that someone went home with Christina’s Oscar and tried to use that information to force Frank into giving Christina a role in The Deposition. Except Janice had it backward. Frank didn’t take Christina’s Oscar. Danielle did.”

  Detective Brady’s mouth hung open for a beat and then snapped shut. It was a good look on him.

  forty-five

  The hospital discharged Nigel the next day. His arm was in a sling and would be for the next several weeks. He grumbled about it, but I knew he was secretly pleased. Whenever anybody would ask him about it, he’d give a wry laugh, and say, “What, this? Oh, it’s nothing, really. Certainly not heroic. The papers made it out to be more than it was.”

  I didn’t begrudge him of it one bit. After all, the man had taken a bullet for me.