“All the partiers will be gathered in the living room. We’ll be toasting the new jazz club with champagne. I’ll have a chicken liver in one hand and a glass in the other. Suddenly I’ll fall to the floor acting like I’m choking. And then I’ll die.”
I shivered.
Chapter 30
“Chip and the butler will carry me into the study so guests won’t step all over me. Besides I can’t lay still that long.” Jaimie clapped her hands. “Here’s the fun part.”
Lizzy slipped into the room wearing an emerald green flapper dress with black and amber beading at the neckline. “What did I miss?”
“I just died from the poison you slipped in my drink.”
Jaimie turned to me. “When Olive comes out of the study she’ll announce that I didn’t choke on the bacon-wrapped chicken liver. I was poisoned.”
Her grin reminded me of the leering expression on her Lucky Elf. “Here’s where I double-cross Chip,” She cackled. “He thinks I’m going to spend an hour playing dead in his study and miss my own party? No way!”
She reached under the bed and pulled out a bulky shopping bag with a costume shop logo on it. “Check this out!” She plopped a gray wig on her head and popped in false teeth. “I’m going to be the snoopy maid who leads everyone to believe Chip is the killer. He won’t suspect a thing and wonder why everyone accuses him of being the murderer.”
Lizzy and I exchanged worried looks. No playwright likes his work rewritten out from under him.
Jaimie gathered the bag and ushered us out the bedroom door. “Chip is outside directing the parking. Let’s skedaddle to his office and hide my costume before he returns.”
We squeaked with guilt as we tiptoed down the stairs and into Chip’s study. “Isn’t there a chance Chip will come in here before the party?” Lizzy asked.
Jaimie shrugged. “That’s why we have to find a good hiding place for the costume. We have to be able to squish the foam in the bodysuit into a small space.”
Violating Chip’s privacy in the spirit of the prank, Grams yanked open his desk drawers. Her concept of the space needed for the bag was a bit off, either that or she was searching for incriminating evidence.
“Space behind the sofa?” Lizzy raised an eyebrow. I shook my head.
The shelves on the étagère were open except for those that formed cubicles at the base. Jaimie knelt over the first cube and tugged on the cover, the effort knocked her on her bottom.
“Look!” She cried and waved us over, her hand shaking. In the corner of the compartment was a handgun, not a revolver but the squared-off kind they called a semi-automatic on police shows. I leaned over while Lizzy and Grams shoved me aside to get a better look.
Jaimie touched her parted lips. “Chip’s never owned a gun. He doesn’t believe in them.”
“I think your husband changed his mind,” Grams said, her gaze ping-ponged between Lizzy and me. She’d found her evidence—now she’d never back off.
“Step aside,” I said. “I know how to handle this.”
Many episodes of CSI, NCIS, FBI, and other alphabet shows had schooled me well. I removed a pair of latex gloves from the pocket of my medical examiner costume and wiggled my hands into them. I lifted the gun from the drawer, pressed the button that released the magazine, pulled the slide, and ejected the bullet out of the chamber. I thumbed the bullets out of the magazine then slapped it back into the gun.
I looked up when I felt the weight of three sets of amazed eyes staring at me. I smiled a little smugly, not bothering to reveal the source of my knowledge. “He may have a gun, but it’s empty now.” I put the bullets in the pants pocket of my scrubs.
Chip just made it from the bottom to the top of my suspect list.
Jaimie ‘s playfulness vanished. She dropped into the desk chair and chewed on her fingernails.
“Don’t jump to any conclusions. He may have bought it to protect you.” Lizzy patted her arm.
“Then why didn’t he tell me about it?”
“We’ll ask him after the party. Let’s see how this all plays out.” I found an empty étagère compartment and placed the bulky bag inside. “There. Your disguise is hidden.”
I motioned to my team and they stood. “Let’s join hands and bond.” I figured the camaraderie would give Jaimie a feeling of support.
Grams, Lizzy, Jaimie, and I made a circle. I began to recite, “All for one and one—”
“Of us getting to be on Chick Chat,” Grams looked pleased with herself. She wouldn’t rest until Chip was behind bars. And she was a television celebrity.
Chapter 31
Two hours later, guests arrived and began to mingle. Mel moved among them giving them note pads and pencils to keep track of the clues.
The sliding glass doors from the balcony let in the early evening breeze. The lights dimmed except for spotlights over the orchestra and the buffet table. With the merrymakers dressed in flapper dresses and dapper suits the Toast’s home took on the ambience of a Roaring 20’s nightclub.
The few times I bumped into Chip, I avoided eye contact. Why hadn’t he told Jaimie or even Kal about the gun stashed in his office? He and I were going to have a serious talk about keeping loaded weapons within his wife’s reach.
Raelyn and Fabio were the final guests to arrive. Raelyn wore a cream-colored dress very similar to Jaimie’s, while Fabio looked fabulous in a tuxedo. I introduced them as a couple visiting from New York. Lizzy and I joined them in a round of champagne and polite conversation with several locals about their impressions of Starfish Cove.
Dave zipped by our group without a nod to any of us including Lizzy. He headed straight to the bar, grabbed a beer, and went outside. The grouch attended the party rather than lose Lizzy, but he added nothing to the fun and games. Why did she bother?
The band played a jazzy number and a gaggle of guests engaged in a Charleston competition. Grams strutted her stuff acting as if she owned The Naughty Lady. She slinked around in her evening gown, glittering orthopedic shoes, and an unlit cigarette in a foot-long holder.
A loud shriek made me jump.
Lizzy stood at the buffet table, her hands over her mouth. I dashed toward her. Raelyn and Fabio were at my side. Raelyn passed her glass to a waiter and accepted a new flute of bubbly.
A number of guests gathered in response to Lizzy’s scream. Jaimie was the last to join the group.
The orange bowling ball pimpled with warts dominated the center of the table directly under a spotlight. No longer hidden by tinfoil and elevated on a cake plate—it was Lizzy’s first glimpse at her creation—left in my care.
My partner splayed her hands wide then relaxed them. I got the distinct impression she wanted to strangle me. “I know you’re no chef but this—” She pointed to the cheese ball. “That lump is comprised of hundreds of hand-dipped olives. Have you any idea how long it took me?”
I felt lower than a worm’s belly. I wasn’t sure how I’d failed her. “I followed your directions exactly. Fifteen minutes at three-fifty.”
“Did you defrost them first?”
“Uh oh. I guess I missed that part.”
Lizzy shook her head. “When I handed you the ball you put it on your kitchen counter. I assumed you knew it had to be…never mind.” She hugged me. “You shine in other ways.”
Jaimie wiped a laugh-tear from her eye and passed a crystal jar of toothpicks. “Anyone up for a stab?”
“It’s definitely memorable,” Raelyn said through a sip of champagne. “I can’t wait to try to describe it to Sophia. Maybe I should take a picture.”
“I give up, Jaimie. What is that thing?” A female voice fog-horned over the music. It belonged to a heavy smoker.
“Muffy! Did you just arrive?” Jaimie wrinkled her nose. “Are you traveling solo?”
“Vann’s here someplace,” The beach bunny blonde snarled. Myron would describe Muffy as zaftig—a well-developed figure.
“Lizzy and Olive, this is Muffy Tassel. Her husba
nd Vann is Chip’s new business partner in Toast and Tassel.” Jaimie fiddled with the strap on her dress just long enough to make it evident she wasn’t going to introduce Fabio or Raelyn.
“Let’s get a closer look at the band.” Jaimie slipped her arm through Fabio’s and took Raelyn by the hand. Without wishing Muffy a good time, Jaimie escorted them across the room.
“She hasn’t changed since high school,” Muffy said. “She was mean to me then and just as rotten now.”
A peacemaker down to her toes, Lizzy attempted to calm the woman. “Jaimie’s preoccupied with being a good hostess.”
“Jaimie’s preoccupied with Jaimie. Always has been.” Muffy said, with a slight slur, trading her empty wine glass as a waiter waltzed by. She seemed to share Jaimie’s enthusiasm for alcohol. How many mimosas did they consume the day of Jaimie’s intimate rendezvous with the garage door?
“She stole Chip from me,” Muffy blurted. “See that guy over there with Chip? “That’s my husband Vann. Did I get the short end of the stick or what?” She snort-laughed at her own joke.
Her husband stood a foot shorter than Chip and wore his longish gray hair slicked back behind his ears. His body was turned at an angle instead of facing Chip head-on.
We needed to get away from this leaky-lipped sourpuss. “This house is really a showpiece. We should take a tour, Lizzy.”
Muffy drained her glass. “My husband built this place for Chip and Jaimie. She belched—none too delicately. “Now he’s going to construct a beachfront hotel with Chip.”
I couldn’t wait to escape Muffy. No wonder Jaimie hadn’t brought her into our circle of friends. I turned my back on her and tugged Lizzy to join me.
The bandleader, a middle-aged matinee idol type, tapped the microphone calling for silence. That was my cue to get into position. I worked my way closer to Jaimie who stood at the edge of the spotlight near the elevated bandstand.
Mel the butler handed Jaimie a glass of champagne and passed a plate of chicken-livers under her nose. Daintily she took a cocktail napkin and the canapé from the tray. She turned her attention to the bandleader.
He shared a lounge-lizard smile with the crowded room as he accepted a champagne flute from the butler. “Tonight is a very special night. We’re here to celebrate the opening of The Naughty Lady. Let’s lift our glasses in a wish for the best of music and the best of times!”
It was time for Jaimie to choke to death.
Only as an act.
I hoped.
Chapter 32
Jaimie coughed violently, turned a believable shade of blue, and staggered into a faint. It was one of her better sober performances.
And if Chip’s stage play resonated at all with the guests then Mel should be their prime suspect. Lizzy was the killer, but the butler was the red herring. He reached out to help the stricken Baby Face Baker aka Jaimie Toast.
Launching into her final melodramatic death throws, Jaimie flung her champagne glass, her arm accidently striking Mel and sending his Coke-bottle eyeglasses sailing. The spectacles hit the floor and shattered.
Chip picked up the frames. “I’d give you your specs, but they’re useless. They have no lenses.”
“Mrs. Toast!” Mel cried out in a deep baritone. He extended his arms groping the air. “Where are you? I can’t see without my glasses.”
“Down here, stupid!” the faux corpse, now lying at his feet, whispered through clenched teeth.
Mel tripped over her body as he stepped forward. He fell over, kneeing Jaimie in the chest. She groaned.
Despite it being a play act, it took a few minutes for most of the guests to overcome the shock of seeing Baby Face Baker fall down dead—while still carping.
Chip stepped forward. He reached in his jacket pocket and took out a tin star pinned to a black wallet. “Detective Mickey Spleen. I’ll take this from here.”
He motioned to me and I joined him in the spotlight. “This is Dr. Ripper our local Medical Examiner.”
Slipping off the satin bed jacket I revealed my misspelled scrubs. There were a few titters among the guests but nothing a Mental Examiner couldn’t handle.
I bent down and held my fingers against the side of Jaimie’s neck. Ticklish, she twitched at my touch. “Get me out of here.” She whispered through tight lips. “Mel smashed me in my thirty-six Cs. I’m hurting!”
“Baby Face Baker is dead!” I stood, brushing my hands together. “No one leave the nightclub until I have determined the cause of death. This woman is too young to have died from natural causes.”
“Young and beautiful,” Jaimie whispered through the corner of her mouth.
“What?” I said. “Oh yes. This woman is too young and beautiful to have died naturally.”
I looked away from Lizzy. If she started to giggle, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
“Where can I examine the victim?” I turned to the butler and spoke in a voice that would carry across the room.
Mel twisted his head trying to locate the source of the request. He reached out and fingered my face. “You can use the master’s study,” he said, poking me up the nose.
“Detective Spleen, would you help the butler carry the victim into the study? I will continue my examination there while you question the witnesses.”
I wasn’t going to leave Chip alone with her no matter. I went along with the script knowing he would have to leave the room to question the partiers and to give out sealed envelopes containing clues. The gun was in the bottom of the étagère but the bullets were in my pocket.
“Continue the music! Flappers flap on,” Chip said. “No reason for a mere death to interfere with a hot party. However, no one is to leave the building until I say so.”
Meanwhile, back at the corpse I guided Mel’s hands onto Jaimie’s ankles and Chip took her shoulders. With my hand on Mel’s arm and Chip leading with her noggin, we carried the victim into the study. I closed the door behind us.
No sooner had her bottom touched the couch then Jaimie leaped to her feet. She reached for one of the sofa pillows and whacked Mel on the head. “You deserve that!” she barked.
The poor gent squinted trying to make out his attacker. “You broke my glasses! That’s an expensive prescription.” He stomped towards what he thought was Jaimie, coming nose-to-nose with me. “You owe me a new pair of glasses.”
“I don’t, but Jaimie does.”
Chip took Mel’s arm. “I’ll get you settled on the patio with a drink. You won’t be much good without your glasses. You can spend the rest of the evening there. Scotch?”
“Do you have single malt?”
Chip said, “Of course,” then turned to me. “Take ten minutes to come up with the poisoning conclusion. You know your lines?”
Unfortunately, I did. They would humiliate a soap opera diva.
“What’s rattling in your pocket?” Chip asked.
“Jelly beans.” Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! But it was the first thing that came to mind.
Chip raised an eyebrow but let it go. “Ten minutes—then come out and join the fun.”
He walked out with the butler in tow. “C’mon on Mel, let’s get you settled downstairs on the beach patio with a tot of my best scotch. We’ll get your glasses taken care of tomorrow.”
As soon as the door closed, Jaimie said, “I’ll show him fun! Lock the door while I get my costume.”
Jaimie scrambled to the étagère cabinet and yanked out the costume bag. She spread the pieces across the top of Chip’s desk. When she split open the casing covering the foam bodysuit it swelled like an airbag on impact.
“Fasten the clips but don’t pull too hard,” she said. “My thirty-six Cs are aching. Mel did a number on them.”
I encased her in the foam form over her flapper dress, then pulled the maid’s uniform with attached apron over it. She was going to be so hot and not in a flashy way.
“Get the mirror from the bag so I can see what I’m doing.” She pulled a stick-on rubber nose from its pac
kaging, yanked off the backing and covered her own nose. “Not bad.” She slipped false teeth over her perfect uppers and dusted her face with light beige powder. I adjusted her curly gray wig. “How about the cotton balls for your cheeks?”
“Think they’re necessary? Nothing nastier than cotton-strained vodka.”
“Pass on them. The way you look now no one will recognize you.” I stood back and admired her creation. “Your shoes!”
“Nuts! I forgot. Trade shoes with me.”
“Jaimie, I can’t manage in strappy sandals.”
“You’re going to have to. Settle your scrubs lower so they cover your feet.”
With trepidation I swapped shoes, black flats for her cream-colored, jeweled stilettos. My ankles wobbled as I stood. I took a deep breath. No net. But I could do it.
“Lower your pants to cover the shoes!” the chunky maid said.
Who was she to give me orders? Wait! That was Jaimie. Were the stilettos making me woozy?
She raised a finger in the air. “Now get out there, walk to the microphone and announce Baby Face Baker has been poisoned. Meantime I’ll slip out the door and do my thing as the malicious maid.”
I never knew Jaimie to have a good idea. As I wobbled toward the door on badly concealed stilettos, I didn’t have any reason to believe she was about to break her streak.
Chapter 33
All eyes were on me as I gripped the microphone stand to steady myself. “Baby Face Baker did not choke to death but was poisoned. We are relying on you to help us discover her odious killer. Detective Mickey Spleen is handing out sealed envelopes containing clues. No two are alike.”
Heads turned to locate Chip who wore his tin star pinned to his lapel.
“It is important that you work together as a group to determine the murderer’s identity, method, and motive,” Chip said. “Teamwork is the only way to solve this murder.”
Grams strutted to my side and leaned over the microphone. “Remember just because someone wears a badge doesn’t make him innocent.” She bobbed her head, flung her pink boa over her shoulder and marched away.
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