Murder with a Twist (8 page)

eighteen

The next evening found
us at Max and Olive’s apartment for their annual “Christmas Cocktail Coterie.” It’s almost as intolerable as its name. However, Nigel’s parents, Doris and Paul, were going to be there, so Nigel and I agreed to go as well. While Paul had learned to tune out his sister, Doris could only take Olive in small doses. As a result, Doris had taken up smoking when visiting. It enabled her to politely disengage when tolerance ran out.

By the time we arrived, the party was in full swing. Joe answered our knock, his expression stoic. Behind him, the room was packed with men and women, all of a certain age, race, and income. A woman wearing a low-cut, black velvet dress was loudly singing along to Dean Martin’s rendition of “Marshmallow World”. It was not readily apparent why she was crying. Two men in dark suits were noisily comparing their stock options while downing martinis. Another woman was shouting into her cell phone at her children to go to sleep. My initial reaction, to quietly leave, was thwarted by the sudden appearance of Olive. She greeted me warmly; proof that the cocktail in her hand was not her first.

“Nicole!” she cried. “How lovely to see you. You should wear green more often, dear. It brings out your eyes.” Turning to Nigel she said, “Nigel, dear, is it me or do you get more handsome with every passing day?”

Nigel laughed. “It’s not you, darling. Don’t be silly. Are my parents here?”

Olive nodded. “Your father is in there somewhere talking to Max. Your mother is out on the balcony.
Again
.” Her nose crinkled with disapproval. “It’s such a nasty habit. And
so
disruptive. It seems like every time we start talking, she has to duck out for a cigarette.”

As Nigel went to search for his father, a task made easier with Skippy to part the crowd, I went out onto the balcony and joined Doris. In her younger days, she had studied ballet. With her tall, graceful frame, and auburn hair pulled back into a bun, she looked as if she still did. Seeing me, she smiled and waved. “Nic! Thank God. We’ve only been here an hour, and I’m already on my third cigarette.”

“I’m supposed to tell you that it’s a nasty habit.”

“So is telling your sister-in-law to put a sock in it,” Doris replied as she gave me a hug. “And then actually putting a sock in it for her. One of these days, I’m afraid she’s going to push me too far. I actually think she’s worse this year.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” I admitted. “Isn’t she always like this?”

Doris tipped her head in acknowledgment. “Well, yes. She is generally awful. But all the money problems they’ve had this past year have really brought out her inner crab.”

I glanced around at the expensive decorations and attentive wait staff. “So,
this
is what money problems look like? It’s quite disheartening when you are forced to see it up close. Do you think they’d be offended if we passed a hat around for them?”

Doris took a drag and laughed. “Well, as long as it was a hat from Chanel.”

“Oh, but of course,” I replied as I speared a shrimp off a passing platter.

Doris helped herself to one as well, and continued in a lower voice, “But they did have to sell one of the beach houses.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard that. Which one?”

“The one on Long Island,” Doris said.

“Ouch. That must have hurt.”

“Are you kidding? It was the jewel in Olive’s crown. I believe she wore black for months afterward.”

“So how did all that happen?” I asked.

Doris shrugged. “Same as it did for most people, I suppose. Housing bubble burst and money was lost.” She glanced meaningfully around at the expertly decorated patio. “Of course, when certain people insist on living a certain lifestyle, the bills can add up. Speaking of those people, she tells me you bought a dog. I think I was supposed to be horrified.”

“
Nigel
bought him,” I corrected. “That’s him right there,” I added
,
pointing through the glass door. Doris craned her neck and peeked in.

“Christ,” she said.

“Actually, his name is Skippy. Nigel claims he followed him home.”

Doris shook her head. “I swear. He gets more like his father every day. I’ll never forget the year Paul came home with an alpaca. Named her Chloe. She was rather sweet, actually. Provided us some lovely sweaters.”

“Where is she now?”

“A neighbor with a farm eventually took her. Paul still visits. The alpaca, that is.” Turning back to me, she said, “So what’s all this nonsense about Leo?”

I told her. She rolled her eyes. “Poor Audrey. Life would be so much easier if Olive didn’t care so much what other people thought,
” she said.

“Speaking of which,” I said, “where is Audrey? I thought she was supposed to be here.”

“She called about an hour ago,” said Doris. “She said she had a migraine or something. That boy who moons after her all the time—what’s his name?”

“Toby.”

“Right—Toby. Well, when he heard that she wasn’t feeling well, he leapt up and ran over to her place like a good little lap dog to see if he could help.”

“I take it you don’t like him?”

Doris exhaled a mouthful of smoke before answering. “I wouldn’t
say I don’t like him. I’m sure he’s a perfectly respectable young man. He just seems a little … oh, what’s the word?”

“Spineless?”

Doris considered it for a moment and then nodded. “That works. I mean,
really
. He and Audrey went to school together, and everyone could see that he was head over heels in love with her. But rather than propose to her or do
something
, he moves to Ohio for the year to take over some malpractice case for the firm.”

“Oh, that’s right. I vaguely remember Nigel telling me about that.”

“It might have been a good career move, but during the year he was gone, Audrey got engaged to Leo.”

“Maybe Audrey never felt that way about Toby,” I said.

Doris shook her head. “No. She did. I could tell. But she’s so damn insecure that she couldn’t see how he felt. When he left, she figured that he never cared. Which left the door wide open for Leo.”

“Who is now gone.”

“Who is now gone,” she agreed. “Far be it from me to tell you your business, but do you think it’s wise to find him?”

I shrugged, removed the cigarette from her hand, and took a drag. “Probably not. He sounds awful. If I do find him, I reunite Audrey with a man who will eventually leave with as much of her money as he can carry. If I don’t, she’ll feel humiliated in front of all her friends and family. Either way, I suspect Olive will find a way to complain.”

I handed the cigarette back to Doris. She inhaled one last time and then stubbed it out. “Well, look on the bright side. You’re giving her an excuse to do what she loves best.” Smiling, she added, “Remember, the best Christmas gifts are those that delight the recipient, not the sender.”

nineteen

Doris and I went
back inside. The woman in the black dress had stopped singing. She was still crying. Whimpering might be more accurate. In any case, it was an improvement. From what I could tell, the men in the dark suits were still comparing their stocks; however, it was loud so I may have misheard them. The woman with the non-compliant children had, thankfully, either won or given up the argument. The rest of the crowd was swilling martinis.

Nigel stood with his father. Paul was an older version of Nigel— tall, handsome, with a head of thick brown hair. Paul’s hair was just starting to go gray, and his eyes were brown instead of blue, but they were surrounded by the same laugh lines. He and Nigel were talking to Max and Olive. “Hello, Mother,” Nigel said to Doris as we approached. He kissed her cheek and then said, “This is Skippy.” Skippy sat down, gave a sharp bark, and raised his paw.

Doris politely accepted it and shook. “Pleased to meet you, Skippy,”
she said.

Olive maneuvered to Doris’s side. “Did you ever see such a thing?” she asked. “Only
your
son would ever think of buying such a creature, let alone bringing it
here.”
She looked askance at Skippy. “God help you when these two have children. Can you imagine?”

Doris opened her mouth to respond. I quickly grabbed two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and shoved one in Doris’s empty hand. “Cheers!” I said, tapping her glass and taking a sip. Doris paused and then drained hers.

“Excuse me,” she said, handing me the empty glass. “I need a cigarette.”

Olive frowned. “Another one?” she called out to Doris’s retreating form. “Honestly, what you need is a little self control!”

“I’m working on it as we speak,” Doris called over her shoulder as she slid the balcony door shut.

Max and Daphne appeared. “Doris smoking again?” Max asked, his eyes twinkling.

Paul nodded. “It waxes and wanes.”

Max smiled. “Yes. I imagine it does.”

Olive opened her mouth to speak. I cut her off. “Is Audrey here tonight?” I asked in a voice I knew to be a shade too loud. Olive was predictably distracted.

“Lower your voice,” she hissed. Pasting a fake smile on her face, she waved to a woman walking by. “Hello, Margie! Having fun?
Good
.” Returning her attention to us, she said in low voice, “No, she’s
not
. Claims she has a headache. I don’t know what I’m going to do with her. Have you had any success in finding where
he
is?”

Max turned to Paul. “I suppose you’ve heard that we’ve asked Nic here to help us with our little problem. It seems Leo has gone missing.”

“Nigel was just telling me about it,” said Paul. “Can’t see why you’d want him back. I mean long term.”

“Or short term,” added Nigel.

Daphne nodded her agreement. “I, for one, don’t. But if it’ll help Audrey get through her party—that
some
people insisted on throwing—” she glanced meaningfully at her mother. Olive ignored her. Max chose to study the ceiling. Daphne continued, “Then I’ll do whatever I can to help. She’s been through enough as it is.”

“And what have you found out, Nicole?” Olive now asked.

I told her about Fat Saul’s death and my meeting with Frank and Danny and Lizzy. Olive looked disgusted. “You asked,” I reminded her.

“So, the money that Leo owed to this Fat Saul, he now owes to Frank Little?” asked Max. “How much money are we talking about?”

“A great deal. From what Frank told me it was more than what Audrey could withdraw without your approval.” I told him the amount. Max let out a string of expletives that would have made my old lieutenant proud. Olive did not appear to share the sentiment.

“Max, really,” she protested. “As much as I’d like to kill the man, let’s not be vulgar.”

For Olive, it didn’t matter what the message was as long as it was said with an air of class.

“And he was having an affair with this Lizzy woman?” Max asked, ignoring Olive.

I shrugged. “That I don’t know. She said they were just friends. But I suspect her definition of ‘friends’ might be broader than most.”

“What does she look like?” asked Olive.

“Very tan, very blonde, very everything,” I said.

Nigel expanded the description. “Rode hard and put away dirty.”

Daphne laughed. “I believe the expression is ‘rode hard and put away wet.’”

Nigel shrugged. “You say tomato; I say prostitute.”

“Well, in any case, I don’t think we should mention any of this to Audrey,” I said. “I think there is more going on with this woman than she’s saying. Until I find out what that is, I don’t think we should mention it to her. It’ll only further upset her.”

Doris returned. “Upset who?” she asked.

Olive sniffed. “Maybe if you’d stop smoking, you wouldn’t miss so much.”

Doris smiled. “Oh, of that I’m certain.”

“We were just talking about Audrey,” Nigel explained. “Nic got a lead on Leo. We found a woman who is a kind of friend of his, but
they don’t want to tell Audrey just yet. No use getting her hopes up.”

“Or down, as the case may be,” Doris said. “If Audrey’s father were alive today, there would be no Leo problem.” She paused and considered. “Actually, there probably would be no
Leo
. David didn’t put up with his kind.”

Max smiled. “To absent friends,” he said, raising his glass.

“To absent friends,” we repeated in kind.

twenty

By midnight, I was
ready to take up smoking, and the waiter and I were on a first-name basis. It was past time to go home. I found Nigel talking to Daphne and a colorless woman I didn’t remember. Seeing me, she grabbed both of my hands and cooed, “Nicole! Why, look at you! And in a dress! Marriage certainly agrees with you! You look so feminine!” I guessed her to be a close friend of Olive’s.

I debated telling her that my newly feminine look was more due to hormone therapy than marital bliss, but frankly, I was too tired. I wanted my bed. Nigel frowned at the woman. “Too bad the same can’t be said for every woman,” he said after giving her a long look. Turning to me, he said, “It’s time to go home, dear. Where’s Skippy?”

Skippy was chewing on something in the corner. I fished what I could out of his mouth. Most of it appeared to be discarded paperwork, mostly receipts: grocery, catering, wine, work licenses, as well as some confetti and toilet paper. What bits I couldn’t retrieve, I left for nature to handle. Nigel and I said our good-byes and left.

_____

The next day was Christmas Eve. Nigel woke me at dawn to ask if I wanted my present. “Unless it’s four more hours of sleep, then no,” I replied before shoving my head back under the pillow.

“But they’re getting restless,” Nigel protested. “And when that happens they start to shed.”

I cut him off. “Nigel, it’s not Christmas yet.”

He pushed his head into my neck. “Please?”

I sighed. “If I give you your present now, will you let me go back to sleep?”

“Yes,” he said, bouncing the bed with excitement. “I’ll get yours. I was just kidding about them getting restless before.”

“I would hope so,” I said as I sat up and wiped the sleep from my eyes.

“Yeah, they’re already dead.”

“Perfect.” Nigel placed a Bellini in my hand. I looked at it in confusion. “This isn’t a Christmas present, Nigel, it’s breakfast.”

“I know. Wait a second.” He pulled a small box out of the closet and placed it on my lap. I lifted the top and looked inside. “Thank you, Nigel! It’s beautiful!” I said, lifting out the double-strand pearl necklace. “Yours is under the bed.”

“I know,” Nigel said as he jumped off the bed and peered underneath it. “I found it yesterday, but I didn’t peek.” He ripped off the wrappings, opened the box, and pulled out the watch he’d been mooning over for the past few months. Kissing me soundly on the lips, he said, “Thank you, darling. I love you. Merry Christmas.”

“I love you, too, dear. Can we go back to sleep now?”

“Wait, we have to give Skippy his presents.”

“I hadn’t realized that we’d gotten Skippy presents,” I admitted.

“I know. I signed your name to the card anyway,” he said as he grabbed a bag off the closet shelf. Skippy wagged his tail excitedly and let out a happy bark. Nigel pulled out a stuffed snowman and tossed it in the air. Skippy leapt up and caught the toy in his mouth. It let out a loud squeak.

Nigel crawled back into bed with me. Random squeaking sounds pierced the air. I curled up next to Nigel. “You didn’t know that it made a noise, did you?” I asked.

“There’s a distinct possibility I overlooked that fact.”

After we removed the snowman’s squeaker, we went back to sleep. When we awoke again at a more civilized hour, we had breakfast sent up. Afterward, we opted to stay in our hotel room. We were due to meet Nigel’s entire family for six o’clock mass at St. Patrick’s, but until then we saw no reason to venture outside. There, it was cold, windy, and filled with Martinis. And not the good kind. As Nigel said, you had to pace yourself with Martinis. Our bodies were far too fragile for the demands they put upon them. Instead, we spent the majority of the day engaged in far more enjoyable pursuits.

By four it was time to get ready. “Come on, Nigel,” I said when I stepped out of the shower. “We need to get a move on, or we’ll be late.”

Nigel was sprawled on the couch nursing his Dirty Martini and reading the paper. “But what about Skippy?” he asked. Skippy who was lying calmly at Nigel’s feet, perked his ears up attentively at the sound of his name. “We can’t leave him alone on Christmas Eve.”

“I don’t think he’s a practicing Christian. He’ll be fine. Besides, I’ve arranged for one of the more tolerant members of the hotel staff to look in on him.”

Nigel was unconvinced. “Do we really have to go?” he asked glancing at the blustering sky outside.

“Yes,” I replied. “It’s Christmas. We’re going to church.”

“
This
is
my church,” he said, nodding respectfully to his Dirty Martini.

Resting my hand on his shoulder, I said, “Darling, this is one of those red flags we read about. Step away from the cocktail, and get your ass ready for church.”

By some form of divine intervention, which came in the form of finding an available cab, we arrived at St. Patrick’s in time to find a seat near the rest of the family. Olive, with her fur coat slung over her shoulders like a poncho, smiled and gave us a half wave as if she were a queen receiving visitors.

I slid into the pew next to Doris and Paul. “Merry almost Christmas,” I said. “How are you?”

“Better now that Olive has taken her pills,” Doris replied, casing an irritated glance in Olive’s direction. “She was livid at the potential scandal of Leo not attending mass with the family. Threw a monster of a fit.”

I looked over to where Audrey sat. She was one down from Olive, next to Max. She looked very pale and delicate. Her blonde hair was tucked neatly under a black velvet hat. “How is Audrey holding up?” I asked.

“She’s trying to keep it together, but it can’t be easy with Olive wailing about it every five minutes,” she said.

“No, I imagine not,” I said as the choir began to sing, signaling the start of mass.

_____

When mass was over, we filed out into the cold night and made our way to Max and Olive’s. Once inside, Max took my coat. “Joe has the night off, I take it?” I asked.

Max smiled. “It wasn’t without a fight, I assure you.”

“You’re kidding?” I said in surprise. “Olive really wanted Joe to work on Christmas Eve?”

Max shook his head. “No, it was the other way around. Joe wanted to help out. Very thoughtful of him, but it’s a little too Ebenezer for my taste.”

“I have to say that is surprising. Joe must have changed since when I knew him.”

Max laughed and said, “Speaking of which, one of these days you’ll have to tell me about our esteemed butler’s former life. I have the distinct impression that Janet Harris had a bit of fun at our expense.”

Before I could answer, Olive descended upon us. “Nicole! Nigel!
” she cooed. “Merry Christmas! Wasn’t it a lovely service? I so enjoy St. Patrick’s. They do know how to put on a Christmas mass.”

“You make it sound like a play, darling,” Nigel said as he leaned in to kiss her.

“Don’t be blasphemous,” she admonished. Noticing my pearl necklace, she added, “What a lovely necklace, Nicole. Is it new?”

“Yes,” I said as I raised my hand to touch the pearls. “Nigel gave it to me for Christmas.”

Olive frowned. “But it’s not Christmas yet! And besides, I specifically told you to get Nicole a fur coat, Nigel. After all, she’s a Martini now. You have a societal duty.”

“I know, dear. And I take medication for it.” With a wink, he added, “I’ll get my second wife a fur coat.”

I elbowed him in the ribs. “I’d like to see you live that long.”

Olive let out a frustrated sigh and declared Nigel “impossible.” His mission accomplished, Nigel led me to the living room to join the rest of the family.

Daphne was standing with Audrey and Toby by the bar. Nigel busied himself making us a drink while I said hello to everyone. “What was Mother crabbing at you for this time?” Daphne asked me.

“We’ve scandalized her by exchanging our Christmas presents a day early,” I answered.

“What heathens you are,” she said, laughing.

Nigel handed me my drink. “So, what are your plans for tomorrow?” Daphne asked us.

“We are taking Nigel’s parents to Radio City to see the Rockettes’s Christmas show,” I answered.

Daphne looked at Nigel in surprise. “Seriously? You’re going to see the Rockettes?” she asked.

Nigel nodded. “I’ve never been. If I’m going to be in New York for Christmas, then I’m going to do every cliché thing I can. After the show, we are going skating at Rockefeller Center and then buy some hot chocolate and take a stroll up Fifth Avenue and look at the windows at Bergdorf Goodman.”

Daphne laughed and shook her head. “You two will be a walking brochure for New York by the time you’re through.”

“What are your plans?” I asked.

Daphne shrugged. “Nothing nearly as fun. I’m bringing Audrey over in the morning, and we’ll exchange gifts and have dinner. I don’t expect it to be a particular jolly day. Now that I think about it, I may have to go into the office.”

Nigel sputtered. “On Christmas? You’re kidding, right? Why would you need to go into the office on Christmas?”

Daphne produced a grim smile. “I don’t believe that I said I ‘need’ to go into the office. I said I ‘may’ have to. And after a few hours here, you might find yourself longing for the peace and quiet of an empty office too.”

We all looked over to where Olive stood talking to Audrey. She ap
peared to be lecturing her. Audrey stood meekly, her head hung low.

“I stand corrected,” said Nigel. “If I were you, I might even stop off somewhere and donate blood.”

“Nigel,” I said with a laugh, “After this week, the only thing your blood would be good for would be pickling.”

“Well, we all need a talent,” he said.

_____

Nigel and I spent Christmas day as planned. We met up with Doris and Paul and spent the day playing tourist, complete with window-shopping, drinking hot cocoa, skating, and watching the Rockettes. It was nice not to concentrate on missing philanders, critical in-laws, and truculent ex-cons. Of course, it didn’t last. It never does.

_____

I awoke the next morning to the phone ringing. Nigel raised his head off the pillow and cast a baleful eye at it. “Every time I hear that phone, it’s ringing,” he complained before returning to sleep. I fumbled for the receiver. The nightstand clock read 7:00 a.m.

“You’ve reached the body of Nic Martini,” I said. “Please leave a message.”

“Nic?” said a voice. It sounded far away. “Are you there?”

“In a metaphysical sense,” I admitted. “Who is this?”

“Marcy. Did I wake you? Look, I’m sorry to bother you,” she went on without waiting for my answer, “but something’s come up.”

I yawned. “Such as?”

“That woman who was seeing Leo? Lizzy Marks? Well, she’s dead. And in case you’re wondering, it wasn’t natural causes.”

I sighed. “No. It wouldn’t be, would it?”