Killer Cocktail (17 page)

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,
t
he 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, but ‘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.

A few days after he'd been home, Mandy came to visit us. With her she brought a large bouquet of flowers, a large bottle of scotch, and an even larger dog bone. “You can distribute these however you see fit,” she said as she thrust them all into my arms. “I've been a horrible friend, and I'm sorry.”

“There's no need to apologize,” I assured her. By mutual agreement we avoided the topic of Barry. Mandy was a grown woman. It wasn't my place to tell her that she was an idiot. Besides, on some level, I think she already knew. “Come out back and see Nigel,” I said. “He's stoically lounging by the pool.”

Mandy followed me out to where Nigel lay on the chaise. “You look quite dashing with the sling,” she said as she sat in the chair next to him. “Getting shot seems to agree with you.”

He grinned. “Well, I don't recommend it for everyone, obviously,” he said. “But I've tried to make the best of it.”

“Don't encourage him, Mandy,” I warned. “He's close to becoming insufferable.”

Nigel pretended to glare at me. “I took a bullet for you, woman! Show some gratitude!”

“I'm sorry. Do you want me to go put on the nurse's uniform again?” I asked sweetly.

Mandy groaned. “If you do, I'm leaving.”

I laughed. “Sorry. So, what's going on in your world?” I asked her. “We've kind of had our heads buried here. We did get some good news though. DeDee's sister called. Her memory has started to return. She doesn't remember everything yet, but she was able to give the police a statement fingering Danielle as her attacker. Her doctors say that she's going to be fine.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” she said. Shaking her head, she added, “I still can't believe that Danielle killed Melanie all those years ago. Frank's having a hard time dealing with it, too. He's gone off on some six-week zen retreat that forbids outside communication.”

“How nice for him,” I said. It still made my stomach churn to think about Frank. He'd taken advantage of a troubled young woman and then had been ready to toss her aside when she got pregnant. Granted, he hadn't killed her, but that didn't mean he was innocent. I wondered how many other Melanies had been callously used by men like Frank over the years. Then I realized I didn't want to know the answer. I suspected it would be heartbreaking. “How is Christina doing?” I asked to change the subject.

“Good, actually,” said Mandy. “She's moving on, just as she always has. She hired Sebastian as her manager. I think they'll work well with each other. But the really big new is that John left Jules.” Mandy's eyes danced with amusement.

I glanced up in surprise. “Really?”

She nodded. “Yup. But that's not the best part. John went back to Christina and begged her to take him back. Got down on his knees and everything. In a crowded restaurant, no less.”

“And did she? Take him back?”

Mandy shook her head, her smile broadening. “She did
not
. She told him in no uncertain terms that he was a low-down dirty dog and that she wanted nothing more to do with him. It was perfect. I told you her Oscar speech was all an act. And a damn good one, too.”

“This is a strange town, Mandy,” I said after a minute.

Mandy sighed in agreement. “You have no idea, Nic,” she said. “No idea.”

After Mandy left, Nigel and I sat by the water and quietly sipped our drinks. Skippy lay sprawled out on a pool raft, lightly dozing in the afternoon sun.

“I've been thinking,” Nigel said after a while.

“About?”

“That maybe we need to go on a vacation,” he said. “Expose Skippy to a little culture.”

I studied him over the rim of my drink glass. “Any place in particular?” I asked.

“Well, I did hear about this one beach in Italy,” he said with a smile. “I've made reservations. All that's waiting is your approval to book them.”

“Do they serve dirty martinis there?”

“They do indeed.”

I leaned back and closed my eyes against the afternoon sun. “Then, in the immortal words of Steve McGarrett, ‘Book 'em, Danno. Book 'em.'”

Footage from the set of
A Winter's Night
5/8/96

Frank and Zelda are sitting in an empty stage set designed as a 1940s nightclub. They are eating a homemade lunch from a picnic basket. They are not speaking and appear tense.

ZELDA

Have you talked to her yet?

FRANK

No.

ZELDA

Something's wrong.

FRANK (shaking his head)

Nothing is wrong! You worry too much.

ZELDA (watches him as she takes a bit of her sandwich)

And you don't worry enough.

FRANK (looking up)

What is that supposed to mean?

ZELDA

It means that you never think
anything bad can touch you. It's childish. There is good and bad in this world, Frank. We all get an equal amount.

FRANK

Yes, but …

ZELDA

I mean it Frank. I'm worried. There's something going on with her. A mother knows these things.

Camera shuts off.

the end

recipes

the oscar

Ingredients:

75 ml (2½ oz.) Plymouth gin

Juice from ½ pink grapefruit

25 ml (¾ oz.) of elderflower syrup

1 rosemary sprig

the diva

Ingredients:

90 ml (3 oz.) vodka

45 ml (1½ oz.) pineapple juice

15 ml (½ oz.) kiwi syrup

Mint leaves for garnish

the red carpet

Ingredients:

70 ml (2½ oz.) vodka

30 ml (1 oz.) raspberry liquor

20 ml (¾ oz.) raspberry syrup

40 ml (1½ oz.) fresh raspberry juice

the best boy

Ingredients:

10 ml (¼ oz.) Martini Extra Dry vermouth

50 ml (1½ oz.) Bombay Sapphire gin

15 ml (¼ oz.) blue curaçao

Twist of orange for garnish

About the Author

Tracy Kiely received a BA in English from Trinity College. This accomplishment prompted most job interviewers to ask, “How fast can you type?” Her standard answer of “not so fast” usually put an end to further questions.

She was eventually hired by the American Urological Association (AUA), who were kind enough to overlook the whole typing thing—mainly because they knew just what kind of prose she'd be typing. After several years, Tracy left the AUA, taking with her a trove of anecdotal stories that could eventually result in her banishment from polite society. That's when she thought writing a novel might be a good idea.

Murder with a Twist
was her first novel in the Nic and Nigel Martini series. It can be enjoyed straight up or with a twist. She is also the author of the Jane Austen-inspired Elizabeth Parker mystery series:
Murder at Longbourn
,
Murder on the Bride's Side
,
Murder Most Persuasive
, and
Murder Most Austen
. These can be enjoyed with either tea or a very dry sherry.

Tracy lives in Maryland with her husband and three children.