Murder With A Twist Part 10

"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 prost.i.tute."

"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 gla.s.s.

"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 ma.s.s 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 bl.u.s.tering 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 c.o.c.ktail, and get your a.s.s 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 ma.s.s 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 ma.s.s.

_____.

When ma.s.s 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 a.s.sure 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 ma.s.s."

"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 h.e.l.lo 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 cliche 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 appeared 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?"

twenty-one.

According to Marcy, Lizzy had been killed sometime late Christmas night. She'd been found by a neighbor who'd become concerned when she'd noticed the apartment door wide open. "She was a door-shut kind of lady, if you know what I mean," the neighbor had explained. Marcy said she did.