“Sounds amazing.” Bluebell smiled. “So what caused you to call me over so urgently?”
“Well, I needed your advice, you see,” Nolan said. “I remember how you figured out who’d killed your fiancé all those years ago. So I thought maybe you could help me with my… issues.”
“What’s the problem?”
“I think Megan’s life is in danger,” Nolan said. “The problem is, no one else does!”
*****
Chapter 3
Peanuts & Death
Bluebell was eager to find out more, but Nolan received an urgent call from his office and had to rush to it. So Bluebell was dropped off at his expensive penthouse, and spent the afternoon roaming about it. Situated on the 72nd floor of a skyscraper, Nolan’s new apartment had a wonderful view of the Empire State Building. Bluebell laughed in wonder as she looked around it. Even though they’d been best friends since they were eight, Nolan had hardly ever invited her home. The one memory she had of his room was that it had been dank and messy, with clothes heaped in a pile over his bed, and boxes of cereal underfoot. The computer in the corner, however, had been spotlessly clean, as had his desk.
Now that he was rich enough to hire a team of maids and interior designers, his home was very different. The apartment had an entire wall full of awards that had been granted to him, as well as framed magazine covers where he had appeared. There were also paintings that made no sense to Bluebell, since they were composed of bright colors and squiggly lines, yet when she googled the artists, she found that they were worth more than she could imagine.
The apartment was furnished with spotless Italian marble, and had Turkish carpets on the floor. A bust of a Roman emperor stood near the entrance, side by side with a Giacometti sculpture.
Yet Bluebell felt a little sad. Nolan’s old room had been messy and dirty, but it had been sincerely him. The walls had posters of his favorite movies, and charts of his weight loss attempts. The bedsheets had been covered by a quilt sewn by his mother, and a photo of her had sat by his bedside. This apartment, as glitzy as it was, could have belonged to any rich man. It was perfectly interchangeable, and it wasn’t anything like Nolan.
Wishing to see even a little bit of the real him, Bluebell wandered into his bedroom. She smiled instantly. There by the bedside was the photo she remembered. It had been taken in Christmas, when Nolan and his mother had been working at a homeless shelter. They both had Santa caps on their head as they ladled out soup, and six year old Nolan’s smile was dizzyingly bright.
Bluebell nearly dropped it in fright when Nolan coughed behind her.
“I’m terribly sorry!” she said, placing it back by his bed. “You must think I’m a total snoop.”
“You always were a total snoop,” Nolan said. “No apologies needed.” Moving over to her, he picked up the photo and ran a hand down his mother’s face. “Do you remember her at all?”
Bluebell shook her head. “We only became friends after she had passed away,” she said sadly.
“She was one of the kindest women in the world,” Nolan said. “She always drilled into me that was more important to be kind than to be smart. And far harder, too.”
“I’d say she was right about that.”
Nolan sighed, and put the frame down. “It’s 5pm. Are you ready for an early dinner?”
“Depends.” Bluebell patted her stomach. “What are you feeding me?”
“It’s New York.” Nolan laughed. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t feed you some pizza!”
“Just the answer I was hoping for!” Bluebell exclaimed, then paused. “Wait, it won’t be some fancy rich person place with gold leaf and raw fish on the pizza, will it? I’d rather go hungry than have that.”
Nolan laughed. “No. I’m ordering it from Joey’s. It’s an amazing restaurant two blocks down. That’s the thing about NYC. Whether you’re homeless or a multimillionaire, a 1$ slice of pizza is still the best meal you can have. Would you like to drink something?”
“How about a milkshake?” Bluebell laughed. “It will be rather heavy, but I’ll be full for the night if we can get a milkshake, too.”
Nolan suddenly seemed to turn a little pale, but he nodded. “If that’s what you really want. What flavor?”
“Perfect!” Bluebell smiled. “I’d like a peanut butter shake. Your favorite, right?
“So you remembered.”
“I remember you had like five of them at Jenny Callum’s 14th birthday party.” Bluebell nodded. “Poor guy, you were so sick the next day.”
“I don’t have them any more!” he exclaimed sharply. Bluebell gave him a questioning look, but Nolan’s face had turned ashen. Without a word, he went to the fridge and handed Bluebell a can. With the root beer in each hand, the two of them sat on a leather couch pressed against the window. Bluebell noted how unhappy he looked, and wondered why the mention of peanuts had made him so sad.
“You still haven’t told me anything about Megan,” Bluebell probed. “What happened with her? Why do you feel she’s in danger?”
“Last week, Megan had a party,” Nolan said. “To be specific, it was her grandfather’s 87th birthday party.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It was. Until someone died,” Nolan said.
Bluebell gasped. “What!”
“Grandpa Kurt was full of energy even at 87,” Nolan said. “He was one of those men who seem to run on a never ending battery. He’d decided to have a huge party, with karaoke. A hundred guests were invited. He booked out a fancy Korean restaurant downtown, and had the karaoke equipment specially set up.”
“So what happened?”
“Well, there were seven of us at the table when he died,” Nolan said. “See, Kurt had a peanut allergy. It was quite well known. He even refused to stock any peanut related product in any of his stores. His assistant had called beforehand and made sure that there were no peanuts in the establishment.”
“Okay?” Alarm bells were ringing in Bluebell’s mind.
“Well, technically I suppose it was six,” Nolan said. “Tiffany, Kurt’s current wife, left before Megan ordered her cocktail. But in any case, Megan had ordered a cocktail with mango and pineapple juice. Kurt took a sip of it before she did.”
“It was poisoned?” Bluebell asked.
“Not poison,” Nolan said. “Peanuts. Someone had slipped crushed peanuts into the drink!”
“Then-”
“He died almost instantly. It was horrific,” Nolan said. “The rest of us were in a panic, and couldn’t think of what to do. Luckily Xander was around. Instead of throwing it away, he immediately grabbed a sample of the drink, as well as the glass, and made sure to preserve it. The police later sent it for testing.”
“What did they find out?”
“There were no fingerprints on the glass, other than Megan’s, Kurt’s and the bartender’s. But the bartender swears he didn’t put crushed peanuts in the drink, and I believe him.”
“So you think… someone deliberately killed Kurt?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Nolan said. “Xander tried to imply Megan had done it, but I set him straight. The thing is, Megan is allergic to peanuts too, and she had no way of knowing Kurt would take a sip out of her drink.”
Bluebell gasped. “So you think it was Megan who was the target?”
“I don’t know what to think. It was just the six of us at the table. Me, Megan, Ray, Wendy, Kurt and Brandon. Any one of us could have done it. At one point or another, we were each of us alone at the table.”
Bluebell took a moment to digest this. Nolan’s blue eyes were glowing with regret, and a hint of tears hung in them. “Kurt was a jerk sometimes, but he was a good man, and I’d never want him to be killed! The worst part is that part of me is glad… glad it was him and not my Megan!”
“What about the police?” Bluebell asked.
“The police closed the case, calling it a simple case of contamination,” Nolan said. “The Donnerstag family hasn’
t pushed it much. They don’t want to attract unwanted publicity, or…” Nolan’s smile twisted into a sneer. “Or more likely, they don’t want the will tied up in a police investigation.”
“So…”
“So I need you,” Nolan said. “I need you to make sure that Megan will be all right. We need to find out who killed her grandfather, and make sure that she isn’t killed the same way.”
*****
Chapter 4
Xander’s Theory
Xander, Nolan’s bodyguard, was an imposing figure when he stood. At least 6’5”, he towered above the others, with shoulders so broad that they nearly touched the sides of the doorframe as he walked in. His face was all ridges and sharp edges, and his eyes were that of a hawk, always alert, always scanning his environment for danger.
After Nolan had talked to her, Bluebell was rather determined to ask Xander about the night of the possible murder. Nolan seemed pretty determined to believe that it was a murder, but Bluebell still had her doubts. After all, it could be an accident, couldn’t it?
“No,” Xander said. “This was deliberate sabotage. I know because…” His stern face turned oddly embarrassed. “I just know, that’s all.”
“How do you know?” Bluebell pressed, seeing that he wasn’t ready to talk.
Uncertainly, Xander looked at Nolan. Nolan gave him a reassuring nod. “Tell Bluebell whatever you told me.”
“Well, it’s the strangest thing,” Xander said, taking a deep breath. “First, I want to reassure you that I hadn’t taken a single drop of alcohol. When I’m working, I don’t drink.”
“Xander’s a great guard.” Nolan smiled.
“Which brings me back to the question, why do you need him?” Bluebell asked.
Nolan smiled. “You don’t become an overnight millionaire without a few death threats. I hired Xander as a precaution, and he’s saved my skin more than once.”
“What kind of death threats?” Bluebell asked.
“Oh, jealous rivals, spurned exes.” Nolan shrugged. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“I wonder how you can say that so casually,” Bluebell said. “Anyway, go on, Xander. Why are you so sure it was sabotage?”
“It had to be,” Xander said. “I know Kurt Donnerstag’s bodyguard, and the old man was hyper about making sure he wasn’t within ten feet of peanuts. I kept an eye on the table through the night too, so I know that at some point, each of them were alone at the table.”
“Describe their movements to me,” Bluebell said.
“Well, there were seven people at the table, as Nolan’s told you,” Xander said. “Nolan, Megan, Ray, Tiffany, Wendy, Brandon and Kurt. Ray and Brandon are Kurt’s first and second born children. Wendy is his only daughter, Tiffany is his second wife. I’m ruling her out because she left before Megan ordered that cocktail.”
“Who was his first?” Bluebell asked.
“Lady Erin Thomasina, a rather distinguished lady,” Xander said. “She died ten years ago. Kurt and Erin were a well matched pair, surprisingly so. He was a rather ugly man, and she was a ravishing beauty, but he caught her eye, and held it. He had a strong personality and she fell head over heels in love with him. Soon, she’d decided to give up her home and run away with him. It was actually quite the scandal in England. Still, she was part of the reason he became so successful. Once he married her, he was able to grow his network of business associates exponentially. Everyone in New York wanted to be invited to her parties! Why, she had one in which she imported flamingos and had them placed in a marble fountain within her apartment!”
“Amazing,” Bluebell said. “Quite a couple, both of them.”
“Right,” Xander said. “So you can see why everyone was rather disappointed that his next wife was only 25 when he married her. Younger than all three of his children! It was rather… distasteful. I believe Brandon refused to speak with his old man for two years after.”
“Tiffany.” Bluebell nodded. “Is she a gold-digger, do you think?”
Xander laughed. “I mean… she used to be working as a cashier in one of his stores. Then Kurt took part in that show, Undercover Bosses, and he bumped into her. To be fair, she was kind to him, but she certainly didn’t have any romantic intentions. When Kurt revealed who he was and asked her on a date, I think she was blown away, and just went with it.”
“An innocent gold digger, then?”
“Let’s just say that Kurt got a good deal,” Xander said. “No one could outdo him when it came to getting a good deal. If you ask me, I’d say that he was the one taking advantage of Tiffany, and not the other way round. He might have been 87, but he was sharp as a tack. No, I don’t think Tiffany is a gold digger. I think she’s just… a woman who saw a rare opportunity and pursued it.”
Nolan coughed, and Xander colored. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m afraid I’ve heard the gossip so often, I forgot I should be careful who I repeat it to.”
“I’m glad you’re repeating it to me,” Bluebell said. “It might prove a great deal beneficial in finding out who did it.”
“If you ask me who had a motive, it could be any of them,” Xander said. “But if you ask me who I suspect the most, well… I think it was Megan. Megan had as much motive as the rest. I’m sorry Nolan, I know you love her to pieces, but you have to open your eyes to that reality.”
“Xander if I hear you talk about Megan that way one more tim—” Nolan’s eyes were bright with an inner fire.
“Nolan, let him speak,” Bluebell said quietly.
“Thanks,” Xander said. “Nolan might be blind but I’m not. I’m his bodyguard and assistant, yes. But I like to think I’m also a friend.”
“You are,” Nolan said. “But I won’t hear another word against her! I’m telling you, Megan can’t have done this! She’s the intended victim, not the perpetrator. Why would she put it in her own drink?”
“Megan knew your grandfather’s favorite cocktail had pineapple and mango. It’s a little funny she ordered one. Perhaps she knew he’d want to take a sip. It’s even funnier that she hadn’t taken a sip of her own drink. She stands to inherit a lot of money now that Kurt is gone. Lastly, she knew better than anyone else that your grandfather was allergic to peanuts!” Xander paused. “Nolan, you aren’t completely blinded by love, are you? Megan is very likely the killer!”
*****
Chapter 5
Meeting Megan
Bluebell spent a restless night, her mind going over what Xander had told her. She had an idea of the kind of man Kurt had been, but she wasn’t sure if that was a true representative of who he was. After all, Nolan and Xander were both outsiders. They had no real way of knowing Kurt’s thoughts, and his actions intimately. No. It was the family she needed to talk to, and Nolan had to introduce her to them soon.
In her travels, Bluebell had soon realized that no man is what he seems. In every human being, there exists a depth of feelings, and the evillest of men may have at some point, to some person, been a good samaritan. Equally, it was true that the kindest of men may have been caused great harm to someone at some point in his life, even if it was only accidentally.
Kurt, she thought, had probably had more than one rival. He also had a great deal of wealth. Had his success bred jealousy in the hearts of his friends? Had his wealth created an evil desire in the minds of his heirs? Who could tell?
At breakfast, which consisted of blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs, Bluebell asked Nolan about the rest of the Donnerstag family.
“Well, you already know about Megan,” Nolan said. “Wendy too, I suppose.”
Bluebell nodded. “I don’t think there’s a single person over 25 in all of America who doesn’t know Wendy.”
“Right.” Nolan smiled. “I don’t know much about Tiffany, so that leaves Ray and Brandon.”
“The sons.” Bluebell nodded. “Xander told me a little about them.”
“Ray is oldest, and some say, least favored by the father.” Nolan smiled. “He�
��s had a lot of dodgy deals, and more than once, his father had to bail him out after he pledged a fortune to some shark at the poker table.”
“Ouch,” Bluebell said.
“Still, Ray is an emotional, charismatic man. Everyone expects he’ll take over as CEO eventually. He gives legendary fiery speeches that would inspire men to follow him into battle, you know. It also helps that he’s inherited the same good looks that made Wendy such a star.”
Bluebell nodded. “Any wife in the picture?”
“Three ex-wives,” Nolan said. “I think he’s competing with Wendy to see who can have more broken marriages!”
Bluebell laughed. “I hope not!”
“Then there’s Brandon,” Nolan said. “He’s a quiet sort of man, a real work horse. No wife, no kids. Rumor has it that he’s gay, though he’s very discreet if he is. Megan told me that in her tumultuous childhood, more often than not, her uncle Brandon is the man she leaned on. If there’s one person he loves, it’s Megan. He’s a good man, I’d say.”
“And Kurt himself?” Bluebell asked. “Tell me more about him.”
“I’ll let the family tell you more about him.” Nolan smiled. “Let’s head over to them now.”
Done with breakfast, she and Nolan headed out to 5th Avenue. While Xander parked the limo, Nolan led Bluebell through a grand lobby and into a sleek glass elevator that shot up to the 100th floor of the building. It was an elevator unlike any Bluebell had ever seen - there were no buttons in it at all. It appeared as if by magic, and equally magically, took them flying upwards as soon as they entered it. Seeing her puzzlement, Nolan smiled.
“Like magic, isn’t it?”
Bluebell nodded.
“It’s all technology. The elevator has been fitted with a device that recognizes my phone, and automatically takes me to the programmed floor. This way, no one can access any floor other than the one they have business on. Cool, right?”
Murder In New York: A Paranormal Witch Cozy Mystery (A Bluebell Knopps Witch Cozy Mystery Book 6) Page 2
