Murder By the Glass

by Michele Scott

  Maybe calling her girlfriend wasn’t so sharp.

  Once inside the main rooms of the house Nikki could see where it reflected Susan—a lot of chrome and black and cream, with fresh purple lilies in a vase on top a black and cream marble coffee table. Susan must’ve had a lily fetish. The main room opened up into the kitchen, which had to have been great for entertaining purposes.

  Jennifer swung open the door on the chrome refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Stoli from the freezer. “Screw waiting to get to a club for a drink. Maybe the loser will show up by the time we’re done.”

  The kitchen atmosphere was a bit warmer than the living room because of a gorgeous set of cherry cabinets, which were carried all along one wall into a dining area as they scaled down from full cabinets to a book shelf.

  Jennifer wagged the vodka at her. “Want some? I need to take the edge off. I’m telling you, if Paulo doesn’t get here soon, I’ll just about have a shit fit.”

  Wasn’t she already doing that? “No, thanks. Some water might be nice.”

  “Suit yourself.” Jennifer first poured herself a tall glass of the vodka on ice with a splash of club soda, then got a glass of water from the tap for Nikki. Real congenial type. “So, you came here to talk about my sister, huh? What do you want to know?” Jennifer leaned against the kitchen island.

  She obviously wasn’t going to ask Nikki if she wanted to sit down. Nikki set her water glass down opposite the hostess with the mostest. This was not a welcome visit. “I got the feeling that you and Susan weren’t exactly close.”

  There was a long pause. “You know there was a time, a long time ago when we were really close, but it’s funny how time, and money change a person.” Jennifer motioned around the condominium.

  “You two didn’t have money growing up?”

  Jennifer laughed and took a big slug of her vodka. “Shit, no. We weren’t rich at all. I take it you didn’t know Susan very well?”

  “No. I only saw her a few times,” Nikki replied.

  “Yeah, well, even if you knew her, she wouldn’t have told you the truth about our upbringing.”

  “You can’t be ashamed about where you came from.” That was an out and out lie, because shame filled Nikki every time she thought about where she came from. “People can’t help that.”

  “What are you, some Pollyanna type or something? Of course you can be freaking ashamed, but, hell, the truth is the truth, and as much as my sister was an ass, she did do a damn good job of pulling herself up and out. But she had quite a bit of help along the way, unlike some of us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You saw my sister, all blonde and tall. Boobs out to here, and boy, did she know how to use everything God or the plastic surgeon had given her to her advantage.”

  “I take it that it hasn’t been so easy for you?”

  “Easy? Easy? Ha! No way. It’s been hell, but now I’m doing okay.” Another glance around the condo.

  “Did you inherit this place?”

  Another long pause and swig off her drink. “Yeah, big sis finally kicked down for something. It was like pulling teeth to get her to do it, but, you know, who would’ve thought she would get herself killed? I figured it was a pipe dream that I’d ever have a place like this. I know she wanted to leave it to her bosom buddy, but I convinced her that blood was thicker than water.”

  “She had a will then?”

  “Hell, yes. She had a lot of moolah on her own without that Kristof dude. But a lot was never enough for her, if you know what I mean. She wanted to be the female Trump all the way. I heard that she even tried to pick up on Trump himself in the past, but he was all into that Melania model chick he’s married to now. He blew old Sis off like she was nothing. Kinda funny, I think, cause my sister had this theory that she could get any man in bed and then empty out his pocketbook. With most men she was right.”

  “You mentioned her bosom buddy? Are you talking about Pamela Leiland?”

  “The one and only. Those two are or were two peas in a pod.”

  “They knew each other for a while, I take it?” Nikki asked and took a sip of her water.

  “I guess. I hadn’t seen my sister until like the last six months, when I saw her in a photo in one of those glossy magazines. You know, of the rich and famous, and there she was, all boobs and smiles and willing to die for Kristof Waltman and flashing that humongous diamond ring of hers in the picture. I figured I’d better get my ass out here when I saw that, and congratulate the happy couple in person.”

  “Where were you living?”

  “In a freaking pit in Phoenix, and my sister glamming it up kinda got me thinking that blood is thicker than water, and she was my only living relative, and, well, you know, family shouldn’t be so far apart from one another. I told her if she put me on the payroll that I would keep my mouth shut about where she really came from. I got the impression that her moneybags new hubby didn’t have a clue what she was all about. I know he had an idea there was no money for us growing up, but he didn’t know the extent of the story. That much I’m sure of.”

  Nikki shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She was starting to dislike Jennifer as much as she had Susan. She was an opportunist. Nikki knew that several of her family members could easily become just that if they learned that she was earning a decent figure these days.

  The front door slammed, and Jennifer’s head snapped around. Nikki turned to see the man who had accompanied Jennifer to the wedding the other day, all tall, muscular, good-looking in a kind of slimy way. Like a greased up Antonio Banderas. His dark eyes were shrouded with a long fringe of lashes. Damn, if he didn’t look like he’d just walked straight out of one of The Godfather flicks.

  He walked over and lifted Jennifer off her feet. “Hi, love muffin.”

  That was gross. Love muffin? Eeww.

  Jennifer laughed and then suddenly remembered that she was angry with him as she beat her fists into him. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “I’m sorry, baby.” He kissed her in what some would call a passionate kiss; to Nikki it was nothing short of disgusting. “I was in a meeting with the boss, and I told you before how that can go.”

  The boss. Nikki’s mind went into a tailspin as her imagination got carried away with her. What if Jennifer convinced her sister to include her in her will, then the boyfriend, old Paulo, who it sounded like had some kind of mafia connection—for God’s sakes, who emphasizes boss the way he just did?—and Jennifer decided to axe Susan and take the plush condo and whatever else they could get their hands on? And, now Nikki was standing right there in the middle of them. What if they turned on her because she was sniffing around? It wasn’t like Jennifer had held back any of her feelings toward her sister and the way she’d wormed her way into Susan’s will.

  Paulo’s gaze turned toward Nikki. “Who is this?” he asked in a smarmy way, trying in Nikki’s estimation to be charming. Not even on the chart.

  “Oh, her? That’s Nikki . . .”

  Nikki stretched out her hand and Paulo took it in his and kissed it. Double eeww! “Sands.” She finished the introduction for Jennifer.

  “Yeah, she’s got some questions about Susan. She doesn’t think that chick they threw in the slammer out in Sonoma did it. She’s her friend.” Jennifer cocked her head to the side, placed a hand on her jutted out hip, then picked up her glass for a drink of the vodka mix.

  Nikki tightened her purse strap over her shoulder. “I think I should probably be heading out. I know you two have plans.”

  “Wait a minute. Wait a freaking minute,” Jennifer said. “What the hell is this?” Nikki watched as Jennifer pointed out lipstick stains on Paulo’s white button-down. “You haven’t been in a meeting. You’ve been screwing someone else. I told you, Paulo. I freaking told you that if you pulled that shit again on me then you were a goner, and I freaking mean it. Damn you.” She slapped him hard across the face, and turned around, storming out of the room, vodka drink
still in hand. “And, by the time I walk back in here, you better be freaking gone!” A slam of the door resounded from the back of the condominium.

  Nikki tried to smile at Paulo. This was awkward.

  He turned to her. “Don’t worry about it. That’s nothing. She’ll be out in fifteen with a new outfit on, cause I set a present on the bed for her when I first came in. See, I snuck in first, put the present on the bed, and then came back and shut the front door, so she wouldn’t know. Now she’ll be all giddy, because there is nothing that woman likes more than gifts. She’ll forget all about being upset with me. Besides, it was just my secretary giving me a kiss good night, you know, like a friendly kiss on the cheek. Once Jen mellows out, I can explain it to her and she’ll get back with the program.”

  Sure, fella. Whatever. “I really need to get going. Can you tell her that I said goodbye?”

  “You don’t want to stick around? We’ll take you for some dinner. If you’ve got some questions about Susie, I can probably answer them. I know a thing or two about Miss High and Mighty.”

  This piqued Nikki’s interest, but, dammit, she really wanted to get the hell out of this place with the two wannabe Sopranos actors, and move on to her next freak show. Never in a million years would she have thought she would’ve looked forward to hanging out with the Boys of Summer at a drag queen show, but, by golly, at that moment that sounded like a top-of-the-line option. “That’s fine. I have plans for dinner already myself.”

  “Too bad.” He pulled out one of his cards and flipped it to her. “If you change your mind, give me a ring. We can meet up for lunch or something.” He winked at her.

  “Sure. Maybe I’ll do that.” Nikki headed for the door and didn’t breathe until she’d closed it behind her and headed down towards the square to mix in with the crowd milling around. She wanted to get far away from that condo, because those two inside that place were definitely nutcases, and possibly murderers as well.

  Chapter 16

  Before heading down to the lobby to meet the boys, Nikki placed another call to Blake Sorgensen. This time, to her surprise, he answered.

  “Nikki who?” he asked.

  “Sands. From the Waltman wedding. We sat at the same table. I’ve been trying to reach you for the past few days. It’s about Susan’s murder.”

  Nothing.

  “Mr. Sorgensen? Are you there?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, but I was unaware of this. I’ve been out of town for a few days. Did you say that Susan was murdered?”

  “I’m sorry. Yes. I’d like to have lunch with you and ask you a few things.”

  He did sound shocked, and without even asking her why she wanted to ask him anything, he agreed to a lunch date. She hung up and crossed her fingers that he’d show the following afternoon. The fact that he’d returned from Mexico could mean that he wasn’t involved with Susan’s murder, or maybe it meant that he’d taken his chances and once he’d discovered Isabel had been arrested for the murder, he’d returned from Cabo.

  Nikki sighed and put on a pair of khaki slacks and a black knit sweater set and took a look in the floor length mirror. Nope. Way too conservative for the company she’d be keeping tonight. Why not go all Moulin Rouge for Simon and Marco? There was an outfit she’d bought before moving to Napa that was a bit far out from her normal style, but it had been for a party for a trendy new designer in L.A. A rock star’s kid gone Donna Karan.

  The outfit was pretty cute, with a black silk skirt that pleated into the center, along with a dark rose-pink silk halter blouse that sported embroidery stitched in black and black pearl buttons down the front.

  Smiling to herself, she took the outfit up an extra notch with fish net stockings and full makeup. Why she’d brought the fishnets in the first place, she wasn’t sure. Some subconscious fantasy that involved the straight Malveaux brother. Subconscious? It was front and center. Instead, she’d be sporting her “Living La Vida Loca” apparel for a couple of gay guys who called her Goldilocks and fed her spiritual tidbits from a man who sounded like he was straight out of Disney’s version of Aladdin. The boys wouldn’t recognize her, and they’d either laugh hysterically or love it.

  They loved it so much when she entered the lobby that they gasped and then started clapping.

  “Oh, my God, a woman really does exist in there,” Simon remarked. “All this time we thought you were only a sweet girl, but look at you.”

  Marco twirled her around. “Our baby is all grown up. But how do we know she’s really a woman?” He winked at her. “You do look wonderful.”

  She laughed. Was she actually warming up to these two? They were kind of fun and yes, charming. They bought her a glass of wine before heading out on their escapade to the drag queen show at Club Rendez-Vous, which turned out to be far more fun than Nikki anticipated. They all laughed hysterically when they saw that one of the drag queens on the stage bore a strong resemblance to Tara Beckenroe. Tara was the Napa Valley gossip and a staff writer for Winemaker Magazine. She had also made it her ambition in life to get into Derek’s pants and pocketbook. When Nikki had first come on board at Malveaux, Tara had not so subtly explained that she had every intention of winding up as Mrs. Malveaux. She’d given Nikki strict orders to keep her distance from Derek. Nikki made a point, in return, to ignore Tara.

  “She so looks like the Wicked Witch of the East!” Simon roared. “Has she been bugging you as of late, Goldilocks? I know how she likes to get under your skin.”

  “She does have this wild thing for Derek,” Marco added, and then took a sip from his mojito, which they were drinking in abundance. Nikki was feeling no pain, but probably would in the morning. The mere mention of Tara’s name usually brought on a dull headache all by itself, but tonight she was having a grand old time and not even the mention of her nemesis could ruin it.

  “Does she ever,” Simon replied. “What do you think of that? Scare you any?”

  “No way. She’s no competition.”

  “Ah ha!” Simon pointed at Nikki and waved a finger at her. “I knew you were in love with my brother.”

  “I am not.”

  “You are so.”

  She was saved as “I Will Survive,” by Gloria Gaynor started playing and a large black woman dressed in gold lamé and fake diamonds entered and worked the room, which went wild with hoots and hollers.

  After the show was over, the boys wanted to continue on, but Nikki was feeling tired and knew that she had plenty more in store for her through the weekend and needed to wake with as clear a head as possible. The boys gave her a kiss goodnight and promised to do breakfast in the a.m.

  She took a cab, and a few blocks away from the hotel, had the driver let her off at Union Square so she could grab a cup of java and then walk the rest of the way, wanting some peace, fresh air, and a bit of exercise. She bought her non-fat mocha and started back to The Clift. The streets in this section were somewhat quiet and empty, as it was a weekend night and most folks were still whooping it up inside the restaurants and clubs.

  She crossed the street at the corner of Geary and Taylor Street and was almost to the other side when a car tore around the block, its tires squealing against the pavement. It headed straight for her, its headlights flashed on high beam, reflecting off the darkened asphalt and nearly blinding her. The engine revved, and without any time to think, she dove to the curb as the car continued to speed down the way. A doorman from the hotel ran over to her.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” He scooped her up.

  A large scrape ran down the side of her right arm, the one she dove onto, and her skirt and stockings were torn up the side. He lifted her to her feet as she nodded, but she wasn’t so sure for a minute. Her body took on an almost numb-like feeling as she stared down the street where the car had raced away.

  “I think so,” she replied, hearing the tremor in her voice. “I’m a little tattered, but I think I’m okay. Did you see the car?”

  “No. I’m sorry, I didn’t. I was c
losing the door behind someone and all I heard was the screeching of the tires. I turned around and saw you lying there. Aren’t you staying with us? I recognize you from earlier.”

  She nodded again.

  He helped her inside the hotel. “We should really call the police,” he told her.

  She knew he was right, but in reality what could the police do? She didn’t get a good look at the car herself. Before it tore around the corner she’d had her head down and was lost in thought. By the time she’d made the dive for the curb, she couldn’t see anything in the lights. Then it was over so fast, whoever it was had taken off. It was probably some drunk who hadn’t even seen her. Deep down, she wondered if that was really the case.

  “No, that’s okay. I’m sure the police are swamped, with it being a Friday night.”