by Alice Duncan
"Really?" She turned from the mirror and squinted at me.
"Really."
With a shrug, she said, "Then it's yours."
"Thanks, Gladys."
She and I returned to the living room, where Sam, Dr. Fellowes, Dr. Malton, Mr. Davidson, three other Cal Tech students, and Frank were going over everyone's duties for the evening. I noticed Sam frown and brush at his chest, and I felt my eyes open wide. Was the murderer in that bunch of people? And was Sam's juju telling him so?
Hmm. I'd have to think of a way to get Sam alone with each person and see what his juju did when confronted with the suspects individually. Sam would never believe his juju was pinpointing the murderer, of course, but I'd think of some way to make the villain confess. My money was on Dr. Malton, because I disliked him intensely and he was a cad and a bounder.
Sam gestured for me to join him and the crew, so I did.
"Mrs. Majesty, you know Dr. Fellowes, Dr. Malton and Mr. Davidson, I believe," said he in a formal manner.
"Yes." I smiled at the men. "Nice to see you gentlemen." I used the word gentlemen in its broadest sense.
"Lovely to see you again, too," said Dr. Malton, grabbing my hand and kissing it.
I snatched it away from him before Sam could pop him one. I saw him scowling at the bad doctor.
"Behave yourself," said Dr. Fellowes, frowning at his colleague in his turn.
"Tut, tut, fellows. I can't help but admire a beautiful woman."
"No, you sure can't," came the waspish voice of a female outside the circle of people I'd joined. I turned to see a lovely woman in an extremely low-cut costume consisting of a fitted top and billowy—and nearly transparent—trousers. She wore a whole lot of clanking jewelry with her costume and red slippers that curled up at the toes. I couldn't identify the country from which her costume originated, but I'm sure Harold could have told me. I didn't ask.
"Ah," said Dr. Malton, stepping back a pace. "Virginia. Come here, my dear. Allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Majesty, who will be our fortune-teller tonight."
Virginia Malton slithered up to the men and gave me a smile she didn't mean. "How do you do, Mrs. Majesty?" She held out her hand.
I shook it heartily and said, "I'm fine, thank you. Please let me introduce you to my fiancé, Detective Sam Rotondo." I put special emphasis on the fiancé part of that sentence.
"Ah. You're engaged," she whispered suggestively. I swear, she and Dr. Malton deserved each other. "How nice."
She held her hand out for Sam to shake, which he did. Once. Then he let her hand drop as if it were a hot rock.
Merciful heavens, she wasn't the murderer, was she? I squinted at Sam's chest, but he only swatted at it once, and I don't think it was because of Virginia Malton.
"And this is Detective Rotondo's nephew, Frank Pagano," I told Virginia.
As Frank's tongue practically hung out of his mouth and he gaped at Mrs. Malton's cleavage, I presumed she'd have better luck with him should she be bent upon seduction this evening.
"Mr. Pagano," she whispered suggestively.
"Yes," said Frank, gawping.
Sam smacked him upside the head and said, "Get to the kitchen and start bringing out the food."
Frank jerked himself out of his Virginia Malton-induced stupor, stood to attention and said, "Yes, sir." And, by golly, he did as Sam had ordered.
"You, too," Sam said to the other students.
They all straightened like soldiers and saluted him. Then they, too, left to perform their duties. I was impressed. Sam was a formidable fellow when he wanted to be. Sam made one last swipe at his chest, but I couldn't determine which man had produced the telling heat.
"Why don't the two of you stick together tonight," Sam suggested to Dr. Malton and his wife. "We don't want any trouble."
"Trouble?" said Dr. Malton as if he were shocked and dismayed.
"Yes. Trouble," said Sam briefly. "Keep away from women who aren't your wife. And you," he said, turning to Virginia, "stay away from men who aren't your husband. This is a party, not an orgy."
"Absolutely correct," said Dr. Fellowes as if he wished he'd thought to issue the order himself.
I noticed Sam's hand stayed at his side.
"Well!" said Virginia Malton.
Gladys, who had joined us, said, "You know it's true. Both of you act like alley cats. This is our home, and I don't want any monkey business tonight."
"Well!" said Virginia Malton again.
My impressedness was aimed at Gladys that time.
"Come along, my dear," said Dr. Malton, his sugary voice a trifle sour. He took his wife's arm, and the two of them moseyed off to a corner where, I'm sure, they told spiteful stories to each other about the awful detective and his fortune-telling fiancée. And probably Gladys and Homer Fellowes, too.
"Well done, you two," said Harold, grinning from ear to ear. "I've never seen two people put in their places quite so well."
"Yes," said Dr. Fellowes, smiling fondly down upon his wife, who blushed up a storm. "You were wonderful, Gladys. Those two really get under my skin."
Gladys clutched his arm and smiled up at him. "I was afraid you'd be annoyed if I spoke up."
"Good God, no. It's past time those two started behaving themselves."
"Right," said Sam in a no-nonsense voice. "I expect people will begin arriving soon, so the two or you will probably want to stay by the door. That kid—what's his name? Johnson? Jackson?—anyway, he'll answer the door, but you need to be there to tell my officer who's who."
The officer, Doan, whom I'd met many times before, had come to the party as—ta-da!—a policeman! I told Sam I thought that was an inspired choice of costume for his man.
"Yeah, well, the people attending this shindig won't know he's not really in costume."
"Precisely." I sighed as I looked around. Canapés had been set out on various tables, and a long table had been placed against the far wall of the living room, where more food was arranged. Harold had outdone himself by the looks of it. It was a sure thing no one would leave the party hungry. "All right. I'm going to my table. I hope you get the person tonight, Sam."
"So do I."
His cane detracted only slightly from the senatorial image he presented. Overall, he looked as if he were in charge of the entire party. I hoped to heck Frank wouldn't steal anything.
People showed up in droves. I was a little surprised, not having previously pegged genius scientists as having the souls of party-goers. Shows how much I knew.
Robert Browning and Regina Petrie arrived looking darling together. He was dressed as a devil, and Regina had dressed as a witch. I squealed, "You both look adorable!" Then I felt silly. But I was so excited to see the two of them together and looking as though they truly belonged together.
Naturally, Regina blushed. "Thank you. Robert got both costumes for us."
"I sure did," said Robert, twirling his pointed red tail in his hand. "I found them at a junk shop on Fair Oaks and Walnut. I think it was the Salvation Army. They actually had several costumes. I thought these two went together well. Isn't Reggie lovely?"
Reggie? Better and better. "Absolutely!" I said.
"Thank you, Daisy." Still blushing, Regina walked off arm in arm with Robert. I was pleased. Her pointy witch's hat looked cunning on her newly marcelled hairdo. And her long black dress made her look slim and svelte. Good work. Reggie. I giggled to myself and got to work.
My table was probably the hit of the entire evening. Everyone, or so it seemed, wanted me to read my crystal ball, do a tarot reading or fiddle with the Ouija board. By the time two hours had passed, I was dying of thirst and about to throttle everyone in the room. Before that happened, fortunately, Sam rescued me.
"You need a break. Come here and have some punch and some of these things. I don't know what they are, but they're good." He held out a plate upon which rested some little toasted round pieces of bread with something grayish on top, garnished with a couple of little green roundish things ea
ch.
Doubtful but hungry, I took one of the little toast rounds and bit into it. "Oh, my, this is good!"
"Told you so," said Sam. "Come on and get some lemonade and some more food. You must be hungry."
"I'm starving. Those two little chicken sandwiches and six grapes I ate wore off an hour or so ago."
Sam led me to the long table against the wall and handed me an empty plate. I proceeded to fill it with more of the toast rounds. Harold came over, and I asked him what the topping was made of.
"Chopped chicken livers and capers."
"Oh. Are the capers those little round green things?"
Rolling his eyes, Harold said, "Yes, Daisy. Hasn't your aunt fed you a caper before now?"
"I don't know," I told him honestly. "But I really like the chopped chicken livers set off with the salty capers."
"I do believe you're developing a palate, Daisy Gumm Majesty," said Harold.
"Cripes," said Sam. "I didn't know those were chopped chicken livers." He made a face.
"You liked them before Harold told you what they were," I said.
"True," said he, and took a few more of them.
I added a couple of tiny sandwiches to my plate, some olives, some carrot sticks, took the lemonade Sam held out to me, and retired to a corner of the living room with him and Harold.
Chapter 33
After I'd had my fill of chicken-liver things, sandwich things, and carrots and had drunk most of my lemonade, I sighed and asked, "So, have you discovered anything yet?"
"Yeah," said Sam. "Most Cal Tech people are as nutty as anybody else."
"That's not helpful. Did you discover whom it was who heated up your juju?"
"Cripes. You're not going to start with that again, are you?"
"Juju?" said Harold, looking intrigued.
"She'll tell you all about it later," said Sam.
"Good," said Harold.
"Don't fib to me, Sam Rotondo. I saw you bat at your juju when you were with those people from Cal Tech before the party started."
He frowned. Then he said, as if he didn't want to, "Yeah. It got hot when I was with those Cal Tech folks."
"Fascinating," said Harold. Then he leaped to his feet. "Better see to it that the waiters keep that long table filled."
"See you later," said I. Then I said to Sam, "You need to talk to them individually and find out which one of them makes it get hot."
He rolled his eyes at me much as Harold had done moments before. "Even if I find one person who makes the stupid juju heat up, that's not proof the person is a murderer."
"I suppose not." I hated to admit it. "So what are you doing to find the culprit?"
He shrugged. "Watching. Asking questions. Annoying the hell out of people."
"Any people in particular?"
"Malton's wife, for one."
I sat up straight in my chair. "Did she try to seduce you?"
"Not precisely."
"The hussy!"
"I guess. So what does that make him?"
"A male hussy?"
Sam grinned. "I don't think there's a term quite like hussy for a man."
"There should be," I said, irked on behalf of women everywhere. How come we get called names when men don't? I mean roué, cad, and heel don't come close to hussy, strumpet, whore, and "fallen woman". Life just isn't fair, darn it.
"Probably," said Sam. "But I'd better get moving."
"Where's Frank?"
Glancing around as if hoping to spot his miscreant nephew, Sam frowned and said, "I don't know. He'd better be in the kitchen or somewhere he's supposed to be or I'll kill him."
"I'll look for him," I said. "I really need to stretch my legs a little."
"Don't get into trouble."
Because the gesture seemed to be going around that night, I rolled my eyes at him. "I won't."
I walked down one of the hallways in the Felloweses' home, glancing into different rooms as I passed. No Frank. I made a special trip to the kitchen. No Frank.
Darn that little twerp anyway! If he was casing the joint for stuff to steal, I'd kill him and save Sam the trouble. I tried not to stomp as I went up the stairs and started down the hallway to the various bedrooms.
Hearing a sort-of-quiet commotion going on one of them, I paused, tiptoed closer to the door and listened with all my might.
"How dare you!" Virginia Malton.
"Don't be ridiculous, Virginia!" Dr. Malton.
"She's not being ridiculous, you monster!" came a voice the owner of which I couldn't identify, although it sounded kind of familiar. "She had your baby!"
I heard a loud smack. Then Dr. Malton said, "Ow! Damn it, Virginia!"
"Don't you 'damn it, Virginia' me, you louse! You fathered her baby? I want a divorce!"
"That's not the only thing, either," came the familiar but un-place-able voice. "You stole my research, wrote a paper, and took credit for the whole damned thing! You stole my research!"
"Don't be stupid, Davidson."
Davidson. Ah. Now I recognized the voice.
"That's the way academia works, young man. You help with the research. I, as the professor in charge, can add your name to the credits if I wish, but it's not required."
"Help with the research, my foot! I worked myself to death for you, and you didn't even mention me in that book you wrote! You're a thief as well as a stinking woman-chaser."
"Yes, he is," said Virginia, who had begun to sob. "He's despicable! A cad! A vile seducer! A villain!"
Dramatic and a trifle old-fashioned, although nothing but the truth, I reckon.
"Well, you can use all the research I've done for your precious project, Malton, and you'll make a total ass of yourself, because you'll only look like a fool when you publish."
"What are you talking about?" demanded Malton.
"You'll see. And just because I hate you, I'll make sure you're the only one who looks like a fool."
"Listen to me, young man, If you—"
"Don't threaten me, you! I'll get you. Just like I got Jeffreys."
"Jeffreys?" came Dr. Malton's voice. "What do you mean?"
"This is what I mean, damn you!"
Virginia Malton screamed.
"Shut up, you. He deserves a knife to his heart. If he has a heart, which I doubt."
Good Lord. Carefully, I peeked around the door into the room and saw a wild-eyed Mr. Davidson with a very long, very serviceable knife in his hand. "And you'll be next, Virginia," snarled Davidson. "You're as bad as he is. I saw you with that toga-fellow. You're both evil."
"No!" shrieked Virginia.
Unfortunately for yours truly, nobody else could hear what was going on in that room because someone had begun playing the brand-new Victor Talking Machine Player Gladys had bought especially for this party, and it sounded as if folks had begun dancing. The strains of "The Charleston" blared above the noise in the room, and a whole lot of stomping commenced belowstairs.
In other words, I didn't know what to do. I didn't dare leave my position at the door and shout for Sam. He probably wouldn't hear me, and anyway, things in that room sounded as if they were too far along for any kind of delay.
And then Frank sidled out of a room across the hall from me. He was carrying a pretty little ornamental picture frame of Gladys and Homer at their wedding that I'd noticed in Gladys's bedroom earlier. As soon as he saw me, he stuffed the frame in his jacket pocket and tried to look innocent. Then he heard the noise from the room filled with the Maltons and the murderous Davidson.
"What's going on?" asked he.
Glowering at him for all I was worth, I hissed, "Somebody's getting killed in there." I pointed to the room.
Frank, being the toad he was, whirled around, preparing to run for it. I grabbed his coattails and stopped his forward progress. Then, because I was scared and furious and probably out of my mind, I shoved him into the room holding the Maltons and Davidson.
"Hey!" Frank hollered.
"Hey yoursel
f!" said I, rushing into the room after him, and taking advantage of everyone's astonishment to butt Mr. Davidson in the stomach with my head. The knife flew from his hand, and he doubled up, clutching his stomach.
And then, because I didn't expect Davidson to stay incapacitated for too long, I told Frank, "Hang on to this man. Don't let him go! Punch him if you need to."
He didn't actually need to, but Frank punched Mr. Davidson in the face so hard, he bounced against the wall and fell down.
I pointed to Dr. Malton. "You! Sit on him! I'm getting Sam. Frank, you help him! You," I said, pointing at Virginia, "don't move a step. In fact, don't any of you dare to move or I'll have you arrested for abetting a murderer."
Frank said, "Hey!" But he stayed in the room.
To my utter amazement, Dr. Malton took me at my word and sat on Mr. Davidson.
I bellowed, "And don't any of you touch that knife, or I'll have you arrested for obstruction!" Whatever obstruction was in police parlance. Then I took off like the proverbial bat out of hell, tearing along the hall, thundering down the staircase, and grabbing Sam's arm. Fortunately, he was standing at the foot of the stairs, glaring around, probably looking for his errant nephew.
Stumbling a little because I yanked on him hard, Sam said, "What the—?"
"Upstairs!" I panted. "It's Davidson!"
"What's Davidson?" He limped as fast as he could after me. I guess his laurel wreath had slipped when I grabbed him, because it sagged over one side of his face. He shoved it back as we both scuttled up the staircase.
"He's the murderer, darn you!" It wasn't fair of me to darn Sam, but I was upset.
"Doan! Follow me!" bellowed Sam.
After jumping only slightly, Doan didn't argue. He followed Sam and me up the stairs at a fast clip.
We got to the room just in time to prevent Virginia Malton from battering her husband to death. He still sat on Davidson, and was trying to cover his head with his hands. Frank was attempting to grab her hands, but was having no luck. Davidson was groaning under Dr. Malton's weight.
"Doan," said Sam. "Get that woman out of here."
Doan did so, although Mrs. Malton didn't make it easy on him. When one of her breasts bounced out of her skimpy top, she had to pause and stick herself back into it, however, and Doan managed to handcuff her. She screamed about that, but nobody cared.
