Murder Most Frothy

by Cleo Coyle

“I wasn’t there, at the Fourth of July party. I wasn’t there for him. I had a date, you see—”

  “A date?”

  “Shhh!” Alberta said. “I don’t want David to know. He never would have approved my entertaining a gentleman overnight in the mansion. It’s nothing serious, really. Only a summer fling.”

  “So that’s why you were dressed so nicely, with makeup and jewelry? That’s why I heard voices in your room?”

  “Please don’t tell him, Clare.”

  “Alberta, my lips are sealed.”

  From inside the house I heard a struggle, then Kenny’s voice. “Let me go, you asshole!”

  I entered the kitchen, which was more crowded than I’d expected. Joy and Graydon Faas had arrived. They’d come to the kitchen, drawn to the commotion, no doubt.

  “Why did you do it?” Jim demanded of his partner.

  Before I could step in, Jim Rand lashed out, slapping his partner hard across the face. Kenny Darnell reeled from the blow. Then he stood tall, spit blood, and sneered. “Screw you, Rand.”

  “Now, now,” David fretted, wringing his hands.

  Thomas Gurt continued to grip the cuffed prisoner by the arms, his face remained impassive.

  Jim saw my shocked expression. For a flashing moment, he looked sheepish. “He won’t talk.”

  I stepped forward, until my eyes caught Kenny Darnell’s. He was a good-looking man with dark, curly hair, a squarish face, and an even tan. His defiant blue gaze met mine.

  “Jim,” I said, holding Darnell’s gaze, “you don’t have to make him talk. I’ve already figured out what’s going on and I’m going to tell Detective O’Rourke everything.”

  “You don’t know shit, bitch,” Kenny replied.

  Jim stepped up and raised his hand again. I put myself between them.

  “Oh, god,” David moaned, stroking his temples.

  “Listen to me, Kenny. I know you lied and told Jim that your mother was sick in Queens. It gave you an alibi for being far away from the Hamptons when the shootings occurred. You knew your mother would lie for you. You also needed someone to frame for the murder.” I turned to face Jim. “Who better to pin it on than you, Jim Rand, his own partner. By using your MO, the wet suit, the flippers, Kenny knew he could implicate you in the crime. He was probably planning on hiding that rifle among your personals. Some friend, huh?”

  “Shut your mouth—” Kenny began.

  “You shut yours, Darnell,” Jim warned. “Or I swear to god—”

  “Two problems arose,” I quickly cut in. “First, Kenny killed the wrong man. Then the storm swept in on the night of the murder and washed away the flipper prints. The cops had no evidence beyond the casings Kenny deliberately left at the scene. Now Kenny had a problem. He still had to kill David and pin it on you, Jim, so for Treat’s murder he had to go to plan B and frame someone else.”

  “You mean, this man framed that drug dealer the police arrested?” David asked.

  “Yes,” I said and turned to Rand. “Jim, didn’t you tell me that Kenny took photos for the police—traffic accident photos, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right, Clare.”

  “So Kenny knows the score out here with the cops,” I said. “He probably has friends among them, so he knew what was going on with the investigation into Treat’s murder. He knew they wanted to solve the crime fast, pin it on a shooter. He also knew from his policemen friends that Treat had drug connections. I’m guessing it was Mr. Darnell himself who tipped the police about the rifle in the drug dealer’s trunk—the guy in Hampton Bays. It was you who tipped them, wasn’t it, Kenny? What did you do, make an anonymous phone call?”

  Kenny sneered. “You think you’re so smart.”

  I nodded. “Smarter than you, it seems to me, because I never thought Treat’s murder was solved. The police did. They dropped their guard. So did David. Now you could strike again and get the job done right.”

  I faced Jim Rand again. “Tonight, Kenny used your MO like last time, only this time, he made sure to do it on a night with no storm. And, as I said, he was probably going to stash tonight’s rifle among your belongings.”

  Jim shook his head. “Why, Kenny? We had a good thing going.”

  Kenny’s face twisted in disgust. “We had nothing going. This business was my idea from the beginning. I brought you in. But you were always expendable.”

  “You were a washout, you prick. In the SEALs and out. You ran up debts with your sports betting, couldn’t get a loan from a bank, or don’t you remember? I was the one who put up the capital for the equipment, the rentals.”

  “Yeah, well, this business was my idea,” Kenny said, “and I decided I didn’t want to split my profits anymore.”

  “You punk, you ran up sports betting debts again, didn’t you?” Jim said, closing in on his partner. “You were desperate for money. So desperate you had to do something like this.”

  Darnell looked away. “I didn’t know how the hell I was going to get rid of you without making you my competitor. So I decided to kill two birds with one stone. Make a little extra money and send you away for a while. So I put an ad in Soldier of Fortune and I got a bite—to kill David Mintzer.”

  “Oh, gawd,” David moaned.

  Despite David’s distress, I could see this interrogation was actually going pretty well. The only thing I needed to hear now, the only thing we all needed to hear, was Kenny confess who had hired him. I folded my arms, shook my head, and began to pace.

  “Kenny, the only thing I can’t figure out,” I said, “is why your first attempt was during a big party. You could have killed David on the beach, on the street, anywhere—”

  “Oh, gawd,” David moaned again.

  Kenny smirked at me. “So you’re not so smart.”

  “I don’t know, Kenny. Doing your hit at a big party like that. All that room for error. The chance of getting caught?” I turned to Jim. “Maybe your partner washed out of the SEALs for a reason. Maybe he’s just stupid.”

  “Shows what you know, bitch,” Kenny spat. “It’s what my client wanted.”

  “So Bom Felloes was the stupid one?”

  “Yeah, it was his idea to shoot David at his own party. He wanted to kill two birds with one stone too. David would be dead. And the public shooting would start rumors, ruin David’s businesses by making it look like someone from organized crime wanted him dead. Like he was mobbed up.”

  “OOOOOOH!”

  Alberta rushed to David’s side, to comfort him. It was obvious the reality check was just too much for the man.

  “Too bad you failed to kill the right guy,” said Jim. “You had to come back and try again. Guess you weren’t up to the mission, after all, eh, partner?”

  “Go to hell, Rand. I would have done the job just fine. If it wasn’t for you, this asshole would be dead now.”

  Jim snorted. “You give me undo credit, pal. It wasn’t me who nailed you.” His eyes found mine. “It was Clare.”

  I sighed, relieved beyond belief we’d gotten a confession without more bloodshed. Hadn’t David Mintzer been through enough without having to endure more crimson stains on his beautiful floors?

  Unfortunately, the interrogation wasn’t quite over yet.

  I turned to Graydon and Joy, who’d been watching everything in wide-eyed silence. I didn’t take pleasure in involving my daughter in all of this; but, as it turned out, she had already involved herself. Please, please, my darling daughter, learn this now: when you make your choices, you have to live with the consequences.

  I stepped up to Graydon Faas, looked him in the eye, and asked, “Why were you talking to Bom Felloes this afternoon, Graydon? And why were you visiting his home tonight?”

  Graydon appeared defiant for a moment, until he saw the way my daughter Joy was watching him with a mixture of horror and disgust. Suddenly his chest sank.

  “I needed money,” he said.

  “But your family is wealthy.”

  “Richer than you know
,” Graydon said. “But they disowned me several years ago, when I dropped out of college to be a surf instructor. They said they didn’t like my lifestyle choices, so I told them to shove their money.”

  “How did you hook up with Felloes?”

  “I met Bom at a club. He already knew I was waiting tables for extra cash at Cuppa J. He set me up with some good coke and a stack of Benjamins for doing him one little favor on July Fourth. I slipped David Mintzer something that would give him a migraine. Payback for losing the restaurant—that’s what Bom told me. I had no idea anyone was going to get shot. After it happened, Bom told me it was just a weird coincidence that someone wanted to murder Treat. He called me every so often for more information on David…I was so worried about Bom blackmailing me, getting me into trouble, I just gave him what he asked for. When he called today, I thought he wanted more info. Instead, he just offered me more cash and coke for helping him. I drove over to get it, then Joy freaked out and we came here—”

  “You’re lucky,” I told Graydon. “After tonight, Bom wouldn’t have needed you anymore for information on David, and I think he was trying to make sure you never talked to the police.”

  “What do you mean never talked—”

  “She means he was going to kill you, stupid,” Jim snapped. “That cocaine he was going to give you? I watched him cut it with something. It was probably laced with enough PCP to fry every molecule in your brainpan. Smarten up, kid.”

  “Oh, my god,” said Joy.

  I heard sirens screaming—despite the disturbance to the neighbors. I glanced at Jim. “The police.”

  TWO hours later, things had calmed down again at “Leisure with Dignity.” The police had taken Kenny Darnell and Graydon Faas into custody. Thomas Gurt went with the cops to assist in pulling Bom Felloes out of his luxurious Sandcastle and depositing him behind bars (the metal kind). We all gave our statements and were told the detectives would follow up with us the next day.

  Madame had come home by now, and she was sitting with Joy, David, and Alberta in the mansion’s great room, hearing the tale of Kenny’s capture from beginning to end. Everyone was agitated and upset and would likely be up half the night.

  Jim Rand hadn’t said much during the hours the police were here. Now that they’d gone, he stepped through the back door of the mansion, onto the cedar deck. I followed him outside.

  “Jim? Are you okay?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, shook his head. “The DA will want the big fish. If Graydon and Kenny testify against Bom, their sentences will be plead out to relatively minor time, and that’s better than that son of a bitch partner of mine deserves.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” He turned to look at me. “Wow, Clare. That’s disappointing.”

  I blinked. “Disappointing?”

  “Hell yeah.” A slow smile spread across his rugged face. “And here I thought you’d be grateful.”

  EPILOGUE

  YOU know, I’m going to miss the way you smell,” said Jim, nibbling my ear.

  “How do I smell?” I asked.

  “I never told you?”

  “No.”

  “Like freshly roasted coffee.”

  “Oh, that’s a surprise, I mean, given the hours I spend in the Village Blend roasting room. But that’s just one of the perks of my job.”

  “Clare, that is so bad.”

  Jim Rand had his arms wrapped around me. We were happily naked, in the double bed of his yacht’s cabin. He’d finally made enough money by the end of summer to have bought his own.

  It was early September. The summer season was officially over, and I’d already moved back to the city. But Jim had convinced me to drive out from Manhattan to enjoy one more Hamptons sunset with him—and sunrise too.

  We had seen many sunrises together since Treat’s murder was solved. After the wave of publicity had passed and things had calmed down, Jim had shown up late one night at Cuppa J. He’d ordered an espresso to go, then asked me to go with it. I did, deciding at last to have a summer fling of my very own.

  But the summer was over now.

  “You know what I never got about that whole Mintzer thing?” Jim said. “What was the deal with your wanting all these close-ups of Marjorie Bright lurking around the man’s mansion on July Fourth?”

  “David’s trees,” I informed him, tracing the outline on his SEAL tattoo. “They partially blocked her view of the ocean. In my opinion, she was smoking like crazy, trying to burn them down with one of her butts. Probably figured David would think a stray spark from one of the fireworks caused it.”

  “How neighborly.”

  “Well, as it turned out, your recon photos helped resolve that little war.”

  “How’s that?”

  “David’s lawyer showed shots of Marjorie lurking around David’s property to Marjorie’s lawyer. He threatened to charge her with trespassing and attempted arson. So she pulled back her lawsuits against David and his trees. And in return David agreed to trim the tops and sides of the things.”

  “What’s wrong with looking at trees?” Jim asked. “Trees are good, aren’t they? They attract birds…when they’re not migrating.”

  I sighed. “That’s what you’re going to do, isn’t it? Migrate? I mean, now that the celebrity shooting season is officially over, you’re heading south for the winter just like the birds, right?”

  Jim caressed my shoulder, kissed the nape of my neck. “I’d ask you to come with me, but I know you won’t.”

  I laughed. “You won’t ask me to go with you because you’re worried I might. You’re just like my ex.”

  Jim didn’t hesitate. “Come with me.”

  “Can’t. I have a life in New York. But you can send me a postcard from paradise.”

  “Maybe you’ll visit? I’m going to miss your coffee, you know?” He nuzzled my hair.

  “Well, you know where to get a good cuppa,” I reminded him. “Manhattan is a port city, too.”

  “Okay, that’s a deal. Just remember one thing, okay?”

  “What?”

  “I’m guessing solving murders is a bad little habit you’re not going to give up anytime soon. So if you get into trouble—”

  “Just whistle?”

  “No.” He sat up, reached for his jeans on the back of a nearby chair. After fishing in a pocket, he pulled out his card, pressed it into my palm. “Use the cell phone.”

  I laughed. Frankly, I didn’t know what good a cell phone call would be to a man one thousand miles away, but I tucked the card into my wallet anyway, like a souvenir. On some gray winter day, I’d probably pull it out by accident and suddenly remember the time I’d spent on this desirable bit of acreage, this irresistible little plot someone like me could visit but never own.

  I smiled at Jim, snuggled under the covers, and pulled his arms back around me. What was owning anyway? I found myself wondering. You couldn’t own a person. You couldn’t even own land, really. The Earth itself was just a rental. Our time on it was basically one big share. I thought of Bom and David, Kenny and Jim, Marjorie and her ocean view, even myself and Matt.

  “Why so quiet all of sudden? What are you thinking?” Jim’s voice sounded tense.

  “Oh, it’s nothing. I was just wondering if the quality of our lives doesn’t simply boil down to whether or not we can all get along in the same house.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Forget it,” I told him. “Explaining would take too long. And we only have a few more hours until sunrise.”

  After a pause, Jim whispered, “Clare…”

  “Yes?”

  “Now that I’m leaving…are you sorry? Sorry we got together?”

  There was defensiveness in his tone, as if he expected me to turn on him now. As if he’d gone through some ugly good-bye scenes with women in the past, and he expected the same from me.

  He wasn’t going to get it.

  There comes an age in life when you realize that blaming
and regretting are a waste of precious time. Some thrills were worth weathering the inevitable crash. And in the end, as Madame and Joy had tried to tell me all season long, a summer fling didn’t have to be a crime.

  “No, Jim, I’m not sorry,” I said. “After what we’ve both been through, don’t you think the time we have, whether long or short, is something we should just make the most of?”

  “I do, Clare,” he said, turning me in his arms. “I do.”