A Toast to Murder

by Allyson K. Abbott

  “Does that mean we aren’t invited to the private party?” Ryan said, looking at me with puppy-dog eyes. “Despite whatever Malachi here might’ve told you, we’re domesticated, and we can behave.”

  “Of course, you’d be welcome any time under normal circumstances,” I said. “But this party is a bit unusual. And it might prove to be dangerous, as well.”

  “We O’Reillys aren’t afraid of danger,” Ryan said boastfully.

  “It isn’t a game,” Mal said. “It’s actually part of a murder investigation. And just so you know, it’s imperative that none of you mention the fact that I’m a cop to anyone. I didn’t think you’d be here this soon and hoped this case would be resolved by the time you arrived. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.”

  “Ooh,” Colleen said, her eyes growing big. “A real-life mystery? Can this trip get any better?”

  “Hey, you never know,” Patrick said with a shrug. “Several fresh pairs of eyes might help you figure out a mystery.”

  Mal and I exchanged looks. I didn’t know what to tell them, so I simply shrugged. “Fill them in on what’s going on,” I told Mal. “If they want to be at the party, it’s fine by me.” I shifted my gaze to the rest of the O’Reilly clan. “Have you had anything for lunch yet?” I asked them.

  They shook their heads.

  “How about I fix you up something to eat then?”

  “That would be great, Mack,” Connor said. “Thank you very much.”

  I turned and headed for the kitchen, leaving the O’Reillys to discuss their future plans among themselves.

  After explaining to Debra who the new arrivals were, I had her order them sandwiches, fries, a couple of small pizzas, some cheese curds—a Wisconsin specialty—and an assortment of soft drinks. I went with her to deliver them and wasn’t too surprised when Mal took me aside and informed me that his family intended to stay for the private New Year’s Eve party, despite the risks.

  “I tried my best to discourage them,” he told me, “but they see it as some big adventure. They’re looking forward to it and think it will be fun.” He smiled and shook his head woefully. “My family has a unique way of looking at things,” he said almost apologetically. “Who knows? Maybe it will help.”

  I spent the rest of the day decorating the bar for the party and making sure all the other arrangements were in place. It was a quiet, peaceful day, bereft of any drama. I tried to enjoy it, but it was hard to relax. Underlying my every thought and action was an awareness that the letter writer was out there, angry, and threatening.

  On the off chance that we were wrong about the person who was working with Suzanne being a member of the Capone Club, I eyed every customer who came in with a wary, inquisitive eye, trying to determine if I’d seen them here before, and if so, what their behavior had been. No one leaped out at me, which was both encouraging and depressing. If the second person wasn’t a stranger I didn’t know about, it meant someone close to me, someone I trusted, was a coldhearted, scheming killer. The very thought made my heart ache.

  Around one in the morning, the O’Reillys called it a night and settled in for some food and drink. They were an entertaining bunch, laughing, teasing one another, and sharing amusing anecdotes about Mal. I adored all of them.

  Mal said good night to them when closing time came, and I sent my staff members out the door at the same time, telling them I’d do the closing cleanup stuff. Tyrese and Nick had both come in that evening, and they generously offered to escort people to their cars. While I was comfortable with Tyrese performing this function, I was less so when it came to Nick. But I wasn’t sure how to communicate that fact to Tyrese without offending him.

  Mal once again came to my rescue, sensing my discomfort and the cause of it, and offering to accompany Nick and the others as they left. When he returned, he helped me finish the closing duties, working at my side and sharing information about this family. It was a relaxing and fun time, and with the two of us safe behind locked and closed doors, I was actually able to forget all the frightening realities for a short while.

  But by the time we headed upstairs to my apartment, it all came crashing back in on me. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

  Chapter 22

  New Year’s Eve day dawned cold but sunny. As the day wore on, however, a cadre of thick, white clouds rimmed in an ominous gray moved in over the city.

  I slept until a little after nine, and once again, Mal had beaten me out of bed, leaving a note explaining that his family was due around nine and they would get straight to work on the elevator project.

  He’d left me a pot of coffee, but I felt a little disappointed that we wouldn’t be sharing one another’s company over breakfast. I whipped myself up some scrambled eggs and toast, and feeling festive over the holiday despite the grim circumstances that would be tainting my party later, I decided to celebrate and cooked up four strips of bacon as well.

  The end of this horrific year couldn’t come soon enough for me. I just hoped the new one would start out on a happy note, with the letter writer issue resolved once and for all.

  After a quick shower, I dressed and headed downstairs just before ten. There was no one in the main bar area yet, but I could hear the raucous laughter and construction-related noises of the O’Reilly clan at work down in the basement. I made my way to the top of the basement stairs, where I found the door—still cockeyed and marked off with warning tape that didn’t want to stick—ajar. I poked my head through the opening and saw Ryan and Colleen busy at work cutting wood braced on sawhorses, Mal and Patrick hammering away at some lingering concrete in a wall, and Connor sitting on the bottom step, sipping a cup of coffee and looking at the construction plans.

  “Good morning,” I hollered down.

  A chorus of return greetings shot up to me, and everyone stopped working.

  “Have you guys had something to eat?”

  “We have,” Colleen said. “We had breakfast before we came, and we stopped and got some sinful-looking cinnamon buns to have later as part of our motivation.”

  Connor raised his mug to me. “You have killer coffee,” he said.

  Probably not the best choice of words, but I took it. “Thanks,” I said. “I’ve got some stuff to do to get the bar ready to open, but holler if you need anything.”

  “Will do,” Connor said.

  They went back to work, and I went off to ready the bar.

  Debra, Pete, Linda, and Jon showed up between ten and eleven, and we opened on time. Everyone seemed to be in a bright mood, and there was lots of talk of the party later. The usual customers showed up at their usual times: Joe, Frank, and Cora minutes after we unlocked the door, Carter, Sam, and Stephen a short time later. Holly and Alicia came in for lunch, and they were able to stay on since their bank closed at noon for the holiday.

  The Capone Club room filled up, and I was glad to see that none of the members, other than Sonja, Greg, and Tad, were MIA. I knew why Sonja and Greg weren’t there, and I hoped that Tad’s failure to show didn’t mean that he and Suzanne wouldn’t show for the party. Dr. T, Nick, and Tyrese all came in at some point during the afternoon, and Kevin Baldwin rolled in around five.

  The day stayed busy, and Mal and his family surfaced around two for lunch and joined the Capone Club members. I hung out with them while they were there, listening along with the rest of the club members as the O’Reillys were grilled about themselves and Mal, and shared the requisite family tales, many of which were designed to embarrass Mal. He took it all in stride and with good humor, though there were a few tense moments when his siblings talked about Mal moving to Milwaukee and almost revealed his real occupation. I’m not sure it would have been a horrible revelation—or that it would have surprised anyone, for that matter—at this point. But in the end, the O’Reillys were able to cover their near slips believably and with entertaining, if incomplete, stories about the prodigal son’s departure from the family business.

  Linda came in to work at noon,
and she was in an upbeat mood, so I once again decided not to mention our prior phone conversation. Pete and Jon both went home at five, relieved by Billy and Rich, respectively, with promises they’d be back for the party. Teddy also came in to work at five, and my part-time, upstairs bartender, Curtis Donovan, came in around seven, even though he wasn’t scheduled to work. He was decked out in a Father Time costume, complete with scythe (which I relievedly confirmed as fake at one point), a long, fake beard, and a hooded robe.

  “I’m getting a head start on the party,” he explained. He sat in with the Capone Club members and sipped on a drink for two hours. Apparently, he was pacing himself, at least for now.

  I spent part of the afternoon getting out the hats, confetti, and noisemakers I had ordered for the night. I also put dozens of bottles of champagne on ice so they’d be ready to go by ten.

  Despite plenty of signage warning customers of the early closing, the bar was still quite full at nine-thirty. I started making the rounds, apologizing for the closure, and informing people they would need to leave. Most people took the bouncing in good stride, but a few grumbled, griped, and made scenes over getting kicked out of a bar this early, on New Year’s Eve of all days.

  It took some doing, but by a little before ten, the bar was emptied, and I locked the doors. Teddy Bear had graciously offered to play gatekeeper and stay by the door to let in those who were invited to the party. I gave him a list of invitees and told him to ask me if he had any doubts or questions about anyone.

  Debra, who had left earlier when Missy came in to work, had gone home to change into something “more festive.” She showed up just after ten wearing a fabulous little red dress that hugged her curvy frame in all the right places. She came without her husband or sons. Her boys were having a New Year’s Eve party of their own at home with twenty or so of their closest friends, and Debra’s husband had generously offered to stay home and play chaperone. I wondered how much of Debra’s decision to come alone was based on the perceived danger of my party, and how much was based on the issues she had going on at home. Though, to be honest, I wasn’t sure what was more hazardous, my party or one with twenty-plus rowdy, teenage boys.

  Missy had brought along a pants outfit with a tight-fitting top that accentuated her generous curves, and she changed into it in the bathroom bar. Like Debra, she had chosen to attend alone. “My parents have the kids because they think I’m working,” she said to me when I asked if she had a guest coming. “Being able to party for a change without worrying about the kids is such a treat. Why complicate that by bringing a date?”

  Linda hadn’t brought anything else to wear and didn’t go anywhere to change. She had on her usual black pants and white blouse, though she did don a pair of sparkly glasses with the coming year’s date on them. Since she was on my list of suspects, I was actually glad she hadn’t left. I had a fear of someone leaving the bar and returning later armed to the teeth and ready to wreak havoc. With her brother in mind, I asked her if anyone was going to join her.

  “Nope,” she said with a forced smile. “It’s just me, as usual.”

  Joe and Frank Signoriello had gone home around five “to take a nap so we can keep up with you young’uns,” Joe had said. They returned at half past ten, the two of them dapperly dressed in matching black suits, though they had parted sartorial ways with the colors of their shirts and ties. Joe was wearing a blue shirt and a lavender and blue striped tie, Frank was wearing a yellow shirt with a solid gray tie.

  Mal and his family had quit work on the elevator area an hour before I closed, and his dad and siblings had left to go clean up and change clothes. Mal stayed behind but did borrow my key long enough to go upstairs to my apartment so he could shower and change.

  “I’m afraid I might be underdressed for tonight’s shindig,” he said as I handed him the key.

  “There’s no dress code, but if you want to jazz yourself up a bit, there are some sports coats and suits hanging in the closet in my dad’s room. One of the suits, a gray pinstripe, I think he wore two times in his whole life. You’re close to his size, and you’re welcome to wear it, or anything else you find in there. One of my New Year’s resolutions is to get rid of his clothes and some other stuff, and give it all to Goodwill. So any clothes you take will save me some work.”

  “That’s very kind of you to offer,” Mal said. “But won’t it bother you seeing someone else wearing your father’s clothes?”

  “Actually, no,” I said. And it was the truth. “My father was the kind of man who hated to see things go to waste, and who would literally give the shirt off his back to someone if it would help. He had a kind and generous spirit, and knowing his stuff has benefited someone else, however minor that benefit may be, feels completely appropriate and fitting.”

  Mal cocked his head to the side, eyeing me with doubtful suspicion.

  “I swear it, Mal,” I said with a smile. “Taking some of his clothes would be doing me a favor. It would be as if some small piece of him is still here. I have a sweater he used to wear a lot, and I’m keeping it. It smells like him, and it has some particular memories associated with it. But the rest of it . . .” I shrugged. “Please, take what you want. Knowing some of it ended up with someone like you makes it even better for me.”

  Mal studied me for another few seconds and must have deemed me sincere because he nodded. “All right then,” he said.

  When he came back downstairs forty minutes later, he was wearing his own jeans, a light blue dress shirt, and my father’s navy blue sports coat.

  “This fits like it was tailor-made for you,” I said, running a hand up the left sleeve of the sports coat.

  “His stuff does fit me well,” he admitted with a grudging nod. “Are you sure you’re okay with me wearing it?”

  “Positive.”

  I sent Mal to the door to help Teddy Bear in case there were any issues with people who wanted to come into the bar but weren’t part of the group of invitees.

  I headed upstairs and changed into a dress, a simple, knee-length, emerald green number with three-quarter-length sleeves that went well with my red hair. After applying a touch of makeup, I headed back downstairs and positioned myself behind the bar, relieving Billy of his duties. Since the bar was directly across from the front door, it gave me the perfect spot for watching to see who was arriving.

  A few minutes later, my hired bartender and cook showed up. Their names—Tom Summers and Drew Johnson—were on the list I’d given Teddy, and he directed them to me once they were inside. I eyed both men closely. Summers had a mustache, a bushy beard, a hooked nose, dark brown eyes, and shaggy, brown hair that hung to his shoulders. He was wearing a baseball cap that had HAPPY NEW YEAR emblazoned across the front of it.

  Drew Johnson sported strawberry blond hair pulled back into a small ponytail. He, too, had a mustache and beard, though his beard was a goatee. He wore the same baseball cap Summers had on and was also sporting a pair of glasses with a tortoiseshell frame. His build, in contrast to Summer’s tall, slim physique, was portly.

  I greeted the men, tasting the flavor of their voices, and then directed them to their respective stations, giving each of them a quick orientation. After telling them to let me know if they needed anything, I left them to their duties and went to mingle with my guests.

  Over the next half hour, all the members of the Capone Club showed up, except for Sonja and Greg. Cora had verified for me earlier in the day that Greg Nash had indeed bought a ticket to Grand Cayman on a flight that left at four o’clock that afternoon, and while she couldn’t promise me that Greg Nash was the person who had used it, someone had boarded that plane using his ticket.

  Holly and Alicia arrived together, both of them wearing little black dresses. Holly cozied up to her beau, Carter, right away, whereas Alicia made a beeline for Billy. Alicia had a mad crush on Billy, as did half or more of the women who came into the bar. It wasn’t hard to understand why. Billy was tall and handsome, with café au
lait skin, green eyes with long lashes, a charming personality, and some serious smarts. I felt torn as I watched Alicia sneak goo-goo eyes at Billy, knowing that Whitney was supposed to be coming. I hoped Whitney would show up because she was key to my plan, but for Alicia’s sake I found myself wishing she’d be a no-show.

  Unfortunately for Alicia, Whitney did show up, her pert little nose in the air as she entered the bar, as if the place reeked of something terrible. She zeroed in on Billy right away, rushing over to him, looking down her nose at Alicia, and then wrapping herself around Billy’s arm. She eyed the other guests with disdain, as if she was afraid someone might touch her and give her cooties.

  Tad arrived a little before eleven, and I was relieved to see that my gambit had worked because Suzanne was with him. She was a homely woman, with a long, horsey face, gray eyes that were small and set too close together, and thin, liver-colored lips that she tried to make look plumper with some artful lipstick and lip-liner applications. She was tall and thin, her hair a perfect shade of coppery gold that only accentuated her sallow complexion. Despite physical attributes that might have made other women self-conscious, Suzanne carried herself with authority, regality, and a dash of pompousness. She was obviously a woman of means, someone who knew her way in the world and was used to getting her way in the world—and, if we were right, someone who had no compunction about taking people out of this world.

  Tad looked incredibly handsome at her side, dressed in a tailored black suit with a white shirt, though he had added a touch of whimsy with a red, white, and blue star-spangled tie. I assumed the tie was his addition, because Suzanne struck me as the type of person who had no sense of humor, unless creating taunting, deadly scavenger hunts counted. The way Suzanne wrapped a possessive hand around Tad’s arm gave me the distinct impression that she considered him another one of her prized possessions, something to show off, and a reflection of how wonderful she was.