A Perfect Manhattan Murder

by Tracy Kiely

  Next to him, Nigel gently shook his head. “Forget it, man,” he said in a low voice. “You are not going to win this argument. Ever.”

  Peggy ignored them both. “Do you think the police will believe Devin’s story?” she asked me.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “They could assume that he’s lying to cover for her. She may need more than just his word to prove she wasn’t at Dan’s apartment.”

  Peggy fell silent and stared at her drink. With her brow furrowed, she idly traced patterns on the glass’s condensation with her finger. “I keep thinking about Nina,” she said after a minute. “It’s not like her to call in sick. Two years ago she was playing the lead in Kiss Me, Kate, and started having terrible stomach pains halfway through the opening night. She not only finished the play but also came back for three curtain calls. An hour later, she was in surgery for acute appendicitis.”

  “Are you saying you think she wasn’t really sick?” I asked.

  Peggy sat back in her chair with a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. The thing is, I really like Nina. She can be unpredictable and a pain in the ass at times, but I like her. I hate the idea of telling the police about her reaction to Dan’s review and how she called out sick today. I’d feel like I was throwing Nina under the bus to save Harper.”

  “I’m sure plenty of other people are going to mention Dan’s review and Nina’s absence today,” I said. “You’re not throwing anybody under the bus. And besides, the police aren’t going to only focus on one person. They are going to look at anyone and everyone who had a problem with Dan.”

  Peggy blinked suddenly. “Oh! I just remembered something,” she said. “I don’t know if it means anything, but at one point last night I happened to overhear Dan arguing with his assistant Zack.” She paused. “Well, actually, Zack was arguing with Dan. I didn’t catch much of what he was saying, but it seemed like he was trying to convince Dan of something. I could tell that Dan didn’t agree with him, because he had that pinched look on his face. You know the one I mean,” she clarified, “where he looked like he just caught a whiff of bad cheese.”

  I nodded. “I do indeed. It was featured prominently during our wedding reception.”

  Peggy laughed. “Well, in any case, it might make sense to talk with Zack. He might know something.”

  twenty-three

  Nigel was showing me the finer points of a new technique he’d recently read about when my cell phone rang. Not wanting to interrupt him, I ignored it. However, after the caller rang for a tenth time, I finally answered it. I may have been a tad grumpy in my greeting.

  “Nic?” said Marcy. “Are you okay? You sound winded.”

  “I’m fine,” I said as I slapped Nigel’s hands away. “I was just in the middle of something. What’s up?”

  “I just thought I’d let you know that I just got Deborah’s report. Dan Trados died from acute poisoning. She says it was arsenic. So we’re treating it as a homicide.”

  “Was it in the decanter?” I asked.

  “No, actually, it wasn’t. The decanter was clean. Just plain scotch in there. So tell Nigel for me that his famous booze nose must be slipping.”

  “What about the wineglasses? Did the lab find anything in them?” I asked.

  “No,” Marcy said. “They were scrubbed clean.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “They were scrubbed clean?” I repeated. “And yet one still had traces of lipstick on the rim?”

  Marcy made a noise of agreement. “Yeah. I wondered about that, too. Either someone was in a hurry …”

  “Or someone wanted us to think Dan had a female visitor,” I finished.

  “Exactly,” said Marcy. “Anyway, I just thought I’d let you know what we’ve found out so far.” She paused and then said, “And, Nic?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Just a heads up,” she said. “It’s not looking too good for your friend, Harper. I thought you should know.”

  “Why? What happened?” I asked.

  “Well, we learned that your friend wanted a divorce. Can’t say I blame her. From what we found at the apartment, it seems Mr. Trados was entertaining female guests, or at least he was prepared to.”

  “I gather we’re not talking about the Costco supply of tea, are we?” I asked.

  Marcy gave a short laugh. “No. We’re talking about a Costco supply of condoms.”

  “Well, that’s a horrible image,” I said.

  “Trust me, it was,” Marcy said. “This is strictly off the record, I’d have killed the son-of-a-bitch as well.”

  “But Marcy, she didn’t kill him. You don’t understand, I know Harper.”

  “Nic, I do understand. But with all due respect, you’re biased on this one and it’s clouding your judgment. If you didn’t know her, are you really telling me that she wouldn’t be a suspect? Have you met that piece of eye candy she has for a nanny or manny or whatever the hell you want to call him?”

  I sighed. “Yeah, I’ve met Devin. And I get what you’re saying. But the fact is that I do know Harper. And maybe she wanted a divorce, and maybe there is something going on with Devin, but she’s not a killer. She’s not, Marcy. You just have to believe me.”

  Marcy was quiet for a moment. “I hear you, Nic, I really do,” she finally said. “But Brian is making some noise on this and the higher-ups have taken notice. It’s a high-profile case, and there’s outside pressure to get it wrapped up fast.”

  I let out a frustrated sigh. It was never a good thing when the higher-ups got involved. People started rushing to judgment and mistakes were made.

  “Have you talked to Nina Durand yet?” I asked.

  “No,” said Marcy. “But I’m scheduled to talk to her later today.”

  “Good,” I said. “Because Dan was particularly nasty about her in his review. Nina didn’t take kindly to it; she slapped him across the face.”

  “Yes, I heard that.”

  “Did you also hear that Nina was a no-show for the matinee today?” I asked. “From what I gather, that’s highly unusual for her. She’s not known to call out sick.”

  “I know that too, Nic,” Marcy said. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to rush to judgment. I certainly haven’t made up my mind. I just wanted to let you know what the general consensus around here is. And, unfortunately, it’s that your friend is guilty.”

  I sighed. “Okay, thanks for the heads up, Marcy.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll keep you posted,” she said.

  “Oh, quick question before you hang up,” I said. “Dan was working on a book. It was a compilation of some of his reviews, as well as bits of celebrity gossip. It might prove interesting reading. I was wondering if I could get a copy of it.”

  Now Marcy sighed. “Jesus, Nic. You know I can’t do that.”

  “Well, can I at least take a look at it?” I asked.

  There was a long pause and then Marcy said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks, Marcy. I owe you one.”

  At this Marcy laughed. “You always were lousy with math. You owe me a hell of a lot more than one,” she said as she hung up.

  Nigel cocked an eyebrow at me. “Well, what’s the latest?”

  I leaned back against the headboard. “Well, Dan was definitely poisoned. With arsenic. But it wasn’t in the decanter of scotch like you thought. Marcy said to tell you that your expert nose is slipping.”

  Nigel rolled over onto his stomach and flung his arm across my lap. “I never said that the scotch was poisoned,” he said. “I just said that something was wrong with it.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked with a smile as I played with his hair. “Was it a bad year or something?”

  “No, although it probably was,” he answered. “All I meant was that it wasn’t a single malt. It was a blend.”

  “I don’t follow.”


  Nigel rolled onto his back, his head now on my lap. “Dan only drank single malt scotch; not blends. In fact, he hated blends. I remember because it was one of the few things we had in common.”

  I blinked down at him. “Lots of people keep liquor in their homes that they might not drink themselves. Maybe he had friends who liked blends.”

  Nigel shook his head. “Firstly, I highly doubt Dan had friends. Secondly, I can’t see him bothering to notice what other people drank, but thirdly, and most importantly, even if he did, he sure as hell wouldn’t put a drink he disliked in his only decanter.”

  I stared down into Nigel’s blue eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re amazing?” I asked.

  Nigel’s mouth twisted into a suggestive smirk. “If you think that’s amazing,” he said as he flipped me onto my back, “wait until I finish showing you what I was doing when Marcy called. You’re going to think I’m bloody brilliant.”

  He was right.

  twenty-four

  I called Harper a little while later. Her voice sounded thick and disorientated when she answered. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” I asked.

  “Oh, no,” she said, giving a rueful laugh. “I don’t seem to be able to sleep much these days. But when I am awake, I feel like I’m in a horrible dream.”

  “I know,” I said. “The whole thing is a nightmare. How are you doing though? Do you need me to get anything? Do you need help with Gracie?”

  “That’s sweet of you,” Harper said, “but I’m fine. Devin is here, and he’s been wonderful.” I opted not to ask for details on that statement. “And I finally got hold of my dad. He’s been in London on business, but he was able to book a flight home tonight.”

  “That’s good,” I said. I felt better knowing Donald would be on hand to help Harper. Not only did he adore her, but he also was one of those people you could count on to stay levelheaded in times of a crisis. And this certainly qualified as one of those times. “By the way, would you happen to have Zack’s number?” I asked.

  Harper paused. “Zack? Oh, sure. Let me find it. Hang on.” A few seconds later, Harper came back on the line. “Nic? I have it right here. Got a pencil?”

  I told her I did. I wrote down the number and thanked her.

  “Why do you want to talk to Zack?” she asked.

  “Oh, I just wanted to ask him some questions,” I said, unsure whether Marcy had called Harper yet with the coroner’s ruling.

  “The police think Dan was murdered,” she said, answering my unspoken question.

  “I know,” I said. “Marcy called me.”

  “She called me, too,” Harper said. “She was … very kind.”

  I winced, thinking how Harper must have reacted to hearing about Dan’s stash of condoms. “Ah, I hoped she wasn’t going to tell you about that,” I said.

  “Tell me about what?” Harper asked.

  “The condoms,” I said, just as I realized I needed to stop talking.

  “What condoms?” Harper asked.

  I sighed. “The ones they found in Dan’s apartment.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Harper slowly. “They found condoms in Dan’s apartment?”

  “I’m sorry, Harper,” I said. “I thought Marcy already told you. I never would have said anything otherwise. God knows you’ve already been through enough.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Harper said.

  “I know, honey. The whole thing is just hellish,” I said.

  “No, I mean I don’t believe Dan had condoms there,” Harper said.

  “I’m not sure I’m following you,” I said. “I don’t think the police planted them there, if that’s what you’re saying.”

  “What kind were they?” Harper suddenly asked.

  I paused. “Seriously?” I said. “You want to know what kind they were?”

  “Yes,” Harper said.

  “Okay. Why?”

  “Because Dan was allergic to latex,” she said. “He hated using condoms, even the ones that were latex-free.”

  “He was allergic?” I asked. “Really?”

  “Yes,” Harper said.

  Something in her tone gave me pause. “Will his doctor testify to that?”

  Now Harper paused. “Well, he wasn’t allergic so much as he was sensitive to it.”

  I closed my eyes and sighed.“Harper …” I began, but she cut me off.

  “No, Nic. Listen to me. I know that Dan could be a real jerk at times, and I realize that I probably sound like the classic wife who’s in denial. I mean, he got a ‘work apartment’ and stocked it with tea, which he didn’t drink, but I just don’t believe he kept condoms there. Something is not right. But call Zack. He and Dan were working a lot on Dan’s book and spending lots of time together. He might know something I don’t.”

  I was quiet a moment. Harper whispered something to someone on her end. A male voice whispered back.

  “Okay, Harper. I’ll call Zack and Marcy and see what I can find out.”

  Harper sighed. “Thanks, Nic.”

  I hung up. I really hoped that Marcy hadn’t heard the same male voice when she spoke to Harper earlier. It might give her the wrong idea. I know it certainly gave me the wrong idea.

  twenty-five

  My phone call to Marcy went about how I expected it to go. “I’m sorry,” she’d said after a long pause. “You want to know what?”

  “You heard me,” I said. “What kind were they?”

  “Are you doing research or something?”

  “No, Harper said that Dan was allergic to latex,” I said.

  “Allergic,” she repeated doubtfully.

  “Or at least, sensitive to it,” I amended.

  Marcy tried to hide her bark of laughter. She failed. “I’m sorry, Nic. I didn’t mean to laugh, but if I had a dollar for every time a guy told some girl he couldn’t wear protection because he had a latex allergy, I could buy a house in your neighborhood.”

  I sighed. “I know it sounds stupid, Marcy. Believe me. I know. But I promised Harper that I would ask you.”

  “Okay, fine. Hang on one second and I’ll see if it’s in the report.”

  “Thanks, Marcy,” I said. “I owe—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Marcy said. “Save it.” A second later, she put me on hold. Easy listening music filled my ears.

  I was belting out the lyrics to “All By Myself,” when Marcy came back on the line. “You want me to put you back on hold so you can finish?” Marcy asked.

  “No, I’m good,” I said.

  “Okay. But don’t say I didn’t ask,” Marcy said. “Anyway, according to the report they were Trojans.” She paused. “And they were latex. Looks like I just got another imaginary dollar.”

  I laughed. “I’ll call our real estate agent and tell her to keep an eye out for a house near us.”

  “You do that,” said Marcy. “Did you need anything else, or can I get back to work?”

  “Well, since you mentioned it, I’d love to get a copy of the coroner’s report,” I said.

  Marcy let out another bark of laughter just before the line went dead. Either that or she hung up on me.

  It was probably the latter.

  twenty-six

  My next call was to Zack. He seemed surprised to hear from me. Either that or he’d developed a stutter since I last spoke with him. “Hello, Mrs. Martini,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “I hope I’m not bothering you, Zack, but I wanted to talk to you about Dan.”

  There was a pause, and then Zack said, “Oh, sure. What do you want to know?”

  “Well, this really isn’t a conversation I want to have over the phone,” I said. “It seems that Dan’s death was no accident.”

  “I don’t understand,” Zack sputtered. “What do you mean it wasn’t a
n accident?”

  “It means he was killed, Zack.”

  “Right. Of course it does. Sorry,” he said. “Jesus. Someone killed him? God, that’s awful. I mean, I know he got under people’s skin from time to time, but … wow.” He paused again. “But why do you want to talk to me? You can’t think I had anything to do with it, do you?” His voice cracked. “Oh God! This is about the magazine asking me to take over Dan’s column, isn’t it? I swear to you I didn’t know that was going to happen! I swear!”

  “No one is accusing you of anything, Zack,” I said with more patience than I felt. “I just want to talk to you. After all, you worked with Dan. You might be able to shed some light on who would want him dead.” This time there was a longer stretch of silence. “Zack?” I finally said. “Are you still there?”

  Zack cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m here. Sorry about that.” Lowering his voice, he said, “I don’t know how much help I can be, but I’ll do what I can.”

  “That’s all I’m asking,” I said. “I’m staying at the Ritz. Do you think you could meet me at the Star Lounge?”

  “Okay. I can do that. I have to get something out first. I could meet you around three, if that works.”

  “It does. Thank you, Zack. I’ll see you at three.”

  The Star Lounge is mainly known for its head bartender, Norman, his excellent drinks, and as a place to spy a celebrity or two. But my favorite aspect has always been its afternoon tea service. Nigel, Skippy, and I said our hellos to Norman and then secured a table in the cozy wood-paneled room. A petite waitress named Catherine came over and cheerfully took our order for tea.

  True to his word, Zack entered the lounge at three o’clock sharp. His steps faltered when he caught sight of Skippy, and he came to a full stop. I couldn’t fault him, really. Skippy could be an intimidating sight. Plus, there was the small detail that he was actually sitting in a chair at our table.

  “Skippy, get down and let the nice man have a seat,” Nigel said.