High Kicks, Hot Chocolate, and Homicides

by Mary McHugh

  “I’m sure you understand, Mr. Temple, that we are trying to get as much information as we can about Danielle Jennings’ death. We hoped your wife could help.”

  “I’d be glad to tell you anything that would help,” I said. “I just don’t know very much about her.”

  “Why did she ask you to come to lunch? Was it just to thank you or was there some other reason?”

  I hesitated, looked at George who shook his head. I got it. Don’t say anything, Mary Louise. “She didn’t really say anything, Detective,” I said. “It was the tone of her voice. She said she had to tell me something, and she sounded urgent. Oh, and she told me not to tell anybody I was coming here.”

  “And did you?” the detective asked.

  “Only one of my friends,” I said. “She wanted to come with me, and I had to tell her I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone I was coming here.”

  “Which friend?”

  “Excuse me, officer,” George said. “I don’t see how that is relevant to Ms. Jennings death. My wife has told you all she knows.”

  “She is free to leave, Mr. Temple. I have no more questions.”

  I stood up. Good old George. “I’m sorry about Danielle, Detective,” I said. “She was a nice woman. I hope you find out what happened to her.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Temple. I will have some questions for you later.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  George led me out of the apartment, and we took the elevator down to the lobby and out to the street.

  “Do you want to get some lunch before you go back to the theater?” he asked me.

  I took his arm. “Thank you George. I’m not at all hungry. But I don’t have to be back at the theater for another hour. Want to walk down to Washington Square?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Come on.”

  We walked over to Fifth Avenue and headed down toward the arch that towers over the square and marks the beginning of Fifth Avenue.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, George. Thank you for coming so fast. How come you’re in New York today?”

  “One of the witnesses in the Alderson case works in the city and I came over to interview her.”

  “Was she a help?”

  “Actually, she was. She lives in the building where the accident happened. Once when she rang for the elevator, the doors opened and there was no car, just an empty hole. She was lucky she didn’t fall in the way Alderson did. She notified the owner of the building who said he would have the elevator people fix it. Obviously they didn’t.”

  “Sounds like she’ll really be able to help you.”

  “I hope so,” he said. “I’m glad I was in the city today.”

  “Me too!” I said, squeezing his arm.

  We walked along past the elegant apartment houses and hotels lining lower Fifth Avenue. This is one of my favorite places in New York City. After James, my oldest child, was born, I used to walk down here, wheeling him in his carriage. I would sit on the edge of the fountain behind the arch and listen to the guitar players and talk to the other mothers enjoying the life bustling around us in this park, which was full of college students and harmless idlers lazing away their days. I munched on a hot dog I bought at one of the carts and James sucked on his bottle of milk until he fell asleep. Both of us were totally content.

  “Remember when I used to come here with James?” I asked George.

  “Those were good days,” George said. “Do you ever wish we’d stayed in the city?”

  “Not really,” I said. “The children were better off growing up in Champlain. I’m glad I had those first few years here though. I love this city. It was so much fun eating in different restaurants and going to plays and museums. There was always something new and interesting going on.”

  “Maybe I could meet you after your rehearsals on the days I’m in New York and we could do all that again,” George said.

  “Think we’ve still got the energy for that after I’ve been dancing all day and you’ve been looking down elevator shafts?” I asked.

  “You’re still the youngest person I know,” he said. “I always feel younger when I’m with you.”

  I let go of his arm and did a quick tap dance step on the sidewalk. A young guy with a beard and torn jeans walking by said, “You go, girl.” He made me laugh.

  “She’s mine,” George said and pulled me into the park behind the arch.

  On this day, it was still full of students and mothers with carriages. I was startled to see a man seated at a grand piano in the middle of the sidewalk. He was playing with full force and skill, right there in the park. People dropped money in a box on the piano but nothing distracted him from his fierce and powerful performance.

  We sat down on a bench to listen.

  “I wonder who he is,” I said.

  “I read about him in the Times,” George said. “He plays here a few times a week. He once worked for a ballet company, I think. But he got tired of it and started playing the piano all over the city until he finally settled on Washington Park as his regular place. The donations people give him pay his expenses and he’s happy with that.”

  I leaned back against George’s arm and closed my eyes. The music soared over and around and through me.

  “What is that he’s playing?” I asked. “I’ve heard it so many times but I can’t think of what it’s called.”

  “It’s Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto no. 3,” he said. George listens to classical music all the time and always knows stuff like that. His wide range of interests was one of the things that made me fall in love him in the first place. There were lots of other things about George that I treasured: his sense of humor, his brilliance, his fierce desire to use his legal training to help other people, his desire to travel and see as much of the world as he could, his appreciation of good food, his love of life.

  I wanted to share all those things with him when we were married. I encouraged him to use his law degree to do the most good he could in this life. We were a team in those days. He defended people who couldn’t afford attorneys. I worked to set up programs for women in prison. Lately, he seemed to have lost all of his fierce love of life. Today a little of it was back again.

  We sat there until the pianist finished. When he stopped, George pulled me close to him and said, “I’m so glad I have you, Mary Louise. I can’t imagine life without you. I know I forget to tell you that sometimes, but I hope you know what you mean to me.”

  “Thank you for being here today, George,” I said. “You’re always there when I need you.” It hit me how true that was. He’d never let me down when I needed him all through the years.

  I hugged him and stood up. “I’d better get back to the theater. We’re supposed to be back by two.”

  He got up and dropped some money in the box on the piano as we walked past it. He took me over to a cab parked nearby. “Be careful,” he said.

  Mary Louise’s cooking tip: If you think somebody is trying to kill you, go to the police station for dinner.

  Chapter 9

  Follow The Pretty Blue Path

  When I got back to the theater my friends were all waiting to hear what had happened. Tina had told them Danielle was dead, but they didn’t know any of the details.

  I told them that the detective said she was pushed out the window.

  “She knew who killed Glenna,” Gini said. “Somebody wanted her dead before she told someone.” She looked at me. “Like you, for instance, Weez. They didn’t want her telling you who did it over lunch.”

  I shivered. “Good thing she never got to tell me,” I said. “I might have followed her out that window.”

  “You still might,” Gini said. “Whoever killed her probably thinks you know more than you do.”

  “Gee, thanks, Gini,” I said. “What a comforting thought.”

  “Gini, do you ever stop and think before you say something like that?” Tina said.

  “Well, I’m just telling Weezie the truth,” Gini said. “You
do want to know the truth, don’t you, Buttercup?”

  “Not when it involves my possible murder,” I said. “I’d just as soon not think about that.”

  Nevaeh ran over to our group huddled on the side of the stage.

  “Is it true, Mary Louise?” she asked. “Did somebody kill Danielle?”

  “It looks that way,” I said. “Detective Carver told me she had been pushed out the window.”

  “Do they have any suspects?” Nevaeh asked. She kept twisting her scarf as she talked to us.

  “They are investigating,” I said. “I thought they were going to arrest me when I showed up for lunch. Luckily, George was in town and came to get me.”

  “George comes in handy, doesn’t he?” Pat asked.

  I knew what she meant and just nodded. I knew that wasn’t all George meant to me. He wasn’t just a safety net, someone to take care of me. Not as long as he can identify Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 3 played in the middle of Washington Square Park. Not as long as he made me feel like I was the only woman in the world who mattered to him.

  Marlowe came on stage.

  “How was your lunch with Danielle, Ms. Temple?” she asked.

  Ms. Temple?

  “Didn’t anyone tell you, Marlowe?” I said. “Danielle is dead.”

  “What do you mean she’s dead?” Marlowe said. “I just talked to her on the phone this morning. How could she be dead?”

  “She was found dead on the sidewalk under her window, twelve stories down.” I said.

  “She must have jumped,” Marlowe said. “She was afraid she’d lose her baby and killed herself. How terrible.”

  “The police think she was pushed,” I said.

  “I’ll call her husband and tell him how sorry I am,” Marlowe said and left the stage.

  I knew there was no way Marlowe wouldn’t have known about Danielle’s death. The first place the police would have called would be the Music Hall.

  “Let’s work on that Santa routine some more,” Nevaeh said, “Try to . . . she stopped, put her hands over her face. “It’s no use. I can’t do this today. I’m too upset about Danielle. She was a good friend.”

  “It’s okay, Nevaeh,” Tina said. “We worked on it this morning. Why don’t we take a break and do this tomorrow. Maybe Andrea could take over for you.”

  “She’s usually at the Frick,” Nevaeh said. “She spends as little time here as possible. I don’t blame her. Rehearsing was fun when Glenna was in charge. Now it’s sort of grim. Two of us dead. You’re right, Tina. Why don’t you guys take the rest of the day off? I’ll be all right tomorrow.”

  “I’m so sorry, Nevaeh,” Tina said. “I know she was a good friend of yours. Tomorrow will be fine.”

  Tina told us to meet her in front of the theater at five, as usual, for the ride home. She and the others all scattered to take advantage of a free afternoon in New York. I folded up my Santa outfit and gathered my things. There was still time to walk that labyrinth with Mike. I was really curious about it.

  I clicked on his number. He answered right away.

  “What’s up, babe?”

  “Seems I’m free to walk that labyrinth with you if you still want to,” I said.

  “Of course I want to,” he said. “What happened to your lunch with Danielle?”

  “She’s dead.”

  “What do you mean, she’s dead?” Mike asked. “What happened to her?”

  “Somebody pushed her out her window—that’s what we think happened—and she was killed.”

  “I’m coming to get you,” he said. “Stay right there.”

  I hung up the phone and was putting on comfortable shoes when Nevaeh came over and sat down very close to me.

  “I know how much you helped Danielle, Mary Louise,” she said in a very low voice. “I went to the hospital to see her, and she told me what you did for her.”

  “I was glad I could help,” I said. “I didn’t really do anything, though. It was my friend Dr. Parnell and her doctor who saved her baby.”

  “I know,” Nevaeh said, “but you were the one who called him and stayed there in the hospital until you knew she was all right.”

  She looked as if she wanted to say more but wasn’t sure if she should.

  “Was there something else you wanted to tell me?” I asked.

  “Well,” she said, in an even softer voice, “did she tell you anything about Glenna’s death when you saw her in the hospital?”

  Uh-oh. Am I going to find out more than I wanted to know about Glenna’s death? Again?

  “No,” I said. “She didn’t tell me anything in the hospital.” I started to get up to leave the stage and this uncomfortable conversation, but Nevaeh put her hand on my arm.

  “Don’t go, Mary Louise,” she said. “I want to tell you something about Glenna and what happened to her. I’ve carried it around with me long enough. I’ve got to tell somebody.”

  I knew I should jump up and run out of there like all my friends had told me to do, but I really wanted to hear what Nevaeh had to say. There seemed to be quite a few people who knew something about this murder, and I did want to find out more. In spite of all the warnings from people I loved, my curiosity was stronger than all their words of caution. I have this love of solving mysteries. I always take along a stack of murder mysteries to read when we go to Cape Cod for our vacation.

  “Do you know who killed Glenna?” I asked.

  She looked around, then whispered, “It wasn’t just one person. There were . . .”

  “Meow.”

  Ranger appeared out of nowhere. She jumped up on Nevaeh’s lap and bumped her furry face against Nevaeh’s.

  “Ranger!” she said. “Where did you come from?”

  Ranger meowed a couple more times, and then a familiar voice said, “What happened to the rehearsal, Nevaeh?”

  Marlowe was standing in back of us. Neither of us had heard her come on stage, but Ranger must have seen her and jumped up on Nevaeh’s lap. She was trying to warn us. What a smart little cat. I reached over to pat her and she purred.

  “Oh, hello Marlowe,” Nevaeh said. “I didn’t hear you come in. We decided—because of Danielle—that we’d postpone the rehearsal until tomorrow. It was just too hard.”

  “Yes, yes, tragic,” Marlowe said, her voice totally unemotional. “But, as they say, the show must go on. What were you and Little Miss Muffet talking about?”

  “Oh, um, nothing really. Just stuff about the rehearsal tomorrow morning and how to dance with those heavy jackets. Like that.”

  “Well, I think we should let our little Hoofer get on with her life,” Marlowe said. “See you tomorrow, Ms. Temple.”

  I stood up, glad to be getting out of here.

  “And get rid of that cat,” Marlowe said to Nevaeh.

  Ranger slid down off of Nevaeh’s lap and scurried offstage.

  I ran up the aisle and glanced back before I went out into the lobby. Marlowe was talking to Nevaeh, who was listening, head bowed, her body bent over. I felt like I should stay and help Nevaeh, but I wasn’t sure what I could do. I left.

  * * *

  A cab pulled up to the curb and Mike called to me from the back seat.

  “Over here, Mary Louise,” he said.

  I jumped in the cab with him, and he said, “Now tell me exactly what happened with Danielle.”

  The cab headed east toward the FDR Drive, and I told Mike the whole weird story about arriving for lunch and being questioned by the police and George coming to rescue me and—

  “George was there?” he said. “I thought George worked in New Jersey.”

  I explained about the woman and the elevator shaft. I skipped over the part where George and I went to Washington Square and listened to a piano player in the middle of the park.

  “Lawyers come in handy,” he said.

  I didn’t say anything.

  Mike told the driver to get off the drive at the end of Houston Street. We walked across a ramp and Mike
took my hand to lead me down a path to an amazing sight on the ground next to the East River.

  “Oh Mike, it’s beautiful!” I said

  There, surrounded by acacia trees, was a huge blue, red, and yellow labyrinth. I let go of his hand and ran over to look more closely at this unbelievable pocket of quiet and wonder in the busiest city in the world.

  The path winding around and around the labyrinth was painted blue, outlined in yellow. It looked like ocean waves lapping gently at the people who walked on it. In the very middle was a red and silver center. An orange circle surrounded the labyrinth and painted in big letters on the circle was the reason I was there: “Come. Let us be in beauty together circled by trees as the river flows.”

  “Those are Diana’s words,” Mike said. “Diana Carulli. You know, I told you she designed this labyrinth. There are labyrinths designed by Diana all over the world. You have to meet her. She’s a remarkable woman.”

  I looked at Mike. I couldn’t believe this miracle. “Can I . . .”

  “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll be right here.”

  I took my first step onto the blue path of the labyrinth and followed it around and around, looking down, lost in my own thoughts as I wound my way to the center. I felt like I was wading through the ocean near the shore where it was calm and soothing. Every once in a while a boat whistle sounded, a background to my reverie.

  All other sounds of the city were hushed as I concentrated on that path and on what mattered most to me. My husband and my children. The more I walked and looked down, shutting out the buildings, the trees, the boats, the cars, other people, the closer I got to my true feelings about those four people I loved. I adored my children. They had brought me the most precious moments of my life as they grew and learned to take care of themselves.

  I did what I could to help them over the rough spots, but I knew they had to learn to figure them out without my help. I wouldn’t be with them forever. As I walked along this path, I knew they would be all right. But George? I couldn’t get a clear feeling about George. I certainly loved him when we were in Washington Square. What if I did leave him for Mike? Would I be happier?