High Kicks, Hot Chocolate, and Homicides

by Mary McHugh

  “It’s just that you and Alex are such a good match,” Pat said. “I think you’d have a terrific marriage.”

  “I know,” Gini said. “But we have lots of time to think about marriage. Things are really good right now. We don’t have to rush into anything. And, not to change the subject, but what did you do this afternoon?”

  “Denise and I took David to the Statue of Liberty,” Pat said. “We decided that would be more fun than the Circle Line Cruise. I’ve never been there. That’s weird, you know? I’ve lived here almost all my life, and I’ve never been to the Statue of Liberty.”

  “You climbed all those stairs to the top?” Tina asked.

  “Yeah, I did,” she said. “I thought I was going to die. But I’m so glad I did it. David loved it. He practically ran up those stairs. There’s something about being at the top of that statue and looking out at New York from the crown of the statue that symbolizes our freedom that was awesome.”

  We were quiet, savoring the emotion in Pat’s voice as she shared this moment with us.

  “David has added so much to my life,” she said. “I never would have done that if he wasn’t with me today.”

  We rode the rest of the way back to Champlain in contented silence, once more grateful for the friendship that warmed the five of us.

  Peter let me off at my house. I was glad to see that George was already there.

  “Hello, Happy Hoofer,” he said, kissing me when I opened the door. “How was rehearsal?”

  I told him what had happened and about my meeting with Andrea.

  “I’m not letting you go back in there without me,” he said.

  “I’ll be all right, George,” I said. “I’ll be with my friends the whole time. They’re not going to let me out of their sight.”

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said. “Today with you in Washington Square was so good.”

  I smiled at him. “It was perfect,” I said. “Like old times.”

  “Yes, it was,” he said. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been there for you lately, Mary Louise. Sometimes I just feel over whelmed.”

  “I know,” I said. “We need to go away for a couple of weeks’ vacation after the Alderson case so you can unwind. To Saint Bart’s, maybe. Remember what a lovely time we had there?”

  “It was great. Or maybe Puerto Vallarta. Our own little villa with a pool.”

  He put his arms around me. “I love you, Mary Louise.”

  “I love you too,” I said. And I meant it.

  Mary Louise’s cooking tip: If you’re looking for a good recipe, TV Guide probably isn’t the best place to find it.

  Chapter 10

  Always Eat A Good Breakfast

  “Call that detective—what’s his name—?” George said the next morning as I was starting to make breakfast.

  “Carver.”

  “Yeah, Carver. Call him now, please, honey.”

  “I will, George,” I said. “Don’t worry. You convinced me. Just let me get breakfast on the table and I’ll call him. I promise.”

  “Okay” he said, sliding the wrapper off The New York Times.

  He flipped through the paper while I made him his favorite breakfast, my oatmeal and yogurt pancakes that were so good it was hard to believe they were so healthy. I put a glass of orange juice in front of him and he started to take a sip, when he said, “Hey, Mary Louise. There’s a story about Nevaeh’s death in here. Listen to this. ‘A second Rockette, Nevaeh Anderson, has been killed by falling into the machinery under the stage at Radio City Music Hall. The police are conducting an investigation after a loose railing gave way and Ms. Anderson plunged to her death. The first Rockette, Glenna Parsons, died the same way a few days ago.”

  George handed me my cell phone from the counter. “Call. Now. Please, honey.”

  I put the pancakes in front of him with a pitcher of warmed maple syrup, poured his coffee, and dialed the police department in New York. I had put that number on speed dial after Danielle’s death.

  “I need to speak to Detective Carver,” I said to the officer answering the phone.

  “I’m afraid he’s not available at the moment,” the police officer said.

  “This is urgent,” I said. “I have crucial information for him about the Radio City deaths.”

  “I’ll have him call you back as soon as possible,” she said. “What’s your name and what information do you want to give him?”

  “Mary Louise Temple. And it’s a little complicated. I prefer to talk to him about this,” I said.

  “It may be a while,” the officer said and hung up.

  “I’d better go find him—he must be at the theater,” I said. “I don’t know if there will be a rehearsal or not, but Peter is taking us in there this morning.”

  “Just don’t go near any loose railings,” George said taking a forkful of pancakes. “These are great.”

  I took a couple of bites of my own pancakes and slurped down some coffee.

  “I’ve got to get ready. Peter will be here soon.”

  I left the kitchen, ran upstairs to brush my teeth, grab my dancing shoes, wrench my hair into a knot in back and come back down for another gulp of coffee before I heard Peter’s horn outside.

  “Call me after you talk to the detective,” George said.

  “I will,” I said, rescuing my phone from the counter and putting it into my purse.

  I got in the car and greeted my half-conscious friends.

  RECIPE FOR PANCAKES

  Serves 2

  3 35-gram packages of instant strawberry

  oatmeal

  1 6-oz.container strawberry yogurt

  1 large egg

  2 t. vanilla

  ½ t. cinnamon

  ½ t. nutmeg

  ¼ cup corn oil

  Maple syrup to taste

  1. Put the first six ingredients in a food processor and blend.

  2. Heat corn oil in a frying pan.

  3. Put a large serving spoonful of batter into the oil for each pancake you’re making. The recipe makes about six medium-sized pancakes.

  4. Turn the pancakes when they are a nice golden brown on one side.

  5. Do the same with the other side of the pancake.

  6. Serve with warmed maple syrup.

  Mary Louise’s Cooking Tip: If you’re making something that’s breaded, use panko. It’s lighter and better than bread crumbs.

  Chapter 11

  How About A Circle Line Cruise?

  “Are you sure there’s a rehearsal this morning?” I asked Tina. “I mean after Nevaeh’s murder or accident or whatever you want to call it.”

  “We don’t know,” Tina said. “But we wanted to be with you when you tell the detective what Andrea told you yesterday. We don’t want you to be alone.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

  “We can’t let anything happen to you,” Gini said. “You’re too good a cook.”

  Peter pulled up to the theater. We piled out and traipsed into the lobby. Andrea was waiting for us.

  “Detective Carver is questioning some of the other Rockettes,” she said. “He asked if you would wait for him backstage.”

  We started toward the stage when Andrea whispered to me, “Can I see you for a second, Mary Louise?”

  “What are you doing here, Andrea?” I asked. “I thought you were getting a plane to Canada last night?”

  “Something came up, and I had to change my plans. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  I assumed she was going to tell me something more about the plot to kill Glenna. I motioned for the others to go ahead without me and followed her back to the foyer.

  “Don’t say a word,” she said. “Just walk out to the curb and get into the car that’s waiting there.”

  “But I don’t . . .” I started to say and felt something hard against my side under my jacket.

  “I have a gun,” she said, smiling at on
e of the guides standing nearby waiting to take another group on a tour of the theater. “Just keep quiet and walk. Don’t think I won’t use it. I’m in too much trouble myself to worry about you.”

  I did what she told me. When we got outside to the curb, I saw the car with Shelli in the driver’s seat and Marlowe in the passenger seat next to her. Andrea pushed me into the back seat and sat down next to me with her gun pointed at me.

  “Good work, Andrea,” Marlowe said. “We’ll get rid of Miss Muffet, and she won’t be able to tell Carver what you told her, and you won’t have to go to jail. We’ll help you get out of the country.”

  I looked at Andrea. Andrea, whom I thought was my friend. The one who told me about the whole plot to kill Glenna just yesterday. Andrea, the arranger of weddings at the Frick. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

  “Andrea . . . what . . . ?”

  “Sorry about this, Mary Louise,” she said. “It was either you or me. I chose me. I’m leaving the country as soon as we get rid of you.”

  “Why did you tell me about the murders yesterday if you planned to kill me too?”

  “When I talked to you yesterday,” she said, “I was planning to head for Canada immediately. I figured you would tell the police and they would arrest Marlowe. But right after you left the coffee shop, Marlowe came in and threatened to kill me if I didn’t help her get rid of you. I had no choice.”

  “You can’t possibly get away with this,” I said. “My friends will realize something happened to me when I don’t come back from talking to you and they’ll send the police after you.”

  “The police have no way of knowing where you are,” Marlowe said. “This isn’t our car. They don’t know what it looks like or what the license plate number is. They’re certainly not going to stop a car that has the decal, A Graduate of Wellesley College on the back window. No one will know where you are until they find your body.”

  I looked at Andrea. Was she actually going to let Marlowe kill me? I couldn’t believe it. Her hand holding the gun was shaking.

  “How do you plan to kill me?” I asked Marlowe.

  “You’ll find out,” she said. “Just keep your mouth shut or we’ll do it sooner.”

  Shelli pulled away from the curb. “Where to?” she asked Marlowe.

  “Get on the West Side Highway going south,” she said. “Keep on it to Forty-Second Street, and get off at the Circle Line Cruise pier.” She grinned at me. “How long has it been since you were on a Circle Line Cruise, honey? Time you went on another one, don’t you think?” She leaned over the front seat until her face was close to mine. “Only this time you won’t come back,” she said.

  I had to think of something, anything, to get out of this car. Shelli was driving very slowly. The traffic was heading toward the highway. I could easily jump out of the car at this speed, but Andrea would shoot me before I could do it. I had to think of something else. I decided to try to distract Marlowe.

  “There must be an easier way to kill me than on the Circle Line Cruise, Marlowe,” I said. “Why did you pick that way?”

  Marlowe poked Shelli on the shoulder, still not taking her eyes off me. “Hurry up. What’s taking you so long?”

  “I can’t help it,” Shelli said. “The traffic is really heavy. Lots of cabs and trucks.”

  “Well, try to move faster,” Marlowe said. She turned back to me. “Why the Circle Line cruise? It amuses me. After I shoot you, I’ll dump you overboard and get off at the next stop, go back for our car, and show up at the theater, worried because you haven’t shown up yet. ‘Where could she be?’ I’ll say, my voice breaking in the middle of the sentence.” She laughed that hateful laugh again.

  “How are you going to shoot me and throw me in the river with people all around?” I asked to keep her talking, not shooting. “Those cruises are crowded.”

  “I’ll figure that out when we get on board.”

  Once I got on that ship, I’d think of some way to get away from this crazy woman. No way could she shoot me and toss me in the water on a boat full of tourists.

  “This is all fine with you, Andrea?” I said to her.

  “I . . . I . . .” she stammered.

  Marlowe reached over the front seat and grabbed the gun away from Andrea. “You’ll be in the river with her unless you do exactly what I tell you to do,” she said to her. “Understand?”

  Andrea nodded.

  Shelli got on the West Side Highway and took the next exit ramp to Forty-Second Street. She drove to the pier where the Circle Line Cruise docked, then parked the car and waited for instructions from Marlowe.

  Marlowe reached in the glove compartment and took out another gun and handed it to Shelli.

  “You cover the fake Rockette, and I’ll walk with Andrea to make sure she doesn’t try anything funny. I already have the tickets, so we’ll act like tourists and get on the boat.”

  I felt pressure against my foot. Andrea was trying to send me a message. I glanced at her when Marlowe looked away for a minute to talk to Shelli. Andrea motioned with her head for me to look down at the floor. She had dropped her iPhone there with a text message on it. I just had time to read Do what I do, before Marlowe looked back. Andrea had already slid her phone into her pocket. She was on my side. Somehow we would get out of this together, please God.

  Shelli opened the door on my side of the car and told me to get out. She put her arm around my waist and I could feel the gun against my side under my jacket. Marlowe opened the door on Andrea’s side and motioned to her to get out. She took her arm and said, “Don’t try anything or you’re dead.”

  I knew there was no way either of them could shoot us in the middle of the crowd of people boarding the boat, and I was sure Andrea knew that too. I waited to get some kind of signal from her as we walked up the ramp going onto the boat. Andrea and Marlowe were ahead of Shelli and me. Halfway up the ramp that had no rails on the side, Andrea shouted, “Now,” and shoved Marlowe with all her might into the water. I did the same thing to Shelli who fell off the ramp on the other side.

  Andrea grabbed my hand and said, “Run!” She pulled me down the ramp, pushing the other tourists aside until we reached the pier.

  There were cabs parked nearby and we jumped in one.

  “Quick,” Andrea said. “Get us to the Music Hall as fast as you can.”

  “Must be good movie there,” the driver said with a heavy Russian accent. “What is?”

  “Just drive. Hurry,” Andrea said.

  The driver maneuvered around the other cabs and headed east toward Sixth Avenue.

  My heart was pounding so hard I thought I would pass out.

  “Are you all right?” Andrea asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m totally confused. Whose side are you on anyway? I thought you were going to help her kill me.”

  “I thought so too,” she said. “Then in the car, I realized she was planning to kill me on that boat too. She couldn’t let me stay alive knowing what I knew, so I made up my mind to get both of us away from her.”

  “She’ll probably still try to get us,” I said.

  “It’ll take her and Shelli a while to climb out of that river and dry off,” Andrea said. “We’ll be safe in the theater with Detective Carver, telling him what happened.”

  “Aren’t you still afraid of going to jail?” I asked.

  “I can’t run away any more,” she said. “I didn’t really do anything except go to a cafe with her. And I certainly wasn’t going to watch while she killed you.”

  “Thank God for that,” I said.

  The cab driver got us to the theater in about ten minutes and we ran inside. I prayed that the detective would still be there.

  He was. “What happened to you?” he said to me when we climbed onto the stage.

  My friends surrounded us. “Where were you?” Tina asked. “When you didn’t come back, we went looking for you and you had disappeared.”

  I told them what had happened
and emphasized what Andrea had done to save my life.

  “But you have to get them,” I said to the detective, grabbing his arm. “They’re probably just being pulled out of the water. You have to get them before they drive away. They have a car down there.”

  Detective Carver barked orders into his phone to his men to proceed immediately to the Circle Line pier and arrest two soaking-wet women in the boarding area.

  “They can’t get away,” he said to me.

  A few minutes later, I noticed that Detective Carver was talking on his phone again with a worried look on his face. Uh-oh. Please don’t let him say what I know he’s going to say.

  When he hung up, he still had the same look.

  “Detective?” I said, afraid to ask him.

  “Ms. Temple, I’m afraid I have bad news,” he said.

  “They got away, didn’t they?” I asked.

  “Yes. I can’t imagine how they got out of there, soaking wet, police all over the dock looking for them.”

  “They had a car parked on the dock, Detective. They might have gotten away in that.”

  “A car?” the Detective said. “What did it look like?”

  “They got us out of there so fast I didn’t get much chance to look at the plate,” I said. “It wasn’t a New York plate. But the car is a beige Nissan sedan. Not a new one. At least five years old, I think. The seats inside are black. I’m afraid that isn’t much help. There must be a thousand cars like that on the road.”

  “We’ll check the dock first,” he said. “They might not have made it to the car. It could still be there. Do you remember anything else about it? Anything at all?”

  Then I remembered something. “Oh there is one thing. The back window had A Graduate of Wellesley College printed on it.”

  “That’s it!” he said. He got back on his phone and told the officer on the other end to check the dock for a car like the one I had described to him. “Did she tell you who the graduate was?” he asked me.

  “No. She just said it wasn’t her car. She must have stolen it from the Radio City garage. I don’t think Wellesley accepts potential murderers.”