High Kicks, Hot Chocolate, and Homicides

by Mary McHugh

  Chapter 13

  Ayuda!

  I must have slept for ten hours. I woke up the next day refreshed and glad I didn’t have to go into the city and put on one of those heavy Santa Claus jackets. It was Saturday. French toast day. I put the bacon in the pan, and it was just beginning to sizzle when the phone rang. Must be somebody trying to sell me something, I thought. But the name on my phone was Tina’s.

  “Tina,” I said, “it’s Saturday. What are you doing up and on the phone?”

  “Hi, Weezie,” she said. “I’m so sorry to do this to you, but Bianca—you know, the Rockette who is in charge now—just called me. She’s frantic. She asked if we could possibly come into the city and rehearse with the Rockettes today. Without the five main dancers, she’s had to change everything around, and she wants to check and see where our dancing will fit in best. I know it’s asking a lot, but I told her I’d ask you guys.”

  “Oh, Tina,” I said, “the last thing I want to do is go back in that city on a Saturday and put on that heavy, awful jacket and dance without anyone to direct us.”

  “I know, hon,” she said. “But she needs our help. She’s in a real mess, and I think we should help her out. I’ll see if I can persuade her to take those heavy balls out of the jackets.”

  “Two more months before we finish there, Tina,” I said.

  “Listen,” she said. “Think about it: I called the others and they’re, reluctantly, going to come into the city with me today. Peter begged off. He loves us, but he doesn’t feel like driving in. I’m going to drive, though. I borrowed his van.”

  “If you’re all going, I’ll come too,” I said. “When?”

  “I’ll pick you up in an hour,” she said. “Okay?”

  “I guess,” I said.

  “Thanks, Weezie,” she said. “I know how hard this is for you. I really appreciate it.”

  “See you in an hour,” I said.

  George came into the kitchen just as I said that.

  “See who in an hour?” he asked.

  “Oh, George, I told Tina I’d go into the city with them because the woman in charge of the Christmas show really needs us since she lost all those Rockettes.”

  “I thought we were going to see that movie—the one with George Clooney you wanted to see,” George said.

  “So did I,” I said. “Believe me, honey, I don’t want to do this. But I can’t let my friends down.”

  I put a plate full of crisp bacon and golden brown French toast next to the pitcher of warm maple syrup in front of him and poured a cup of fresh, hot coffee to go with it.”

  He sighed. “I know I can’t stop you, but I wish you wouldn’t go.”

  “Thanks for understanding, honey,” I said. “I feel I have to go with the others this morning.”

  “I know,” he said. “It’s one of the reasons I love you: your loyalty.”

  I went upstairs to get dressed and was ready with my tap shoes when Tina drove into the driveway.

  Nobody looked very happy. They all sort of grunted a hello when I got in the car, and we didn’t say much on the way into the city. Tina made it in record time, since it wasn’t a work morning, and parked near the Music Hall.

  Bianca was waiting for us on the stage when we came in. She had pulled-back white-blond hair, and the usual red cheeks and pink lipsticked mouth. The customary cheerful Rockettes expression was missing.

  “Thank you so much for doing this,” she said to us as we climbed onto the stage. “I’m so sorry to have to ask you to do this, but I don’t know what else to do. We have this big hole in our line of dancers, and we need you to fill at least a small part of it. After all the bad publicity about the murders, you guys will add some comic relief to this whole Christmas show.”

  “We still need a lot of rehearsing, Bianca,” Tina said. “We kept getting interrupted by people being killed.” She paused and looked briefly at me. “Have the police arrested Marlowe and Shelli yet?”

  “I don’t think so,” Bianca said. “But they may have caught them and not told me yet.”

  “I don’t see how they can get away,” Tina said.

  I did. Marlowe always found a way to do what she had to do. And getting rid of me was at the top of her list.

  “Okay,” Bianca said, “if you’re ready, here are the Santa jackets to put on.”

  We all groaned and pulled the heavy costumes over our heads.

  “There is one favor you could do for us, Bianca,” Tina said. “Take the lead out of these jackets. It would make it so much easier for us.”

  “I think we could manage that,” Bianca said. “Do the best you can today and I’ll make sure they’re lighter from now on.”

  Bianca put us through our paces for an hour. It was a little easier than it had been before, but still not a lot of fun.

  “Why don’t you go get some lunch, and we’ll do some more this afternoon,” Bianca said. “One of the other Rockettes will take over for me on Monday.”

  She left and my friends took out their phones to make plans for lunch.

  “Wait a minute,” Janice said. “We can’t leave Mary Louise by herself when Marlowe is still roaming around out there.”

  “You’re right,” Gini said. “You can come with us, Weez. Alex and I are eating at The Times.”

  “Oh, Gini,” I said, “you don’t have to do that. Go have fun with Alex. I’ll call Mike. He’ll be sure I’m safe.”

  “Are you still seeing him?” Pat asked. “I got the impression that you had decided to stay with George. You certainly seemed like it on the boat.”

  “You’re right, Pat,” I said. “I am going to stay with George, but I’ll always have Mike as a friend.”

  “That’s okay with George?” Gini asked, her expression saying just the opposite.

  “We’ll see,” I said. “If he can’t handle that, I’ll break off my friendship with Mike, but today I want to be with Mike. I want to tell him.”

  “If you’re sure,” Tina said. “We don’t want to lose you, Weezie.” She gave me a hug.

  “Let me call him and make sure he’s not delivering a baby or something,” I said. “And then you can leave me. I’ll be fine.”

  Mike answered his phone right away, the way he always does in case one of his patients is in labor. When I told him what had happened, he said, “Stay there. I’ll come get you.”

  “Thanks, Mike,” I said and hung up.

  “He’s on his way over here,” I said to my friends. “You can go. He’ll stay with me until you’re ready to take us home, Tina.”

  “I don’t feel right about leaving you here alone, Mary Louise.”

  “It’s all right, Tina,” I said. “Mike will be here before I finish dressing. Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

  “If you’re sure,” Tina said. “I’m going to talk to the caterer for the wedding, and I’ll meet you back here at two.

  Janice went off to meet Tom, Gini to meet Alex, and Pat to meet David at Rockefeller Center, where they were going to ice skate. I went into the art deco bathroom to put on some lipstick and comb my hair before Mike got there.

  I smoothed my hair back into a reasonably straight look and was putting on my lipstick when the door of one of the booths opened and Marlowe came out, a blond wig on her head, a gun in her hand. She was wearing a sweater and skirt.

  I dropped my lipstick in the sink. “Marlowe! How did you get in here? How did you get out of the river? Where’s Shelli?”

  “You ask too many questions, you little fink. You’re not going to get away from me this time. You’re my hostage until I get out of this country. If you do what I say, you might live to dance another day.”

  “How did you get out of the water?” I said, trying to stall until Mike got out of his car and came into the theater to find me.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m a good swimmer. It’s my favorite kind of exercise. I swam under the dock until I was a long way from the pier where your friend shoved me in the river�
�thanks a lot—and came up near a restaurant on the water. I used the dryer in the ladies’ room until I was respectable again, went to a boutique nearby, bought a wig, a sweater and skirt. I went back to the dock to get our car, but the police must have taken it away. So I came here to wait for you. You won’t get away from me this time.”

  “What happened to Shelli?” I asked.

  “I have no idea,” she said. “I wasn’t going to hang around and find out. Maybe she drowned. Anyway she’s history. Now walk out that door. I’m right behind you. And this gun is loaded.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the pier. I’m getting a boat to Cuba. I have relatives there. It’s owned by a friend of mine. I had a score to settle with you first, though. You’re my hostage until that boat sails. I didn’t want to take a chance on being arrested while I waited for the boat to leave.”

  “You have Cuban relatives?” I asked, surprised. Her name was so un-Spanish.

  She laughed when she saw my expression. “Marlowe Stanley is my professional name. My grandfather came here when Castro took over Cuba. My real name is Magalys Moreno. Now shut up and don’t try anything. Walk.”

  We went out the back way and she held the gun against my back under my jacket. We looked like very close girlfriends. We had gone about three blocks south on Sixth Avenue when I saw Mike’s car coming up Sixth Avenue toward us. I didn’t think Marlowe saw him. I had to figure out a way to attract Mike’s attention without getting shot.

  His car stopped at a red light just as we were about to pass him. I bent down, grabbed one of my shoes and threw it as hard as I could at his windshield before Marlowe could stop me.

  He shouted, “Hey,” and then realized it was me. He jumped out of the car and ran to us.

  “Don’t make a move or she’s dead,” Marlowe said.

  “She has a gun, Mike,” I said.

  Mike stepped back. Meanwhile, all the cars behind Mike’s started honking their horns the way drivers do in New York when they can’t move. A policewoman approached his car, realized no one was behind the wheel and shouted, “Whose car is this?”

  “Better go get your car, Doc,” Marlowe said and pulled me along the sidewalk away from him.

  Mike ran over to the traffic officer and pointed to Marlowe and me walking down the street. The officer kept talking and motioned toward Mike’s car. She didn’t seem interested in me, Marlowe, the gun, or anything but removing Mike’s car from the intersection where he was blocking traffic.

  I had to do something. At the next block, the light turned red as we were about to cross, but I didn’t stop walking. I kept going as the cars moved toward us from the right. Marlowe tried to stop me but I just kept on, with the cars squealing to a stop or honking or the drivers shouting at me to get out of the way. I figured I would either get killed by a car or by Marlowe but I didn’t really think she would shoot me in the middle of Thirty-Seventh Street.

  She still had the gun in my back as she tried to push me across the street to get away from the cars coming at us. A truck driver leaned out of his cab and said, “Hey lady, you’re crossing against the light. Do you want to get killed?”

  I yelled back at him, “She’s got a gun.”

  “A gun?” the driver said. “Just to cross the street? New York isn’t that bad.” And he laughed. He had no idea I was serious, that I was walking down Sixth Avenue with a gun in my ribs.

  With all the noise and honking and shouting, Marlowe was distracted just long enough for Mike to come up behind her and knock the gun out of her hand, pick it up and point it at her.

  Finally, the traffic officer realized what was happening and stopped concentrating on Mike’s car in the intersection and understood something far more serious was going on. Unfortunately, she assumed Mike was the criminal, since he was armed, and Marlowe was the victim.

  “Okay, Mister,” she said, coming up to him, her own gun pointing at him, “drop the gun.”

  “Oh, thank you, Officer,” Marlowe said. “You saved my life. This man was trying to rob me—right in the middle of the street.”

  “Don’t believe her, Officer,” I said. “She was kidnapping me, and this man—he’s a doctor at New York Hospital—is my friend and was rescuing me.”

  “You’re all under arrest,” she said, picking up Marlowe’s gun from the sidewalk where Mike had dropped it.

  “You have to believe me,” I said. “Call Detective Carver. He’s after this woman. Her name is Marlowe—”

  “You know Detective Carver?” the officer said.

  “Call him. My name is Mary Louise Temple. This woman has killed three people. Three Rockettes. Detective Carver has been trying to get her. You’ll be a big hero.”

  “Do you really believe all this stuff this crazy woman is saying,” Marlowe said. “Look at her. You can tell she’s out of her mind. Do I look as if I could have killed three women? She’s nuts.”

  “She’s not crazy,” Mike said. “She’s telling you the truth. One call to Detective Carver and you’ll see. You’ll be a hero.”

  The officer looked from one to the other of us, not sure which one of us was crazy. Finally, she clicked a number on her phone. After a minute she was transferred.

  “Detective Carver?” she said. “I don’t mean to disturb you, sir, but I’m in the middle of a very confusing situation. A woman named Mary Louise Temple told me to call you. She says she was kidnapped by this woman who’s with her. There’s some man here too, who says he’s a doctor.”

  She almost dropped the phone because of the explosion of sound at the other end. The detective yelled at her to arrest the other woman immediately. She was wanted for murder. The officer hung up, handcuffed Marlowe and hailed a passing police car with two police officers inside. She explained the situation briefly to them and told them to take her to headquarters. Not to let her out of their sight.

  I don’t think I have ever been as scared as I was during that whole encounter with Marlowe. I couldn’t believe I was still alive and not on a boat on my way to Cuba.

  Mike held me close. “Are you all right?”

  “No, and I don’t think I ever will be all right,” I said clinging to him. “Oh, Mike, I’m so glad to see you.”

  He helped me into his car and started the engine.

  “It’s all over, honey,” he said. “She’ll never get out of jail. You’re safe.”

  I didn’t believe him.

  Mary Louise’s cooking tip: No matter what happens to you in life, don’t forget to ask for the recipe for whatever you were eating at the time.

  Chapter 14

  A Hoofer’s Prayer

  “Are you hungry, babe?” Mike asked me.

  “Want some lunch?”

  “I’m not hungry, but I could use a cup of coffee,” I said. “And I want to talk to you, Mike. About us.”

  He didn’t say anything, but the expression on his face told me he knew what I was going to tell him.

  “There’s a cafe nearby,” he said. “We can talk there.”

  Luckily, there was a parking space near the café, and I limped into the restaurant with him. I never did find the shoe I threw at his car, so I hobbled around, his hand on my arm supporting me.

  We sat down, ordered coffee, and I looked at this man who meant so much to me.

  “Mike,” I began. “I—”

  “I know, Mary Louise,” he said. “I know what you’re going to say. I just don’t want to hear it.” There were tears in his eyes.

  “Oh, Mike,” I said, holding his hand. “You mean so much to me. I can’t tell you how much. I do love you, but I love George too. I’m going to stay with him, but I was hoping you and I could still be friends. I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

  His smile was sad. “Of course we can still be friends,” he said. “But I’ll never stop hoping you’ll change your mind. I’ll always be here for you—especially when someone is trying to murder you.”

  I shuddered. “It seems to be happening a
lot lately,” I said.

  “I don’t know anyone else who needs me for that reason,” he said. “Most people I know live ordinary lives with nobody trying to kill them. With you, every day it’s a possibility.”

  “I can’t keep you a secret from George any longer, Mike,” I said. “It’s not fair to him. I’ll tell him about you and that I want to see you as a friend. If he can’t handle that, then . . .”

  “I know,” he said. “Then we can’t see each other any more. I’ll just have to learn to accept that. Unless someone else tries to kill you. Then please feel free to call.”

  “I’m staying home in Champlain, where as far as I know, there are no murderers,” I said. I took his hand. “Thank you for being so understanding, Mike.”

  “Your honesty is one of the things I love best about you,” he said. “I know how hard it has been for you trying to decide what to do.” He paused and held my hand in both of his. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you, though.”

  “Let’s see what George says,” I said, knowing he wouldn’t exactly be thrilled if I kept on seeing a man who loved me and wanted to marry me.

  “I know what I’d say if my wife told me another man was in love with her,” Mike said.

  His phone vibrated. He took it out of his pocket and listened.

  “How far apart are they?” he asked. “I’ll be right there.” He took my hand. “Will you be all right if I leave you here? There’s a new life coming into the world.”

  I smiled. I loved the way he looked forward to each new baby born with his help. “Of course, Mike. Go welcome that baby.”

  He stood up and leaned over and kissed me. “Let me know what George says,” he said. “Just remember, I love you.”

  “I know,” I said. “Good-bye, Mike.” I hoped this wasn’t the last time I would ever see him.

  He touched my face and hurried out of the restaurant. That baby was on its way.

  I sat there, thinking about almost being killed twice in one day and how lucky I was to be alive. I decided to find a church nearby and say a prayer of thanks for escaping from Marlowe. I still had time before I had to go back to the theater and rehearse.