Killer Cocktail

by Tracy Kiely

  Copyright Information

  Killer Cocktail: © 2016 by Tracy Kiely.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Midnight Ink, except in the form of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  As the purchaser of this ebook, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. The text may not be otherwise reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or recorded on any other storage device in any form or by any means.

  Any unauthorized usage of the text without express written permission of the publisher is a violation of the author’s copyright and is illegal and punishable by law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First e-book edition © 2016

  E-book ISBN: 9780738748078

  Book design and format by Donna Burch-Brown

  Cover design by Kevin R. Brown

  Cover illustrations by Kim Johnson/Lindgren & Smith

  Editing by Rosemary Wallner

  Midnight Ink is an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Kiely, Tracy, author.

  Title: Killer cocktail / Tracy Kiely.

  Description: First edition. | Woodbury, Minnesota : Midnight Ink, [2016] |

  Series: A Nic & Nigel mystery ; 2

  Identifiers: LCCN 2015049007 (print) | LCCN 2016003075 (ebook) | ISBN

  9780738745237 (softcover) | ISBN 9780738748078 ()

  Subjects: LCSH: Hollywood (Los Angeles, Calif.)--Fiction. | Mystery fiction.

  gsafd

  Classification: LCC PS3611.I4453 K55 2016 (print) | LCC PS3611.I4453

  (ebook)

  | DDC 813/.6--dc23

  LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015049007

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  Midnight Ink

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  dedication

  To Barbara Kiely,

  the best mother-in-law and nanny anyone could ask for.

  Acknowledgments

  I owe a big thank you to Aimee Hix and Mollie Cox Bryan for kindly telling me who my murderer was. I also want to thank my family for putting up with my panic attacks as my deadline grew near. I’d like to say that it will never happen again, but I think we all know that’s a pipe dream. Also, thanks to Bridget Kiely and Barbara Poelle for talking me off the cliff from time to time (I’ve been advised to note that “time to time” roughly equals once a week). And finally, to everyone at Midnight Ink, especially Terri Bischoff—thank you for helping me bring Nic, Nigel, and Skippy to life.

  prologue

  HNS!—Your Hollywood News Source

  Melanie Summers Dead of

  Apparent Drug Overdose

  By M. Reynolds* May 10, 1996

  Melanie Summers, perhaps one of the most ambitious and beloved actresses of her generation, died on Thursday while filming the highly anticipated adaption of E. E. Berry’s Pulitzer Prize–winning novel, A Winter’s Night. She was 23.

  The death, from an apparent drug overdose, was confirmed early this morning by law enforcement officials. Ms. Summers was found unresponsive in her trailer by her long-time assistant, Sara Taylor, after failing to report to the set.

  Ms. Summers’s battles with addiction over the past years were no secret. Earlier this year, she checked into a rehabilitation program for heroin addiction. “I really thought she’d beat it this time,” said Ms. Taylor. “She was feeling really good about her future.”

  A doe-eyed brunette beauty with a lopsided smile, Melanie Summers stepped into the spotlight at the age of six, capturing audience’s hearts in the holiday classic A Miraculous Moment (1979). A prolific child star, she went on to appear in no less than 11 films over the next ten years. At 17, she landed her breakout adult role as Jenny Davis, the devoted WWII girlfriend in A Soldier’s Letter Home. She not only won an Oscar for the role, but she also won the heart of her handsome co-star, John Cummings. The two moved in together the following year and quickly became one of Hollywood’s most glamorous and talked-about couples.

  Off-screen Drama

  Summers’s private life earned her almost as much press as her professional one. She was rumored to have had numerous relationships—both public and secret—with her co-stars, colleagues, and other stars, even after moving in with Cummings. The constant spotlight of the paparazzi soon took its toll, and Summers’s behavior both on and off the set became erratic. Her much publicized DWI arrest two years ago resulted in her first stint in rehab, and last year she and Cummings called it quits. “I will always love Melanie,” said Cummings at the time, “but she needs to focus on her health right now.” Despite these setbacks, Ms. Summers was nevertheless a favorite of both audiences and film producers, both of whom kept her in great demand. Six months ago, she had been tapped to play the lead in A Winter’s Night opposite Cummings. Director Barry Meagher released a statement saying, “The cast and crew are utterly heartbroken. At this time, we have no idea who will replace Melanie. In my mind, she is irreplaceable.”

  one

  I was standing on the red carpet amid a boisterous crowd of Oscar hopefuls when a familiar voice shouted out over the din, “Nicole! Nigel! Over here!” Turning, I spotted Mandy Reynolds. A stately blonde with a perpetual tan and a wide smile, Mandy was a correspondent for HNS! Television. Her shows routinely ranked among the station’s highest rated due in equal parts to her engaging personality and glamorous wardrobe. For tonight’s broadcast, she was wearing a sleek sheath of intricately beaded crimson. The silhouette hinted at shapely curves underneath; the plunging neckline and thigh-high slit confirmed them.

  “You look stunning,” I said once she pushed through the hoard of people and joined us.

  “I look like a high-class hooker,” she countered, as she kissed me on my cheek. “But in this industry a little bad taste is practically mandatory.”

  Nigel laughed. “According to Dorothy Parker, ‘A little bad taste is like a nice dash of paprika.’”

  “Which is why, were she alive today, she’d be my best friend,” Mandy said. Glancing down at her crimson gown, she added, “However, I doubt even Dorothy would call this a dash. It’s more of a dollop.”

  “In that case, she’d probably call you a dollop of a trollop,” Nigel said.

  “She would, wouldn’t she?” Mandy agreed. “And then I’d get mad, and we wouldn’t be friends anymore. I mean, let’s be honest. The woman could be a bit bitchy at times.”

  “Maybe it’s for the best that she’s dead,” said Nigel in a sympathetic voice.

  Mandy laughed and then focused on the enormous dog seated regally at our feet. Large, even by bullmastiff standards, Skippy’s fawn-colored head came just past my hip. In deference to t
he formality of the occasion, Nigel had secured a black silk bowtie around his thick neck.

  “I can only assume that this creature belongs to you,” she said.

  Nigel nodded. “This is Skippy. He’s new.”

  “That’s one word for him,” Mandy said. “Although I doubt it would be my first choice. Wherever did you get him?”

  Draping his arm across my shoulders, Nigel pulled me close. “Well, Mandy,” he began, his voice wistful, “sometimes when a man and a woman love each other very much …”

  “… the man drags a giant bullmastiff through a crowded bar and claims it followed him home,” I finished.

  “Only you would call a bar ‘home,’ Nigel,” Mandy said shaking her head. “But, seriously? Skippy can’t be his real name. He looks more like a Thor or a Zeus. Hell, even Brian would be more believable.” She took a step closer, reaching out to scratch Skippy behind his ears. Skippy thumped his tail happily. “Does he know any tricks?” she asked.

  “When he jiggles the martini shaker, Nigel comes running,” I offered.

  “Smart dog,” Mandy said as she continued to play with Skippy’s ears. “So, do you have time for a quick interview? My producer will skin me alive if I don’t get the latest on those videos you found.”

  Nigel nodded his dark head. “Sure. You know I’m always happy to talk …”

  “Oh, yes. I know how you love to talk,” Mandy interrupted, pointing a manicured finger at his chest. “So, let’s set some ground rules first, shall we? One, stick to the topic at hand. And two, behave.”

  Nigel opened his blue eyes wide. “Moi?”

  Mandy narrowed her own and leveled him with a hard stare. “Yes. Vous. Interviews with you are notoriously dangerous. Need I remind you of the time you recited a rather crude limerick about Oscar’s genitalia—on live TV? If I remember correctly, you rhymed ‘golden lord’ with ‘impotent gourd.’”

  “Well, you have to admit …” Nigel began, but Mandy cut him off.

  “And don’t even get me started about that foul-mouthed and apparently inebriated parrot you had with you,” she finished.

  “Mandy, I swear, I had no idea that Roscoe even knew those words, let alone that he felt that way about you,” Nigel said. “Besides, he was perfectly well behaved in the limo. How was I to know he couldn’t hold his liquor?”

  “There are so many things wrong with that question, Nigel, I don’t know where to begin,” Mandy said, “But, for my sake, please, please behave. I’ve been on a goddamn citrus cleanse for the last week and a half, and keeping up with you is hard enough on my best days.”

  “I’ll be good,” Nigel said, and then raised his two fingers and added, “Scout’s honor.”

  “Oh, please,” Mandy scoffed. “Unless the Scouts now give out badges for mixology, I’m not buying it. But I need this interview, so I’ll just have to risk it.” With a nod of her head, she turned and called to her cameraman. “Bob? Over here. We’re going to do a quick interview.”

  A lanky man with a receding hairline and bushy beard nodded and walked toward us. “Ready when you are,” he said, hoisting his camera onto his right shoulder.

  “Okay,” Mandy replied. “On three, two, one.” The light from Bob’s camera flashed on as Mandy squared her shoulders and raised her microphone. “Hello! This is Mandy Reynolds, and welcome back to the Academy Awards!” she beamed brightly at the camera before pivoting back to Nigel and me. “I’m here with the always charming Nicole and Nigel Martini. Nigel, of course, is the founder of Movie Magic, the company responsible for finding and restoring hundreds of films that were once thought lost forever. But what’s really got Hollywood buzzing is his recent discovery of famed producer Frank Samuels’s daughter’s home videos from the set of the cult classic A Winter’s Night. Now, Nigel, you just purchased Frank’s former home. I understand that’s where you found the videos, is that right?”

  “That’s right, Mandy,” answered Nigel. “They were in the attic.”

  “The attic?” Mandy repeated in surprise.

  Nigel nodded. “Yes, you see shortly after moving in, Nic and I were playing the game Never Ever Have I, and …”

  “And we found the videos in the attic,” I said quickly, giving Nigel’s hand a warning squeeze.

  Mandy’s eyes widened briefly, and she moved on to her next question. “Have you been able to watch all the footage yet?”

  “Not yet,” answered Nigel, “but it’s clear that Frank’s daughter, Danielle, had a great deal of access on the set. She filmed the cast and crew while they ate, while they rehearsed, and while they discussed the story line. I think it’s going to provide a rare glimpse into the filming process of one of America’s favorite movies.”

  “Was Danielle able to capture any of Melanie Summers’s work before she died?”

  “A fair amount actually,” Nigel answered.

  “I’m curious to see how she interpreted the lead role of Hanna Gertchaw,” said Mandy. “Of course, as we all know, Christina Franklin was initially cast to play Hanna’s sister, Freda, in the film, and was given the lead after Melanie’s untimely death. She won her first Oscar for that role.”

  “From what I’ve seen so far, I’d say that they had different interpretations of Hanna,” said Nigel. “Melanie saw her as tougher and a little less tortured than how Christina ultimately portrayed her. It’s intriguing to think how Melanie’s interpretation might have affected the movie as a whole.”

  “Just utterly fascinating,” Mandy said. “So, what are you doing with the videos now?”

  “My staff and I are transferring them to our computers. Once that’s done, we’ll edit them into a cohesive narrative and release it.”

  “Any idea when that might be?” Mandy asked.

  “We’re hoping to have it ready for release by this summer,” Nigel answered.

  “Well, we’ll all be looking forward to it,” Mandy said, her tone indicating the interview was over. “Thanks again for stopping, and enjoy the show!” She smiled at the camera until the light went off. “We get what we need, Bob?” she asked.

  “Got it,” Bob answered as he lowered the camera from his shoulder.

  “Great. Thanks, Nigel,” said Mandy. “Promise me that you’ll call when the footage is complete. I’d be happy to help you promote it. Not that you’ll need it, of course. People are going to go nuts over any footage of Melanie.” She paused and looked at him sideways. “Of course, all the old rumors are bound to surface again.”

  Nigel rolled his eyes. “You mean the one that claims Melanie faked her death to get away from it all?”

  “Actually,” she said, “I was thinking about the one that claims she was murdered.”

  two

  “Both theories are absurd,” said Nigel.

  “Why is it absurd to think that she faked her death?” Mandy asked.

  “Because contrary to the Elvis sightings routinely documented in The National Enquirer, celebrities simply do not fake their deaths and then disappear into thin air,” said Nigel.

  “Some do,” said Mandy. Turning to me, she asked, “What do you think, Nic? After all, you’re the detective.”

  “Ex-detective,” I corrected. “My days with the New York City Police Department are over.”

  “Fine. Then as an ex-detective what do you think?” she asked.

  “I have to admit it’s not something that keeps me up at night …” I said. Nigel opened his mouth to say something, but I quickly placed my hand over his mouth. “But, if pressed, I guess I’d have to ask why Melanie would fake her death in the first place? She’d just landed one of the most sought-after roles in Hollywood. Her career was set to take off.”

  “True, but some believe her life was in danger from a stalker fan,” said Mandy. “Others believed she had a fatal illness and wanted to die without the media attention. And then there are those wh
o claim that she just got sick of Hollywood and wanted out.”

  “So, if she faked her death, then where did she go?” I asked. “In this day and age, it’s kind of hard to live under the radar.”

  “I don’t know,” said Mandy. “But, I’ve heard theories ranging from she married an obscure European prince to that she’s living on a beach in Tahiti.”

  “That in and of itself should give you a hint as to the collective IQ of these theorists,” Nigel said as he removed my hand from his mouth. “But, even they’re brighter than the ‘She Was Murdered’ theorists.”

  “Why? You have to admit, she wasn’t very well liked,” Mandy countered.

  “By those standards, half of Hollywood would be dead,” Nigel said. “And, I think that if Melanie were murdered, someone might have noticed. You know, like the coroner. Or her assistant. Or just about anyone on the set.”

  Mandy turned to me. “I’m sure Nic would agree with me that lots of murders go unreported.”

  “Not if I’m sober, I wouldn’t.”

  “If that’s a clever ploy to get me to buy you a drink,” said Mandy with a grin, “then drinks are on me tonight.”

  Nigel shook his head. “No deal. There are some lines even I won’t cross for a free drink.”

  “Fine,” said Mandy, “but at least answer me this. Nic, you’re a good judge of character.” She winked at Nigel and added, “Normally. From what you’ve seen of the footage, what did you make of her?”

  “She was a great actress,” I said slowly. “And obviously, we haven’t watched all of the footage yet, but, from what I’ve seen so far, I’d say she could be…difficult.”

  Mandy laughed. “If by ‘difficult’ you mean a spoiled brat with a rotten soul, then I’d agree with you.”

  “I was somewhat surprised,” I admitted. “She was always portrayed as America’s Sweetheart.”

  Mandy scoffed. “America’s Sweetheart, my ass. That reputation was created by the studio’s publicity machine, and even then it took a team of full-time workers to make it believable. The real Melanie Summers was a manipulative, egotistical little shit who only cared about herself.” Mandy paused and then added, “May she rest in peace, of course.”