by Tracy Kiely
“Yes, dear. I know. That little tidbit is what we might call a well-documented fact. But I think this is a visit that would be better served if just I go,” I said. “Besides, you said you wanted to work on Skippy’s training.”
“Spoil sport,” Nigel muttered as Mandy answered the phone.
“Mandy?” I said. “It’s Nic. Listen, are you busy tomorrow? Nigel is spending the day trying to train Skippy. I thought maybe we could meet for a drink. My treat.”
thirty-six
Mandy agreed, and the next day found us sipping cocktails on a restaurant patio overlooking the ocean. “So, anything new on your break-in?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Oh, a few things,” I said.
She turned to me, her expression curious. “Anything you feel like sharing?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Not really. I just want to talk, actually. That’s why I called you. I need a little girl time. You know, talk about clothes, gossip, and our love lives.”
Mandy laughed. “Well, I can certainly help you with the first two. Unfortunately, I’ve got nothing for the last one.”
I looked at her in surprise. “Really? How come? You’re smart, gorgeous, and successful. You’re not dating anybody?”
Mandy shrugged. “I date a little, but in my job it’s hard to find time for a relationship. I mean a long-term one anyway.”
“Really? There’s never been anyone? No one special?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” she said with a coy smile, “but I guess I’m married to my career. I absolutely love what I do. Even the jobs that involve juice cleanses. I guess I never met the right guy.”
“Oh. For some reason, I was under the impression that you had met the right guy.”
Mandy adopted a confused expression. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Barry.”
“Barry?” she repeated slowly.
“Barry,” I confirmed.
She blanched. “You think I’m in love with Barry?” she asked aghast.
“Well, aren’t you?”
She stared at me a beat and then said, “Why on earth would you think that?”
“I’ve seen the videos, Mandy. I’ve also seen the way you act around him. I thought it was odd how upset you got at Barry’s party when that woman said Barry liked to play around. But, I guess it really fell into place when I talked to Mr. Luiz.”
“Who?”
“The actor you hired to try and buy the tapes from us.”
“Oh, shit,” she said looking at her lap.
I sighed. “Really, Mandy? Barry Meagher? He’s married, for God’s sake!”
She glared at me. “Don’t you think I know that?”
“I know you know it,” I retorted. “My question is why?”
She paused and looked out over the ocean before answering. “Our relationship is…complicated,” she finally said.
I scoffed. “Is that a fancy term for ‘sleeping with a married man’”?
“Look, Nic. What do you want me to say? I’m sorry?”
“Why don’t you try explaining to me what the hell you were thinking in hiring an actor to buy the tapes from us?”
“I don’t know,” Mandy said and took a deep drink from her wine glass. “I was pretty sure there was nothing on them. I mean, we were always careful, but I couldn’t be sure. I remember meeting him on the set and feeling like I’d been hit with a lightning bolt. I’m sure it was written all over my face. If Cecelia ever found out…well, it would be horrible.”
“Do you really think that I’d publish anything like that? Why would I do that? We’re friends! Your relationship with Barry has nothing to do with how this movie was made! Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because I was ashamed. It’s all such a stupid cliché; the long-time mistress of the powerful man. She happily accepts whatever crumbs of affection he throws her way. She arranges her life for his convenience. God, I make fun of women like me!”
I stared at her. After a moment I said, “You’re really in love with him, aren’t you?”
She hung her head. “God help me, I am.”
thirty-seven
Later, as I pulled into our driveway, a squad car rolled up behind me. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I saw that it contained Detective Brady and Officer Hax. Both looked very grim.
I got out of my car, just as Nigel opened the front door. Skippy bounded over to me and greeted me in his usual fashion. By the time I had finished wiping off my face, Detective Brady and Officer Hax had alighted from the car.
“I’ve been trying to reach you,” I said to Detective Brady by way of a greeting. “I have some information that may help with this case.”
Detective Brady slammed his car door shut with a decided thud. “Do you, now?” he asked with a faint smirk. “How lucky for me. I can hardly wait to hear it.”
I glanced at Officer Hax. While her face was arranged in a professionally blank mask, I detected annoyance beneath its surface. I shrugged and crossed my arms, leaning against my car door. Nigel walked across the graveled driveway to where I stood. Skippy promptly sat down in front of us.
“I taught him that today,” Nigel said as he greeted me with a light kiss on my check.
“I hate to break this to you, darling,” I said, “but Skippy has been sitting on his own for some time now.”
“Don’t be a smartass, I meant in a guarding position,” he said. Turning to Detective Brady, he asked, “How can we help you, Detective?”
Detective Brady mirrored my position, crossing his arms and leaning against his car door. “Oh, but by all means,” he said with a deliberate drawl, “why don’t you tell me your information first? I’m sure it’s far more important than what I have.”
Officer Hax winced at his rudeness. I took a deep breath and let out a sigh. I had dealt with men like Brady long enough that I was now immune to the behavior. In time, Officer Hax would become so too. But for now, she stared intently at her shoes. Without preamble, I told Detective Brady my theory about Melanie’s pregnancy and that her death was the result of an intentionally tampered with EpiPen. While I didn’t expect him to believe me, I certainly didn’t expect him to laugh.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Martini,” he said, “but I’ve got bigger things to worry about right now than a suspected pregnancy from almost twenty years ago and an allergy to shellfish.”
“Such as?” I asked.
The smirk returned. “Well, for starters, the body of Janice Franklin was found early this morning.”
“Homicide?” I asked.
Detective Brady gave a slight nod. “We can’t be sure yet, of course, until we finish running some more tests. But I’ve been doing this a long time, and my gut tells me she was murdered.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“The victim’s daughter, Christina Franklin, had been unable to reach her mother and grew concerned. She went to the victim’s house and using her key, let herself inside. There she discovered her mother. The victim had been shot twice in the back.”
“Wow,” said Nigel with wide-eyed admiration. “That’s some gut.”
After Officer Hax’s sudden coughing fit subsided, I asked if there were any suspects. I was rewarded with a smug smile. “As a matter of fact, there is one. And I’m happy to say that not only do we have them in custody, but I believe that they are also responsible for the attack on your employee.”
That did surprise me. “Who?”
“Jules Dixon,” came the reply.
That surprised me even more.
thirty-eight
“Why don’t you come inside?” I suggested. “I’d rather not have this conversation in my driveway.”
Detective Brady gave a reluctant nod. “Fine, but I only have a few minutes,” he said.
“Of course,
” I said. “I understand.”
I led the way inside to the kitchen. Once everyone was seated and offers of coffee had been politely refused, I sat back in my chair. “So, tell me why you think Jules was behind all of this,” I asked.
“There are several reasons, actually,” Detective Brady answered as he crossed his legs and brushed a spec of lint off of his pant leg. “But I’ll narrow it down to two. First, we have several witnesses who saw an altercation between Ms. Dixon and Ms. Franklin that ended with Ms. Dixon threatening Ms. Franklin. And second, the remains of some of your stolen tapes were found on the grounds of Ms. Dixon’s home. It appears that they’d been burned.”
“Just to clarify, this would be the house she shares with John Cummings?” I asked.
Detective Brady tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Yes; however, I don’t think he’s involved. He wasn’t in residence at the time of the search.”
“Oh, well,” I said nodding, “Then that definitely clears him.”
Detective Brady raised an eyebrow. “Are you being ironic, Ms. Martini?” he asked.
“Technically, I was being sarcastic,” I said, “but I don’t really want to get into a semantic argument with you. Instead, why don’t you just tell me why you think Jules Dixon broke into our house and stole our tapes?”
Detective Brady cocked an eyebrow in my direction. “You really have to ask?” he said. “I would think that as a former detective, you’d be able to figure that out for yourself.”
I smiled. “Consider it an early Christmas gift.”
Detective Brady re-crossed his legs and made sure they were lint free before continuing. “From what I understand, there has been a lot of interest in those tapes. No doubt, Ms. Dixon thought that if she could acquire them, she could sell them. She may have also planned to use them as a leveraging tool.”
“A leveraging tool for what?” I asked.
“Movie roles,” he answered. “I understand that Ms. Dixon was up for a movie role; a role for which Ms. Christina Franklin was also being considered. Ms. Dixon may have believed that having these tapes would give her an edge.”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and considered his answer. “So, you think that a woman, who by all accounts is quite well off, would resort to savagely beating a person and leaving them for dead just for the chance to make a little money?” I asked after a moment.
Detective Brady shrugged. “Why do you assume it would be a little money?” he asked.
“Ok, let’s say the tapes are worth a lot of money. There still is the question as to why a woman, who is already well off, would resort to such savagery.”
“You never heard of someone killing for money? Even the rich want to be richer,” he asked with a smirk. “You did say you used to work in New York City, correct? I know there’s been a big push to reduce crime there in recent years, but I can’t image it’s suddenly Mayberry.”
“Oh, no, there’s still plenty of crime. Trust me, I’ve seen more than my fair share of the baser side of humanity, Detective Brady,” I said.
“But you don’t think Jules Dixon is a member of this baser side?”
I shook my head. “I never said that. In fact, I think she is a rather unpleasant woman all together. I can easily picture her doing a lot of despicable things. I’m just not sure that attempted murder is one of them.”
“Well, I’ll be sure to include that observation in my report right under the heading of ‘Woman’s Intuition,’” Detective Brady said. “And, just so I understand your reasoning, despite the fact that we found some of the stolen videos on her property, you don’t think she was behind the theft because…why?”
“Actually, it’s that fact that the videos were found on her property that bothers me,” I said.
Detective Brady frowned. “That’s what bothers you?”
Before I could answer, Nigel gently stepped on my foot. I amended my initial response. “According to your theory, Jules stole our tapes and almost killed someone in the process because the tapes were extremely valuable and because she—for whatever reason—needed the money.”
Detective Brady nodded as if bored.
“Well, I guess my first question would be, if these tapes were so valuable, then why would she burn them?”
Detective Brady rotated his shoulder as if stretching out a sore muscle, before answering. “Maybe she panicked. Realized that we were closing in on her and wanted to destroy the evidence,” he finally offered.
I leaned back against the cushions and stared at him a beat before glancing at Officer Hax. She studiously avoided my gaze. I didn’t blame her. I’d worked with higher-ups like Brady before too.
thirty-nine
As Nigel and I watched Detective Brady and Officer Hax pull out of our driveway, Nigel whispered into my ear, “I don’t think Detective Brady likes you.”
“I’d be offended if he did.”
“I wonder if his gut has told him that we think he’s an idiot?” he asked as he made a production of cheerily waving good-bye.
“Impossible,” I answered, as I did the same. “That would mean he had a gut, and he’s clearly all ass.”
“You know what this means, though, don’t you?” he asked.
“You want to marry me and take me away from all of this?” I suggested.
He smiled down at me. “I believe I already did that.”
“You could always do it again,” I offered. “But this time we could have an Elvis impersonator officiate. That’s a Christmas card picture that’s just begging to be sent to your family.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Nigel said. “I’ll make all the arrangements right after you solve this case, which you are on as of now. Because, let’s face it, Fred from Scooby-Doo had more brains than Detective Brady.”
I turned and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Nigel, Scooby had more going on than Detective Brady.”
Nigel pulled me closer and kissed me lightly on my nose, but his expression was serious. “Exactly,” he said, “which is why you need to find who really did this to DeDee. She’s lying in a hospital bed with no memory all because of those damn tapes.”
I leaned back, my arms still around his neck, and met his gaze. “Well, I think I have some good news for you then,” I said. “I think I know who did it.”
Nigel cocked his head. “You think?”
I nodded. “I just need to make a quick phone call first.”
forty
Sara Taylor picked up on the first ring. I think she was expecting a call from someone else, if the frustration in her voice when I identified myself was any indication.
“Sara, I’m sorry to bother you,” I said, “I know you must be very busy.”
“I am,” she agreed.
After a brief silent acknowledgement of that lie, I continued. “Yes, well I do appreciate your taking the time to talk to me. I won’t be long.”
Sara sighed heavily into the phone. “What is it?” she asked
“It’s about Melanie’s pregnancy,” I said.
I heard the intake of breath. “Her … what?” she stammered.
“Her pregnancy,” I repeated.
“I’m having trouble hearing you,” she said. “We must have a bad connection.”
“If it’s easy, I could come out and talk to you in person.”
Sara was silent for a minute and then said, “No, that’s all right. I can hear you now.”
“Oh, good,” I said, “I had a feeling that the connection might improve. Now, I won’t keep you long. I already know who the father was but I need you to tell me who was paying you to keep quiet about Melanie’s pregnancy.”
Silence answered. “Sara?” I began.
She whispered the name so softly that I had to ask her to repeat it to be sure I heard her correctly. Once she did, it all made sense. Aft
er a moment Sara asked in a small voice, “What are you going to do?”
“Well, Sara, you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t go into all the details with you now, but I will tell you this.” I paused and let the silence grow.
“Tell me what?” she asked after a minute.
“I think you’d better find a job. Immediately. I have a feeling that your wise investments are about to crash and burn.”
I hung up and made one more call. This time it was to Officer Hax.
forty-one
A few hours later, I knocked on Frank Samuel’s front door. Per my request, Officer Hax was parked around the corner in her squad car. Per my request that Nigel and Skippy stay at home, I was less successful. Both of them flanked me as I stood on Frank’s doorstep.
Frank answered my knock, his eyes going round with surprise at the sight of us. He quickly recovered and said, “Well, hello, Nic. Hello, Nigel. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Hello, Frank,” I said apologetically. “I’m sorry to show up unannounced like this, but I need to speak to you about a few things. Is now a convenient time?”
Frank blinked twice and then produced a gracious smile. Taking a step back, he opened the door wide to admit us. “Of course,” he said, “please, come in. What seems to be the trouble?”
“Is there somewhere we can talk privately?” I asked.
“I hope you don’t mind that we brought Skippy, here,” Nigel said. “We’re still training him, and he gets upset if we leave him alone.”
Frank’s smiled wavered briefly, but he nodded and said, “Of course not. No problem at all. Why don’t we talk in my study?”
I returned his smile. “Perfect.”
Frank led us down a hallway and then into a handsomely furnished room at the back of the house. Large glass windows overlooked a sprawling backyard. The bright blue water of a lap pool was the only other color in a sea of plush green. Frank took a seat at the large mahogany desk while Nigel and I sat in the matching Windsor chairs opposite. Skippy sat between us and stared at Frank.
