Killer Cocktail (16 page)

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. After 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.

Placing his elbows on the desk and pressing the tips of his fingers together, Frank regarded us with a genial expression. “Can I offer you something to drink?” he asked. “I've just acquired a 1926 Macallan. I hear you're a man who appreciates a good glass of scotch, Nigel. Can I tempt you?”

“You can do more than that with a '26 Macallan,” Nigel said.

Frank laughed and stood up from his desk. “Good man,” he said with an approving nod. “Nic? How about you? Can I make you a drink?”

“Yes, please,” I answered. “You don't marry a scotch man without learning to appreciate the drink.”

“That is true,” Frank said, as he moved to a wet bar off to one side of the room. He poured out the drinks and we all clinked glasses before taking a sip. I wasn't actually a huge fan of scotch, but I knew enough about it to know that this was a superior blend.

Frank sat back down at his desk just as a voice called out, “Dad? Did I hear someone at the front door?” A second later, Danielle's dark head poked around the open doorframe. Seeing us, she produced a friendly smile. “Well, hello, Mr. and Mrs. Martini,” she said. “How are you?” Seeing Skippy, her eyes widened. “And who is this?” she asked.

“This is Skippy,” Nigel answered.

“Well hello, Skippy,” Danielle said.

Skippy cocked his head to one side and wagged his tail as he stared at Danielle. Nigel nudged him with his foot. “Skippy, don't be rude. Say hello.”

Skippy barked and offered Danielle his paw. Danielle politely shook it and said, “It's very nice to meet you Skippy.”

I glanced at Nigel, an eyebrow raised. He affected a look of modesty—failed miserably—and mouthed the word “training” at me. I rolled my eyes.

“Well, I'll let you get back to your talk,” said Danielle. “It was nice to see you again.” She gave us a little wave and ducked back out into the hallway.

“You too,” Nigel and I called after her.

We looked to Frank. His elbows were once again propped on his desk; fingers pressed together. “So what's this all about?” he asked.

“There is no polite way to put this,” I said, “so I'm just going to come right out and say it.” Frank raised his eyebrows expectantly. I took a deep breath. “It's about the murder of Janice Franklin.”

Frank's eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I don't understand,” he began.

“With all due respect, I think you do. I think you killed Janice because she figured out that it was you who broke into our house, attacked our employee, and stole our tapes.”

Frank's hands landed with a thud on the table. “Why the hell would I do that?” he sputtered.

“Because you overheard Nigel at the Vanity Fair Party. You knew that our assistant had seen something on those tapes, something that you didn't want anyone to see. Ever.”

Some of Frank's confidence returned. He pressed his fingers together again. “That's ridiculous!” he scoffed. “What on earth could possibly be on those tapes that I'd care about?”

I finished my drink before I answered. It seemed bad form to linger over a man's expensive scotch while you accused him of murder. “How about the fact that Melanie Summers was pregnant with your child?” I asked.

This time his hands went to the desk and stayed there. He blinked hard and then said, “That's absurd.”

“Personally, I would call it obscene, but that's neither here nor there,” I said. “You were a married man, twenty years her senior, and she was a vulnerable girl,” I continued, raising my voice.

Frank scoffed at that. “Melanie was many things, but vulnerable wasn't one of them. She was hard as nails.”

“I guess the pregnancy changed that,” I said. “She wanted to keep the baby, didn't she? She wanted you to leave Zelda and marry her. From the sounds of it, it seems she thought that was the plan all along. Remember, Frank. I've seen the remaining tapes, you didn't destroy
all
of them.”

Frank shifted his eyes from mine. “I never promised her …” he began.

“She seemed to think you did,” I said. “She got pretty angry when she realized it wasn't true. Is that when you decided to kill her?”

Frank rested his face in his hands, his face pale beneath his deep tan. “I didn't …” he started and then abruptly stopped. A thought seemed to occur to him. From the groan that accompanied it, it appeared to be an unwelcome one.

I cut him off. “I talked to Sara Taylor, you know. She told me everything. Sounds like you paid her a pretty penny to stay quiet about Melanie's pregnancy. Still, it's not as much as Melanie had to pay, is it?” Frank said nothing. I pressed on, my voice getting louder and louder. “All this time, her death was listed as another tragic celebrity overdose; a cautionary tale to warn kids about the dangers of drugs. When, in reality, it was something far more insidious. A young woman was taken advantage of by an older, powerful man, and then killed when she became a threat to his reputation.”

Frank remained silent, his head still in his hands. I stood up. “You overhead Nigel on the phone with DeDee at the Vanity Fair Party. You knew she was trying to tell him that Melanie's EpiPen had been tampered with. You couldn't let that information get out, could you? You had to get those tapes. And you did.” I took a deep breath. Nigel nodded at me to continue. “But I guess after twenty years, your luck ran out and Janice called in the debt. I'm guessing that she knew what you did, but she wasn't interested in justice. She was only interested in making sure Christina was cast in your new movie. What happened, Frank? Did she see the picture of you and Barry leaving the Vanity Fair Party? The one with you holding your Oscar? Did she realize that you couldn't have had your Oscar because you'd given it to Danielle to take home? Is that what happened?” I was yelling now, frustrated at his lack of response. Without a confession, I had very little proof. After a few seconds, I was rewarded with one.

“You almost had it right,” came the answer. The tension in my neck began to ease. Right until I turned around and saw the gun.

forty-two

“Danielle! What the hell
are you doing?” Frank yelled jumping to his feet.

“It wasn't him. It was me,” Danielle said in a small voice. She was standing in the doorway, the gun in her hand trained on my chest. Nigel shifted in his chair. Danielle briefly glanced his way. “Stay right there,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “I don't want to have to hurt your dog, but I will if I have to.”

Nigel caught my eye, and I gave a nod. “Is that the gun you used to kill Janice?” I asked.

Danielle studied me a moment before nodding. “It is,” she said.

“Danny! No!” cried Frank in horror. “What are you saying?”

“I shot Janice,” Danielle said in a soft voice. She looked at Frank, her eyes pleading for understanding. “She was a horrible woman. She was an even worse mother.”

“You don't know what you're saying, Danny,” Frank said, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I can help you, but not if you keep talking.”

“Janice came here looking for you the other night,” she continued as if he hadn't spoken. “The night you were at that dinner. I could tell she was upset about something. I said that I didn't know when you were coming back, but she insisted on waiting. I let her wait in the study. She must have waited about two hours.” Danielle looked at Frank. “Before she left, she gave me a letter to give to you. She said that it was vital that you read it as soon as you got home. I read it instead.” Danielle paused and squeezed her eyes shut. “She'd seen the picture in the paper of you leaving the party with your Oscar. She'd seen me leave earlier with one, too.” Danielle opened her eyes and looked at Frank. “But Janice had it backward. She assumed that you were behind the attack. She said she'd keep quiet as long as you gave Christina that role. But I knew she wouldn't stop there. Women like Janice never stop. They have to
be
stopped.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “Is that why you killed Melanie?” I asked. “Did she need to be stopped, too?”

Anger flared in Danielle's eyes. “Melanie was about to ruin my life,” she said. “I couldn't let her do that. If my mom found out about the pregnancy, she would have filed for divorce. I knew what that would mean. Everything would be ripped apart. I'd grow up being shuttled back and forth between homes just like most of my friends. Except in my case, my homes would be in two different countries.”

“And yet that's what happened anyway,” I said, not unkindly.

Danielle blew out a long breath. “Yeah. But, I didn't know that
then
.
Then,
I just wanted to prevent it. I just wanted to save my parents' marriage. I just wanted to save my life.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Even if it meant taking someone else's?”

Danielle stared at me, her eyes blank. “She was going to ruin everything. Don't you get it? She had to go.” She looked at Frank. “You understand, don't you, Daddy? I didn't want to lose you. I couldn't lose
you
. She had to go.” In a firmer voice, she repeated, “Melanie
had
to go. There was no other way.”

Frank sank into his chair with a half sob. “Oh, my God,” he moaned as he covered his face with his hands, “Oh, my God. Danny. Danny, why?”

Danielle stared at him incredulous. “Why?
Why?
I did it so I could be with
you
. You always said I was your special little girl. I couldn't let someone take that away from me.” Danielle's voice broke. “Daddy?” she pleaded, “Tell me you understand.”

Frank didn't answer. He was caught up in his own misery. “Zelda said something to me once. She said to watch you. I didn't listen to her. I thought she was being silly….”

Danielle's focus remained fixed on Frank's hidden face. Nigel eased himself out of the chair and began to edge his way toward me.

After a minute, a haunted expression came over Danielle's face. “Daddy,” she said, her voice pleaded, “I can fix this. I'll fix this and then we can start over. You'll see. It'll be fine.”

I glanced at Nigel just as Danielle turned toward me and aimed the gun at my chest. Everything seemed to happen at once. The gun went off. Nigel yelled, “Rosebud!” and dove for me. Skippy lunged at Danielle. Officer Hax rounded the corner, her gun drawn and screamed, “Freeze!”

Then there was a loud crack as my head hit the floor and things went black.