Free Murder with a Twist by Tracy Kiely Page B

current mayor, as well as a few Oscar hopefuls. Although Audrey and hubby Leo appear to be happy lovebirds, there are rumors of trouble in paradise. Could Manhattan’s latest poor little rich girl be in for more heartache?
    Three small pictures ran with the story. In the first, Nigel was coming out of a nightclub. A scantily clad blonde bombshell was draped on his arm. In the second, I was being wheeled out of the hospital after the doctors dug the bullet out of my leg. Gunshot wound to the leg notwithstanding, I looked terrible. I made a mental note never to wear plaid again. The third picture was from Audrey and Leo’s wedding. Olive was right. Leo looked like a dirty married bachelor.
    “Pretty girl,” I said to Nigel when he came out of the shower. I tossed him the paper. He picked it up and glanced at the picture.
    “I’ve always thought so,” he agreed. “But you should avoid plaid at all costs.”
    “I meant the bimbo on your arm, you dingbat.”
    Nigel looked back at the paper and adjusted his towel. “Her?” He pretended to study the picture. “Oh, yes. I remember her now. Debbie McGuire. We met at the Botanical Gardens’ annual Cherry Blossom Festival. Sweet girl. Lovely cherries. Thought ‘horticulture’ was a charity program.”
    “I see. And were you able to provide her with any?”
    He smiled. “Well, you know what they say. ‘You can lead a whore to culture … ’”
    “Yes, yes,” I said, knowing my cue. “But you can’t make her think.”
    He said solemnly, “The Martini family has a long tradition of public works. You know that.”
    I yanked his towel. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it these days?”
    _____
    Later, I called Marcy and told her about my meeting with Frank and Danny Little and also about Lizzy Marks.
    “I don’t know, Nic. I’ve been thinking about what Frank told you. He said it was some woman who called Fat Saul, right?” she asked. “He didn’t seem to think much of it at the time, but now that Fat Saul is dead, he suddenly tells you about Lizzy Marks.”
    “You think he’s steering us in the wrong direction?” I asked.
    “I don’t know. I just find it odd that Danny Little is released from jail and then the man who is his biggest competitor and who works with his brother winds up dead.”
    “I wondered the same thing. But I got the impression that Frank really doesn’t know that Fat Saul was shot whereas Lizzy did.”
    “I admit that is interesting.”
    “I thought so. Anyway, I wanted to let you know. I’ll keep you posted if I find out more.”
    We said our good-byes and I hung up. Marcy had a point. It made perfect sense for Danny or Frank to kill Fat Saul and take over the business. But in my experience, most murder cases made very little sense.
    I sighed and sat back in the chair. I was tired, and my leg hurt. Nigel came over and pulled me out of the chair. “You walked too much today, didn’t you?” he said as he gently placed me on the bed.
    “Maybe a little,” I admitted.
    Nigel stretched out my leg. I closed my eyes as he began to expertly massage the muscle. “I know that my family asked you to find Leo,” he said, “but if that means you end up aggravating your wound, or anything else for that matter, then I’ll put us on the next plane home.”
    I opened my eyes. His face was serious. I smiled at him. “Don’t be silly, darling. It’s just a cramp. I’m fine.”
    “That you are,” he said, kissing me lightly on the mouth. “And I’m going to make sure you stay that way.”
    _____
    That evening we met Daphne at the latest trendy club to be favored by the rich and famous. It wasn’t that much different from any other New York club. Like those, it sold overpriced drinks and played too-loud music. The bathrooms were nice, with imported marble and gold faucets, but it still didn’t merit thirty dollars for a gin and tonic.
    Daphne was already there when we arrived and waved us over to her table. “Hi, Nic. Hi, Nigel,”