Murder With A Twist Part 4

"He's a no-good piece of s.h.i.+t," Vic added.

"Shut up, Vic," said Frank. "She's here to see me, not you." Frank sat down at the last empty seat and poured himself another drink.

"It's been awhile, Frank," I said. "How have you been?"

"Fine."

"I hear that you're working for Fat Saul these days."

Frank stared at me, unsure how to answer. Finally, he said, "Yeah, we do some business together. Why?"

"I just wondered what Danny thought of that arrangement?"

Frank shrugged. "He was fine with it."

"How about now that he's out of jail? Is he still fine with it?"

"Who told you he was out?" Frank asked.

"I still have friends in the department. So, what did Danny make of your working for Fat Saul?"

Frank paused before answering. "He's fine with it," he said finally. "Danny's a big boy. Business is business. Even he knows that."

"I think you might be giving him more credit than he deserves," I said.

Frank gave a harsh laugh. "I don't believe in credit anymore," he said, touching his eye.

"Who gave you the black eye?" I asked.

"None of your d.a.m.n business," Frank grumbled, just as Vic said, "Fat Saul."

"Shut up, Vic," Frank, Pete, and Talons said in unison.

"Well, I won't mention it then," I said. "But it does bring me back to the main reason I'm here. Our mutual friend Leo. Any idea where he might be?"

Frank pulled his lips into a semblance of a smile. "You sure ask a lot of questions. I'd be careful if I were you. Remember, curiosity killed the cat."

"There are some who would argue that's a n.o.ble way to go," I said.

"And besides, everyone knows that was a frame-up. Ignorance killed the cat," Nigel said.

Frank stared at Nigel. "And what's your story again?"

Nigel cleared his throat. "Where should I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for b.u.g.g.e.ry ..."

Next to me, Pete laughed. "Hey! I like this guy!" he said.

Frank didn't share Pete's opinion. "Is he for real?" he asked, jerking his thumb toward Nigel.

"We're not sure," I replied. "We're still waiting for the test results. When did you last hear from Leo?'

Frank s.h.i.+fted in his chair. "A few days ago, why?"

"Well, he's disappeared," I said. "Surely, you know that."

Frank nodded warily. "I may have heard something about it."

"I hear he owes you money," I said.

Frank nodded again. "Yeah. He owes me money."

"I told you he was a bad bet, Frank," said Vic. "Leo's nothing but a worm."

"Shut up, Vic," said Talons.

"A lot of money?" I asked.

"Yeah. A lot of money," answered Frank.

I sighed. "Look, Frank. I don't want to be here any more than you want me here. So, why don't you just tell me what happened without me having to prompt you for every single detail, and then you can get back to your business?"

Frank thought this over for a moment. He gave a curt nod. "Fine. Saul got sick of Leo paying off his debt in installments and decided to call in the full loan. Saul told me to take care of it."

"How much did Leo owe?"

The figure Frank named was well north of the amount that Audrey could withdraw without Max and Olive's approval.

"What did Leo say to this?" I asked.

"He took it pretty well, I thought," Frank said. "He promised that he'd get me the money, but said he needed a few days first. Said he had some angle he was working on. He'd never stiffed me before, so I took him at his word. Next thing I know, he's nowhere to be found."

"How did that go over with Fat Saul?"

Frank pressed his lips together. Unconsciously, his fingers reached up to touch his bruised eye. "He was p.i.s.sed. He blamed me for letting Leo go. He's out for blood. I told him that I could handle it, but Saul wouldn't listen. He says our reputation is on the line and that we have to make an example out of Leo's face."

Next to me Pete nodded. "We're ready to go, too, if you know what I mean. Some jobs you don't mind doing. Bas.h.i.+ng in Leo's face is one of them."

Frank glanced at his watch. "Your ten minutes are almost up," he said. "But tell me. Why are you so interested in finding Leo?"

"His wife is worried about him. She wants him home," I said.

"Christ. His wife," Frank said. "She's a piece of work. I mean, I know she's loaded and all, but it would take a h.e.l.l of a lot more than that to make me crawl into bed with her."

"I'll be sure to let her know that," said Nigel. "I imagine it will come as quite a relief."

Frank stopped and glanced at Nigel in some confusion. "Wait. What did you say your name was again?"

"Martini."

"Ain't that Leo's wife's maiden name?" asked Frank.

"Ah, the proverbial penny has dropped, I think," said Nigel with a proud smile. "Yes, indeed it did. Audrey is my cousin. I'll send her your best."

ten.

Before we left Frank's house, Pete patted Skippy on the head and offered me his sincere hope that I found Leo before he and his crew did and "smashed Leo's face in." Vic started to say something, but Talons told him to shut up. Nigel and I said polite good-byes all around and left.

Daphne then called, inviting us to stop over for a visit. She lived only a few blocks from her parents, in a smaller, less toile-inspired version of their apartment. Her decor leaned more toward clean lines and monochromatic colors. She greeted us at the door, but was immediately drowned out by Olive's voice shouting from the other room.

"Is that them?" Olive called. "Ask Nicole if she's learned anything."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "For goodness sake, Mother. Let me take their coats first."

Olive appeared from the other room. "Nigel's coat is off," she protested.

"Yes, but Nic's is not," Daphne said.

I handed Daphne the article of clothing in question, and Olive resumed her questioning. "So, what have you found out?"

"You have all the finesse of a bull in a china shop, Mother," Daphne observed as she hung up our coats in the hall closet. Turning back to us, she asked, "Would you like some coffee?"

Nigel and I said we would and followed her into the living room. Along the back wall was a fireplace. On either side of it were two leather sofas; one in black, the other in gray. A rectangular gla.s.s and chrome coffee table separated them. Olive took a seat on the black sofa. Nigel and I chose the gray. Daphne excused herself and went into the kitchen. "Well?" Olive prompted as she smoothed out her red wool skirt. "What have you found out about Leopold?"

"He owes a great deal of money to a man called Fat Saul," I replied.

Daphne poked her head out from the kitchen. "Did you say Fat Saul? You're kidding, right? There is actually a man named Fat Saul?"

I nodded. "Yes. His name is actually Saul Was.h.i.+ngton, but that didn't inspire the kind of fear that his business requires. I'm not really sure if Fat Saul does the trick, but it's what he went with."

Olive crinkled her forehead; or at least tried to. "But I thought Audrey said that Leopold owed money to a man named Frank Little. Does he owe money to him as well?"

"No. Frank works for Fat Saul."

"I see. And how much money does Leopold owe this ... this Fat person?" Olive asked, her voice sharp.

I told her. She moaned and covered her mouth with her hand. Daphne came out of the kitchen with the coffee tray. She placed it on the table. Looking at her mother askance, she turned to me. "What did I miss?" she asked.

I told her. She, too, looked stricken. "Dear G.o.d! That's ... that's obscene!" With shaking hands, she poured coffee into a gray and white cup and handed it to me. She repeated this process for Olive and Nigel. I added cream and sugar to my cup and stirred it. I took a sip and waited for Olive to find her voice.

She stared at her cup for a moment and then stood up and marched into the front hall. "Where are you going?" Daphne called after her.

"To get my purse," she said. "I need a Valium. I feel one of my anxiety attacks coming on." We listened to the sound of her rummaging through her purse. The rummaging stopped, and we heard her mutter, "G.o.dd.a.m.nit!"

"Problem?" inquired Daphne, her voice bland.

"I left them in my other purse," Olive replied. She reappeared seconds later and headed for the kitchen.

"Now where are you going?" Daphne asked.

"To find the whisky," Olive replied. "Where the h.e.l.l do you keep it?"

Daphne stirred her own coffee. "Top shelf over the stove," she answered.

Olive returned and added a healthy splash to her cup. She offered the bottle to the rest of us, but we deferred. Banging the bottle down on the table, she then took a restorative sip of her coffee and closed her eyes. No one spoke. After a moment, Olive opened her eyes again. "I won't do it," she said.

"Do what?" Daphne asked, as if she really didn't want to hear the answer.

"Allow Audrey to pay that money. I simply won't allow it!"

"Imagine my surprise," Daphne murmured as she took a sip of coffee. "But I think you are forgetting something, Mother. After Audrey turns twenty-five, she won't need you or Dad to co-sign anything. The money will be hers outright."

"Nonsense!" snapped Olive. "There must be a way we can stop her!"

Daphne shook her head. "I understand you think that, but you can't. I know the terms of the trust. It's very simple. Once she turns twenty-five, she controls her money. End of story. There are no loopholes that allow you, Dad, or anyone else to wrest it away from her."

"Do you think that's why Leo went missing?" Nigel asked. "Could he be waiting until Audrey's birthday, knowing that once she has control of her fortune she'll probably pay it off ?"

Daphne considered this. "It's a possibility, but I can't imagine if that really were the case that Leo wouldn't have told her his plan beforehand. I mean, to leave her alone and worried hardly seems like a good lead plan before hitting her up for a ton of money."

"That's it," said Olive, rising from the couch. "I'm calling your father."

We sat in silence as Olive marched across the room and rummaged through her purse. Finding her phone, she angrily punched in Max's number. "h.e.l.lo? Betty? I need to talk to Max. What? Oh. I see. Well, this is Mrs. Beasley. I need to speak to my husband. I see. When do you expect him back? I see. Well, please have him call me when he returns. Immediately." She ended the call with a frustrated click and rejoined us in the living room.

"Dad not in?" Daphne asked, her voice mild.

"No. He's not. And what happened to his secretary, Betty?" Olive asked.

"She was let go about a month ago," answered Daphne.

"Why?" Olive demanded.

Daphne's face wrinkled in repugnance. "She was sleeping with a few of our clients. It was disgusting, really. We have our firm's reputation to consider. Can you imagine what it would do to business were it to get out that we employed a s.l.u.t for a secretary?"

Nigel opened his mouth to answer. I quickly stepped on his foot before he could answer. "That's a rhetorical question," I explained to him.

"Well, why wasn't I told of this?" demanded Olive.

Daphne looked at her mother in confusion. "Why would you be told of this? Had you ever met Betty?"

"Well, no, but if it concerns Max, it concerns me. What did this Betty look like?"