Murder With A Twist Part 11

There was no sign of forced entry, so the police were working on the a.s.sumption that she knew her killer. From what I knew about Lizzy, that didn't exactly narrow the field. It was a.s.sumed that Lizzy had not been expecting a romantic visit based on her outfit: workout clothes. While they were spandex and left little to the imagination, Marcy said it appeared that Lizzy had recently been exercising. There was a workout video in the DVD player, and there were free weights nearby. The coroner concluded that Lizzy died from an impact to the head by a blunt object. She'd fallen-or been pushed-onto the kidney-shaped table I'd seen when I'd visited.

"Do you think your friend Leo could have had anything to do with this?" Marcy asked me.

I sat up in the bed and answered. "A: He's not my friend, and B: I have no idea. It would be nice in a way if he did. It would be the simplest way to get him out of Audrey's life. But from what I know about Leo, if he killed every woman he had an affair with, there'd be a h.e.l.l of a lot more bodies piled up."

"You make a valid point. However, I was thinking about that call to Fat Saul before he went out and got himself shot."

"You think Lizzy might have made that call?" I asked.

"At the very least, it's a possibility. However, it could be that someone just wants us to think that she did."

"And by 'someone' do you mean Frank Little?"

"I might."

"But for what reason? Why would Frank want to kill Lizzy?"

"That I can't answer. But you said yourself that there's a lot of money involved here. I just feel like I'm missing a piece of the puzzle."

"I think that piece might be Leo."

"Which is why we're looking for him. I a.s.sume that you'll let me know if you hear of anything?" she asked.

"Wait, now that I think of it, Frank mentioned something about Lizzy having an ex-husband who wasn't taking the divorce very well. Thought he could beat her into changing her mind."

"Who says romance is dead?" she said. "Any idea what this Romeo's name is?"

I rubbed my eyes. "Billy something. Billy Morgan."

"Right. Well, thanks for the tip. I'll let you know if I find anything and vice versa."

"You'll be the first one I call," I a.s.sured her.

After I hung up the phone, I turned to Nigel. "That was Marcy. Lizzy Marks is dead. She was found this morning. Hit her head on the table."

"Dear G.o.d," he said his eyes wide. "Did Marcy say if they know who did it?"

I shook my head. "Not yet. No sign of forced entry, but they don't think she was expecting company. She was in her workout clothes."

"I think she was in those when we paid her a visit."

"Point taken."

Nigel frowned. "I don't like the idea of you being involved with this. Finding a missing husband is one thing; murder is something very different."

"Don't worry about me," I said with a smile. "I'm in no danger."

"Maybe. But I want to keep it that way," he said.

I leaned over and kissed him. "I promise I'll be safe. Anyway, Marcy would very much like to talk to Leo."

Nigel sat up and pushed the bed covers aside. "Wouldn't we all? But why would Leo kill Lizzy?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Who knows? But according to Frank, Fat Saul received a phone call from a woman before he went out. Maybe Lizzy did know where Leo was and called Fat Saul. Maybe Lizzy wasn't as loyal to Leo as she claimed."

"So, Leo kills Fat Saul and then figures out that Lizzy was the one who ratted him out, so he kills her too?" Nigel asked as he glanced over the room service menu. "I want coffee. And eggs. And then more coffee." He put the menu down and sighed. "Seems a little too simple."

"Throw in some bacon and a bread basket."

"I meant about Leo. But you make a valid suggestion."

_____.

Marcy called me later that morning to tell me that they had picked up Lizzy's ex-husband, Billy Morgan, for questioning. "He's a real charmer," Marcy said. "I think you'll like him."

"Is that an invitation to come to the station?" I asked.

"I guess so. I can think of at least ten different places I'd rather be, but we can't all have the same idea as to how to spend an afternoon in New York."

"Thanks, Marcy. I'll be right there."

I left Nigel and Skippy curled up on the bed watching A Christmas Story. Outside, it was cold and windy. The sky was an ominous shade of dark gray. I pulled my coat tightly against me and asked the bellman to hail me a cab. It took him several minutes to find one. I gave the doorman a generous tip for his trouble and directed the cab driver to take me to the 76th Precinct in Brooklyn. It had been a few years since I'd been there, but the building was unchanged. It was your standard government structure, made of cement and brick. The fact that it housed criminals might also be considered by some to be a standard government feature.

Marcy met me at the front desk, signed me in, and handed me a temporary badge. I followed her down the hall to an interrogation room. Inside was a long metal table and a few chairs. At the table sat the man I'd seen smoking outside of Lizzy's apartment. He had a muscular build and almost no neck. He glanced up when I entered but didn't appear to recognize me.

"Who's she?" he asked Marcy in a gravely voice as she pulled out a chair and sat down.

"A concerned citizen," Marcy answered. "Now, why don't you tell me about your relationship with your ex-wife."

"Well, considering that she was my ex-wife, I guess you could say that it wasn't too good," he sneered.

"You're not too clever are you, Billy?" Marcy asked. "Your ex-wife ends up dead, apparently as the result of some altercation, and you want to make jokes about how you didn't get along?"

Billy pushed back in his chair. "I'm not going to lie to you. I hated her. She double crossed me. When I got sent to jail, she divorced me and stole my money."

"What money was this?" Marcy asked.

"It was from an insurance scam. I got busted and she got the money. When I got out I paid her a visit to remind her that she owed me."

Marcy opened a file on the table in front of her and pulled out a paper. "Oh, yes. I think I have a record of that visit. Would this be the visit during which you broke her arm?"

Billy frowned. "You can't prove that was me."

"And yet your ex-wife did just that-got a restraining order against you too. How far away were you supposed to stay?" Marcy asked.

"Five hundred feet. And I did, too."

Marcy put the paper back into the folder. "And yet we have witnesses who claim that they saw you outside her apartment on several occasions."

"I might have been in the neighborhood," Billy admitted. "But I never got closer than five hundred feet."

"Well, that remains to be seen," said Marcy. "Why don't you tell me what you know about her? Any idea what she was doing?"

Billy shrugged. "Not really, but I knew she was working some kind of scam. She'd got herself a real job at some office. She was smart, I'll give her that. She could get anyone's confidence. Look, I didn't kill her. I swear. I just wanted her to pay me back my money. That's all I wanted."

"From the sound of it, you were outside her apartment a fair amount of time. Did you see anything suspicious?" Marcy asked.

Billy shook his head. "No. People going in and out."

Marcy tapped the folder with her fingernail. "You must have started to recognize the people who lived in the building. Did you see anyone new?"

Billy furrowed his forehead in concentration. "There were a few people. Saw a couple with a crazy big dog."

Marcy glanced at me. "Uh-huh. We know about them. Anyone else?"

Billy thought some more, but was of no real help. It seems that Lizzy's building had many visitors. He'd seen an uptight blonde, a dumpy grandmother, a maintenance man, and a thin man with slick hair. This last one might have been Leo, but it was too vague to prove anything.

"Did you know that she was planning on leaving?" Marcy asked.

Billy looked at her in confusion. "She was leaving?" he repeated.

Marcy nodded. "Sure looked that way. Her suitcases were packed. Any idea on where she was going?"

Billy shook his head. "No idea. Honestly. I didn't know that."

I found myself believing him. Which really ticked me off. It would be so much easier if Billy had killed Lizzy.

_____.

That evening, we were due to join Daphne, Olive, Max, and Nigel's parents at an art exhibit downtown. It was a celebration of expensive blurry French landscapes, expensive abstract still lifes, and, for good measure, a few expensive nudes. The nudes were-typically- solely female. By the time we arrived, the room was packed with art lovers of all varieties. They ranged from true aficionados to pontificating pseudo-intellectuals. Nigel and I found ourselves behind the latter. She was standing in front of a painting depicting a table, a jug of water, and a plate of cheese and bread.

"As you can see," the woman said to her husband, "in this piece, the artist is attempting to portray the suffering of the working cla.s.s poor through the juxtaposition of the cheese and bread."

Her husband squinted at the painting. "He is?"

"Of course. Here, let me show you." She put her arm around him and leaned in close. With her free hand, she gestured at the painting. "The jug represents the upper cla.s.s. As you can see, it's larger and in the foreground, while the bread and cheese is pushed to the back."

"You sure know a lot about art," Nigel remarked loudly.

The woman turned to us in surprise. "Why, Nigel! h.e.l.lo, dear! I didn't see you there. h.e.l.lo, Nicole," she added.

"h.e.l.lo, Olive," I replied. "Hi, Max."

Max winked at me. "Olive was just enlightening me on the meaning of this picture," he said.

"Painting, dear," Olive corrected.

Nigel nodded solemnly. "Yes, I heard, and I agree with you, Aunt Olive. There is a message in this painting. It's not immediately apparent, of course. Only one truly versed in the language of art would see it."

Olive glanced back at the painting and then at Nigel. "So you agree with me then?" she asked. "About the suffering of the working cla.s.s?"

"Hmm? Oh, G.o.d no." said Nigel. "It has a totally different meaning. Look at it again. Jug of water. Plate of bread and cheese. What strikes you, Nic?"

"No meat," I said.

"Exactly," beamed Nigel. "Where's the meat? That's the message. Speaking of which, I'm hungry. Let's see if they have any snacks here."

We walked away before Olive could chastize us and found Nigel's parents. They were staring morosely at the food table. "This isn't food," Paul complained, indicating the spread of celery, carrots, olives, and other vegan staples. "It's toppings for food. But there's no food to top."

"It's a crudite platter, dear," explained Doris. "It's supposed to be healthy."

"Then why is there a fully stocked bar?" countered Paul. "Are you going to tell me that scotch is healthy?"

"Of course not," replied Nigel. "But how else do you expect to get the celery down?"

"My goodness, there are so many wonderful paintings here!" Olive said as she rejoined us. "I wish I had more walls at home! h.e.l.lo, Doris. h.e.l.lo, Paul," she continued brightly. "Aren't you all having the best time? Oh, what an elegant table! Max, be a dear and fix me a veggie plate. I'm famished. Buying art always has that effect on me."

Turning to Doris, Olive said, "I've bought six paintings so far. Can you believe it? Six! But you know me. You'd be hard pressed to find a bigger art lover than me."

"Or a bigger ..." began Doris. Paul quickly handed her a celery stick. She took it and commenced chewing.

"See that painting over there?" Olive asked, indicating a lethargic nude in the bathtub. "I bought it."

Doris turned and looked. She quickly took another bite of celery.

"It's quite ..." Paul said before trailing off into a dumfounded silence.

"Isn't it?" Olive agreed excitedly. "Anyway, I'm not sure if I have room for it right now. Would you like it for your house?"

Doris coughed on her celery. I politely slapped her on her back. Paul shook his head. "That's very kind of you," he said. "No."

"But Paul," Olive began. She was interrupted by the arrival of Toby and Daphne. Daphne was just ending a phone call. She looked tired and frazzled. Toby's expression was more somber than usual.

"h.e.l.lo," Daphne said to us. "Have any of you heard from Audrey? She was supposed to meet me here, and she's not answering her phone."

No one had. "Well, I'm sure she'll be here," said Olive. "But while we're on the subject, is there any news about Leo? I don't think I need to remind you, Nicole, that the party is tomorrow."

She didn't. And yet she did it anyway.

"I still don't know where Leo is," I said. "But I do have news."

I quickly told them that Lizzy Marks had been found dead, and the police suspected foul play.

"What do you mean they 'suspect' foul play? Isn't it obvious? Leo killed her," said Daphne.

"Why do you think Leo killed her?" Toby asked.

Daphne stumbled over her answer. "Well, obviously I don't know for sure. But Nic said that they were having an affair. Maybe they had a falling out or something."