Murder with a Twist by Tracy Kiely

she said. “You remember everyone, right?” she went on, gesturing to the crowded table.
    I didn’t, but didn’t really care enough to mention it. From the bar, a sultry brunette in a skimpy tank top and skinny jeans noticed Nigel and jumped off her bar stool. “Nigel!” she squealed before running over to us. She had a round kewpie-doll face and eyelashes that resembled nesting caterpillars. When she got to Nigel, she placed her hands on either side of his face, pulled him close, and placed a wet kiss on his mouth.
    Nigel disentangled himself from the woman. “Hi, Casey,” he said, wiping the pink lipstick from his lips. “It’s … uh … nice to see you again.” Turning to me, he said, “Casey, this is my wife, Nic. Nic meet Casey.”
    “Hi, Casey,” I said as I opened my purse. Pulling out a container, I offered it to Nigel. “Here darling, have a Tic Tac.”
    Casey afforded me a giant, insincere smile. “You’ll have to excuse me,” she said. “It’s just that Nigel and I have quite a history together.” She reached up and playfully caressed his cheek.
    “That’s nice,” I said as I reached over and removed her hand. “But sometimes you’ll find that history doesn’t repeat itself. It was lovely to meet you, Casey, but I think you’ll find that your friends are anxiously awaiting your return. I would hate for you to disappoint them on our account.” I sat down in the chair that Nigel pulled out for me and turned toward Daphne. “So, how are you?” I asked as Nigel echoed my good-byes and took a seat as well. Casey hovered uncertainly for a moment and then returned to her seat at the bar.
    Daphne raised her eyebrows in admiration. “Nicely done,” she said to me.
    “Thank you. As you might imagine, I’ve had some practice.”
    Daphne laughed. “I’ll bet you have.” Addressing Nigel, she adopted an admonishing tone, “You went out with Casey Wendell? Seriously? What were you thinking?”
    “I can tell you what he was thinking,” said a man to Daphne’s left. He had a broad face and a slightly crooked nose. He winked at Nigel.
    “That’s because you’re a twelve-year-old at heart, George,” said Daphne.
    “Yeah, but not anywhere else,” he retorted with a hearty laugh.
    “That’s what you think,” scoffed the redhead to his left whom I vaguely recognized as a guest at our wedding.
    “You hooking up with twelve-year-olds, Margo?” teased George. “That’s nasty.”
    The waiter came. He took our orders and interrupted George and Margo. I was grateful for both. Once he’d left, Daphne leaned over to me and asked in a low voice, “Any news on Leo?”
    “In a way. I haven’t found him, but I did talk to some friends of his,” I answered.
    “Who?”
    “I talked to Frank Little again, the guy Leo owed money to, and his brother Danny. Danny is the loan shark I was telling your mother about. He just got out of jail.”
    Daphne’s eyes widened. “Is he the really violent one?”
    “That’s Danny,” I confirmed. “But he’s nothing compared to Fat Saul.”
    “Well, did they say if Fat Saul had found Leo yet?” she asked.
    “No. And I don’t think he’s going to. Fat Saul was killed last night.”
    Daphne didn’t seem to understand my words at first. I couldn’t blame her. The music was impossibly loud. “What?” she asked.
    I repeated it. “Someone killed Fat Saul last night.”
    Daphne processed this while the waiter returned with our drinks. I took a sip of mine. Daphne sipped hers as well. “So, if this Fat Saul guy is dead, then why hasn’t Leo come home?” she asked.
    I shrugged. “Well, Leo still owes the money. Except now he owes it to Frank. But honestly, it’s anyone’s guess why Leo is still gone. Maybe he didn’t leave because he owed money. Maybe there’s another reason. You said yourself that he has a tendency to take off when he meets someone he likes.”
    Daphne frowned. “True. But I don’t know. It just seems different this