Amanda Matetsky - Dial Me for Murder

“If you really want to help me,” I hurried on, “you’ll tell me why you called Hogarth and Corona devils in disguise, and how you came to the conclusion that one of them killed Melody.”

She blew another plume of smoke in my direction. “Look, I don’t have any proof of anything, okay? All I have are my opinions. And as far as I’m concerned, both of these creeps are homicidal hypocrites. Tony’s a talented charmer with a vile temper and strong Mafia connections, and Sam’s a heartless pervert posing as a devoted public servant. I believe either one of them is capable of murder.”

“But why do you believe that? Are your opinions based on pure conjecture or something real?”

“Hey, you can tell a lot about a man by the way he acts in the sack,” she declared, “and Tony and Sam are both brutal in the bedroom. Neither one has ever really injured me, or anything like that, but they’d like to. I can feel it. Sam enjoys pretending he’s a rapist-ripping my clothes off and taking me against my will-and Tony likes to spank me and tie me up. Sometimes he uses handcuffs.” She grimaced and smashed her cigarette in one of the crystal ashtrays on the makeup counter. “The point is, neither one of them ever wants any tenderness or affection. They just want sex. Hard, rough, unfriendly sex.”

“Did they treat Melody the same way?”

“Who knows? Melody wouldn’t discuss her johns with me or anybody-not even Sabrina. The subject of sex always embarrassed her.”

“Did Hogarth or Corona ever say anything to you about Melody?”

“Tony never did. And neither did Sam… until tonight.”

A jolt of electricity shot up my spine. “You spoke to Hogarth tonight?”

“I spoke to him and Tony tonight. Tony called earlier to tell me he’d reserved a table for me and my date for the eight o’clock show, as I’d requested, and then I had a little chat with Sam just a few minutes ago at the bar. I spotted him when I was chasing you to the ladies’ room.”

“What?” I screeched. “You mean Hogarth is here at the Copa right now?” Blood was rushing to my head so fast I thought it would explode.

“Yeah, crazy, huh? What are the chances of both suspects being here, under the same roof with you and me, at the same time? Tony is probably onstage already, singing his evil little heart out, and Sam must have left his lawyer cronies at the bar and joined his wife upstairs. Tony reserved a table for them in the mezzanine, with all the other celebrities and criminals. “

A dark memory stirred in the depths of my brain, and then dug its way out to the light. I recalled sitting on the couch in the waiting room of the district attorney’s office, eavesdropping while his blushing receptionist yakked and flirted on the phone. She was saying something about her boss and his wife, and Friday night, and the Copacabana at eight o’clock sharp. She must, I realized with a start, have been talking to Tony Corona.

Aaargh. The signal had been blinking all along, but I’d been too dim to pay attention.

“Did you know that Hogarth was going to be here tonight?”

“Not on your life,” Jocelyn insisted. “If I had known, I would’ve made my date take me someplace else. I don’t mind watching Tony perform, prancing around like he’s God’s greatest gift to women. After all, he’s a really good singer. But it makes me sick to my stomach to see Sam pulling the wool over everybody’s eyes, strutting around in public like a fine, upstanding law enforcer when he’s a vicious rapist at heart. He’s got the morals of a goat, but everybody treats him like a god.”

I wanted to know more about Jocelyn’s involvement with Hogarth and Corona -and about Hogarth’s and Corona ’s involvement with each other-but the clock was ticking too fast. I had to stick to the big questions.

“What did Hogarth say about Melody?” I urged, breathless to get back to my prime concern. “How did her name come up?”

“I brought it up myself, just to get a reaction. I asked him if he missed Melody as much as I did.”

“What a nervy question!” I said. “How did he answer it?”

“He didn’t. Not with words. But if looks could kill, I’d be deader than a goddamn doornail.”

“That’s it? He just gave you a dirty look? That’s all that happened?”

“No. After he knifed me with his steely stare, he winked and smirked and said, ‘Who’s Melody?’ He looked so smug and cocky I wanted to spit in his face.”

“I hope you didn’t.”

“No, I thought better of it.”

“So, what did you do?” I implored. “What happened next?” I sucked down one last blast of smoke and stubbed out my cigarette.

“Well, first I answered his arrogant question,” she said, looking pretty arrogant herself. “I said that Melody was Virginia Pratt, and he damn well knew it! Then I leaned real close and whispered in his ear that if he wasn’t careful, a few other people would know it, too.”

“Oh, my God, Jocelyn! You threatened him? Are you completely out of your mind? You shouldn’t have done that!”

“I know, I know!” Her haughty expression warped into a grimace of fear. “Why do you think I’m so upset? I can’t imagine what got into me. I saw red, and completely lost my cool. I wanted to wipe that ugly smirk off Sam’s face and bring him to his knees. I wanted to shock him into thinking I knew something about the murder, then watch to see if he would do or say something incriminating.”

“And did he?” I croaked. (I’m ashamed to say my curiosity outweighed my concern.)

“No, not really, but-”

The door to the ladies’ lounge flew open, and three very silly, very drunk young ladies tottered in. Giggling, weaving, and hanging on to each other like muddle-headed monkeys in a strong wind, they made their way across the room and disappeared in the recesses of the lavatory. Their whoops and shrieks echoed loudly against the white-tiled walls.

Through the still-open lounge door I could hear a man singing. It was Tony Corona, of course, and he was wrapping his killer voice around the lyrics to the popular old standard “Fools Rush In.” Realizing that I’d missed my demanding host’s big entrance and had to get back to the table fast, I gave Jocelyn a hasty excuse, made a mad dash for the door, and- charging through it like a witless fool-rushed in where angels fear to tread.

FROM THE MOMENT HE SAW ME APPEAR IN THE crowd and start working my way to the front, Corona glowered at me and sang louder. His angular, clean-shaven face turned hard, and his lean, muscular body grew tight with tension. Standing poised in the spotlight in his sleek black tuxedo, he looked like a panther preparing to pounce. Then-when I finally made it to the table and sat down next to Abby-he did pounce. He snatched the microphone off its stand and bounded over to us, aiming the words of his song, like bullets, at the target of my blushing face.

“So open up your heart and let this fool rush in,” he bellowed, making the final line of the ballad sound more like a fierce command than the tender appeal the lyricist had surely intended. Then he shot me another creepy sneer, strutted back to the center of the dance floor, and-as the spotlights began to spin and the band brought the song to a climactic close-took an angry bow.

The audience went wild. (Either Corona ’s forceful voice and tough demeanor turned them on, or they got a kick out of watching me squirm.) The men whistled, the women squealed, and everybody clapped like crazy. Some people jumped to their feet and shouted, “Bravo!” I, on the other hand, sat quiet as a mouse in my chair, ducking the swirling spotlights and staring down at the white tablecloth, wishing I could crawl under it.