Diva 01 _ Diva Runs Out of Thyme, The (30 page)

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Authors: Krista Davis

Tags: #Murder, #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #General, #Murder - Investigation, #Investigation, #Mystery Fiction, #Women Cooks, #Large Type Books, #Cookery, #Crime, #Entertaining, #Thanksgiving Day

BOOK: Diva 01 _ Diva Runs Out of Thyme, The
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I threw my arms around Hannah. “And I thought you couldn’t think of anything but your wedding.”
“Aw, c’mon. I know I’ve been a pill, but Craig and I have been discussing the murders, too. If there’s anything I can do to help you, I will. We can’t quite figure it out, though.”
Sprawling on the unmade sofa bed, Bernie said, “We should lay a trap for him tomorrow.”
“For the killer?” I asked.
“No, for the guy who monkeyed with the ingredients.”
Hannah spun toward him in the desk chair. “Great idea! Sophie can leave her work station and you and Craig and I can be on the lookout.”
Bernie ran with the idea. “You could print little pictures of the ring. Then June and your parents can help as well.”
Emotion welled inside me. I wanted to pull them both into a huge grateful hug but someone called my name.
Bernie sat up. “Is that Francie?”
The three of us returned to the kitchen. Francie sat by the fire like she had this morning, but now she hid her face behind her fingers.
Hannah knelt beside her and asked, “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”
I wet a kitchen towel, wrung it out, and offered it to Francie.
She pressed it against her forehead. “I’m never like this, I just can’t believe he’s dead.” Tears squeezed out of her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I only came to pick up my coat.”
“Nonsense. You stay with us for a while.” Hannah stroked Francie’s arm. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Was it my imagination or did I like my sister a lot better when Craig wasn’t around?
The scratching at the kitchen door alerted me to Daisy’s return. When I opened it, she and MacArthur bounded inside and wedged their noses in Daisy’s water bowl at the same time. Then Mom, Dad, and June entered and clustered around the fireplace. Dad hung up coats while Mom clasped her hands and said, “We’ve had the best idea. June will be leaving tomorrow after the stuffing contest and we’ll be going home the next morning, so we thought we should all get together and go out to dinner tonight.”
Francie let out a little cry.
Mom patted Francie’s hand. “I wish the colonel were here to come with us, but we think it’s a way of honoring him. We should invite everyone who came for Thanksgiving. Sophie, will you call Mars and ask them to come? I’ll call Humphrey.”
Having dinner again with Mars and Natasha, not to mention Humphrey and Wolf, appealed to me about as much as a root canal. But Mom unknowingly handed me exactly what I needed—an empty house. Except it wouldn’t be empty. I would make some kind of last-minute excuse and stay home to spy and see if anyone turned up to retrieve the vial. I embraced her suggestion with enthusiasm.
I could hear Mom giving Francie a little pep talk while I dialed Mars’s cell phone number.
He answered on the first ring and asked, “Is Mom okay?”
“She’s fine. Right here in front of me. Why? Has something happened?”
He took a minute before answering me. “Sophie, I don’t know what to do with her. Natasha is certain that something awful will happen to her if she goes home and stays by herself, and I couldn’t live with that. We’ve been talking about this all morning and I’m afraid . . . Andrew and I don’t have any choice, we’re going to have to put her in a home where they can watch her.”
I bristled at the thought. June would not go to a retirement home until she wanted to go. Even if I had to take her in to live with me. This time Natasha had gone too far. Lowering my voice so June wouldn’t overhear, I wandered into the sunroom with the phone. I told Mars about the dinner plans and insisted he come over immediately to discuss June’s situation.
When I hung up, I found Mom behind me, listening. “Is he on his way?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Run upstairs right now and change into that white sweater I gave you last year. And put on some makeup.”
“Mom, they want to put June into a home for the aged.”
“Because she talks to her sister’s ghost?”
“No, because they think she started the fire at Natasha’s. Mars is afraid something horrible will happen to her if she lives by herself.”
Mom crossed one arm over her abdomen and massaged her chin with the other hand. “Nonsense. We can’t have that. I’ll have a talk with Mars when he arrives.”
The knocker on the front door sounded.
“Too late to change.” Mom reached toward me and fluffed my hair. “You couldn’t have put on a little lipstick? You ought to keep some in the console in the foyer for these emergencies. Natasha does.”
I escaped her and answered the door. It couldn’t possibly be Mars yet anyway.
When I opened the door, Wolf stood on the stoop. “Is Mrs. Winston here?”
I presumed he meant June. “She had nothing to do with the colonel’s death. I promise you she did not kill him.” I stepped outside and closed the door behind me. “I don’t know what you’ve heard but she’s a very sweet lady and she’s not incompetent.”
He drew back, a perplexed look on his face. “Someone murdered the colonel?”
I’d put my foot in it. “I don’t know that he was murdered. But whatever happened, June wasn’t involved.”
“He’s dead? When did this occur?”
“Last night. I assumed you knew.”
Wolf flipped open his phone.
I motioned for him to come in the house. “You can talk in the living room. I can’t guarantee privacy but it’s your best bet.”
Digging in my pocket for the vial, I followed him and said, “Mochie found . . .”
Wolf held up his forefinger in a gesture that meant “wait a minute,” turned away from me, and spoke into his phone.
I didn’t want to stick around the living room to eavesdrop, but when I retreated to the dining room, I caught Craig ducking into the foyer. I’d had about enough of his creeping around and spying and was about to tell him off but thought better of it. Maybe the poison vial did belong to him.
Pretending I hadn’t seen him, I acted as though I was hiding the vial in the top drawer of the dining room buffet, while actually leaving it safely in my pocket. Hopefully when we were all out to dinner and he thought the house was empty, the killer would feel free to come back to retrieve it. Except I would be waiting.
Mustering courage and a friendly smile, I strode toward the kitchen, feigning surprise when I saw Craig. “Back from your run? Good that you got it in. I think they’re calling for rain this afternoon.”
I continued to the kitchen. What a horrible day.
Craig followed me, plopped into a fireside chair, and Hannah promptly sat on his lap. Why did she turn into a simpering sexpot around him?
Yuck.
Mom handed me a lipstick that she must have retrieved from the bathroom upstairs. “Humphrey agreed to meet us at the restaurant. We should invite Wolf, too. Where is he, Sophie?”
“He’s in the living room. He didn’t know about the colonel.”
Francie stiffened. “The detective is here? In the house?” She looked around frantically, jumped up, and lunged toward the kitchen door.
TWENTY-EIGHT
From “THE GOOD LIFE”:
Dear Sophie,
My elderly mother-in-law is moving in with us and we’d like to make her as comfortable as possible. What can we do to make her life in our house easier?
—Worrier in Woodstock
Dear Worrier,
Throw rugs cause a high percentage of falls in the home. Remove them from main walking areas. A grab bar in the bath and shower will make her feel more secure. Round doorknobs and water handles can be difficult for older hands to grasp. Replace them with lever handles for your mother-in-law’s comfort.
—Sophie
But just as Francie gripped the door handle, she suddenly went limp. Luckily Bernie leapt to her aid and caught her before she hit the floor. Then Mom rushed in to fan her and everyone spoke at once.
“Should I call an ambulance?” I asked.
Bernie carried Francie to the bench in the bay window and Mom opened a window panel.
Francie’s entire body slumped. “No ambulance,” she murmured. “I’ll be fine.”
Daisy and MacArthur kept their distance as if they knew she wasn’t well, but Mochie jumped onto the bench and sniffed her.
“Maybe she needs a good, stiff drink,” said Dad.
“What’s going on?” asked Wolf.
I hadn’t noticed him come in.
“I’m afraid the colonel’s death has been too much for her.” Mom wrapped a comforting arm around Francie, who looked like she might be sick.
And then my mom, never one to be deterred for long from thinking about my love life, or lack thereof, proceeded to invite Wolf to join us for dinner. Wolf paused before he said, “Sure. I think it would be very interesting to see the whole group together again.”
Oh, great. Mom had just set up a detective’s dream. He’d be scrutinizing us for clues to the killer. But if my plan worked, the killer would be here. Maybe Nina could help me watch for him. And I should corral the dogs in the sunroom—
“Sophie!” Mom interrupted my thoughts. “Mars and Andrew just drove up. June, would you be a dear and brew Francie a strong cup of tea?”
Trust Mom to keep people occupied. She snagged Dad’s sleeve and pulled him into the foyer. “Bring June some rum for Francie’s tea and make sure June stays in the kitchen.”
Promising to return shortly, Wolf strode out the front door just before Mars and Andrew walked in. June’s sons said hello to her before following Mom and me to the sunroom.
“Sophie, please don’t start arguing,” warned Mars. “We’ve discussed this issue thoroughly and it’s for Mom’s own protection. I know you love her, too. But how would you feel if she started a fire and burned to death?”
“You’re overreacting because of Natasha,” I said. “She’s laying a guilt trip on you to achieve what she wants.”
“I don’t even like Natasha.” Andrew flashed a guilty look at Mars. “Well, I don’t. I’d argue the sun was purple just so I wouldn’t have to agree with her. But the fire at Natasha’s house was huge. We’re not talking about some little flicker in a pan on the stove. Natasha talked to the folks who run the place we’re sending Mom. She won’t have access to an oven. Won’t have to cook at all. She’ll have a nice room and she can take her own furniture.”
I had no doubt that Mars would only allow June to live in a lovely facility. I wasn’t worried about that at all. “But I don’t think she’s ready. You’re pigeonholing her based on one incident. Besides, we don’t even know how the fire started.”
“Now listen here,” said Mom. “I’ve spent the last few days in June’s company and there’s not a reason in the world for you to put her away like she’s some kind of inconvenience.”
Go Mom!
I swelled with pride.
“Inga, I don’t want to do this. But don’t you understand? She set fire to Natasha’s house. She’s a danger to herself.”
“That’s baloney,” I said. “Except for the little quirk, she’s fine. She hasn’t fallen or left water running or started a fire here.”
“What quirk?” asked Andrew.
“Andrew,” said Mom in her no-nonsense-mother voice, “couldn’t you and Vicki take her in?”
Andrew winced. “We don’t want her to burn our house. And I don’t think she’d like having a babysitter when we’re out. But what’s this quirk you mentioned?”
Before one of us could answer, someone screamed.
A bloodcurdling scared-to-death scream. Like someone saw a ghost.
A blast of frigid air swept through the house. All four of us jumped up and dashed into the foyer. Francie lay in the doorway, half in and half out. Behind her, June stood frozen, her back to us.
“What happened?” I slid to a stop next to Francie and knelt. Memories of Simon’s corpse pounded in my brain as I reached for her wrist. Thankfully, this time I felt a pulse.
Hannah shook my shoulder. “Soph . . .” I ignored her.
“Francie!” I gently patted her cheeks to rouse her.
“SOPHIE!”
Hannah shouted.
“Not now, Hannah.”
She shook my shoulder and pointed outside. I followed the line of her finger and jerked upright. Waves of shock and relief rendered me momentarily speechless. I blinked hard, my brain not quite making sense out of what I saw.
The colonel marched along the sidewalk, tapping his walking stick, and turned up the walk to my house. “MacArthur’s missing!” he yelled. “Have you seen him?”
At the sound of the colonel’s voice, MacArthur scrambled over Francie’s body and raced to the colonel.
Francie’s eyelids fluttered and she gasped, “I thought I saw the colonel.”
I leaned over her. “You did. He’s alive and well.”
“What?” She sat up. She trembled and tears flowed down her weather-beaten face. I clasped her hand, not sure which one of us was shaking harder. A little cheer went up and the gloom that had hung over us all day lifted.

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