Diva 01 _ Diva Runs Out of Thyme, The (7 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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“Where is it then?”
I looked around. Assorted pieces of medical packaging littered the carpet but I didn’t see the trophy. “It’s the contest trophy. A heavy golden turkey, bronze or brass, I guess. I threw it on the floor.”
Wolf stopped the rescue squad. “Any of you guys see a turkey?”
They shook their heads and kept going.
Wolf glared at me. “Why do you think it was the murder weapon?”
“There was blood on the tail.”
He groaned. “Sometimes I look at you and I think you’re a nice woman who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And other times I have to wonder if you’re devious enough to pick up the murder weapon in front of people so there will be a good reason for your fingerprints to be on it. Now get out of here. This is a crime scene.”
I walked out of the room a few yards behind the rescue squad. People lined the hallway, watching and whispering. Natasha wept in Mars’s arms as though she’d lost her dearest friend.
Mom flew at me. “Oh, honey.”
My family clustered around me.
“Simon’s dead,” I said.
“Heart attack?” Dad asked, ever logical.
“Someone killed him,” I whispered.
Natasha must have overheard. Sniffing, she pulled out a dainty handkerchief trimmed in robin’s-egg blue. “Are they going to arrest you?”
Mars’s British friend, Bernie, appeared out of nowhere. “Arrest Sophie? Are you mad? It’s a wonder no one did the man in sooner. And how about you, Natasha? You came on the scene suspiciously fast.”
Her mouth dropped open.
In spite of the horrible situation, I flashed Bernie a grateful smile for defending me. Bernie had been Mars’s best man at our wedding and dropped in on us occasionally during our marriage. He was always the perfect houseguest, loads of fun, pitched in, and was easy to have around the house. The last I’d heard, he was tending bar at a pub in England. Had the situation been different, I’d have cornered him for an update on his life.
Dad’s hand gripped my shoulder. His eyes met mine and I knew what he was thinking. I was in deep trouble.
Hannah clung to Craig. “I can’t believe this is happening. Do you think we’ll be on the news?”
Craig eyed me like a hawk, his face grim. His scrutiny made me want to squirm.
“Inga,” Dad said to my mom, “I suspect we’ll be a while. Wasn’t there a wedding store in Georgetown that you didn’t get to yesterday? And didn’t you want to show Craig the tux we saw?”
Dad knew exactly what to say to sell the trip to the wedding enthusiasts.
Mars’s brother, Andrew, chimed in, “No such luck, Mr. Bauer. We’re corralled in this hotel like a bunch of cattle. It’s stupid, if you ask me. If I’d wanted to kill Simon, I’d have done it two years ago.” He snorted. “I got my satisfaction, though. The money he stole from me won’t do him any good now.”
Vicki looked aghast. “Andrew! Don’t even joke about that. They’re likely to take you seriously.” She elbowed me and glanced around. “Do you think anyone heard that?”
“Only your family and mine.”
I’d spent a lot of time with Andrew and Vicki when I was married to Mars. Vicki had a rough childhood. She’d lost her parents quite young and been raised by a brother who had lived abroad as long as I’d known her.
Sometimes I wondered how Vicki and Andrew felt when Aunt Faye left her fancy house to Mars and me. I imagined quite a bit of tooth-gnashing went on privately when we divorced and I ended up with the house. Vicki and Andrew had bought a nice townhome in Old Town, an easy walk from my house, but it couldn’t compare in size or architectural charm.
I chalked up Andrew’s ill-conceived remark to his desperate desire to be important. It didn’t take a shrink to realize that Andrew longed for the kind of success and respect his brother, Mars, had achieved. Although Mars’s connections to the rich and powerful opened a lot of doors for Andrew, I’d seen more than one person with a panicked expression try to dodge him at parties. His reputation for financial disaster surrounded him like a barnyard stench.
“What is wrong with you people?” Natasha dabbed at her eyes. “A wonderful man has been murdered and you’re all just thinking about yourselves. I’m devastated.”
Andrew smirked. “Knock it off, Miss Prim and Proper. If I were Mars, right about now I’d be wondering why you’re blubbering about the death of a virtual stranger.”
My dad intervened. “Let’s settle down. We’re all upset, Natasha. Let’s stop this pettiness before people say things they’ll regret.”
The loudspeaker squawked and came to life with a piercing squeal. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Detective Fleishman of the Alexandria Police Department. I’m sorry to have to ask you to return to the ballroom for the time being. We’ll process everyone and get you out of here as quickly as we possibly can. Please relax. We’ve asked the hotel to serve additional refreshments.”
Emma shouted, “What about the contest?”
I wished I could see Wolf’s face.
“Uh, it’s up to the organizers to determine what to do about that but I can assure you that it will not take place today in any event. Thank you.”
After the requisite moans and groans, everyone headed back to the ballroom. Gossip ran rampant, though, and I could tell people were looking my way. They stared first but turned their heads quickly when I noticed them. I made a detour to the ladies’ room.
I felt as though my entire body was quivering. Water ran over my trembling hands, washing off blood. I splashed cold water on my face, heedless of the small amount of makeup I wore. The trauma of finding Otis still haunted me, and discovering Simon’s corpse shook me to the core.
For the sake of my family, I tried to pull myself together, patted my face dry, and took several deep breaths before returning to the ballroom. Mom and Nina brought coffee and bagels for Dad and me and we hunkered down behind my work counter. The hazelnut aroma had lost its appeal, though, and the dry bagel was nothing more than something to do. Dad wisely clamped down on us and forbade us to discuss the incident.
Hannah sulked while Craig went for refreshments. She slouched in her chair, her arms wrapped across her chest. “I had everything perfectly planned for Craig this weekend. Now my sister is a murder suspect and Craig is going to have to be interrogated by the police. Can you even imagine what he must think of us? I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t break off the engagement.”
Mom patted her arm. “Darling, this is a good time to see how he acts in the face of adversity. He’s an intelligent man. I’m sure he understands that this isn’t typical for us.”
“What’s with the pale sweater, Hannah?” I asked. She’d always preferred fuchsia and periwinkle to soft shades.
“Craig likes me in muted colors.”
I’d done my share of silly things for boyfriends, so I couldn’t fault her for trying to please him. Wondering what could be taking him so long, I stood to look for him. If he was in the ballroom, I didn’t see him. I did, however, see Natasha being escorted by a police officer, probably for her turn at being questioned. I wouldn’t be far behind.
Hannah pasted a smile on her face and sat up straight and I realized Craig must be on his way back.
Obviously pleased with himself, he handed out foam boxes containing French fries and roast beef sandwiches. He dug in his pocket and pulled out packets of ketchup. “Hope I got enough for all of us.”
Hannah and Mom gushed appreciation but I wondered where he’d bought the food. No one else in the ballroom held foam boxes.
A pink flush crept up the sides of his face and culminated in red cheeks reminiscent of someone who’d been out in the cold. He wore a black, long-sleeved polo and jeans, not enough to keep warm outside. I spotted the sleeve of his bomber jacket hanging from the pile of coats we’d left on a chair.
Hannah dug into the French fries. “Yum—they need salt, though. Sophie, do you have any salt in your cooking ingredients?”
Of course I did. I found the salt and offered it to her.
She sprinkled a heavy dose on her fries and took a bite. “Ugh. Are you trying to kill me, too?”
Dad’s face looked like it did when we were kids and didn’t know when to stop pushing his buttons. “Hannah, your sister didn’t kill anyone. You cannot say things like that. I don’t think you understand how serious this situation is for Sophie.”
“It’s always about Sophie. This weekend was supposed to be about me and Craig. Besides, taste this.”
Dad took one of her fries and bit into it. “Sugar.”
I shook out a pinch of salt and tasted it. Definitely sugar.
“Hey, Wendy,” I called, “do me a favor and taste your salt.”
“Oh, my gosh,” she cried, “it’s sugar. Someone was doing everything possible to sabotage the contest.”
Thinking that the saboteur wouldn’t have tampered with his or her own ingredients, I was tempted to demand a check of everyone’s ingredients. But a young police officer arrived to escort me to be questioned.
Not quite sure what would happen, I bent over my father’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry about me. You go shopping and I’ll meet you at home.”
I hated the fear etched on his face and as I walked away, I heard my mother say, “For heaven’s sake, Paul, they’re just going to ask her questions.”
Detective Kenner met me in the ballroom lobby and took me aside to grill me. Across the room, I could see Wolf questioning Natasha.
Kenner asked me the same questions in different ways. When I stuck to my boring story about finding Simon’s body and picking up the turkey with blood on it, Kenner’s nostrils flared.
I worked at remaining calm as his rage rose. His voice grew louder but I didn’t allow him to intimidate me.
Wolf, busy across the lobby, watched us periodically.
Kenner’s face turned a shade of purple that suggested high-blood-pressure issues. He squinted at me and hovered too close for my comfort. “You may think that you’ve suckered Wolf into believing your lies, but you don’t fool me for a second.”
His face inches from mine, he snapped his fingers and yelled, “Take her to the station.”
SEVEN
From
“Ask Natasha”
:
Dear Natasha,
My in-laws are arriving in droves and they expect to stay with us. I have to work and don’t have time for all the extra meals and laundry. What to do?
—Crowded in Cranston
Dear Crowded,
Everyone deserves fresh 1,000-count Egyptian cotton sheets and fluffy down pillows. A gracious hostess pampers her guests. Get up a few hours early to make breakfast and clean. The extra effort will be worth it. If you have to be gone during the day, hire a limousine to show them around in style.
—Natasha
Was I being arrested? I looked over at Wolf. He made no effort to help me. The young officer didn’t handcuff me, though, he merely showed me out the side door of the hotel to the backseat of a police cruiser.
When he climbed into the front seat, I asked, “Am I under arrest?”
In a polite southern accent, he said, “Why, no, ma’am. You just need to give your bloody clothes as evidence.”
By the time a cop drove me home, all I wanted was a nap. I unlocked the front door of my house and listened. The others must still be out. But something wasn’t right. Where was Mochie?
I slid off the jacket that hadn’t been warm enough for the November chill and called Mochie’s name repeatedly. When I hung the jacket in the hall closet, I heard pathetic mewing. I found Mochie in the living room, looking down at me from the top of the grandfather clock.
“You managed to get up there, you little rascal; are you sure you need help getting down?”
He continued meowing and watched me with those big eyes. I fetched a ladder from the basement and set it next to the clock. I hadn’t even climbed to the midpoint of the ladder when the scamp leapt onto my shoulder and clung to my police-issued T-shirt. I patted him to reassure him. He crawled next to my ear and thanked me with heavy purring. But when my feet hit the floor, he sprang from my shoulder and raced through the house like a wildcat. He flew over furniture and in and out of rooms so fast that his paws barely touched the floor.
I couldn’t help laughing at his joyous antics. He tore through the kitchen while I put away the ladder and raced ahead of me when I headed up the stairs for a much-needed shower.
My hopes for a nap were dashed when I stepped out of the shower and heard voices and footsteps on the stairs. I dreaded the evening. I was dog tired and still had to make chicken broth for the soup and stuffing, not to mention two pies and a batch of my famous brownies. I thanked my lucky stars it would just be six of us for Thanksgiving dinner the next day and that, except for the colonel and Craig, it was really all just family. They’d understand if things weren’t perfect.

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