Diva 02 _ Diva Takes the Cake, The (25 page)
Read Diva 02 _ Diva Takes the Cake, The Online
Authors: Krista Davis
Tags: #Winston; Sophie (Fictitious Character), #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #General, #Mystery Fiction, #Women Cooks, #Large Type Books, #Cookery, #Mystery, #Divorced Women, #Cooking, #Divorced Women - Crimes Against, #Weddings, #Crimes Against, #Sisters
He nodded and I took off my slingback wedding shoes and walked across the lawn to Natasha, who waited by the wedding cake. “Where did you put the cake knife? I can’t find it anywhere.”
It had been a very long day. I was tired and hungry and in danger of becoming grumpy. “It’s next to the cake, Natasha. If you had bothered to look, you would have seen it.”
“Really, Sophie. It’s not like you baked the cake or did any of the hard work for the wedding. If I hadn’t been around to pick up the pieces, this never would have come off. And now you can’t remember what you did with the cake knife?”
I hadn’t lost my mind entirely. The server lay on the table where I’d left it. But the long knife that had cut wedding cakes in our family for generations was gone.
TWENTY-EIGHT
From “THE GOOD LIFE”:Dear Sophie,I have looked at every cake topper in town. They range from shabby to gaudy. Are fresh flowers the only alternative?—Topless in Topsail BeachDear Topless,Make your own topper. Initials and monograms are always in style. Dress them up with rhinestones for bling, or diamond glass glitter for subtle sparkle. Or wrap them with ribbon for a classy look.—Sophie
I fetched a knife from the kitchen, certain the cake knife had been brushed off the table in the commotion. We’d find it in the morning when the light was stronger. The lights that sparkled above provided a romantic glow but weren’t strong enough for a major search.
I handed the new knife to Hannah, who stood by the cake, a safe arm’s length from Craig. The photographer told Craig to place his hand over hers. I thought Hannah might spit up on the four-tier cake adorned with sugar blossoms and delicate string work that must have taken Natasha days. In spite of the photographer’s efforts to coax a smile, the toll of Uncle Stan’s death showed on Hannah’s strained face. The entwined C and H topper seemed almost ironic at the moment.
I backed away, wondering how on earth I could help Hannah. And then, in what felt like slow motion, the second cake tier slid forward, initiating an unstoppable avalanche of buttercream, raspberries, and spice cake. The interlaced initials crashed to the ground and broke in half. Icing covered the photographer’s shoes. My mother held her hands over her mouth in horror, and Natasha immediately shouted, “What happened? Who pushed it?”
Daisy wagged her tail and closed in on the yummy dessert that splayed across the grass. When Jen tugged her away, buttercream frosted Daisy’s dark lips.
I held my breath, wondering how Hannah would take another wedding disaster, but she broke into gales of laughter, which clearly offended Natasha. But I suspected they reflected hysteria, not mirth.
Biting back the impulse to remind Natasha that I had warned her the cake would melt, I displayed my worst side by leaving the cleanup to Natasha. I fled to the sunroom, where I heard thumping in the den.
I peered in and found Darby crawling on the floor amid the contents of her suitcase. “Lose something?”
She shrieked and clapped a hand to her chest. “You scared me!” Her face twisted like she might cry, and she plopped onto the sofa. “Y’all,” she said southern style, “are such nice people. I’ll always be sorry we brought our troubles into your lives.”
“What do you mean?”
“Uncle Stan was never an easy person to get along with. I guess it’s not a nice thing to say, but I’m not surprised that someone wanted to kill him.”
“Do you know something?” I sat in the desk chair. “Do you know who murdered him? Was it Craig?”
“I don’t know what to think, except that none of this would have happened if we hadn’t come.”
“Did you tell Wolf about Stan?”
“Who?” she asked.
“The detective.”
“The cute one with the silver temples?”
“Yeah, that one.” The one I’d thought I’d have a romantic weekend with.
“He and that other detective grilled Robert and me.”
That figured. They knew Stan best. “Are you saying he had enemies and that one of them followed him here?”
“Honest to goodness, Sophie, I don’t know. I’m as confused as you are. What you don’t realize is that Stan—”
Just then Robert appeared in the doorway. In his slow odd way, he said, “Darby? I hope you’re not boring Sophie with old stories.”
“Of course not.” She straightened her skirt in a nervous gesture. It was clear she knew something, and I had to get it out of her before Robert whisked her back to New Jersey. But I couldn’t pry in front of him. I bowed out as gracefully as I could and found myself caught in the foyer with Mom and Hannah, saying good night and apologizing to guests as they left with favor boxes.
I closed the door behind the last one and heaved an enormous sigh of relief. The day couldn’t end soon enough.
“Where’s Jen?” I asked.
“In your bedroom with Daisy, watching a Disney movie.” Mom wiped cake frosting off her sleeve. “Your brother has told me a million times how gifted she is and I know she’s one smart little girl, but, honestly, I don’t think it’s good to expose her to mature material. Where did she ever pick up
iced
as slang for murder?”
iced
as slang for murder?”
Hoping to find a leftover filet mignon, I ventured into the sunroom. The food had been cleared away, but Mars, Nina, and Bernie lounged on the wicker furniture. Wineglasses rested on nearby glass-topped wrought-iron side tables. They ate their entrees watching the backyard, which had taken on an eerie quality. The lovely lights strung overhead twinkled in a light breeze. But underneath, a harsh glare lit the potting shed and dark figures moved about as if in a horror film.
“Good show?” I asked sarcastically.
“Best seat in the neighborhood.” Mars craned his neck to look back at me. “Pull up a chair.”
Macabre as it was, I did just that. But before I sat down, I dragged my weary legs to the kitchen and loaded a plate with leftovers from the bulging refrigerator.
I returned to the sunroom and cut into the cold steak. It was still juicy and unbelievably tender, and the asparagus was perfect.
“Eww, Sophie, I know you ignore Nat when she criticizes your housekeeping, but there’s crud in the bottom of my glass,” complained Mars.
Like I needed a lecture on cleaning right now. “So get a fresh one.”
“Yuck. I drank some of this stuff.”
Nina took the wineglass from Mars and peered into it. “It’s not one of Sophie’s wineglasses. These are the wedding rentals. And that’s not just crud. Someone must have dumped this into your drink.”
“Mars?” I asked, afraid of his answer, “how do you feel?”
“Fine.”
“Did one of the waiters pour your wine?” asked Bernie.
Mars shifted uncomfortably. “Natasha brought it to me. You know, suddenly I don’t feel so good.”
Déjà vu set in. I wondered if I could stay awake and on my feet long enough to get Mars to the emergency room. “Why would she poison you?”
Nina held her wineglass elegantly but lifted an eyebrow in a rascally fashion. “Wanda seems to think marriage is on the agenda.”
Mars sputtered. “Marriage? To a woman who flaunts a bodybuilder in my face? Come on, don’t any of the rest of you find her obsession with Kevin the Hulk and Morbid Mordecai a bit odd?” He cupped a hand to his forehead. “Sophie, feel my head. Am I hot?”
I set my plate on the table in time to see my mother in the doorway looking in at us. She didn’t say a word, but from her satisfied expression I knew she’d heard Mars’s request. She winked at me and retreated along the hallway.
I picked up Mars’s wineglass. Tiny balls and plantlike bits rested in the bottom. I sniffed. The wine overpowered another familiar smell. Using two fingers, I scooped out some of the detritus and rubbed it between my fingers. “Chamomile,” I announced.
Mars smelled my fingers. “Are you sure?”
Bernie leaned over to sniff and declared, “Definitely chamomile.”
“Like you would know,” Mars grumbled.
“Actually, I do. It grew on a farm where I lived as a child. I used to pick it with the gardener and sip the tea on cold winter nights.”
Mars felt the sides of his face. “You’re certain?” he asked me.
“I’m certainly astonished that you think Natasha would try to hurt you.”
“I was being silly, but . . .”
His voice faded as Craig’s rose in anger. “Why are you being so difficult? Uncle Stan would want us to go.”
“No, he wouldn’t.” They must have been in the foyer. Hannah’s voice also came through loud and clear. “Any normal person couldn’t enjoy a vacation the day after a family member was killed. Stan would expect his loved ones to give up a vacation, bury him, and find out who killed him.”
“Darby and my dad will take care of that.”
“How can you be so cold? Aren’t you the least bit upset?”
Craig sounded as tired as I felt when he said, “You can’t begin to know my pain.”
Uh-oh. Would Hannah fall for that softer, beset-upon Craig?
“I’m not going and that’s final.” Someone pounded up the stairs and we heard a door slam.
Seconds later, the front door slammed, too.
Bernie sipped his wine and said, “I rather enjoyed the ceremony, especially Humphrey’s contribution.”
The situation wasn’t funny, but the four of us cracked up, laughing with enormous guilt about Humphrey and his paternity announcement.
Nina stretched. “Never a dull moment around here. I believe I’ve had enough excitement for one day. You fellows feel like walking me home?”
I followed them to the foyer. When Nina and Bernie collected Hermione from Jen, Mars hung back. “You’re sure it’s chamomile?”
“Want your stomach pumped?”
He considered my question seriously. “Not particularly.”
Hermione, Daisy, and Mochie raced down the stairs ahead of Nina and Bernie. It took a treat to capture the dachshund, but Nina succeeded and the three of them left. I closed the door and wandered back to the sunroom. A little shout drew the attention of the police in my backyard, and I went outside to see what had caused the excitement.
A young cop held my mother’s cake knife in a gloved hand. A red substance smeared the blade, and I didn’t think it was jam.
TWENTY-NINE
From
“Ask Natasha”
:Dear Natasha,So many weddings seem the same. Vows and then a boring reception. What can I do to liven up my wedding?—Jazz Girl in JasperDear Jazz Girl,Provide entertainment at your reception and build your theme around it. Live music is a given. Acrobats, mimes, caricaturists, dance troupes, belly dancers, hula dancers, and magicians are only the beginning. And don’t forget to provide a dance floor and lounge for an after-reception party where you and your friends can dance the night away.—Natasha
The red stain covered the long knife blade. Unlike a modern cake knife, it ended in a sharp point and made a vicious weapon.
“I found it in the neighbor’s yard, on the other side of the fence,” said the young cop, displaying it with pride.
I shivered at the thought of Stan being killed so brutally. But I realized with a start that the killer hadn’t planned ahead. It must have been a crime of passion, because clearly he’d grabbed the knife from the cake table and lured Stan into the potting shed.
“Did any of the guests note anything suspicious?” I asked Wolf. “Someone must have observed Stan going into the shed.”
Detective Kenner looked down his nose at me. “I’ve never encountered so many people ready to admit they were inside the murder site. A lot of folks are afraid their fingerprints are in there.”
“Well, we were in and out of the shed all day. Everyone in my family went in there for something. Besides, won’t the fingerprints on the knife give away the identity of the killer?”
Kenner leered at me. “I don’t suppose
you
touched it?” Chills ran along my spine. “I placed it on the table. My mother packed it and brought it with her. I hope you won’t suspect her?”
you
touched it?” Chills ran along my spine. “I placed it on the table. My mother packed it and brought it with her. I hope you won’t suspect her?”
“I never exclude anyone,” said Kenner with an ugly smirk.
Wolf flinched, apparently pained by our exchange. “Why do you bother?” he said to Kenner. “There isn’t a person alive who hasn’t watched enough TV shows to know to wipe the murder weapon clean. If there are prints on it, I’ll be amazed.”
It had to be irritating to work with Kenner. Wolf jumped up a notch in my esteem for not strangling the guy.
Although I wished I could hang around and listen, exhaustion overtook me. I’d had a long day and could finally hit the sack, but poor Wolf had to work.
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