Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The (21 page)

From “ THE GOOD LIFE” :

Dear Sophie,

 

Our home is red and black brick, and could be so much prettier. We’re thinking about painting the brick, but my father says painting brick is always a mistake because when it’s not painted, brick requires practically no maintenance.

 

—On the Fence in Greenacres

 

Dear On the Fence,

 

You’re both right. Painting ugly brick can transform a home. But be sure you want the upkeep of paint. Removing paint from brick is an enormous undertaking and best done by grit blasting.

 

—Sophie

Pain invaded Posey’s eyes. “You have no idea how much I wish I had pushed her about his identity.”

So Nina was right! “Did she say anything about him? Any little tidbit that might help us figure out who he was?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “You sound like Wolf.” She winced, and wiped her face with her fingers. “For the longest time he strung her along, and she was certain he would leave his wife. You know how unrealistic young women can be when it comes to a man. Apparently he was good to her.” Posey wandered through the store as she talked, but I got the feeling that she wasn’t really seeing anything. “Then one day she announced that she’d met someone else. Someone with whom she could make a life, and that she wasn’t going to wait for her married man anymore. She seemed so happy.”

Posey fingered a huge daisy head on a lush plant. “And now I can’t imagine why I didn’t butt into her life. Why didn’t I ask questions? Why didn’t I insist she tell me who those men were?” She accidentally snapped the daisy head off the stem.

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I was her friend. I should have made it my business.”

“Is there any possibility,” I asked gently, “that the married man could have been Kurt Finkel?”

“Of course not.” But then she lifted her chin and I could see her jaw twitching. “Kurt is at least fifteen years older than Tara,” said Posey. “But he
is
a randy sort, chasing anything in a skirt. And just the type a naive young woman might fall for—the way he dishes out flattery.”

Posey cast an appraising look at me. “You must know something about Kurt and Tara, or you wouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s just a theory. You go way back with Kurt. Back to your college days?”

“We all hung together then. Kurt, Mike, Nolan, Ted, and me. I guess you could call us Mordecai’s gang.”

It finally dawned on me that she was the only girl in the group. “Did you date one of the guys?”

She laughed. “Oh, to be young and carefree. Kurt and I were an item for a while. Ted was shy around women, Nolan was only interested in money, and Mike, on whom I should have set my sights since he’s the nicest of the bunch, had Hot Lips.”

Kurt had been a busy devil. He’d chased Posey, Nina, Earl, and maybe Tara, too. I was beginning to think Nina had been right, and Kurt had been the one who strung Tara along. “But you broke off your relationship with Kurt.”

She ran her hands through her dark cerise hair. “After the sabotage of the cottage we built for Mordecai’s class, nothing was ever the same again between us. We were a motley group in some ways, but we were friends for the longest time. I was the artist, of course. Mike was the practical one. He could build anything. Ted’s family didn’t have a lot of money. He was actually in landscape design, and the rest of us studied interior design. He was always doing lawn work for spending money. Nolan was already arrogant and impossible. I’m surprised we tolerated him. And then, Kurt—he was a ladies’ man from the get-go. I guess Mordecai was fond of us because we were different from his architecture students. We had fun with his little games and puzzles.”

I tried to get her back on track. “But then something happened to the cottage you built.”

“We all blamed each other, though I always suspected Nolan. The rest of us worked hard and had invested too much of ourselves to ruin our creation.”

“Speaking of Nolan, I thought you were going to get his key.”

“
Hah
! He stepped out of the store. I think he knew we were coming. Mike said Nolan probably went to see if he could figure it out for himself, but we’re not worried—he can’t get in without our keys.”

Through the store window, I could see Nina looking for me. I left Posey perusing floral displays and returned to the sidewalk.

Nina launched herself at me. “Don’t leave me like that!”

“You were with Wolf.”

“He was very interested in my theory about Kurt. And he said to tell you he would try to swing by tonight.”

I told her what I’d learned from Posey and that her theory about Tara seeing a married man was dead-on.

“Soph, do you mind if I stay with you?”

“Of course not. It’ll be fun. Let’s find a funny chick flick and try to forget about Kurt.”

“Don’t expect me to be good company.”

I could see the terror in her expression. “We’ll be fine.” At least I hoped we would be.

“Could we stop by the market? I have to buy dog food for Emmaline.”

“Sure.” We needed something comforting for dinner anyway. Even though dusk was settling on Old Town, as we walked along the bustling streets it was hard to imagine that Kurt could be lurking somewhere, or that he could be planning anything malicious toward Nina.

I trusted she would be safe at the tiny market. While she picked out dog food, I asked the butcher for pork chops, buying extra in case Wolf appeared around dinnertime.

As we walked home, someone called my name and I turned to find Camille.

“Sophie, I know you have an in with the cops. Has Wolf given you any indication when they’ll release the conference hall? Some idiot actually bought that mini bulldozer, but the cops won’t let the owner remove it.”

“No one has told me a thing.”

“I have half a mind to tell them to contact that Detective Kenner directly. Let him deal with the irate vendors.”

“I’m glad to see you,” I said. “Everyone’s looking for Nolan. We need his key.”

“Key?” Camille asked, clearly clueless.

“The key from Mordecai’s bequest.”

Camille’s eyes narrowed. “Bequest? That sneaky scamp. He didn’t say a word about a bequest.”

“I got the impression he wasn’t very interested in it.”

Her nostrils flared like a bull’s. “He wouldn’t be, of course. He thinks money rains from the sky. But I care. What does this key look like?”

She promised to bring it over if she found it. And from the excitement on her face, I had a feeling she was headed straight home to look for it.

Nina and I walked back to our neighborhood without incident. No sign of Kurt or anyone else who might pose a danger. We stopped at Nina’s so she could pick up Hank, Emmaline, and a change of clothes. Mochie would have an interesting night with his company.

By eight o’clock, we’d settled into cozy nightwear. Me in flannel pajamas with a sleeping dog print, and Nina in a Carolina blue silk nightgown, with matching quilted bathrobe.

I lit a fire, which warmed the kitchen and went a long way toward dispelling any creepiness. Mochie, who had never feared dogs, didn’t seem to mind when Emmaline wanted to play. But he kept a watchful eye on Hank, especially when he sang “Your Cheatin’ Heart.”

I wished I could stop the bird from screaming Kurt’s name because it only served as a reminder, and I could see the tension in Nina ratchet up each time.

I sprinkled paprika, rosemary, salt, and other spices into a plastic bag, added olive oil, and slid in the pork chops to marinate. In the meantime, I peeled and quartered beets and preheated the oven to roast them. Each time Hank said “Kurt,” I said “Nina.”

Nina caught on to the game and coached Hank to say “Mochie” and “Sophie.” During the time it took to cook sweet onions and crimini mushrooms in butter for a creamy mushroom risotto, Hank learned to squawk all our names.

Just for Nina, I melted dark chocolate with butter, mixed in eggs, sugar, a breeze of flour, a dash of salt, and generous splashes of liqueurs for sinfully delicious and ever-so-comforting Mudslide lava cakes.

And then, in the peaceful quiet of my kitchen, Hank squawked, “
Awwwk
! Kurt! Kurt!”

Nina was pouring wine into tulip-shaped glasses and promptly knocked one over, spilling white wine onto the counter and the floor. “Dear heaven,” she said, pointing at the kitchen door. “I nearly had a heart attack.”

I recognized Francie’s fishing hat through the window in the door. When I opened it, Francie bounded in almost as fast as her golden retriever, Duke. He skidded to a halt in front of Mochie and Emmaline, and polite sniffing ensued. Francie unhooked his leash, and Duke collapsed to a crouch.

Francie tossed her hat and coat onto a chair and shivered. “It’s freezing outside. Doesn’t seem right to have snow flurries. I’ve never liked February. It’s cold and muddy, and Valentine’s Day is always a disappointment.” She looked at Nina. “Your husband remember to send you anything?”

Nina held out her right hand, displaying a stunning ruby and diamond ring.

“You don’t look very happy about it,” commented Francie.

“He bought it before he left for his trip and arranged to have it delivered to me on Valentine’s Day. But he was so busy with that evil woman on his cruise that he didn’t bother to call me. All things considered, I’d have preferred a phone call to the ring.”

“Nina, you’ve been out a lot. Maybe he just couldn’t reach you,” I said.

“Caller ID, Soph. You can’t get away with that baloney about trying to call anymore.”

“Smells good,” interjected Francie. “What’s for dinner?”

“Pork chops.”

“That’s a relief.” She stuck out her tongue. “Chicken is all they serve at the old folks’ home. White bread and chicken and Jell-O. No wonder they all have digestive problems. I’ve been visiting a friend a lot lately, but I can’t stomach their food.”

Nina dabbed at the wine she’d spilled. “Knock next time.”

“I can’t help it if you’re a nervous wreck because you murdered someone.” Francie stood before the fire, rubbing her hands. “I hope you have plenty of pork chops, because Humphrey just cruised the street in his hearse. I bet he’ll be here as soon as he can find a place to park.”

Nina muttered, “Like I needed this.”

“Safety in numbers,” I replied softly, though I was a little disappointed because the presence of Humphrey and Francie probably meant Wolf wouldn’t stop by.

At least when Hank screamed “Kurt! Kurt!” again, Nina was prepared. But Duke wasn’t. He danced in circles, barking nonstop at Hank, who watched him with a superior attitude from the top of a kitchen cabinet. That set Emmaline to yelping, and Mochie leaped to the safety of the window seat. Nina opened the door to Humphrey.

“I’m so sorry. I’m intruding on your dinner,” he said. But he didn’t hesitate to remove his coat and make himself comfortable.

Nina poured more wine and set the table for four while the pork chops simmered on the stove and I finished the risotto.

I set bowls and platters loaded with food on the table, family style. Duke waited patiently for a morsel from Francie, but little Emmaline, at a loss without Mordecai, pranced nervously, as though she wasn’t sure who might feed her.

Humphrey helped himself to roasted beets. “Adam Swensen came by the mortuary today. He’s getting a lot of calls from people who think they’ll get to live in Mordecai’s house if they take the dog.” He cast a glance at Francie. “Including Iris Ledbetter.”

Francie’s fork clanked to the floor. “That’s not possible, is it? It’s bad enough having to deal with Natasha at one end of the street, but a Ledbetter? Say it can’t be!”

I handed Francie a fresh fork. “Isn’t it her grandmother you don’t care for?”

“They’re exactly alike. They even look alike. It’s just a matter of time before she wears ridiculous oversized glasses like Bedelia. She already overaccessorizes.”

Nina cut into a juicy pork chop. “Mordecai’s lawyer asked me to find someone to take care of Emmaline. How does this work? What if Emmaline doesn’t want to sell the house?”

I sat back and relaxed, sipping my wine. “I thought the lawyer had to sell Mordecai’s house and that was the whole reason for redecorating it.”

Humphrey helped himself to more risotto. “As I understand it, the house was left to the dog in trust, so it’s probably the lawyer who’s making the financial decisions. I think he’d rather sell the house. If the person who takes the dog lives there, the lawyer would have to manage it like a rental until the dog dies. The person who takes Emmaline will probably get some kind of compensation and money for her needs.”

Waving her knife in the air, Francie declared, “That’s why they want it. I bet you anything that Bedelia wants to move back up here from Florida to live with Iris. They can’t afford to buy the place, so they think the dog will get them that mansion. Shoot, I’ll take the little fur ball before I let that happen.”