The Diva Serves High Tea (13 page)

When Callie expressed her delight over the pimento cheese, Wanda asked, “Where are you from, honey? You sound like people from my neck of the woods.”

“Do I? I was just thinkin' the same thing about you,” Callie said. “I haven't heard an accent like yours in years. I grew up in a little town in Virginia called Pike Creek. Have you ever heard of it?”

“What a small world,” Wanda replied. “That's about an hour from Berryville, where I live. We used to drive past there for Natasha's beauty pageants in Forest Glen. We always stayed in a hotel near the college. And there was the best bakery.”

“I remember that place,” Natasha said. “Wyatt's? You always treated me to a doughnut after a pageant.”

“I've been there! My uncle knew the owner.” Callie beamed with excitement.

“Isn't that odd? I thought you were from Florida,” Francie said.

“I'm from there, too,” Callie said. “I fled to the sunshine to escape my first husband. We were so young. Of course, that's no excuse for beating on your wife. So one night when he was sprawled on the sofa, dead drunk, I packed my bags, took the only car we owned, which he woulda killed me for if he'd found me, and drove to Florida. Didn't know a soul down there.”

“You're here today, so I guess he didn't find you?” asked Nina.

“I'm no dummy. I traded that car for another one at a scuzzy used-car dealership in Georgia so he couldn't trace it to me. He never did come lookin' for me. Last I heard, he got rough with the wrong woman. She shot him in the knee with his own gun.” Callie dabbed her lips and chuckled “'Scuse me for laughin' but he sure deserved it. I hear he walks with a cane now and is real polite to the ladies.”

No one looked appalled. In fact, every single one of them smiled, and Wanda guffawed like it was the best story she'd heard. No wonder Francie and Velma found Callie so interesting.

“Did you remarry?” asked Wanda.

“I did. I just have the worst luck with men. Seems like I've spent my life running from lousy husbands. After Florida, I ran to Charlotte in North Carolina, then I ran here. I thought about New York City but I figured I'd blend in better in these parts.”

“And now you have a lovely man interested in you!” Velma cooed.

“You mean Hunter Landon? Aww, he's just a customer.”

“Callie, you know as well as I do that most men don't hang out in tea parlors every day.” Francie grinned at her.

“He comes in because he's particular fond of the bacon-cheddar scones. He's awful cute, but I don't need man trouble again.”

“You don't have to tell
me
about lousy husbands,” Wanda said.

“Mom.” Natasha's voice was stern.

“You've got nothin' to be ashamed of, baby. It was your daddy who left us, not the other way around.”

Even Natasha's heavy makeup couldn't hide the flush of red that flooded her face.

I was thinking I had better change the subject when Wanda said, “These lemon tarts are wonderful! You know what I think of every time I hear about Forest Glen? That girl, Rosie, who went missing.”

Dear Natasha,

My know-it-all sister insists that it's not a proper tea if cucumber sandwiches aren't served. Is that true?

—Hostess with the Mostess in Sandwich, Illinois

Dear Hostess with the Mostess,

Personally, I loathe the little tasteless things. It may be a British tradition but we Americans need not adhere to it. I was appalled to learn that American scientists dubbed the homely cucumber sandwich the best food to eat during a heat wave.

—Natasha

Velma choked on her tea. Francie gasped. Nina's eyes met mine.

“Rosie?” I asked.

“It was years ago,” Wanda said. “She disappeared. I remember seeing her picture in the paper day after day. Such
a pretty young woman. They searched for her everywhere. I heard they found some bones partly buried in the riverbank a while back and confirmed they were hers. Did you know her, Callie?”

Callie chose a macaron from the server. “Never met her. I heard what happened, though. They said she fell in the river.”

Velma heaved a sigh of relief. “It's not our Rosie, then.”

While I enjoyed the sour sweetness of a lemon tart, Velma and Francie told the story of Robert and the curious notes about Rosie.

Natasha stiffened. She'd been pushing the same macaron around her plate since we sat down. She sipped her tea, holding the cup oh-so-properly with her pinkie in the air. But she took it plain. No sugar, no cream, no lemon.

Wanda shook her head. “Not a one of us knows when the grim reaper will come callin'. Some things are best not kept for our loved ones to find. Back in Berryville, Elmira Grimley surprised everyone when she passed. She kept to herself, had a vegetable garden that was the envy of the town, never missed church on Sundays, and doncha just know when she died in a car accident and the church ladies cleaned out her house, it turned out she'd been entertaining men on the computer for money. She wore naughty black leather and snapped a whip at 'em!”

“Mom!”

“Well, it's true, honey. We're among friends anyway.”

Velma set down her fork. “Goodness gracious! There's no telling what people are up to. But don't you think those notes are odd? Sounds like someone was after poor Robert.”

“Now that he's dead I guess it doesn't matter anymore.” Callie helped herself to jam and cream. “I wish I had a backyard to plant a few things. I miss that about country life.”

“We have a lovely farmer's market,” Francie pointed out.

“I know!” Callie said. “I worked there this past summer
in exchange for some vegetables and fruit that I canned for winter. But it's not the same as digging in the dirt and growing it yourself.”

Wanda's cup clattered to the saucer. “Natasha! I just had the most brilliant idea. Darlin', I know it has been your goal to be the Martha of the South, but I believe you have been goin' about this all wrong.” Wanda snapped her fingers. “Instead of Martha, you should be like that Pioneer Woman, Ree. But she's out west. You could set yourself up as a country girl of the South. I can even help you. I've been cookin' gravy and grits for years. And you know how good my apple fritters are.”

“Mom, do I look like a country girl?”

I hoped no one would laugh.

“Don't worry about that. I can fix you up. You just need to wear some jeans and boots. We'll get you some pretty clothes instead of those things you wear that look like they were made out of bargain-bin upholstery material.”

“I pay a lot of money for my clothes.”

“Well then I have no idea why you look so plain all the time,” Wanda said.

Natasha's eyes narrowed and she studied me. “Hmm. Maybe you're onto something. Even Martha likes to wear big shirts. Maybe I do look too perfect.”

Francie coughed so hard that I patted her on the back.

Between Wanda and Callie and their colorful stories, the afternoon passed too quickly. Before I knew it, I was handing everyone little packets of leftover goodies to take home with them. And I still had a packed fridge.

Before leaving, Nina pulled me aside. “I'm rushing home to change, then I'm picking up a foster puppy. Would you have time to meet me in an hour or so? It would be helpful if Daisy walked to my house with the puppy.”

I agreed, suggesting we meet at the hotel because the bus would be back soon. As I closed the door, the phone rang. I picked it up.

“I hate it when you're right,” said Mars.

“What? You must not be feeling too bad if you're up to teasing me.”

I could hear Bernie shouting in the background, “You saved his life!”

“It's botulism poisoning.”

“No!” I said.

“You bet it is. Looks like it's pretty mild. They don't think I need the antitoxin. So I will probably live to tease you in the future.”

“What about your travel schedule?” I asked.

“I'll be hanging around here for a bit, doing what I can from Bernie's house. I don't relish the notion of flying and being in crowded places with a gastrointestinal upset.”

I would feel the same way. “Let me know if you need anything, okay? Hey, Mars? Where do you think you got it?”

Mars lowered his tone. So Bernie wouldn't hear? “Probably at The Laughing Hound. That's the only place I've eaten since I had breakfast at your house. Bernie brings home leftovers, and I went over there for dinner a couple of nights.”

Oh no. I hung up the phone. Poor Bernie. The Laughing Hound was his baby, his life!

I dashed upstairs, and changed into comfy elastic-waist trousers. A dark green, they suited the season better than my dress had. I slid a rosy-pumpkin-colored long-sleeved T-shirt over my head. It covered the forgiving waistband of the trousers. Boots would have given the outfit a touch of style, but if I was going to walk, Keds were my preference.

I washed the delicate cups and dishes by hand, noting through the window over the sink that the darkness of fall was descending upon us earlier each day. With the cups, saucers, and dishes neatly stacked away in the breakfront, I donned a warm forest-green vest and headed toward the hotel with Daisy.

The passengers wearily dismounted from the bus. They clutched souvenirs, and bags with Smithsonian museum
logos on them. They passed me quickly, undoubtedly eager to get to their rooms and rest.

The tour guide stepped out for a quick chat. “What a day! I think everyone had a great time, though. A few congressmen and congresswomen stopped by to chat with them when we toured the Capitol, which excited them no end.”

I thanked her and the bus driver for their help, tipped them both generously, and they departed.

Lights glowed inside the hotel, casting a warm welcome. Daisy and I watched the evening bustle of Old Town from the sidewalk. We didn't have to wait long for Nina. A beagle puppy trotted along beside her, taking in everything. That puppy could warm the coldest heart. With typical floppy brown ears and a white muzzle, he also had a white blaze that ran up between his eyes to his forehead.

“Who is this?” I asked. I kneeled to pet him and was immediately rewarded with a puppy kiss on my nose.

“We're calling him Peanut. His mom was a stray who was brought into the shelter pregnant. This is his first night away from her.”

“You won't be getting much sleep tonight!”

“He's such a cutie that I couldn't resist. Besides, my husband is away on business
again
, so I have lots of time to teach this little guy how to behave. Thanks for helping me show him what to do, Daisy.”

Peanut and Daisy made friends right away. The four of us walked along the brick sidewalk, the dogs sniffing gates and bushes with enthusiasm. Lights turned on in houses as people arrived home from work. In spite of the attacks on Natasha and Callie, I didn't feel threatened or afraid. I stayed on the alert, though.

Nina chattered about Callie and Wanda. “I'm scared to death to see what Natasha might do next. She has always taken such pride in being a city slicker. Think she'll do the country gal thing like Wanda suggested?”

“I have a little trouble imagining that myself—” I stopped and listened. “Did you hear something?” I whispered.

“The dogs did.”

Both of them raised their noses.

Nina grabbed my arm when a low-pitched moan came from our right somewhere. “Good heavens. It's not Halloween yet. What do you think that is?”

“I have no idea.” But the dogs appeared to know where it originated. They tugged on their leashes, and we followed to the entrance of an alley.

It was darker than pitch, and I wasn't sure we should go in.

Nina pulled out her cell phone and flicked on a beam of light. “Flashlight app. Drains the batteries but it's mighty handy.”

She shone the beam into the alley, and we heard another terrible moan.

And then the light landed on a person who was sprawled on the ground.

I grabbed my cell and dialed 911 as fast as my shaking fingers could move. Nina ventured into the alley a few steps. She raised the light, probably to see if anyone else lurked there. I didn't see anyone.

The dispatcher answered. I told her where we were and that someone appeared to be ill or injured. I hung up and followed behind Nina.

“Hello?” I called. “Do you need help?”

Nina appeared to have reached the person. “Sophie!”

I hurried to her and looked down into the contorted face of Elise Donovan. Dropping to my knees, I leaned over her. “Are you okay? Can you sit up?”

Nina nudged me with her foot and moved the light. There was no mistaking the pool of blood in which Elise lay. Her suit jacket had fallen open and the stain on her blouse frightened me. She had lost a lot of blood.

“We've called for help. The ambulance will be here any second.” I picked up her hand. “Hang on. For Kevin's sake, hang in there. You have to be strong for him.”

She gazed up at me and moved her lips.

“Conserve your strength. They'll be here any moment.”

Almost like magic, I heard the first bleat of a siren.

“Not much longer. Did you hear that?”

Nina kept the light steady, and I could see Elise waning. “Hold on, Elise!” I shouted. “Stay with me!”

Elise's eyes met mine. With a huge effort, she spoke. “Rosie.”

Dear Sophie,

The wife of my husband's boss called the china I inherited from my grandmother “transferware”! It's extraordinarily beautiful but the way she said it sounded like she was putting it down. What is transferware?

—Not Sure If I'm Offended in Transfer, Pennsylvania

Dear Not Sure If I'm Offended,

Transferware arose to fill the demand for lower-priced tableware for the middle classes. The pattern was transferred from a metallic plate to pottery. It is highly collectable and some patterns are so popular that they are still produced today.

—Sophie

Suddenly, there was no life in her eyes anymore. They stared blindly upward.

“No!” I grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently. “No, Elise! Stay here. For Kevin. Elise!”

“They're here, Sophie,” Nina said.

I moved out of the way, yelling, “She was just with us. Bring her back. CPR! Do something!”

I heard one of the EMTs say to Nina, “Can you get her out of here, please?”

I stepped aside but remained in the alley watching. “She has the sweetest little boy. She can't do this to him.”

They started CPR, and I realized that I was holding my breath. She had to come back. She just had to!

But I had been around enough deaths to know how it worked. They would keep trying until a local medical examiner came and declared her dead. I looked up at the sky, wishing a bolt of lightning would zap life back into her.

“I think she's gone, Sophie,” whispered Nina. She squeezed my hand tightly.

We stood there for what seemed a hopeless eternity, waiting and praying that Elise would return to the living, knowing with each passing moment that it was less and less likely.

Wolf arrived before the medical examiner. He assessed the situation quickly. In minutes, Wong was there with him, stringing up crime scene tape and shooing us out of the alley to the sidewalk. I hadn't even realized that crowds of neighbors had gathered on both ends of the alley.

“Do you think she was shot?” asked Nina.

“I don't know. There was so much blood. Alex! I have to call Alex.”

I punched his number on my cell phone. “Alex? Something happened to Elise.” I told him the location but didn't feel I should go into details. “And, Alex, do
not
bring Kevin. No matter what you do,
do not
bring Kevin with you.”

I hung up, covered my face with my hands, and took some deep breaths.

“Soph? You okay?” asked Nina.

I moved my hands and nodded. “I just can't get that darling little boy out of my head. She was a terrible mother.
Absolutely awful! But losing her will leave scars on that sweet boy that will never heal.”

Wong was still working at pushing back the onlookers. We moved under a streetlamp. The woman next to me screamed and stepped back, pointing at me.

“No. No. You don't understand. She was helping the—” Nina looked at me, clearly at a loss for words, which never happened to her.

“The victim,” I said. Because that's what she was. Some terrible person had taken a mother from her little boy. Someone who probably didn't even know about Kevin's existence. Not that such knowledge would have necessarily stopped him.

Wong rushed over. “Sophie!” She shook her head. “Honey, you have blood on your face.”

“It's okay, Wong. I called it in and tried to comfort”—my voice broke—“Elise.”

“Stay here, okay?”

I watched as Wong fetched Wolf. He glanced in our direction and strode over to us. One look at me, and he crooked his finger.

We ducked under the tape and followed him to a quiet spot in the alley.

“So what happened?” he asked.

We told him about hearing her moans.

“How did Elise die? Was she shot?” I asked.

Wolf's eyebrows rose. “You know her?”

“Not well. She's Elise Donovan, a lawyer from Charlotte who's here for the family law convention.”

Nina whispered, “She has a thing for Alex.”

I stared daggers at her. What kind of friend says something like that? Didn't she realize that she was incriminating me?

“What? I was with you. You have an alibi!” Nina tilted her head at me like a confused puppy.

Wolf pulled out a flashlight and trained it on me. “You've been together for the last couple of hours?”

I had to tell him the truth. “Nina was picking up this puppy, and I had to meet a tour bus at the conference hotel.
I tipped the driver and the tour guide. They probably remember that.”

“And before that?”

My heart sank. “Wolf, you
know
me. I did
not
shoot that woman. I don't even own a gun. Don't put me through this.”

He didn't speak and appeared to be waiting for an answer.

“I washed the dishes from Francie's tea party and then walked over to the hotel,” I said.

At that moment, Alex broke through the crowd. He stopped at the crime scene tape until he saw me. Ducking under it, he ran toward me.

“Where's Elise?”

“I'm so sorry, Alex.” There wasn't anything else I could say.

“What?” He glanced at the body on the ground. “What happened?”

Wolf grabbed Alex's arm before he could dash over to Elise's body. “Go home and clean up, Sophie. Alex, I'd like a word with you.”

Nina and I slipped away quietly.

When we were on the street, Nina said, “We're lucky Wolf responded to the call.”

“Thanks for telling him Elise was chasing Alex. Didn't you think that might implicate me?”

“Sorry. I was trying to be helpful!”

“To whom?”

I was shivering as I unlocked the door to my house, though I wasn't sure if it was from shock or from the chill in the air.

“I'll make us hot drinks while you change,” Nina said.

I took her up on the offer, grateful to hop into a hot shower. I dressed in warm, sloppy pants with a drawstring waist and a comfortable, oversized shirt. I really wanted to wrap up in a big fluffy bathrobe, but this was the next best thing for feeling comforted. The clothing equivalent of mac and cheese.

I padded down the stairs barefooted, surprised to hear voices. A fire blazed in my kitchen fireplace, and Mars and
Bernie had made themselves comfortable at my kitchen table.

“Mars! You look pretty good. How do you feel?”

“Better than Bernie.”

Bernie scowled. “What a bloody nightmare. The health department shut us down in an instant. It was utterly humiliating. I can't believe my place is the source. Expect to hear about some of our friends getting ill.”

The Laughing Hound was so popular. Half the town could be affected. “Like who?”

“Alex, for starters,” said Bernie. “He was there with”—he coughed intentionally—“the other woman. Martha Carter and her husband had dinner a couple of times this week. The list goes on and on.”

“Elise.” And then a horrible thought sprang to mind. “Did Alex and Elise have a little boy with them?”

Bernie looked at Mars. “Cute little fellow. He asked for a tour of the kitchen!”

“So a family dinner, huh?” I said.

“Sorry, Sophie.” Mars bit into a cracker.

Nina handed me a mug of hot cider. “Is it okay if we eat some of the party leftovers? I already reheated the pimento cheese dip.”

“I might start serving this as an appetizer at the restaurant. It could be very popular in the winter months and none of the other restaurants in town are offering it.” Bernie popped a cheese-coated cracker into his mouth.

Nina grinned at me. “And to think that my mother-in-law once called me the anti-diva.”

“Did she tell you?” I asked, taking leftover cucumber sandwiches, lemon tarts, scones, and petit fours out of the fridge.

“I didn't tell them the important part.” Nina pulled red-and-white transferware dishes with ornate flowers and birds from the cabinet and stopped midstep with a gasp. “I forgot to tell Wolf!”

Mars and Bernie stopped eating.

“So did I. He has to know!” I said.

While I phoned Wolf, Nina brought Mars and Bernie up to speed about the strange notes found at Robert's home.

Naturally, Wolf didn't answer. He was in the middle of a murder scene, what had I expected? No wonder he wasn't taking calls. I left a message telling him I had important information about Elise.

When I hung up, Bernie was saying, “Hold it. Are you telling me that someone
murdered
Robert and my restaurant is closed for no good reason?”

Nina scowled at him. “Hey! Don't blame the messenger. Besides, Mars got sick, too.”

“Do you know how much perfectly good food is going to waste?”

“We're talking about murder, and you're worried about losing money?”

Bernie ran his hand over his scruffy hair. “Yeah, sorry. You're right. Lost my head there for a minute, but it's still a big inconvenience.”

I sat down at the table. “Here's the thing. The last word Robert said was
Rosie
. And the last word Elise said was
Rosie
.”

Mars put his fork down. “Soph, are you sure you didn't imagine that? Seems like an awfully big coincidence. Maybe you had it on the brain and just thought that was what she said.”

“Only one problem with that, Mars,” said Nina. “I was there, too, when Elise spoke. I heard it just like Sophie did. No question about it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair.

“This is a little bit creepy.” Mars glanced out the bay window at the dark night. “If Rosie is supposed to be dead, how could she be running around killing people?”

Bernie shook his head. “Unless the authorities are lying to us, and I seriously doubt that the authorities would want to start a health panic unnecessarily, Robert died from botulism. You can't murder someone with botulism. It's not as though someone named Rosie walked up to Robert with
something disgusting and forced him to eat it. I'll grant you that it's odd they both said something that sounded like
Rosie
, but there cannot be a connection. That wouldn't make any sense.”

“Maybe Robert didn't know how he got sick, but he was afraid of this Rosie, because of the notes,” I suggested.

“But the note said Rosie was dead. Right?” asked Mars.

I retrieved my copies from my office and handed them to Mars and Bernie.

“Assuming these notes are accurate, we know that Robert sinned and that Rosie is dead,” mused Mars.

“Revenge. If Rosie is dead, maybe someone wanted him to pay for his sin?” I asked.

“Then why would Elise say Rosie's name?” Nina grabbed a petit four and ate it in two bites.

“Ahh.” Bernie slathered a scone with cream. “Perhaps it was this Elise who killed Robert to avenge his sin.”

“Then who killed Elise?”

That brought our speculation to an abrupt halt. Only the sound of the crackling fire broke the silence. The flames threw shadows against the walls. Daisy and Peanut snoozed near the fire. But as I watched them, Peanut raised his head and howled mournfully.

Someone banged on the door and Nina shrieked again.