Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The (15 page)

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Authors: Krista Davis

Tags: #Murder, #Winston; Sophie (Fictitious Character), #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #General, #Dwellings

BOOK: Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The
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“I hope they’ll get to our table soon,” said Francie. “If I’d thought it would be this boring, I would have left with Bedelia.”
I forced myself to focus and realized that the police were letting guests go. But I sat up straight and paid attention when Wolf left. He should have remained to interview people or search the crime scene. Something wasn’t quite right.
Humphrey rushed to our table and took the chair next to Francie. Speaking confidentially, he said, “I just overheard a couple of cops talking. Apparently, Tara had a stalker.”
FOURTEEN
From
“Ask Natasha”
:
Dear Natasha,
I love monochromatic bedrooms because they’re so relaxing. I have a blue floral comforter and I painted the walls a coordinating blue, but it doesn’t have that tranquil feeling. It’s positively little-girlish.
 
—Too Sweet in Sugar Land
 
Dear Too Sweet,
 
Ditch the floral comforter and add texture to your wall. Sew a new comforter out of solid blue silk, and use the same blue silk fabric like wallpaper across the entire wall behind your bed. Add white pillows and you’ll achieve that crisp, elegant monochromatic look.
 
—Natasha
When the police made it to our table, Detective Kenner cut me from the herd and asked pointed questions. I had nothing to feel guilty about, except maybe for Kurt being missing, but that wasn’t my fault. Still, the beak-nosed guy sent chills down my back, and I decided to answer truthfully but without offering additional information. There was no telling what he might use against me.
He asked when I last saw Tara, and I told him about her early arrival at the banquet, but some sense of loyalty or prudence prevented me from mentioning that she was looking for Wolf.
His eyes nearly sparkled when he said, “As the coordinator, I assume you are intimately familiar with the various exhibits and their locations.”
I nodded but didn’t understand where he was going with that line of thought.
“And you could have helped yourself to anything on exhibit.”
“Why would I want to?”
“Did you ever have any arguments with Tara?”
“Of course not!”
“But you were upset that Tara was dating Wolf.”
He sneaked in that statement so smoothly that it gave me pause. I really didn’t think it was any of his business, but from the way he leaned forward a bit, a smile playing on his thin lips, I realized that was the motive he’d mentioned earlier.
He flushed an unhealthy beet red when I laughed. “Believe me, I wouldn’t kill anyone over a man. Not even over Wolf.”
“You couldn’t stand the idea of Wolf with another woman.” He almost shouted, drawing attention to us. “You killed Tara because of her relationship with Wolf, and you shoved her under the bed in the glass house. But she fooled you, didn’t she? Because she wasn’t dead.”
“And I did that during the dinner service in full view of the two hundred-plus people in attendance tonight.” I said it calmly, but something deep inside me quivered nervously. Had Tara’s killer really stuffed her under the bed to hide her body? How did Kenner know that already? Pangs of horror ran through me at the thought of poor Tara’s final moments.
Kenner peered at me, his face coming too close for comfort. His skin always seemed too tight, as if it had been stretched across his nose and cheekbones. I pulled back, away from his intimidating glare.
“You’re ready to confess?” he asked.
“That was sarcasm.” I stood abruptly, nearly hitting his sharp nose with my forehead. But I didn’t care. I despised the man, and I hadn’t killed Tara. “I suggest you follow other leads, because you’re wasting your time on me.”
With that, I turned on my heel and strode toward the door. I could hear him calling me and saying he wasn’t finished with me yet, but I kept going and didn’t look back.
Mars caught up to me. “Are you okay?”
I nodded and continued walking.
“Why don’t we drive you home?” Mars offered. “Natasha insisted on bringing the car because she thought she would be taking the big Waterford vase home with her.”
Natasha’s audacity in presuming she would win Best in Show cracked me up and made me feel a little better. I stopped at the top of the escalator and looked back. The rest of my friends were close behind.
“Thanks, Mars. I’ll take you up on that. I usually like to walk home, but it’s cold out and my dress is still damp.”
Natasha, Francie, Nina, and Humphrey stepped off the escalator precisely as Ted, his wife, and Mike ambled by.
Natasha’s eyes widened when she saw the coveted vase in Ted’s arms. “I’ll simply have to make Mordecai’s house so spectacular that the Design Guild will favor me. But now that someone’s been murdered in Ted’s exhibit, shouldn’t he be disqualified?”
“Sometimes I wonder how you can stand her, Mars,” said Nina quietly. Taking my arm, she steered me toward the garage.
We all squeezed into Natasha’s car and minutes later, driving slowly, we approached Mordecai’s home. I looked up at the windows in search of suspicious lights.
Suddenly, Francie, in the front seat, screamed something incoherent. Instinctively, I tensed as though bracing myself for the worst.
Natasha squealed and spun the steering wheel. The car swerved and I banged into Mars, seated to my left. Tires screeched. And then we heard the dreaded crunch of metal slamming metal as we smashed into an oncoming Jeep.
In the seconds of silence that followed, I saw a little ball of fur scamper onto the sidewalk and disappear under Mordecai’s front porch, apparently unscathed.
Humphrey rubbed the back of his neck, and Mars yammered at Natasha.
Nina threw open the door and bolted after the dog, calling, “Emmaline! Emma!”
“At least we know she’s still alive.” I scooted out of the car and crouched next to Nina, but couldn’t see anything under the porch. My knees complained, though, and I guessed I must have banged them into someone or something in the fender bender.
Humphrey assisted Francie, who appeared to be fine, and the others piled out of the car. The portly driver of the Jeep launched into a tirade, but when he realized the other driver was Natasha, the TV diva, his demeanor changed.
Shivering in the cold, I told the others I’d be back after I changed clothes.
“I’ll go with you,” said Mars. “It’s not safe with a killer on the loose.”
I thought Natasha might lose her cool. “But it’s safe for me to stand here on the street?”
“
Aw
, quit your griping,” said Francie. “My old dogs are too tired to walk. I’ll stay with you.”
The look on Natasha’s face made it abundantly clear that Francie wasn’t the companion she had in mind. “Humphrey, you’re a gentleman. I assume you’ll remain with us to see Francie safely home?”
Francie pulled a stickpin out of the lapel of her coat. “Not to worry, Nat, I’m armed.”
Nina stood guard at Mordecai’s porch, lest the little Pomeranian decide to make another dash into traffic, and gave us instructions to return with a flashlight and meat or stinky cheese.
I hurried across the street to my house, unlocked the door, and left Humphrey and Mars to fend for themselves while I changed. Thoroughly chilled, I pulled on a huge fleece sweater, plush and cozy. I pawed through my closet until I found fleece trousers that couldn’t have been less becoming but were very warm.
When I returned to the kitchen, the counter looked like a chocolate hurricane had blown through. How could two grown men make such a mess in minutes? Mochie happily noshed on sliced turkey, and Mars and Humphrey proudly offered me a mug of hot chocolate. The microwave pinged and Mars said, “We’re making enough for everyone.”
Humphrey clutched a mug between his hands and sipped gingerly. He was so pale that he appeared almost ghostly, and I felt ashamed for not realizing sooner that his new love had been killed. The rest of us hardly knew her, but he’d imagined that she was the perfect woman for him, and must be devastated.
I placed a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”
Mars peered at him. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
“Humphrey had a thing for Tara.”
Mars started to laugh. I discreetly kicked him in the shin and said, “I’m so sorry, Humphrey.”
“Death is a part of life. But hers should never have come so soon. I can tell you this”—Humphrey’s tone grew stronger as he spoke—“I will find her stalker, and he will have to contend with me.”
“Now, Humphrey, don’t go doing anything stupid,” cautioned Mars. “Anyone who kills a cop has to be pretty desperate. Leave this to Wolf and his buddies. Trust me, the cops will be on this case like hounds after a fox.”
Summoning more chutzpah than I’d thought possible for Humphrey, he said, “I will not allow her death to go unavenged. I won’t stand idly by.”
Mars stuck another FiestaWare mug in the microwave. “Seven cups of cocoa, that’s enough. Talk some sense into him, Sophie.”
“Mars is right, Humphrey. We don’t know what we’re dealing with. Stalkers are often sort of unbalanced, aren’t they?”
“My life is nothing without Tara. Finding her killer is the only thing left that I can do for her.”
Mars made a can-you-believe-this face behind Humphrey’s back, and I retreated to the foyer for a warm vest.
I wedged it on over the fleece pullover, so bundled that my arms stuck out at the sides like a little kid in a snowsuit. Back in the kitchen, I stuck a flashlight into my pocket. Mars shoved two mugs into my hands. Humphrey carried two as well, along with some of the sliced turkey I’d bought for panini sandwiches. Somehow, Mars managed to juggle three mugs.
We returned to the scene of the accident. I gave a mug to Francie, and Humphrey handed the turkey and a drink to Nina. The driver of the Jeep was stunned when Mars offered him hot chocolate. “Do you people make a party out of everything? I’ve never been in a traffic accident where refreshments were served.”
Natasha turned steely eyes on Mars. “You know chocolate makes me bloat.”
A young cop had arrived during our absence. Mars offered him Natasha’s mug of hot chocolate, which he gratefully accepted.
“Where’s the flashlight, Sophie?”
I flicked it on and handed it to Nina as she bent down to look under the porch steps. “Well, that’s the strangest thing. Emmaline isn’t under here.”
“That can’t be,” said Francie. “We’d have seen her run out.”
Humphrey and I knelt next to Nina. She moved the golden orb of light slowly. But she hadn’t missed the Pomeranian. Emmaline had managed to escape again.
Nina shoved the food deeper under the porch. “She’s probably hungry. I’ll leave the bowl here. Maybe if we keep refilling it, she’ll come by regularly.”
“She must not know she’s an heiress,” said Mars. “That would bring Natasha running.”
We all snickered, but I hoped Natasha hadn’t heard. She would find it offensive, and between losing Best in Show and wrecking her car, she wasn’t having a good evening.
No such luck. Natasha promptly asked, “Who gets the house if the dog is dead?”
I didn’t have the faintest idea, but it made me wonder if some estranged relative of Mordecai’s was hunting poor little Emmaline.
On that happy thought, I collected empty mugs. Natasha and Mars drove their damaged car home, and the rest of us strolled toward our houses.
I unlocked the kitchen door, glad to be out of the cold weather. It was late, and I was too tired to make a real meal for myself, but I hadn’t eaten anything at the banquet. I shed the vest and stood in front of the open refrigerator, contemplating scrambled eggs. Mochie wound around my ankles, purring. Probably hoping for more of the sliced turkey.
But then he stopped his friendly dance, listened for a moment, and shot into the foyer. I hoped he hadn’t heard a mouse scratching inside the old walls.
A minute later, he yowled. An ear-splitting, woeful cry that prompted me to look for him. I found him in the dark sunroom, looking out at the backyard, where a shadowy figure stole across the lawn.
FIFTEEN
From “THE GOOD LIFE” :
Dear Sophie,
 
I know that proper lighting can create a mood, but my family won’t cooperate. I bought two lamps for a long console in the family room, but everyone turns them off, claiming they’re too bright, which leaves that side of the room dark. Getting a new family is too much trouble. Any suggestions?
 
—In the Dark in Sunshine Acres
 
Dear In the Dark,
 
Buy black lampshades. They prevent the light from beaming outward, leaving a cozy downward glow.
 
—Sophie

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