Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The (26 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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Heavy, uneven bangs covered her face in a trendy style. The sides and back were layered, and when she swept a strand of hair out of her eyes, I realized it was Beth. The frizzy, fried yellow hair was gone, toned down to a shiny dark blond. She wore trousers with a blouse and matching jacket that, unless I missed my guess, were brand-new.
“Thank you for inviting me.” Beth seemed genuinely happy, almost confident, the way she’d been the day I met her at Rooms and Blooms.
I ushered everyone in, and while Mars hung their coats, I realized that I held a complex project that must have taken Natasha hours to make. Moss covered a wide, shallow bowl. Somehow, she’d managed to coax a branch full of twigs to stand up in it. The twigs bore miniature faux birds and nests filled with candy eggs.
Natasha supervised as I carried it into the dining room. I made it the centerpiece of the buffet.
“Sophie, dear, it’s meant for the table. So much more interesting than plain candles.”
“Aren’t you afraid someone will tip it or break a branch when we’re passing food?”
Clearly horrified by the thought, she quickly agreed to show it off on the buffet.
We returned to the kitchen, where I checked the temperature of the roast with an instant thermometer. Right on target. I pulled it from the oven and left it on the counter to rest while I finished making the gravy.
Natasha scowled and whispered to me, “Must Humphrey drive that hearse everywhere? Honestly, it gives people the wrong impression.”
I glanced out the window. Sure enough, he’d driven the long funereal vehicle. “I guess it’s just another car to him.”
He carried a white box as he strode to the door. As soon as Hank screamed “Kurt,” I asked Bernie to open the door for Humphrey.
He set the box on the table and greeted everyone, doing a double take when he saw Beth. I hoped that was a good sign.
“What’s in the box?” asked Mars.
“It’s for Natasha.”
TWENTY-NINE
From “THE GOOD LIFE” :
Dear Sophie,
 
I love the Swedish country look but I’m at a loss about where to start. I have white curtains and white linens in my bedroom, but it just looks—white.
 
—Swedish Lover in Sweetwater
 
Dear Swedish Lover,
 
Start with the floors. Bleach or paint your hardwood floors to obtain that milky white effect that sets the scene for the Swedish look.
 
—Sophie
“For me?” Natasha appeared genuinely surprised and delighted. “Humphrey, you shouldn’t have.” She flashed him a beauty queen smile and said, “But I’m so glad you did!”
“It’s not from me. Mordecai’s instructions . . .”
She interrupted him. “I knew he left me something! You see”—she looked around at us and gloated—“when you take the time to be nice to someone, they do appreciate it. I was certain he wouldn’t forget me.” She tore into the box with everyone looking on. “What . . . Humphrey, what is this?” All friendliness had vanished from her tone and her mouth turned down in distaste.
“I was trying to tell you. It’s Mordecai.”
Natasha withdrew her hands faster than if she’d discovered a copperhead in the box. “I sincerely hope you’re joking.”
“I never joke about death. Well, rarely.
Hmm,
” he mused, “actually, since it’s my line of business, I guess I laugh in the face of death all the time. But this isn’t a joke. Mordecai left you his ashes.”
Natasha gripped the arm of a chair and eased herself into it. I didn’t particularly want to see the contents of the box, but I had a strong feeling her face had taken on the color of those contents.
“Mars, please remove the box.” Natasha’s chest heaved, and I wondered if she was hyperventilating.
“Do you need anything?” I asked, setting a glass of ice water in front of her.
Mars picked up the box and turned to me, biting his upper lip, no doubt to keep from laughing. Clipping his words in a pitch an octave too high, he said, “Where shall I put this?”
“Out of reach of the dogs. Seems disrespectful to put it—him—in a closet. How about on the console in the foyer? That way you won’t forget it when you leave.”
Mars couldn’t contain himself anymore. His face bright red, he left the kitchen with me on his heels. He deposited the box on the console, and the two of us stepped outside and guffawed until we could control ourselves. I admit I felt a twinge of guilt, but that didn’t stop me from laughing anew every time I saw Mars’s face. Making a point of not looking at each other, we returned to the kitchen, where someone had deftly changed the subject to Hank and his singing talent. Natasha, still pale, sat primly and didn’t appear to be paying any attention.
Humphrey offered to take the ceviche into the dining room and motioned for me to follow him. When we set the martini glasses on serving plates, he said, “The police have been questioning me like crazy because I sent Tara flowers for Valentine’s Day. I sent them anonymously, but they tracked me down through the florist and my credit card.” His head dropped, as if he were about to break into tears.
“Humphrey, no one who knows you thinks you killed Tara. We just have to find the real killer.”
“Thank you, Sophie. I knew I could count on you to stand by me.”
Whoa. I hoped that didn’t mean he wanted to switch his affections to me. Where was Beth? I turned to call her, but he stopped me.
“There’s something you should know. Wolf sent Tara flowers, too.”
I felt my breath drop out of me, right down to my toes, like I’d been punched in the gut. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sorry, Sophie, but you needed to know.”
I had no choice but to collect myself and put Wolf out of my mind. I wasn’t very successful at the latter, though. When I told the others that dinner was served, I could only think of Wolf and his lies. Was I aiding and abetting him by pretending we weren’t seeing each other? Was he using me? It didn’t make sense. The Wolf I thought I knew was a straight shooter.
We moved into the dining room, where Bernie’s elegant ceviche awaited us. When I told everyone Bernie brought it, Natasha recovered from her malaise long enough to utter, “Oh . . . restaurant food.”
I had to do my best not to look in Mars’s direction, lest we break into gales of giggles again. But I needn’t have worried. When Bernie carved the lamb, the subject quickly changed to Kurt’s murder.
“What I find interesting,” said Bernie, “is that the person who hid Kurt’s body must have known the trick to opening the bookcase.”
Humphrey sat up straighter. “So Kurt’s killer would have been very close to Mordecai to have known his secret.”
“Might even have helped Mordecai build the wall unit.” Nina swirled the wine in her glass.
“Or at least have had a familiarity with woodworking.” Mars accepted two slices of juicy rare lamb and frowned at Bernie. “I don’t think you should go around promoting this theory. You seem to fit the bill.”
Bernie chuckled as though he had no worries.
Francie helped herself to asparagus. “Unless Kurt opened the wall unit. He was familiar with building and woodworking.”
“I don’t think so, Francie.” I passed the creamy whipped potatoes. “I’m almost positive he was dead the morning I saw him in Bernie’s window seat.” Clearly the wrong thing to say, since everyone seated at the table immediately looked at Bernie.
He simply smiled and said, “I can assure you I had nothing to do with Kurt’s demise. I barely knew the man.”
“But you did know him?” asked Humphrey.
Bernie rested the knife on the carving board and sat down. “I run a popular restaurant. I don’t know all the patrons well, but I’ve met a lot of local people in passing.”
“Posey thinks Mordecai is still alive, and that he gathered his old students for some kind of revenge,” I said, to get Bernie off the hot seat.
Humphrey sputtered, and for a moment, I thought he might spew wine. “That’s impossible.”
“You actually saw his corpse?” asked Nina.
It finally occurred to me that Beth hadn’t said a thing and was looking a little pale around the gills. Corpses and murder weren’t exactly typical friendly dinner conversation. But Emmaline, who’d restlessly looked to each of us in hopes of a morsel of lamb, had come to a halt beside Beth and watched her with adoring eyes. “Beth, what brought you to Virginia?” I asked.
“My parents. They’re getting up in years. It seemed like the right time to make things a little easier on them.”
“I think that’s lovely,” said Francie. “Families should stick together and help each other.”
“Have you ever been married?” asked Nina.
Beth seemed a bit flustered to be the center of attention, but Natasha finally broke out of her Mordecai-induced stupor and said, “She has two children. Both in college.”
That explained why Beth needed the job so much.
“I’m lucky that Natasha hired me.” Beth speared a piece of asparagus. “The job is different every day—never boring.”
I struggled to imagine what Beth and Humphrey might have in common. Matchmaking for two shy people wasn’t easy. I steered the conversation to books and movies, but in the end, Beth had a real interest in cooking and decorating, and Humphrey was still as bland as rice pudding. I wondered if he was comparing mild-mannered Beth to vibrant Posey, but didn’t understand that Posey would run him over like a bulldozer. Tara wouldn’t have given him a second look, either. Poor Humphrey.
We adjourned to the living room for dessert, decaf coffee and tea, and after-dinner liqueurs. I handed Beth a cup of coffee, and when she reached for it, she said, “Thank you for including me tonight.” She seemed to have relaxed considerably, and I got the impression that she was comfortable with my friends. The only problem was that she sat in conversational proximity of Bernie and Francie, while Humphrey chatted with Mars near the fireplace.
Emmaline jumped onto the sofa next to Beth. I reached out to remove her, but Beth said, “She’s fine. I like dogs. Especially cute little ones.”
Nina eyed Beth with new interest. “How do you feel about kittens? Would you like to see some?”
“Sure,” said Beth.
“Humphrey, wouldn’t you like to see the kittens, too?” I asked.
Bernie and Mars both rose as though they intended to follow Nina up the stairs for kitten show-and-tell, but I snagged the two men by their sleeves and hissed, “Doesn’t anyone here realize that we’re trying to throw Beth and Humphrey together?”
They acted sheepish and sat down, and I returned to the kitchen to slice the pound cake and arrange it on a platter. I had made the first cut when Natasha stormed in and asked, “Do you think he despised me?”
That was a loaded question. Plenty of people didn’t care for Natasha. “You mean Mordecai?”
“Why would he do something so . . . so . . . barbaric? Why didn’t they just bury him like they do everyone else?”
“You’re looking at this all wrong. You should be honored. He trusted you to take care of him. Obviously he thought very highly of you.”
“You think so? Oh, Sophie, what on earth am I going to do with those ashes?”
“Why don’t you plant a tree in his backyard and bury the ashes there to nourish it? That way, he’ll always be around.”
Natasha hugged me from behind. “You’re not much of a decorator or a cook, but sometimes you say just the right thing. I’ll do that.”
Gee, thanks
. I picked up the platter of cake and carried it into the living room. On the way there, Natasha confided, “I’ve figured out what I’m doing wrong in the eyes of the Design Guild. They like fussy rooms, and I’ve been doing very clean, modern rooms. I’m changing my style for them. Do you think romantic country with lots of roses and shabby chic notions will impress them? I can do that, you know.”
I had no doubt that she could.
“Posey and Iris do a much more cluttered look.” To the entire assembled group, she announced, “I phoned Camille today. She’s putting pressure on the police to release Mordecai’s house to us. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. And Camille has enough clout to get what she wants in this town. We have to rush or we’ll never finish the house in time for the spring tours.”
The rest of the evening went well. The Grand Marnier cake proved so moist and delicious that we devoured most of it. But in spite of my efforts to bring them together, Humphrey and Beth clearly didn’t have the right chemistry for a love attraction.
My guests left around midnight, with Natasha reminding everyone to check in with her in the morning, because we might all be back to work. Humphrey walked Francie home, and Bernie offered to see Beth to her car.
I tackled the dishes while Nina put Hank to bed in the cage in my sunroom and saw to the needs of the mother cat and kittens. I cleaned up, glad that I could offer some comfort to Nina, who was clearly still anxious about the murders, but the news about the flowers Wolf sent to Tara hung over me like a rain cloud. He could deny being involved with her, but it would be impossible for him to explain away the flowers.

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