Read Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The Online

Authors: Krista Davis

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

Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The (3 page)

BOOK: Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The

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“Maybe a relative did arrive,” said Humphrey.

“With a flashlight? Wouldn’t a relative turn on a light?” I said.

No one bothered with coats. We flew out the door and across the street to Mordecai’s. I ran up the front steps to the covered porch and tried the doorknob. The door was locked.

Humphrey rang the bell.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s only polite. What if someone is staying here? It would be the height of impropriety to burst in on them.”

After giving him an impatient look, I dashed down to the street, where Nina waited.

“I can’t run with the bird, and I couldn’t leave him with Mochie,” she complained.

“I’m going around back.”

Rain pelted me as I jogged along the sidewalk. In the distance a figure vanished into the darkness. The gate to Mordecai’s backyard and garage was unlocked. I swung it open and cautiously stole toward the back door, fearful that someone might burst through it. I paused to look up at the house. The sudden appearance of a light surprised me, but as it dawned on me that the light was reflecting on the glass of the window rather than shining through from inside the house, a woman’s voice behind me said, “Stop right there.”

I didn’t, of course. I turned around to see who held the flashlight. It wasn’t easy to make the person out against the beam of light trained on me, but I could see a police hat with a rain cover on it.

I shielded my eyes by raising a hand in front of my face. “I’m a neighbor. We saw a light inside and thought someone might have broken in. The owner just died.”

I must not have appeared too menacing in my bathrobe, with my hair plastered to my head, because she walked past me and tried the back door. “It’s secure. Do you realize that you’re trespassing?”

“Well, no. I’m being neighborly.”

“Go on, now.”

“But we saw a light.”

“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll keep an eye on the place.”

She closed the gate firmly behind me and waited for me to walk away.

I caught up with Nina and Humphrey, who huddled out of the rain on Mordecai’s front porch, and told them what had happened.

Satisfied that we’d done all we could, Nina hurried home to get Hank out of the cold, wet weather. Humphrey returned to collect his coat, but left quickly after I finally offered to host a dinner party and invite his new friend.

I tamped out the fire, locked the doors, and took a long, hot shower to warm up before going to bed.

Morning came too early the next day, but I reminded myself how lucky I was to be working. Too many companies had cut back on their events, and a lot of event planners were taking on other jobs to make ends meet. Still, being the coordinator of Rooms and Blooms was a demanding job. I was on my feet all day solving problems. After a few glitches setting up, the first days we were open to the public had gone well, considering the number of people involved, and I hoped things would continue to go smoothly.

The rain had stopped and the sun shone, but the trees in my backyard swayed in a strong wind. I opted for simple khakis and a coral sweater set, not too fancy because Rooms and Blooms sometimes required me to crawl around on my knees or scoop up spilled dirt. I fed Mochie while I swilled a mug of coffee. By the time I left, he had stretched out on the brick floor of the sunroom, already warm from the sun, and was snoozing.

Natasha waited for me at the entrance to Rooms and Blooms, chatting with the security guard. She and I had grown up together in a small town in Virginia. We’d competed at everything, pushing each other to try harder. Except I’d avoided the beauty pageants that Natasha loved so much. She’d parlayed her looks and driving work ethic into a domestic diva TV show on a local cable channel, but she aspired to greater fame. Sometimes I wondered if anything could stop her. And now she’d had the nerve to move into my neighborhood, which seemed to guarantee her presence in my life. I had come to terms with her, but Natasha still thought she was always right about everything, which irritated me no end.

The security guard nodded at me, collected a couple of candy wrappers, and left.

Natasha’s dark hair framed her face as though she’d just left a salon. How could anyone look perfectly put together so early in the morning? A knit dress of robin’s egg blue glided over her figure. On me it would have shown every lump and bump. She looked at her watch and said, “Don’t you think the latte people should open when the exhibitors arrive?”

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”

“I’m giving a talk this morning, and I need a coffee jolt to get me going.”

I couldn’t resist. “What? You didn’t whip up eggs Benedict for breakfast before you came?”

“Mars had a breakfast meeting, and I wanted to get here in plenty of time to set up.” She grabbed my arm. “Sophie, you know all the exhibitors. I could use some help in winning Best in Show. It carries such weight with the Design Guild, and I’m in the running for their annual award.”

The Design Guild had been around for decades. In fact, under a different name, Rooms and Blooms had originally been a Design Guild project. Years ago Guild members ran the home show outdoors in the spring, and instituted the Best in Show awards to encourage exhibitors to create fancy booths. As the show grew in size, they added categories and more prizes, and the Best in Show winner scored major points toward the Design Guild’s prestigious annual award to the designer who had made the biggest contribution that year.

But Natasha already had her own TV show about all things domestic. Why would the Design Guild Award be so important to her? It wasn’t like she owned an interior design business that would get a boost from the award and publicity. “All the visitors get to vote for their favorite booth. It’s not up to me.”

“But the exhibitors get to vote, too. Couldn’t you put in a good word for me?”

“Don’t you think each exhibitor feels the way you do?”

She drew back as though I’d said something rude and ugly. “I thought I could count on your support.”

“Natasha, I’m running the show. It wouldn’t be appropriate to be biased.”

“In that case, don’t expect any favors from me!”

She stalked off in a huff, and I wished my day had started better. Fortunately, work drew my attention and I didn’t give her another thought until I took a midmorning break with a bottle of black currant juice. I sat on a concrete garden bench near a family of ceramic geese marching through a small field of soft pink Angelique tulips. In the springlike panorama of the hotel’s convention hall, it was hard to imagine that a blustery winter wind blew outside.

“No one has seen the interior of Professor Mordecai’s house in years, but his wife was a decorator and I’ve heard it’s fantastic.” I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help recognizing the perky voice of Iris Ledbetter, rumored to be the one to beat for the coveted Best in Show award for her design booth. In spite of her penchant for boxy clothes with busy patterns, at thirty-five Iris was making a name for her interior design business through her lavish use of sumptuous fabrics. Although she lived in nearby Del Ray, I was told the Ledbetter name was well known in Old Town decorating circles.

Camille DuPont, chairwoman of the Design Guild, said, “Mordecai’s wife is the only person who ever won the Design Guild’s Award two years running. But the house creeps me out a little bit. They say he hid a corpse in there. I’ve heard he used to go out at night and wander the streets of Old Town in the dark.”

“The corpse is his wife,” Iris responded. “My grandmother, Bedelia, knew them because she lived on their block. It was common knowledge.”

“I thought you looked familiar.”

That was a voice I knew well. I craned my neck to see my elderly neighbor, Francie, squinting at Iris. A long-time resident of Old Town, Francie was the epitome of a sturdy Southern outdoorswoman. Years of sun exposure from working in her garden and hours of hiking and bird-watching had left her skin deeply wrinkled. I’d heard people call her crabby, but the stocky little widow had weaseled her way into my heart by speaking her mind. “Is your grandmother Bedelia Ledbetter?” asked Francie.

“Yes! Do you know my Nana?”

“I never met a bigger busybody. Apparently, you’re as daft as she was. Mordecai didn’t kill his wife. She ran off with your grandfather.”

I craned my neck to get a better look. Iris’s eyes flew wide and she took a step back. Apparently she hadn’t known about that bit of impropriety by her grandfather. And she clearly didn’t know what to make of crusty Francie, who spoke her mind and didn’t much care about being polite, a cardinal sin in Southern social circles. It wasn’t beneath Francie to fib, though, as evidenced by the presence of her golden retriever, Duke. She must have invented some kind of assistance dog story at the door to get him inside.

After an awkward pause, Iris said coolly, “I’m certain that you’re mistaken.” She continued to gaze at Francie, and I had a suspicion that Francie had met her match. But Natasha marched up and declared, “You’d think that someone in this town would be willing to let the Design Guild redecorate their home as a Show Home. Honestly, if we don’t land something soon, there’s no way we’ll have it ready in time for the statewide Spring Home and Garden tour. It would be an enormous embarrassment if the Guild didn’t have a Show Home this year for the statewide program.”

Iris must have decided to overlook Francie’s slight, because she chimed in, “I know what you mean. People act like their houses have been professionally decorated when they’re a mishmash of worn furniture and garage sale knickknacks.”

“Sophie,” said Natasha, “you have those horrible green and black bathrooms from another century.”

Duke nudged me from behind, so I swung my legs around and bent forward to pet him. Natasha was right about my bathrooms. All one and a half of them. I needed a second full bathroom, and I’d been itching to shed the green and black tiles for years. But there was no way I was letting her impose
her
design ideas on me. “No, thanks.”

“The best kitchen designer in town is willing to help, Sophie.”

“I
like
my kitchen.”

Francie frowned at her. “You’re not on your game today, are you, Natasha? What about Mordecai’s house?”

Natasha stared at her, momentarily speechless. “That’s perfect. Everyone is dying to get inside, and I’m sure it needs sprucing up. We could call it Natasha’s Dream House, and I could shoot the progress for my show.”

“Hold it, Princess. I’m not doing a room in a house with your name on it.” Iris glared at Natasha.

“It
has
always been called the Design Guild Show House,” Camille pointed out. “It has cachet. People look for that name, because they know it means excellence in design.”

“But if we put my name on it, there will be brand recognition.” As far as I could tell, Natasha wasn’t convincing Iris and Camille. “How about—The Design Guild Presents Natasha’s Dream House?”

Iris crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. “You’re not even a professional decorator. I don’t see why you’re involved at all.”

Uh-oh
. I waited for Natasha to explode. Her mouth flapped open, but then, sweet as sugar, she said, “I’m a threat to you, aren’t I, Iris?”

BOOK: Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The

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