Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The (5 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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THREE
From “ THE GOOD LIFE” :
Dear Sophie,
 
I inherited some money from an elderly aunt and would like to use it to fix up my house. My husband wants to finish the basement as a man cave with a theater. I think we should update our old, not yet vintage, kitchen. We’d appreciate your opinion.
 
—Spelunking in Springfield
 
Dear Spelunking,
 
Updated kitchens and bathrooms bring the most return on a remodeling investment. Maybe you can work on the man cave after the kitchen is done.
 
—Sophie
I nearly fell off the steps in an effort to see.
The hand belonged to a man with boyish good looks, although I judged him to be in his forties. A swatch of dark hair fell into his eyes, and an endearingly crooked grin topped a square chin.
“Nina Reid.” He said her name softly, almost dream-like. “You’re about the last person in the world I expected to see.” He hoisted her up, and Nina dusted herself off, her face and ears still scarlet.
Her eyes sparkled in a way I had never seen before. In a voice that was low and husky, she managed to choke out “Kurt.”
After a long moment of staring into each other’s eyes, they broke into self-conscious laughter, hugged, and talked at the same time.
“Gosh, I’m such a mess. Our neighbor died, and I’m looking for his dog.”
“You live around here?”
“A few houses down. What are you doing here?”
“I’m meeting Natasha—you know, the TV Diva—about doing a kitchen renovation for her show. Have you been to Rooms and Blooms? You should come by to see my exhibit.”
Nina beamed at him. “I hear you’re the kitchen designer of choice in Old Town.”
Kurt stepped forward. Squinting at the graceful front porch, he said, “Is this Professor Artemus’s house?”
“You knew him?” asked Nina.
“I was one of his students. I remember coming here for a party a long time ago. So the old guy finally passed on. That’s too bad. He was brilliant, you know, almost a genius. He was one of those cool professors who let his students learn by doing.” He grinned and held his fingers in a circle, like he was holding an invisible ball. “We had to build structures to protect a raw egg, then he had us lob them off the roof to see whose egg survived intact.”
Natasha’s arrival interrupted his memories. She promptly greeted Kurt by name and doled out keys to Kurt and me. She unlocked the front door, and when Nina tagged along inside, Natasha asked, “Are you on Sophie’s team, too?”
“Oh, yes!” Nina sidled up to me in the entrance hall and whispered, “What team?”
Natasha flicked a light switch, and a colonial-style brass chandelier shed light in the dark foyer. “The first thing everyone has to do is open curtains. I’ve never seen a house this dark. Sophie, your room is there to the left. It’s the most important room in the house, so I’m expecting miracles. We cannot let Iris show us up.” She walked over to me and whispered, “Don’t let me down this time. The Guild will take this into consideration when they make their annual award.”
Kurt smiled at me, and held out his hand. “We haven’t met. Kurt Finkel, Finkel Kitchen and Bath.”
I’d seen his dream kitchen display at Rooms and Blooms. He certainly knew how to lure customers with gleaming granite and fancy cabinet finishes. Local people boasted about their Finkel kitchens.
Nina blushed when she said, “We used to date. A long, long time ago.”
Their little reunion was interesting, but I was more concerned about something else. Natasha assigned me the most important room in the house? My rat-fink radar was beeping like crazy. The Natasha I knew would reserve the important room for herself. Something didn’t smell right.
I walked through the doorway into the oh-so-important room, and wedged behind a sofa to open the drapes. Dust flew from heavy velvet curtains when I pulled them aside. Underneath, blackout curtains blocked the sun. Even parting the blackout curtains didn’t help. A thick shade blocked the window. Mordecai had been determined that no one would see inside his home. I pulled on the shade, and it flew up with a sickly rattle, sending dust through the air like lazy snowflakes. Waving my hand in front of my nose, I went through the same procedure with the other window. When waning daylight dappled through the dirty glass, I realized why the room was important, and why Natasha saddled me with it. Every horizontal surface was covered with personal papers, trash, newspapers, magazines, blankets, cutlery, dishes, and clothes. I couldn’t tell if the floor was hardwood or carpet because it, too, was covered. Boxes, bottles, and stacks of newspapers rose to my elbows, and a patchwork of clothing and blankets covered the floor in a narrow path through the room. Unless I missed my guess, Mordecai spent his final years almost exclusively in this room. As much as one might want to throw out everything en masse, Natasha had
generously
given me the room because someone had to comb through everything to be sure a stock certificate, cash, or other valuable item wasn’t thrown out by accident.
My temper flared, but before I could lash out at her, I recognized the wrappers left by the rescue squad near the middle of the room. “He died in here,” I murmured aloud. Guilt weighed on me. Poor Mordecai. He’d lived so close, but I hadn’t taken the time to know him. He’d spent his final years closeted in a dark house, hiding from the world. I’d never brought him homemade bread, or a piece of cake, or food he could warm in the microwave for an easy meal. I never checked on him to see if he felt sick. I never shoveled the walk in front of his house, or offered to rake the leaves. I had been a horrible, too-busy-to-be-bothered neighbor. The least I could do was help clean up the house, and look for the dog he loved so very much.
Nina followed me through the room. “What a disaster. I pity the people who have to clean this up.”
“Welcome to the team.”
“You’re joking.”
“Look at it as a contribution to the Design Guild.”
“Why don’t we just write them a check instead?”
Nina’s husband, a renowned forensic pathologist, could probably afford to write them a hefty check. Unfortunately, I couldn’t. “The Good Life,” my advice column, had been picked up by newspapers in Florida, but the income wasn’t enough to cover the revenue I’d lost through corporate cut-backs. Besides, I was still paying on the sizable mortgage I took to buy Mars out of his share of our home.
I could hear Natasha talking elsewhere in the house. “So who is this Kurt?” I whispered.
“Talk about a blast from the past! I was madly and deeply in love with him once. Huh, I can’t even remember why we broke up.”
Kurt ambled into the family room. Smiling seductively at Nina, he said, “We should get together and catch up. Dinner tonight? I wonder if that old Chinese place downtown is still around—the one that used to be open until three in the morning? I’ll call and find out.”
Mars and Bernie appeared in the doorway. “No wonder Mordecai wouldn’t let anyone inside.” Mars stared at the mess in dismay. “Holy cow! This is a pigsty.”
“But look at this woodwork.” Bernie skirted trash and eased a gentle hand over a built-in bookcase that covered an exterior wall of the room. “This is all hand-carved. Do you think Mordecai did it himself ?”
Carrying a clipboard, Natasha marched in and said, “I suppose Kurt and Bernie will be engaged in demolition tomorrow? Can you do it in one day, or shall I schedule you for two?”
Kurt held up two fingers. “If you want that brick wall in the kitchen removed, you’d better count on at least two days. It’s going to be a mess.”
She looked at Bernie. “And how long will you need?”
He glanced at me, his brows furrowed. “What am I tearing out?”
“That horrible built-in that covers the wall.” Natasha smiled at him.
“Horrible? That’s walnut. And the workmanship is exemplary.”
Natasha’s head jerked as if he’d lobbed a ball at her. “It’s dark and it’s dated. No one will ever buy the house with that monstrosity. Sophie, you simply must tear it out.”
Leaning against Mordecai’s oversized desk, I studied the wall. The built-in housed books, a TV set, and assorted knickknacks, and heaven knew what awaited us behind the doors. The wood
was
dark, but I wasn’t altogether sure that it wouldn’t brighten up a bit if we cleaned it. “It’s very practical. And it’s quite ornate. You’d have to pay a fortune at an architectural salvage company to get something a quarter that size.”
“Quite right. It’s exquisite.” Bernie ran his hand over an intricate scroll that had been chiseled out of the wood. “Someone put a lot of effort into this. Look at this owl, it’s carved from one piece of wood, not pressed like the junk they sell today. In fact, I’m thinking a window seat in that corner would balance it nicely. What do you think, Sophie? You could run up some feather-stuffed cushions and make a cozy reading nook by that window.”
Natasha huffed. “I knew you two would be trouble. I want that thing gone. Cleaned out. Do you understand?” She tromped off to the kitchen.
Kurt grimaced. “She’s never like that on her show.”
“Meet the real Natasha,” said Nina.
Kurt blew air out of his cheeks. “She talked to me about renovating her kitchen a few years ago, and now it’s all coming back to me. Aw gee. She’s going to be a pain to work with, isn’t she?”
“We’ll be right here if you need reinforcements.” Nina grinned at him coyly.
In the meantime, Bernie had whipped out a measuring tape and was calling out numbers to Mars, who jotted them down. They seemed to be on a roll, and headed off to pick up a pizza and buy wood for the window seat. Nina and I walked home together—I was looking forward to my date, and she wanted to change for a drink with her old flame Kurt.
“This little date wouldn’t have anything to do with your husband and the vixen on his cruise, would it?”
“Spoilsport. It’s not a date. I’m just catching up with an old friend. Haven’t you ever run into one of your old beaus?”
“Only Mars.”
“It’s just an innocent drink and dinner—like when you have lunch with Mars. And if I should happen to need a name to throw at my husband on his return, well, I’ll have a little ammunition of my own.”
As I crossed the street to my home, I put Nina and Kurt out of mind. Tonight, Wolf and I would finally get together. No more broken dates. No more dinners with my ex.
I opened the little gate to the service entrance and found a local courier holding a box the size of a large microwave oven. I signed for it and carried the heavy package into the kitchen. Mochie jumped on the table to sniff the box while I retrieved a knife. I double-checked to be sure it was addressed to me before slicing it open. It was from Adam Swensen, Attorney-at-Law.
FOUR
From
“Ask Natasha”
:
Dear Natasha,
I’m done with cleaning grout. I want to replace my tile countertops with a solid surface, but granite and marble don’t appeal to me. Are there any alternatives to stone?
 
—Grout-free in Gretna
 
Dear Grout-free,
My favorite material for countertops is stainless steel. It’s easy to clean and has a modern, up-to-date look. In fact, if you take a peek in the kitchens of most restaurants, that’s what you’ll find on their counters. If stainless doesn’t appeal to you, then consider the latest thing in seamless countertops—copper or zinc, which simply ooze Old World charm.
 
—Natasha
A letter lay on top of the contents.
Dear Sophie,
 
I am very sorry to inform you that your neighbor and friend, Mordecai Artemus, has passed away. Prior to his demise, he came to our firm and left specific instructions, which we herewith carry out on his behalf.
Mr. Artemus has chosen to forgo a formal funeral and wake. Instead, it is his wish that you arrange a small soiree to dispense his bequests. He has laid out the details rather precisely in the enclosed envelope. Your standard fee will be paid by his estate.
The fi ve individuals involved have been contacted per Mr. Artemus’s instructions, and all plan to be present at his home tomorrow afternoon at three p.m. I apologize for the short notice, but given the circumstances, it cannot be helped.
Tomorrow!
I dug under white tissue paper and found an envelope with my name handwritten across it. Underneath, the box contained five long packages neatly wrapped in white paper and tied with red ribbon. Each bore a name.

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