Murder Unmentionable (12 page)

Kate’s suitcase had barely hit the floor when Arabella bustled out of the back room with glasses and a pitcher of sweet tea.

“I’m sure you could use a nice, cold drink.”

“It’s so good to see you.” Emma threw her arms around her friend and hugged her. She hadn’t realized how homesick she was until just now.

Splotches of water darkened the shoulders of Kate’s dress, and the ends of her light brown hair were damp.

“Would you like a towel?” Emma offered. “It looks like you got soaked.”

Kate shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m just so glad to see you.” She smiled in a way that made her plain face light up. She accepted a glass of tea and looked around the shop. “This is so charming.”

“It’s all thanks to Brian,” Emma said as she introduced them. “He’s done all the renovations for us.”

“It was something of a 1970s relic before Emma and Brian took over,” Arabella acknowledged.

Kate looked around again. “Is this where it happened…”

Emma nodded. “Yes. I’m so sorry, Kate. As hard as it’s been for me, I’m sure it’s been even harder for you.”

Kate swiped a hand across her eyes, then smiled and took a sip of her tea. “We all have to move on, I guess. I just wish they would find who did it.”

“Me, too.” Emma agreed. “We’ve been doing some sleuthing of our own but haven’t come to any conclusions yet.”

“Maybe I can help.” Kate’s face brightened.

“That’ll be great.” Emma thought about the note stuck to the front window of Sweet Nothings but decided not to tell Kate at the moment. She didn’t want to frighten her.

“So.” Kate put down her glass. “Where am I staying?”

Emma explained about Sylvia Brodsky. “She has a room available, but if you’re not comfortable, we can always—”

“It will be fine. She sounds like quite a character. I can’t wait to meet her.”

EMMA eased her way up the stairs with a grocery bag balanced on each hip. Kate was settling in at Sylvia’s, and Emma was going to make them both dinner so they could relax and catch up. Liz was coming, too, and Emma was excited to show her the apartment. It would be an opportunity to bring her two lives together—her past in New York and her current life in Paris.

Emma put a bottle of pinot grigio in the refrigerator to chill and began emptying the bags. She had boneless chicken breasts, cream, shallots, frozen peas and a box of risotto. She would sauté the chicken breasts in butter, followed by the shallots, then deglaze the pan with a splash of wine followed by a half cup of cream. The peas she would sauté with some diced onion and finish with a bit of beef broth. It was a recipe her Italian friend, Alessandra, had given her, and it elevated frozen peas to a whole new level. The risotto could be done in the microwave and finished with plenty of grated Parmesan.

Emma hummed as she set the table. She was excited to be entertaining in her new apartment. It was quite a departure from her space in New York—here she even had a proper dining table.

She fussed a bit with the place settings and spent a few minutes arranging a bunch of Peruvian lilies in a vase, which she placed in the middle of the table.

The chicken breasts and peas were being kept warm in the oven and the risotto was almost done when the bell rang.

“Oh, this is so charming,” Kate gushed as Emma ushered
her into the apartment. Kate looked all around then walked toward the windows where she knelt on the window seat and peered out. “You can see the whole street from here!” She turned around with an expression Emma couldn’t quite read.

Before Emma could answer, the bell rang again. Liz bustled in with a huge, ungainly parcel in her hands. Somehow, despite the size of the package, she managed to throw her arms around Emma and hug her fiercely.

Liz put her bundle down and turned toward Kate. “You must be Kate.” She stuck out her hand. “Emma has told me so much about you.” Liz indicated the small package in Kate’s hands. “Looks like we’ve both brought hostess gifts. Go ahead, Emma, open them.”

“Okay.” Emma started with Kate’s smaller box and peeled off the paper.

“Oh, Kate, thank you so much,” she said as she examined the monogrammed crystal wine stopper. “It’s perfect.”

“I wish you’d come back to New York.” Kate’s expression was wistful. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“No,” Liz exploded. She threaded her arm through Emma’s. “She has to stay right here.”

Emma laughed. “Maybe I can clone myself.”

“Go ahead and open mine.” Liz indicated her rather haphazardly wrapped gift.

Emma tore off the tissue paper to reveal a large plant. “What is it?”

“It’s a schefflera plant. I grew it from a cutting I made of one of mine. It needs plenty of indirect light.”

“Thanks. I’ll do my best to keep it alive, but I don’t have the best track record when it comes to growing things.”

Emma retrieved the bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and poured them each a glass. She curled up on the ottoman opposite Liz and Kate.

“So tell me what you’ve discovered so far.” Kate took a sip of her wine.

“Unfortunately, the police still have me down as their chief suspect.” The glass Emma cradled in her hand shook slightly.

“They can’t be serious!” Kate’s brown eyes widened.

“Brian said he’s helping you and Arabella do your own investigating.” Liz took a sip of her wine.

“Really?” Kate’s eyes got even bigger.

“We are.” Emma admitted.

Kate leaned forward eagerly, her glasses sliding down her nose.

“We have three possible suspects so far.” Emma ticked them off on her fingers. “One, Nikki St. Clair. We only have her word that she went back to the hotel the night Guy was killed. Maybe she and Guy had argued about something? Two, Angel Roy’s boyfriend, Tom Mulligan. Angel gave Guy a sightseeing tour of Paris, and it seems Tom began seeing the greenies shortly afterward.” Emma paused and took a sip of her wine. “Three, Angel Roy herself. Maybe she read more into Guy’s attentions than he meant for her to.”

Kate snorted. “That wouldn’t surprise me. She wouldn’t be the first woman to make that mistake.”

Emma realized ruefully that she’d made her own mistakes as far as Guy was concerned.

The microwave pinged and Emma went into the kitchen to check on the risotto. “Are you comfortable enough with Sylvia?” She called over her shoulder to Kate. “Otherwise we can find you somewhere else to stay.”

“You can always bunk in with us,” Liz offered.

“Oh, I’m fine. She’s a real hoot. I’m definitely going to enjoy staying there.”

“Oh, good.” Emma carried the platter of chicken and
bowl of peas to the dining table. “She claims she heard Angel and her boyfriend arguing about Guy. Well, not about Guy exactly, but about some guy.” Emma stuck a spoon in the bowl of peas. “Which I took to mean Guy himself since that was shortly after Angel’s guided tour of Paris.”

“Makes sense.” Kate pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Their apartments are right next to each other, which is why…” Emma hesitated for a second. “We’re hoping that you can listen in for any more arguments between Angel and her boyfriend.”

Kate pushed her glasses up her nose with her index finger. “I’d love to.” She gave an excited shiver. “This is going to be fun.”

Later, after Kate left and Emma and Liz were cleaning up the dishes, Emma realized she still hadn’t told Kate about the threatening note they’d found on Sweet Nothings’s window.

Emma explained it to Liz.

“I suppose Kate does have a right to know about it, especially since you’re asking her to help you snoop.”

“I know,” Emma said, vowing to call Kate in the morning. “If anything happened to Kate, I would feel terrible.”

EMMA had a leisurely Sunday—church with Aunt Arabella in the morning, where she was introduced to so many people it made her head spin, a trip to the playground with Liz and her children in the afternoon. Kate was a huge sport and tagged along. Then a quiet dinner with Kate and an early evening in bed with a book. By Monday morning, she couldn’t wait to get down to Sweet Nothings. Brian was finished painting, and the last step was at hand—ripping out the old green shag carpeting. Emma shuddered every time she saw it. She’d ordered a jute carpet bleached to a pale cream. It was environmentally friendly and very durable.

Now if only the armoires would arrive! She was going to check on them as soon as she got to work.

Brian was ready for action when Emma opened the door of Sweet Nothings. He had on old jeans and a ripped T-shirt and had set out several utility knives along with a serious-looking pair of scissors. Emma had dressed for the job as well in some old capris and a T-shirt she’d bought at a rock concert when she was barely out of her teens.

“I cannot wait to see how things look without this filthy old carpet in here!” Arabella declared.

“You might want to leave the shop until we’re done,” Brian said. “There’s going to be a lot of dust.”

“Oh, pooh, a little dust never hurt anyone. But I am glad I left Pierre at home this once. He was terribly unhappy, poor thing. Kept glaring at me with those big, dark eyes of his.” Arabella sighed. “Fortunately, he’ll get over it as soon as he sees the steak I bought for his dinner.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Brian said, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

“Where should we start?” Emma was anxious to get going.

“Are you sure you don’t mind helping? It’s going to be a very dirty and dusty job.”

“I’m dressed for it, don’t worry.”

Brian pointed toward the far corner. “Okay, then, I’d suggest we start over there. I’ve arranged for a Dumpster, which they’ve put in the back alley. We can tear the carpet into strips and dump it in there.”

Emma went over to where Brian had indicated and began to tug at the carpeting. This was going to be harder than she thought. By the time she’d lifted up two feet of green shag, she was sweating, dirty and sneezing from the dust. But she was also determined. She gritted her teeth and yanked harder and another foot came away. How she was going to enjoy tipping this old rag into the Dumpster!

Emma was wrestling with her third section of carpeting when a timid knock sounded on the front door of Sweet Nothings.

Definitely not the armoires
, she decided as she smoothed down her hair and blew some dust off the end of her nose. Surely a couple of muscle-bound movers could muster up something more manly sounding than that.

“Hey,” Emma said, opening the door wider and ushering Kate into the shop. She was right. Definitely not the armoires.

“This place is going to look so different without that old carpeting,” Kate exclaimed, looking around. “You’ve done a wonderful job, Emma.”

“It was Brian’s doing, actually.” Emma smiled at Brian, and he tipped an imaginary hat in their direction.

“I’m afraid I’m not being the best hostess,” Emma apologized. “But I’d promised Brian I would help him with the carpet.”

Kate waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I have a date with Sylvia. She’s taking me sightseeing. Apparently there’s an actual replica of the Eiffel Tower in a park somewhere.”

Emma nodded. “There is. I don’t think you’re allowed to leave Paris without seeing it.”

“I can’t wait—” Kate was interrupted by the jaunty toot-toot-toot of a car horn.

They all looked toward the window just in time to see a black Cadillac go sailing past.

“Good heavens!” Arabella exclaimed. “Sylvia’s not driving, is she?”

Kate nodded. “She said the car hasn’t been out of the garage since it was shipped down here from New York.”

They all cringed at the sound of screeching brakes and indignant horn honking.

“With good reason,” Arabella quipped.

“Did you know that Sylvia is descended from Grand Duchess Anastasia of Russia?”

Arabella gave an unladylike snort. “Not that old chestnut again.”

Kate tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

Arabella raised an eyebrow. “DNA tests recently proved beyond a doubt that Anastasia died along with her parents and siblings. She has no descendents. No matter how fervently Sylvia Brodsky would wish us to believe otherwise.”

“Oh,” Kate declared suddenly. “I almost forgot to tell you.” She shook her head, and her mousy brown hair swung around her in an arc. “I overheard Sylvia’s neighbor last night. Her name’s Angel, right?”

Emma and Arabella nodded and crowded closer around Kate.

“It sounded like the BF was upset with her for being AWOL a couple nights a week. She was counting on him going to some poker game and not noticing, and apparently he was feeling under the weather one night and didn’t bother to go.”

Arabella glanced at Emma with her eyebrows raised.

“BF.” Emma replied to the unspoken question. “Boyfriend.”

Arabella nodded. “I see.”

There was a sharp rap on the door, and they all turned in that direction.

Emma swung it open and found Sylvia on the doorstep exhaling the last puff of her cigarette, her oxygen tank standing perilously close by.

Sylvia poked her head into Sweet Nothings. “Kate here? We’re going sightseeing.”

Kate grabbed her purse. “Right here. I’m ready.”

Arabella leaned toward Kate and spoke in a low voice. “It might be best if you drive.”

“That’s for sure.” Emma joined the low-pitched conversation.

“I already offered,” Kate whispered back. “But Sylvia insists.”

Arabella rolled her eyes and made a quick sign of the cross.

“Be careful,” they chorused together as Kate disappeared out the door with Sylvia. Minutes later they saw the Cadillac sail straight past the window, straddling the white line like an undecided politician, its left blinker flashing furiously.

“Back to work,” Emma declared.

She really put her all into the next section of carpet. Each piece that came up added to the transformation of the Sweet Nothings space. Emma could just imagine how it was going to look with the armoires in place. If they ever arrived.

While she pulled carpet, she mused on Kate’s news about Angel. It sounded as if she were stepping out on a regular basis. Maybe Tom had counted on that? If he already knew she’d be gone, he would have been free to go off and do anything he wanted—including murder Guy. Emma would like to know where Angel was going on those evenings. Perhaps one night she could follow her.