The Diva Spices It Up

by Krista Davis

  “Motive?” asked Bernie.

  “Unknown. But they’re hiding something, or they wouldn’t have fired me.”

  “Abby?” I suggested. “We don’t know much about her relationship with Mia, but maybe they had an argument?”

  “Considering that Abby disappeared, I suppose we have to add her to the list,” Bernie said.

  “What now?” asked Mars. “How do we prove any of this? I have suggested that Sophie spy on Wesley and Jericho.”

  “Isn’t it funny that they want me to get information from Wolf?” I asked.

  Nina laughed. “You’re a double agent! Will you provide them with misinformation?”

  “Ha ha. So not funny. I am not Benton Bergeron.”

  “Benton!” Bernie scribbled his name on the list. “Of course, he’s a suspect. I forgot all about him. Is he a spy?”

  I told them about his odd behavior of picking up a soda can out of the trash.

  Bernie’s eyes grew. “You’re serious, then. He really is a spy.”

  “No way,” Mars grumbled. “Soph, if he were a spy, you never would have seen him do that.”

  “But what if Sophie is right? A spy would know how to kill someone,” said Nina. “Aren’t they trained to do that? Like in the movies?”

  We gazed at one another. Clearly, we didn’t know.

  “In any event, we need to keep an eye on Benton.” Bernie placed a star by his name.

  My door knocker sounded at that moment. I jumped up and went to the door but noted that Daisy didn’t bark. When I opened it, Duke barged inside, followed by Eunice, Francie, and Sam Bamberger, who carried the blue suitcase he had caught.

  Chapter 25

  Dear Sophie,

  I’m divorced and retired. It’s just me in the house, so I don’t keep a lot of food around. I buy what I think I’ll eat in the next few days. But people keep dropping in on me. If I knew they were coming, I would stop at the bakery for something to serve them. How do I handle this?

  Lousy Hostess in Sweet Home, Oregon

  Dear Lousy Hostess,

  Cupcakes and cookies are the friend of every hostess. Bake them and keep them in the freezer. Frozen cookie dough can be baked quickly for a treat. Cupcakes, complete with frosting, are even easier. At room temperature, they will thaw and be ready to serve in forty-five minutes.

  Sophie

  “We thought we’d come over and open the suitcase in front of you.” Francie paused in the foyer and peered in the kitchen. “I hope we’re not interrupting your breakfast.”

  Sam shook my hand. “I never thought I’d see you again!”

  “I’m glad you kept the suitcase. Did Eunice explain why we’d like to see it?”

  “I had a hunch. When I heard that lady was in the freezer, I wondered if it could belong to her.”

  “Did you find a name inside?” I asked.

  “Nope. Clean as a whistle. Maybe she didn’t know she should put her name inside the suitcase, or maybe she took it out on purpose.”

  Francie frowned at him. “Why would a person do that?”

  He tilted his head. “Because she didn’t want anyone to know the contents belonged to her?”

  I ushered Eunice and Sam into the living room. Leaving the two of them to catch up, I hurried back to the kitchen to make more coffee and tea.

  I reached into the freezer and pulled out my favorite harvest cupcakes with caramel frosting that I had baked and stashed away so I wouldn’t gobble them all up. I set them on a two-tiered tray and carried it into the living room. Nina followed me with a tray of mugs, napkins, sugar, and milk.

  I retrieved the coffee and tea, and it felt like an impromptu party.

  When we were settled, Sam pulled on gloves and opened the suitcase with all the fanfare of a special gift.

  “I took the items out to air-dry. Mostly it’s just clothes.” He unfolded the skirt I had seen when he first opened the suitcase at the park. He removed each item with reverence. But it was when he took out a long-sleeved blue jean dress with a tie belt that Eunice moaned.

  “It’s Abby’s. I know that dress for sure. It was one of her favorites.”

  Nina said, “It’s not an unusual style. I bet they sold hundreds of those dresses.”

  “Keep going, Sam,” said Eunice. “Maybe there’s something else I’ll recognize.”

  Sam continued to remove clothing. For the most part it was T-shirts, jeans, and skirts. Nothing that would be readily identifiable.

  “Can’t they get DNA off these clothes?” I mused. “If they can establish Abby’s DNA through items in her home, then we would know if the suitcase and contents belong to her.”

  Sam nodded. “You’re exactly right, Sophie. But they’re so behind in testing for known crimes that I don’t think anyone could get them to do that kind of test. If the suitcase had blood on it or was found at the crime scene, that might be different. Even if they established that this suitcase belongs to Abby, it wouldn’t mean anything. It could have been in the river for months. Long before the last time she was seen.”

  “But why would that happen?” Francie peeled the paper off a cupcake. “I can’t say that I have ever been inclined to pack my clothes in a suitcase and throw it into the Potomac. The mere thought of it has never entered my mind.”

  “Mine either.” Nina settled back in her chair. “We have to talk Wolf into dragging the river. Or at least sending a diver down where you found the suitcase. What if Abby is down there?”

  “Then things will look far worse for me,” muttered Mars.

  I was still stuck on what Sam had said. He was probably correct about no one bothering to check DNA on the suitcase. It was common sense, really. But there was something about the confidence with which he had said it. “Sam, are you a retired police officer?”

  “Oh my, no! I worked for the government.”

  In Old Town, most people meant the federal government when they said it that way. I eyed Eunice, who was busy snuggling with Mochie. Hadn’t she said that she worked with Sam? I was about to ask but decided I might get more information if I could catch her off guard and out of the presence of so many people. I hadn’t known that she worked at all. I thought she was the proverbial heiress who spent her days concerned with philanthropy. It was certainly a curious development but had nothing to do with the matter at hand.

  “Look at the time,” exclaimed Francie. “We’d better get home.” She smiled at me. “We can’t be late for Schuyler and Briley.”

  “They are such a delight.” Eunice looked like a new person. Getting out and being with people had already made a difference in her.

  “And now we’re getting Sam Bambam involved in their project.”

  Sam had packed everything back into the suitcase with care. He carried it with him. “Thank you for your hospitality, Sophie. I wasn’t sure I would see you again, but I’m glad I have.”

  “Me too, Sam. Watch out for Francie and Eunice. Don’t let them drag you into trouble,” I joked.

  “It’s too late,” he whispered. “They already have.”

  Nina and Bernie helped Mars and me clean up the kitchen. Before long they were off to who knows where, and Mars settled in the den with his laptop. Eager to finish the cookbook project, I took the recipe pages to my computer.

  It hadn’t occurred to me before then that Abby must have the originals on her computer. And Abby, wherever she was, had taken her computer with her. I hated to have to re-create everything. I quickly checked to see if I could scan documents and make them editable. It turned out to be possible. I wasted an hour scanning all the recipes, but once it was done, all I had to do was add cute stories about them as though I were Tilly.

  I phoned Tilly to ask if I could come over to chat. She readily agreed. I slid my laptop and wallet into a bag.

  On my way out, I checked on Mars. He was lying on the sofa with his knees bent and the laptop propped up against his thighs. Mochie snoozed on the back of the sofa, and Daisy had curled up on the other end
of the sofa near Mars’s feet. I felt a little bit left out! “I’m going over to Tilly’s.”

  “Great. I want you to pay particular attention to any names they mention. Oh! If you can, start the video on your camera to record them. Just be sure to turn the screen away so they won’t know it’s on.”

  “Excuse me, but isn’t that illegal?”

  “Sophie, they’re trying to blame me for a murder I had nothing to do with. Isn’t that illegal?”

  I got his point. “I should be back in a couple of hours.” I walked to the kitchen door.

  “If they catch you, tell them you must have hit video by mistake.”

  I made sure the door was locked behind me. Wesley and Jericho weren’t going to catch me, because I had no intentions of illegally taping anyone. I strolled along wondering how Charlene was doing when I spied Benton Bergeron very deftly placing something into an aged brick fence and hiding it by shoving a partial brick back into the hole.

  I could hardly believe my eyes. He didn’t see me and briskly walked away toward a lamppost, which he casually scraped with his right hand at hip level. If I hadn’t been watching him so carefully, I would never have noticed what he did.

  While I wanted to stop and search for the loose brick in the fence, I hurried to catch up so I wouldn’t lose sight of Benton. I took my eyes off him when I passed the lamppost. He had left a horizontal white mark on it. It appeared to be chalk. I touched it with my finger. It felt like chalk and smeared. What was he doing?

  When I looked up, I’d lost sight of him. Gazing around, I hurried forward.

  “Hi, Sophie!” Benton smiled and stepped out of a recessed doorway that led to a restaurant. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  Chapter 26

  Dear Sophie,

  I write a cooking blog. I’m having such fun with it. I love taking photos of the dishes I create. But my family teases me unmercifully about the photos of casseroles. I bake a lot of casseroles! How can I make them look good?

  Southern Cook in Bean Station, Tennessee

  Dear Southern Cook,

  Take the photograph of the entire casserole before you serve it. Place it on a pretty tablecloth and use coordinating colors. I vote against photos of casseroles once they have been served. They tend to fall apart. While they taste delicious, they’re no longer very pretty.

  Sophie

  Chills ran through me. Benton had caught me. He knew perfectly well that I was following him! “Nice to see you, too.”

  It was broad daylight on a busy street. Unless he put a gun to my head and forced me into a dark alley, I should be fine. I pretended nothing was amiss. “I’m sorry Mars dragged me off so quickly after Natasha’s party.”

  “Me too. Was it the emergency he claimed?”

  “Sort of. It was about Abby. We thought they’d found her.”

  His expression changed. “Really? Why didn’t anyone notify me about this?”

  I waved my palms at him. Maybe Wolf didn’t want him to know they had found her phone. “It . . . wasn’t her.” That was actually the truth. I may have said it in a manner that was misleading, but I couldn’t help that. “You haven’t heard from her?”

  “Not a word. They took the crime scene tape off her house. But she hasn’t been in touch with me. I was watching you and Mars at Natasha’s party. I wish Abby and I could reach that stage and be friends. Our divorce wasn’t hateful. But I guess we both carry some baggage. You know how it is.”

  Did I? Hadn’t Abby said something to Tilly about people being products of the past? “What kind of baggage does Abby have?”

  “Old stuff that happened over a decade ago. Life leaves scars on everyone. They’re just not always visible.”

  How was I going to get him to tell me? “I heard she was from Wisconsin. Does she still have relatives there?”

  “I don’t think so. Maybe distant cousins. She was an only child, and her parents passed when she was quite young. It was truly tragic. Very difficult for her. I think we probably stayed married longer than we should have because she felt very much alone in the world.”

  “How sad for her.”

  “Indeed. Where are you off to?”

  Warning flags waved in my head. Was he going to try to sneak up on me? “On my way to a job.”

  “Oh. I shouldn’t keep you then. How about dinner tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow?” I choked out. “I’m kind of tied up this week. Maybe another time?”

  “Are you and Mars getting back together?”

  Had he been spying on my house? Maybe he got that idea at the party. “No. Nothing like that. I’d better get going.” I took off at a good clip and walked down the block toward a restaurant I knew well. I strode in as if it was my intended destination. Of course, I tried to surreptitiously look back at him when I entered. He was following me!

  I ducked farther into the restaurant, hoping he wouldn’t dare come inside. He didn’t. I sighed with relief when I saw him walk past. Of course, two could play this game. I peeked out of the door. Had he darted into a store to wait for me to pass by?

  Ha! I could deal with the likes of Benton Bergeron. I doubled back and took a side street toward Tilly’s house. The coast appeared to be clear the whole way.

  Tilly opened the door with a smile. “I have to thank you for setting up Briley and Schuyler with your friends. I don’t know what kind of magic they worked, but Schuyler is almost back to her old self. Wesley is still leery, of course, but he’s such a worrywart about everything.”

  I followed Tilly to the kitchen, glancing at the living room on the way. There was no sign of Wesley.

  While I settled on the sofa and pulled out my laptop, Tilly brought pumpkin lattes and spiced cookies to the coffee table.

  For the next two hours, I asked her about the origins of various recipes. She told me tales about her grandmother and various aunts who all loved to cook and bake.

  “Grandma Peggy was a hoot. She always said what she thought. There was no talking behind anyone’s back with her. One day, she came right out and told my aunt Alice that she made a lousy pumpkin cake. There was stunned silence in the room. But Aunt Alice was very much like her mother, Grandma Peggy, and right there in front of us she challenged Grandma Peggy to a pumpkin cake contest. My mom had that same streak in her, and she joined in the fun. Suddenly it seemed as if the whole family was in on the contest. A month later, we all met with our cakes. We brought in outsiders who wouldn’t recognize our cake dishes and hadn’t been involved in the testing that went on in our homes. It was one of the most fun parties we ever had. The judges voted and, wouldn’t you just know, Grandma Peggy won! After that, she was always the champion baker in the family, a title that she pulled out quite frequently lest we forget.”

  “Your grandmother and aunts sound delightful. It must be hard for you to live so far away from them.”

  “It is. There are times I’d like to fly down to Texas, but a lot of them aren’t there anymore. We’ve scattered throughout the country. I come from a family that always celebrates with food. Doesn’t everyone? I try to keep that up in my own little family now. When Briley gets an A on a difficult test, I make her favorite mac and cheese. And to tell you the truth, Wesley and I have been to so many fund-raisers and wonderful events that it’s a treat for us to stay home with family and gather around the table for a delicious meal. We can take our time and laugh together and hear what mischief Briley has been up to. Don’t write this, but it’s so much better than a piece of dried-up chicken breast at a function.”

  “Do you want a little introduction to each of the recipes or just some of them?” I asked.

  “I think using them on selected recipes will have more impact. And we want to leave room for photographs, of course.”

  “Okay. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think we’re about to wrap up my part of this in the next couple of days. I’ll add your wonderful stories and bring the pages over to you. You can make any changes you like. I promise I won�
�t be offended. Massage them to sound like Tilly. I’ll edit the pages, and you can take it from there with the food stylists and photographers.”

  Tilly frowned at me. “What does the stylist do?”

  “I believe they re-create the recipe so it can be photographed. They focus on making it appear fabulous.”

  “I’ve heard of that. Oh no! They are not using motor oil on my food!”

  “I don’t think that’s the norm, although I understand they use some unconventional methods to make food look great.”

  “Like what?”

  “They might use a red jelly to give something a reddish glaze, or maybe soy sauce can add to the browned look on a roast. Things like that. You’ll have to take it up with your stylist.”

  Tilly looked me in the eyes. “I didn’t know how to put this, but I want you to know that I’m devastated that Wesley fired Mars. We’re both very fond of Mars.” She leaned toward me and whispered, “I don’t trust Stu Jericho, and I have said as much to Wesley. He wanted Mars out for some reason, and it troubles me no end.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Wesley hasn’t been himself. He’s not sleeping, and he barely eats. It won’t do him any harm to lose a few pounds, but I feel like there’s something very bad going on. He’s been so short-tempered, which is very unlike him. It started when Abby left and has grown progressively worse, especially after Mars was fired.”

  “Do you think Jericho is giving him bad advice?”

  “I wish Wesley would talk to me about that.”

  “Could Jericho have had anything to do with Abby?” I wondered if I should ask what I wanted to know. Maybe this was the right time to put it out there. “I know Abby was dating Mars. Is it possible that she had something going on with Wesley?”

  Tilly didn’t react the way I had expected. There was no shock, feigned or otherwise. She didn’t protest or cry. “Don’t think I haven’t considered that possibility. Abby was very fond of Wesley. A lot of people are. He’s an extremely approachable and affable person. It’s what makes him a good politician. Everyone feels like they know him. But I have wondered if Abby’s interest in Wesley got out of hand. I don’t relish the thought. Mia warned me about it. I thought she was exaggerating. But now I’m not so sure.”