The Diva Runs Out of Thyme

by Davis, Krista

  “Mom, they want to put June into a home for the aged.”

  “Because she talks to her sister’s ghost?”

  “No, because they think she started the fire at Natasha’s. Mars is afraid something horrible will happen to her if she lives by herself.”

  Mom crossed one arm over her abdomen and massaged her chin with the other hand. “Nonsense. We can’t have that. I’ll have a talk with Mars when he arrives.”

  The knocker on the front door sounded.

  “Too late to change.” Mom reached toward me and fluffed my hair. “You couldn’t have put on a little lipstick? You ought to keep some in the console in the foyer for these emergencies. Natasha does.”

  I escaped her and answered the door. It couldn’t possibly be Mars yet anyway.

  When I opened the door, Wolf stood on the stoop. “Is Mrs. Winston here?”

  I presumed he meant June. “She had nothing to do with the colonel’s death. I promise you she did not kill him.” I stepped outside and closed the door behind me. “I don’t know what you’ve heard but she’s a very sweet lady and she’s not incompetent.”

  He drew back, a perplexed look on his face. “Someone murdered the colonel?”

  I’d put my foot in it. “I don’t know that he was murdered. But whatever happened, June wasn’t involved.”

  “He’s dead? When did this occur?”

  “Last night. I assumed you knew.”

  Wolf flipped open his phone.

  I motioned for him to come in the house. “You can talk in the living room. I can’t guarantee privacy but it’s your best bet.”

  Digging in my pocket for the vial, I followed him and said, “Mochie found . . .”

  Wolf held up his forefinger in a gesture that meant “wait a minute,” turned away from me, and spoke into his phone.

  I didn’t want to stick around the living room to eavesdrop, but when I retreated to the dining room, I caught Craig ducking into the foyer. I’d had about enough of his creeping around and spying and was about to tell him off but thought better of it. Maybe the poison vial did belong to him.

  Pretending I hadn’t seen him, I acted as though I was hiding the vial in the top drawer of the dining room buffet, while actually leaving it safely in my pocket. Hopefully when we were all out to dinner and he thought the house was empty, the killer would feel free to come back to retrieve it. Except I would be waiting.

  Mustering courage and a friendly smile, I strode toward the kitchen, feigning surprise when I saw Craig. “Back from your run? Good that you got it in. I think they’re calling for rain this afternoon.”

  I continued to the kitchen. What a horrible day.

  Craig followed me, plopped into a fireside chair, and Hannah promptly sat on his lap. Why did she turn into a simpering sexpot around him? Yuck.

  Mom handed me a lipstick that she must have retrieved from the bathroom upstairs. “Humphrey agreed to meet us at the restaurant. We should invite Wolf, too. Where is he, Sophie?”

  “He’s in the living room. He didn’t know about the colonel.”

  Francie stiffened. “The detective is here? In the house?” She looked around frantically, jumped up, and lunged toward the kitchen door.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  From “THE GOOD LIFE”:

  Dear Sophie,

  My elderly mother-in-law is moving in with us and we’d like to make her as comfortable as possible. What can we do to make her life in our house easier?

  —Worrier in Woodstock

  Dear Worrier,

  Throw rugs cause a high percentage of falls in the home. Remove them from main walking areas. A grab bar in the bath and shower will make her feel more secure. Round doorknobs and water handles can be difficult for older hands to grasp. Replace them with lever handles for your mother-in-law’s comfort.

  —Sophie

  But just as Francie gripped the door handle, she suddenly went limp. Luckily Bernie leapt to her aid and caught her before she hit the floor. Then Mom rushed in to fan her and everyone spoke at once.

  “Should I call an ambulance?” I asked.

  Bernie carried Francie to the bench in the bay window and Mom opened a window panel.

  Francie’s entire body slumped. “No ambulance,” she murmured. “I’ll be fine.”

  Daisy and MacArthur kept their distance as if they knew she wasn’t well, but Mochie jumped onto the bench and sniffed her.

  “Maybe she needs a good, stiff drink,” said Dad.

  “What’s going on?” asked Wolf.

  I hadn’t noticed him come in.

  “I’m afraid the colonel’s death has been too much for her.” Mom wrapped a comforting arm around Francie, who looked like she might be sick.

  And then my mom, never one to be deterred for long from thinking about my love life, or lack thereof, proceeded to invite Wolf to join us for dinner. Wolf paused before he said, “Sure. I think it would be very interesting to see the whole group together again.”

  Oh, great. Mom had just set up a detective’s dream. He’d be scrutinizing us for clues to the killer. But if my plan worked, the killer would be here. Maybe Nina could help me watch for him. And I should corral the dogs in the sunroom—

  “Sophie!” Mom interrupted my thoughts. “Mars and Andrew just drove up. June, would you be a dear and brew Francie a strong cup of tea?”

  Trust Mom to keep people occupied. She snagged Dad’s sleeve and pulled him into the foyer. “Bring June some rum for Francie’s tea and make sure June stays in the kitchen.”

  Promising to return shortly, Wolf strode out the front door just before Mars and Andrew walked in. June’s sons said hello to her before following Mom and me to the sunroom.

  “Sophie, please don’t start arguing,” warned Mars. “We’ve discussed this issue thoroughly and it’s for Mom’s own protection. I know you love her, too. But how would you feel if she started a fire and burned to death?”

  “You’re overreacting because of Natasha,” I said. “She’s laying a guilt trip on you to achieve what she wants.”

  “I don’t even like Natasha.” Andrew flashed a guilty look at Mars. “Well, I don’t. I’d argue the sun was purple just so I wouldn’t have to agree with her. But the fire at Natasha’s house was huge. We’re not talking about some little flicker in a pan on the stove. Natasha talked to the folks who run the place we’re sending Mom. She won’t have access to an oven. Won’t have to cook at all. She’ll have a nice room and she can take her own furniture.”

  I had no doubt that Mars would only allow June to live in a lovely facility. I wasn’t worried about that at all. “But I don’t think she’s ready. You’re pigeonholing her based on one incident. Besides, we don’t even know how the fire started.”

  “Now listen here,” said Mom. “I’ve spent the last few days in June’s company and there’s not a reason in the world for you to put her away like she’s some kind of inconvenience.”

  Go Mom! I swelled with pride.

  “Inga, I don’t want to do this. But don’t you understand? She set fire to Natasha’s house. She’s a danger to herself.”

  “That’s baloney,” I said. “Except for the little quirk, she’s fine. She hasn’t fallen or left water running or started a fire here.”

  “What quirk?” asked Andrew.

  “Andrew,” said Mom in her no-nonsense-mother voice, “couldn’t you and Vicki take her in?”

  Andrew winced. “We don’t want her to burn our house. And I don’t think she’d like having a babysitter when we’re out. But what’s this quirk you mentioned?”

  Before one of us could answer, someone screamed.

  A bloodcurdling scared-to-death scream. Like someone saw a ghost.

  A blast of frigid air swept through the house. All four of us jumped up and dashed into the foyer. Francie lay in the doorway, half in and half out. Behind her, June stood frozen, her back to us.

  “What happened?” I slid to a stop next to Francie and knelt. Memories of Simon’s corp
se pounded in my brain as I reached for her wrist. Thankfully, this time I felt a pulse.

  Hannah shook my shoulder. “Soph . . .” I ignored her.

  “Francie!” I gently patted her cheeks to rouse her.

  “SOPHIE!” Hannah shouted.

  “Not now, Hannah.”

  She shook my shoulder and pointed outside. I followed the line of her finger and jerked upright. Waves of shock and relief rendered me momentarily speechless. I blinked hard, my brain not quite making sense out of what I saw.

  The colonel marched along the sidewalk, tapping his walking stick, and turned up the walk to my house. “MacArthur’s missing!” he yelled. “Have you seen him?”

  At the sound of the colonel’s voice, MacArthur scrambled over Francie’s body and raced to the colonel.

  Francie’s eyelids fluttered and she gasped, “I thought I saw the colonel.”

  I leaned over her. “You did. He’s alive and well.”

  “What?” She sat up. She trembled and tears flowed down her weather-beaten face. I clasped her hand, not sure which one of us was shaking harder. A little cheer went up and the gloom that had hung over us all day lifted.

  The colonel appeared bewildered by the pats on the back and the hugs he received. I clasped him to me as though it would prove he was alive, while Bernie and Dad helped Francie to her feet. Then Mom herded us all into the kitchen just as a downpour began. On the way I explained to the colonel that we thought he’d died and been carted away by a hearse.

  Seated by the fire with MacArthur at his feet, the colonel slapped his knee and laughed. “I wasn’t dead, but I was in that hearse.”

  Dad raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps you’d better explain.”

  “It was the oddest thing. In the middle of the night, a call girl arrived on my doorstep. I have no idea why.”

  June’s lips pulled tight. She obviously wasn’t buying his story.

  “The poor child was half frozen so I asked her to step inside while we tried to figure out what had happened. Don’t look at me that way, June,” he said. “I’m not in the habit of using that kind of service. Besides, she was far too young for me.”

  “Did you or did you not order a call girl?” demanded June.

  “I did not,” said the colonel emphatically. His shoulders squared in military fashion. “She called her, uh, office and there was some confusion about the order. I made the poor girl a cup of tea to warm up. But when she left, she twisted her ankle on the sidewalk. Little wonder, you should have seen her shoes.”

  We had. Those five-inch heels were an accident waiting to happen. His story sounded authentic so far.

  “I didn’t know quite what to do. A twisted ankle isn’t really worth calling an ambulance for. But while she sat on the front walk, your friend, Humphrey, came along. He offered to deliver her to the emergency room. Humphrey and I helped her to his hearse and I thought I’d better go with them. I was afraid she might not have medical insurance and I certainly didn’t want her suing me.”

  June’s expression softened. “Did she break her ankle?”

  “It’s only a sprain, though I understand they can be very painful. A most unsavory boyfriend arrived to pick her up. It was dawn by the time Humphrey brought me home. I went straight to bed and when I awakened, MacArthur had vanished.”

  “I’m so sorry. We thought you had died and that MacArthur was alone,” I said.

  “Sophie”—he flashed me an emotional smile—“it’s good to know I have such caring neighbors. Thank you for looking out for MacArthur. One mystery solved. But I still don’t understand how that young woman got my name. I would never use that sort of business. It’s most peculiar.”

  “She had Sophie’s address. If you’d”—June cleared her throat—“placed the order, surely you’d have given the correct address.”

  “It’s almost like someone sent her here on purpose,” said Bernie.

  I turned very slowly toward Francie, who held a damp cloth to her forehead. She averted her eyes.

  Bernie’s lips curled into his lopsided grin.

  Mom scolded, “Francie, you didn’t!”

  “I’ve suffered a huge shock. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Francie avoided looking at any of us. It was no small feat given that the kitchen was packed.

  “Francie?” said the colonel.

  “Okay, okay. I ordered the call girl. I wanted to get you back for not being interested in me. You know, a gag. And then I thought I’d killed you.”

  “You mean he didn’t arrange for the tart?” asked June.

  “Of course not.” Color flooded back to Francie’s skin. “He’s much too proper for anything like that. I never meant to kill him, just shake him up a little bit. Maybe start some neighborhood rumors to embarrass him.”

  Funny how life turns out sometimes, I thought. Francie’s vengeful little game backfired on her. No wonder she’d been inconsolable. She thought she’d murdered the colonel by sending the tart. I started to giggle and poor Bernie couldn’t hold back his amusement any longer. It was contagious. In a flash, everyone, even the colonel and Francine Vanderhoosen, laughed and wiped teary eyes.

  When we recovered, the colonel asked, “Just one thing. Did I leave a door unlocked? How did you get MacArthur out of my house?”

  The color that had returned to Francie’s face turned an ugly shade of red.

  “A neighbor knew where you hide the key,” I said.

  My vague answer wasn’t lost on the colonel.

  He looked straight at Francie when he murmured, “I see.”

  Just then the knocker banged on the door again. Daisy barked and we all heard the door open and close. Wolf appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of the colonel. “Glad to see you hale and hearty, sir. That explains why we didn’t have any record of your demise.”

  The colonel grinned. “I’m fairly pleased about it myself.”

  “I didn’t expect to find so many of you gathered here,” said Wolf. “I came to see Mrs. Winston, but I suspect she won’t mind if the rest of you hear what I have to say. The Loudoun County fire chief called me this morning. They know how the blaze at Natasha’s home started.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  From “THE GOOD LIFE”:

  Dear Sophie,

  My guests are still hanging around for the weekend after Thanksgiving. I’m itching to start decorating for Christmas, but I don’t dare make that kind of mess until my mother-in-law leaves. How do I create a transitional ambiance without a lot of work?

  —Eager in Earlysville

  Dear Eager,

  Think red and amber. It doesn’t take a lot to create a cozy winter feel. Look around for wide-mouthed jars in shades of amber and red, drop a votive candle in each and use them on your table or mantel. The amber and red glass will cast a soft romantic glow. Use similar narrow-necked jars and glasses by popping in a single branch of berries or pine and place them among the candles. Just be sure they don’t get too close to the flames!

  —Sophie

  Mars tensed and protectively snaked an arm around his mother’s shoulders. They wouldn’t arrest June for arson, would they? Even if she did set the fire, I felt sure it was an accident.

  “Apparently there were small glasses of candles on the stairs in the foyer,” said Wolf. “It seems they had something flammable tied to them.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Stairs are no place for candles. One of them caught fire. It ignited a basket of dry pinecones on the stair landing, basically a basket of kindling. The basket rolled down the back stairs into the kitchen and the blaze spread from there.”

  Andrew and Mars stared at Wolf, speechless. June rushed Wolf. She hugged him like a long-lost friend and Wolf broke into a grin for the first time in days. Pointing a finger at her sons, June said, “There is nothing wrong with your old mother. Just because I have a few wrinkles and I sag in the wrong places doesn’t mean I’m ready for the old folks home. And don’t you pretend you weren’t plan
ning on that. I’m young enough to see a gentleman friend and enjoy myself and that’s what I intend to do. Talking to a ghost doesn’t mean a person is a looney tune.”

  She straightened her shoulders and strode from the room.

  Simultaneously, Andrew and Wolf said, “Ghost?”