The Diva Cooks up a Storm

by Krista Davis

  Wolf grinned. “Aw, come on, Soph. You know better than that. Murderers come in every shape and size.”

  He was right, of course. Still, some little part of me wanted to believe that Kelsey hadn’t meant to kill Hollis.

  Wolf gazed around my kitchen. “I miss coming here. You ready for the big storm?”

  I tried to toss it off lightly, as though I wasn’t concerned. “Oh, sure. It ruined my beach plans, but this house has been around since the 1800s. I don’t think a few storms are going to blow it away.”

  Wolf stood up. “I’m sorry to have been the bearer of bad news.”

  “Wolf? Is there any possibility that Hollis’s death could have been related to a beesting?”

  He shrugged. “I think they’re concentrating on his respiratory system. I guess that could be the case with a beesting, but it seems unlikely unless it was an anaphylactic reaction.”

  Wolf gazed at me like he could see right into my thoughts. “Don’t kick yourself about this, Sophie. You were doing what you thought was right.”

  “But I was dead wrong.”

  He laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “None of us have crystal balls. You can’t begin to imagine how many times I wish I had handled something differently. Besides, chances are very good that he didn’t die of poisoned food.”

  I appreciated his kind words, but I still felt enormously guilty. I walked him to the front door and opened it.

  Wolf stepped outside. “The wind has kicked up.”

  The two of us watched tree leaves twist in the air. The sky was still blue, but a band of clouds was filtering in, like cream mixing in a sauce.

  “Will Mars or Alex be here with you?” asked Wolf.

  “I have no idea. I’ll be fine.”

  He nodded. “Call me if you need help.”

  It was a generous offer. I watched him walk away, knowing full well that I would never take him up on it. Never say never, Sophie, I reminded myself. But deep in my heart, I knew I would have to be desperate to make that call to Wolf.

  I closed the door and was thinking about the fact that Nina and Francie would probably rely on me for meals if the power went out. The phone rang, interrupting my thoughts.

  I answered it and Humphrey said, “Please tell me that my friend isn’t testing food for a Mr. Hollis Haberman.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “In that case, I think we should turn the samples of food over to the cops. Are you okay with that?”

  “Absolutely. You may get a visit from Wolf. He was just here asking me about Hollis. You . . . you don’t have any results yet, do you?” I held my breath.

  “No, I was just over at the morgue and everyone is talking about Haberman. There’s a lot of speculation about what happened to him.”

  “Oh?” I said, afraid to hear what they might suspect.

  “Conflicting symptoms. It will be interesting to hear what caused his death. One thing’s for sure—no one expects it to be natural causes.”

  “Keep me posted, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  I hung up, feeling miserable and wondering what I should have done that could have prevented Hollis’s death. Still thinking about him, I pulled out tapioca, lemon, sugar, and fresh blueberries to make a blueberry pie.

  * * *

  The sky grew dark early in the evening. When Mars, Daisy, Nina, Francie, and Duke, Francie’s golden retriever, gathered in my kitchen, the sky unleashed a downpour. We had just sat down to a dinner of roast chicken and rice when Mars calmly said, “Sophie, someone is lurking outside in the rain.”

  We all rushed to the bay window in the kitchen. Not the smartest thing to do since we were backlighted. The person outside could probably see us far better than we could see him.

  He stood there without as much as an umbrella. The rain poured down so hard that it pelted the window and left streaks on the glass.

  The lurker covered his face with his hands, and there was something about that movement that caused me to think I knew who was out there.

  I flung open the front door and dashed out into the rain but hadn’t expected the sheer strength of the wind. I had to bend forward against its force to make any headway. The rain had seemed different inside the house. Outside, the wind drove it at me in sheets.

  My steps were painfully slow, like an ancient person who could barely move one foot ahead of the other. The elements plastered my clothes against me. I pitied anyone caught outside in this weather.

  The lurker staggered backward into the street, her arms stretched out wide.

  Still bent forward, I forced my hands straight ahead, but it was slow going. I finally reached Kelsey Haberman and managed to grasp her wrists.

  Chapter 9

  Dear Sophie,

  I have spent so much money on cutting boards, but after a while they look terrible and I end up throwing them out. What am I doing wrong?

  Not Making the Cut in Oak Brook, Illinois

  Dear Not Making the Cut,

  Wood does not like water. Never put them in the dishwasher. Wash them by hand and be sure to dry them thoroughly. You should also oil your wood cutting boards. Food-safe mineral oil is favored, but a refined coconut oil made specially for cutting boards is also popular. Rub the oil on the wood and allow it to be absorbed.

  Sophie

  I hooked my arm into Kelsey’s and held tight. Together we ducked and leaned forward to combat the forces that threatened to slam us into the house.

  We finally approached the front door, where Mars and Nina reached out to us. We blew right past them into the foyer. The door slammed behind us, as if some unknown force had shut it against the evil waging war outdoors.

  Kelsey Haberman was a far cry from the flirting bombshell she’d been only the day before. Her beautiful blond tresses were matted to her head. The wind and rain had driven her dark eye makeup into bizarre streaks. Her eyes would have faded into her pale face had it not been for the red rims from crying. Her summer dress was drenched and glued to her body. She had lost her shoes somewhere along the way and stood in my foyer barefoot and dripping wet.

  I was certain that I looked equally pathetic.

  Nina handed each of us a towel.

  Daisy wagged her tail and sniffed Kelsey curiously. Kelsey fell to her knees and buried her face in Daisy’s fur. Kelsey’s body wracked as she sobbed.

  Daisy stood very still and let her cry as if she understood that something was wrong with this stranger.

  Kelsey raised her head and whispered, “Hollis is dead.”

  “We heard, Kelsey. I’m so sorry.”

  Francie shuffled toward her. “Child, we’d better get some dry clothes on you. I’m sure Sophie has something you can wear.”

  “Of course I do.”

  Francie, Nina, and I escorted Kelsey upstairs.

  Nina pawed through my closet. “Honestly, Sophie, why are you so short?”

  At best, she was an entire three inches taller than me. “Hah! You say that as though you’re a towering willow.”

  In spite of that, she dug up a jean skirt from my thinner days. I hadn’t worn it in years. Armed with clothes, she led Kelsey to the bathroom to change.

  I dried off, pulled my wet hair back into a ponytail, and dressed in a short skirt and a cotton V-neck tee. I hurried downstairs to dry the hardwood floor in the foyer.

  Looking very young and vulnerable, Kelsey walked down the stairs with Francie and Nina.

  I wrapped an arm around Kelsey and guided her into the kitchen. She buried her face in my shoulder and bawled. There was nothing I could do except pat her back.

  When she let go of me and wiped tears off her face with the backs of her hands, I asked, “Have you eaten anything today?”

  She sniffled. “No, I was at the hospital most of the day. And then the police questioned me.”

  “Hot tea or iced?” I asked.

  “Hot, I think. I feel like I’ll never be warm again.”

  Nina had given her a fluffy swe
ater to wear. Kelsey held her arms crossed against her chest as though she was freezing.

  I put the kettle on while Duke and Daisy vied for Kelsey’s attention. I watched her from the stove, wondering why she had come to my house. It wasn’t as though I was close with her or Hollis. His death saddened me greatly, but I wasn’t a confidant of theirs.

  “How are you feeling?” Mars asked. “Physically, I mean. You don’t seem to be coughing anymore.”

  “Crying hasn’t been helping. It gets me all congested and then I end up coughing again.”

  “They released you from the hospital, so that must be a good sign,” said Nina.

  I poured boiling water over black tea, which helps calm the nerves. I set her mug on the table with sugar and a little pitcher of milk.

  “Thank you for being so kind to me. I’m really a stranger to you all, but you’re being so nice. I . . . I didn’t know where to go. I just knew I couldn’t be alone right now.” She sat on the banquette and rested her elbows on the table. Her fingers gently massaged her temples. Staring at the teacup, she picked it up and held it in both palms. Ripples in the tea gave away a slight tremor in her hands. “All of you saw Hollis at the dinner last night. Right? Did he look sick to any of you?”

  “No, he did not.” Trust Francie to get right to the point.

  “How can a person go from being perfectly fine to being dead in only a few hours?” asked Kelsey.

  “Did they tell you what they thought was wrong with him?” asked Mars.

  Kelsey sipped her tea. Wincing, she said, “They’re not sure. They’re going to do an autopsy.” Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. She coughed, her body jerking as she hacked.

  We all stared at her in concern.

  “What did the doctors say about your coughing?” demanded Francie in a no-nonsense, grandmotherly way.

  “They said we must have inhaled something. I just got less of whatever it was.”

  I handed her a box of tissues. Trying very hard to change the subject, I said, “Your timing is perfect. We were just going to eat dinner.” I rose and gathered a plate, napkin, and silverware for her. “What did you think of the food at the underground dinner last night?” I placed everything before her on the table.

  She blew her nose and turned surprised eyes toward me. “I liked everything except the liver soup.”

  “My feelings exactly.” Nina high-fived with her.

  “Hollis ate mine and his.” Kelsey gasped. “The soup! Maybe someone poisoned the liver soup. I only tried a spoonful, but Hollis ate it all.”

  We were silent for a moment as we processed her idea.

  Mars was the first to speak. In a gentle and kind tone, he said, “Kelsey, I can understand why you might think that. But we ate the soup, too. Sophie, Francie, and I all ate it, and we’re fine.”

  “It was a good idea, though,” said Nina. “Must be easy to hide disgusting poisons in something that’s as gross as liver.”

  Kelsey appeared to be thinking about it. “Maybe they only poisoned his soup.”

  Francie patted her hand. “I don’t think so, dear. Didn’t you say it was inhaled?”

  I stopped in the middle of passing a platter of sliced and salted pink Brandywine heirloom tomatoes from my garden. I wanted to like Kelsey, especially the Kelsey seated at my table. The one without cleavage showing. The one looking so helpless and weary. Consequently, I was more than a little ashamed when the thought that she might be playing us drifted through my head.

  I’d had a murderer as a guest at my dinner table before. Of course, I didn’t know which guest it was at the time. But this was a new twist for me. I couldn’t recall being in a situation where I was trying to comfort the very person whom the victim suspected of poisoning him.

  If Kelsey had intentionally poisoned Hollis, then she had a lot of moxie to come to my house seeking comfort. If that was the case, she was putting on a very good act as the bereaved.

  I hoped I was wrong and that Kelsey was the clueless and distressed young widow she appeared to be.

  “Kelsey,” said Francie, “where are you from?”

  “Mostly the South.”

  “You moved around a lot?” asked Mars.

  She nodded.

  “So where’s your hometown?” asked Nina.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever had one.”

  “Your parents were in the military?” guessed Francie.

  “I wish!” Kelsey heaved a big sigh and helped herself to chicken. “My parents were real young when they had me in South Carolina—still in high school, actually. When I was a toddler, they died in a car accident.”

  “Oh no! Were you in the car?” asked Nina.

  “My baby sister and I were at the sitter’s house. Nobody wanted us, I guess, so my father’s great aunt in West Virginia took us in. She was a sweet woman. Chubby and smiling and warm. When she wasn’t knitting, she was gardening or canning.”

  Nina clapped a hand against her chest. “I’m so glad you landed in a good home.”

  “She died when I was six.”

  “Why you poor thing!” Francie gasped.

  “They sent us to live with my mother’s sister, Delilah Jean, in Tennessee. She had a bad marriage and a bunch of kids. When I was eleven, her ex-husband came to the back door and shot her dead while she was calling the police.”

  I stopped eating and stared at her. How could one child have so much bad luck?

  “What did you do then?” asked Mars.

  “They split up the kids. My sister and I were sent to a distant cousin of my father’s in North Carolina.” She smiled at Duke and Daisy. “She had a lot of dogs.”

  “So you finally found a good home?” asked Nina.

  “Not so much. Sassy wasn’t the type to teach us to sew a skirt or bake cookies. Sassy liked three things—bourbon, men, and dogs, not necessarily in that order depending on the day, though bourbon usually took first place. She didn’t have much time for little girls. Unfortunately, she changed boyfriends like most people change pillowcases. The older I got, the more interested they were in me. When I was sixteen, a guy named Wayne Khropinki moved in with her. Sassy didn’t believe me when I told her I had to fight him off.” Kelsey sighed. “For a long time, I blamed her for that. The pathetic truth was that Sassy was too drunk to understand or care. One night I walked in on him trying to have his way with my little sister. I slammed him over the head with a bottle of Sassy’s bourbon, grabbed my sister, and fled in Sassy’s car. It took the authorities an entire year to find us. I put on a lot of makeup, lied about my age, and served drinks in a scuzzy joint where I figured no one would care enough to ask questions about the new girl. It worked out pretty well. Living with Sassy had taught me how to deal with drunks. One afternoon, I came back from the grocery store. There was a cop car in front of our apartment, and I saw them placing my sister in it. I kept driving. I knew I couldn’t help her if I was in custody, too. They took her straight back to Sassy’s.” She gazed at us, one at a time, as though she was assessing our reaction.

  “Wayne murdered her that night. She never had a chance. Sassy drank herself into a grave the next year. I never went back, but I saw her obituary online.”

  “Good heavens, child!” Francie shook her head. “It’s a wonder you can walk and talk. I’ve never heard of such a terrible childhood.”

  “It’s like I’m cursed. I overheard some relatives talking about me when I was little. They didn’t want me living with them because they thought I brought bad luck. And now my husband is dead.”

  Silence fell over us.

  Francie was the first to speak. “That’s utter nonsense. You had a terrible start in life, but none of that was your fault. You didn’t make Sassy drink. You didn’t shoot your mother’s sister. Those things were completely out of your control. My goodness. You were just a child. I’m sorry I didn’t know you. I would have taken you in.”

  “How did you meet Hollis?” asked Nina.

  �
�I had a car accident and met him at his law firm.”

  That one sentence quickly reminded us that Cindy Haberman accused Kelsey of ruining her marriage. I hurried to change the subject. “What did you think of the chocolate mousse last night?”

  Kelsey put down her fork. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in on your dinner.”

  “You’re not barging in at all. You’re a neighbor. Now eat something, young lady.” Francie pointed at her. “I’d like to hear more about your interesting life.”

  Rain pounded at the windows while we ate. I found it interesting that Kelsey passed on the wine. Maybe Sassy’s drinking put her off alcohol.

  We were clearing the dishes from the table to make room for dessert when the lights went out.

  Chapter 10

  Dear Natasha,

  I’m putting together power outage kits for each member of my family. Other than the obvious flashlight, batteries, and first aid kit, what should they contain?

  Worried Mom in Rough and Ready, California

  Dear Worried Mom,

  Cash. Banks won’t be open and in a power outage, the ATMs won’t function, either.

  Natasha

  Mars jumped up and peered out the bay window. “Everybody’s out. Even the streetlights.”

  I had placed candles and matches on the countertop, ready for use if necessary. It took me a few minutes to feel my way across the kitchen and light them.

  I set candles on the windowsill over the sink, while Mars placed some in the bay window and on the fireplace mantel.

  “Wow. I don’t remember seeing the streetlights out,” said Nina. “This must be how the street looked at night before electricity.”

  “Wouldn’t they have had gas lamps back then?” asked Francie.

  “Forgot about those. It’s a little creepy out there. Everything is so dark.”

  I fetched some battery-operated lanterns, which brightened the kitchen considerably.