The Diva Serves High Tea

by Krista Davis

  “Hey! What are you doing working in the morning? I thought you were on the night shift.”

  “They keep switching us. Makes me crazy. See you later, Sophie.” Wong walked away briskly.

  “Ready for breakfast?” I asked Daisy.

  She wagged her tail.

  On the way home, I detoured by the take-out window of Big Daddy’s bakery. I was carrying a box of croissants—plain, chocolate, and ham—far more than I could eat by myself, when I spied Wanda at my front door. She wore a rustic red, white, and black plaid shirt and jeans so tight I wasn’t sure she’d be able to sit down.

  “Good morning!” I unlocked the door.

  “Sweetheart, you have some real food in there, don’t you? I hate to beg for breakfast but Natasha hasn’t got a thing in the house to eat.”

  I was dying to know where she had spent the night but it seemed wrong to ask that of someone my mother’s age. “I’ve heard that about Natasha’s fridge. Where is she?”

  “Sittin’ in her kitchen in a snit drinking some kind of fancy coffee that’s too strong for me. I hope you have plain old American coffee.” Wanda shut the door behind us. “Hi, Daisy! You remember me, doncha, sweet pea?”

  Daisy waggled with excitement.

  “You’re in luck, I just picked up some croissants. I could whip up mushroom omelets.”

  “Don’t you go to any trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.” I took off Daisy’s halter and started coffee brewing. It occurred to me that Wanda might not be well if she had been with Robert. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  “Oh, a little weary. Didn’t get much sleep last night. Where are your mugs, darlin’?”

  I opened a cabinet and handed her two yellow ceramic mugs. I wondered if I should mention Robert’s condition. Aha! Maybe there was a way to find out where she spent the night. “Why is Natasha in a snit?”

  “Man trouble. She shouldn’t be surprised. She comes by it through me. I swear we have a defective gene that makes us repel men. Too bad she messed things up with your Mars. He’s a real decent fellow. Imagine him calling me because she needed me. How many men would have done that?”

  “She told you Mars left her?” I pulled eggs and mushrooms out of the fridge and heated canola oil in two skillets.

  “Mars told me that. Natasha made up a big whopper lie about throwing him out because she had met someone else. I hear you’re back together with Mars.”

  Oh dear. I thought I’d better tread carefully. “He stayed over in the den last night. Natasha simply jumped to incorrect conclusions. Did Natasha say who she’s seeing?” I washed the mushrooms and wiped them with a cloth.

  “Robert Johnson!” Wanda shook her head as she poured coffee into mugs. “What could she have been thinking?”

  I sliced the mushroom caps. “Did you know she’s still pining for her father?”

  Wanda nearly choked on her coffee. “Do you remember her daddy?”

  “Not very well.” I tossed the mushrooms in a pan and shook it to spread them out.

  “Apparently, neither does Natasha. His name was Amos. Amos Smith. And, honey child, if he was selling antiques today, he’d be selling old hubcaps from a barn, probably stolen. But that doesn’t stop Natasha from dreaming that he went through some kind of miraculous transformation”—she waved her hands through the air—“and became a gentleman in a top hat. She keeps looking around the city for him, but if Amos is still alive and kickin’, he’s out in the country somewhere, not hanging with her high society friends.”

  I stirred the eggs in the skillets. “I guess it’s her way of coping.”

  “If I told her once, I told her five million times that she has to get over the fact that he left us. She has to move on and forget about him. Heaven knows he’s not thinking about us. If he’d given one second of thought to how it might impact her, he never would have left us in the first place.”

  I was itching to know why he left, but I figured it wasn’t the kind of thing a polite person asks.

  Wanda flicked a spoon against the tablecloth. “You girls are old enough to know that we all have our vices.”

  I smiled when she called us girls. We would always be young girls to her. “Alcohol?”

  “Oh, Amos liked his moonshine as much as any man. I used to wish that was his vice.”

  She didn’t say more, and I didn’t dare pry. But it occurred to me that if Natasha actually found moonshine-drinking Amos, he might embarrass her more than her mother did. Maybe finding him was one of those wishes to be careful about. If it came true, she might be very disappointed.

  “Where were you bright and early this morning, sunshine?” Wanda asked.

  I slid the omelets onto yellow plates and brought them to the table. I took a moment to add forks, knives, salt and pepper, and place the croissants on a plate before I joined Wanda. I considered taking the easy road and telling her I had been walking Daisy. But it occurred to me that if Wanda had been with Robert the night before she might have useful information about his condition.

  “I went over to Robert’s house.”

  Wanda almost dropped her fork. “Why, Sophie! What is it with you girls? Are you and Natasha vying for the same man again?”

  I gulped coffee to brace myself. “Natasha might be interested in him, but I’m not. Were you with him last night?”

  “Sure sounds like you’ve got a yen for Robert.” Wanda shot an exaggerated wink at me.

  “He’s very ill, Wanda. I’m not being nosy about your love life. He was taken to the hospital by ambulance. If you were with him, you might be able to shed some light on his illness.” I stopped short of adding and you might be sick, too.

  This time her fork really did clank to her plate. “Ill? What kind of ill?”

  “I don’t know. He was having trouble breathing and seemed stiff. Like he couldn’t move.”

  “Sounds like he needs a dose of lobelia. That or pot, which is excellent for clearing the airways. Do you grow either one?” She resumed eating.

  Pot? Was she kidding? “I’m, um, sorry but I don’t. So did you see him last night?”

  She nodded and wiped her mouth. “Should have brought some with me. I usually travel with medicinals but I was in such a hurry that I didn’t pack many. Robert took me out to dinner. Sugar, it was so pretty. They served miserly portions, but the food was arranged on the plate like art.”

  “And afterward?” I savored the earthy flavor of the mushrooms in the omelet.

  “Just to be clear, we invited Natasha along but she stayed home and had a pout party.”

  “She wasn’t afraid to be alone?” I asked.

  “Darlin’, we invited her to come! If she was afraid she should have come with us.”

  “Did Robert seem sick?”

  “Now that I think about it, we called it quits a little earlier than I’d have liked because he felt queasy. He’d been to the restroom a few times and barely picked at his food.”

  Wanda broke a ham croissant in two and took a bite. She swallowed and smiled at me. “I know this is fancy food, honey, but nothing beats a real ham biscuit. Tell me, where is this hospital? I think I should pay poor Robert a visit.”

  I wrote down the name of the hospital for her and drew a crude map.

  “Natasha says they have everything here,” Wanda said. “Do you know where I could find lobelia or cannabis?”

  Maybe I had been too quick to dismiss Natasha’s complaints about her mom. I could honestly say that was a question my mother had never asked me. “Maybe Natasha would know?”

  “If she’s speakin’ to me! Thank you for breakfast, sweetheart.”

  “Let me know how Robert is?”

  She promised and walked out the kitchen door.

  I checked the time. “No problem,” I told Daisy. “We’re still on schedule.”

/>   In the afternoon, I walked Daisy, showered, blew my hair dry, and dressed to get through cocktails. It was early, but if anything went wrong, I wouldn’t be stuck going to my own event inappropriately dressed. My midnight-blue sheath with a V-neck looked perfect. Sleek enough for office-to-dinner wear. I added dangling blue druzy earrings that sparkled when the light hit them. My one dress-it-up-with-bling concession was a chunky link bracelet with fake pavé diamonds on every other link. If time permitted later, I would retrieve shoes with higher heels, but for now, I slid my feet into matching midnight-blue flats with a hint of glitter on the toes.

  Daisy followed me down the stairs and watched with a smidgen of anxiety as I slid on a light coat and prepared to leave the house. Mochie had settled on the window seat in the kitchen. I kissed the top of Daisy’s head, promised her I would be back in a few hours, and locked the kitchen door behind me. I peeked in the window of the door and watched as Daisy settled near Mochie.

  A breeze blew past, making me wonder if I should have worn a warmer coat. No matter. I wouldn’t be that far from home. I set off at a brisk pace on the brick sidewalk. Old Town buzzed with people and traffic. I was glad I didn’t have to find a parking spot.

  I walked into the hotel hosting the conference and located the meeting rooms. I was looking for my contact when I heard a familiar voice say, “You cannot take these minor incidents too lightly. Make no mistake. Divorce can trigger murder.”

  I slipped into the room and watched from the back. I had been right about the voice. Wolf Fleishman? What was he doing here?

  Wolf and I met when he was investigating a murder. We had dated for a long time but our relationship had come to an abrupt halt. Only a few months ago, I had unknowingly interfered with one of his investigations. I had learned my lesson, though, and planned to steer clear of police investigations in the future.

  The audience broke into applause. Wolf left the podium and a guy stepped up to the microphone and thanked him. He announced a fifteen-minute break between sessions. Walking along the perimeter of the room, Wolf spotted me and headed in my direction. Hundreds of lawyers rose to their feet, some stretched, others rushed by me.

  Wolf broke through the crowd, gently took my elbow, and escorted me out of the meeting room into the crowded lobby. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing. Since when are you an expert on family law?”

  “I wish I weren’t. I’ve been called to too many domestic disputes. They can be very ugly. Hey, I’m glad I ran into you. I was going to give you a call. What do you know about a place called The Parlour?”

  “It’s a tearoom. Elegant, yet very comfortable. You would love their baked goods. Are you going to take tea?” I grinned at the thought. Wolf’s passion for food kept him a little heavier than he would like to be.

  Wolf groaned. “Sounds like a ladies’ place.”

  “Only if you think tea and cake are for women. And, by the way, that would be fine with me because it would mean more for us. I think they have takeout if it’s too girly for you. But Alex was there yesterday, so maybe it’s like quiche. Real men do take tea?”

  “Trust me, I won’t be eating their food anytime soon. Neither will you. It’s being closed down. Some guy died from botulism poisoning this morning, and his next of kin says he ate at this Parlour place yesterday.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Dear Natasha,

  My father-in-law is insane. He takes the temperature of the water before he pours it over the tea. And he refuses to use tea bags. Plus, he calls the tea “liquor.” I think he’s gone fruity! He reads your column. Please set him straight?

  —Biting My Tongue in Bagtown, Maryland

  Dear Biting My Tongue,

  You could learn from your father-in-law. Teas require different temperatures. In general, the darker the tea the hotter the water should be. And the correct term for brewed tea is liquor.

  —Natasha

  My throat constricted. “So did I. And a lot of other people! They hosted a charity auction.”

  Wolf studied me. I could see the fear in his eyes. “How do you feel?”

  “Fine.”

  “Any uh, gastrointestinal discomfort?”

  I grinned at his embarrassment in coming right out and saying what he meant. “No. I’m perfectly well, thank you.” I grabbed his arm. “Wait a minute. The guy who died, what was his name?”

  “Robert Johnson. You know him?”

  “He died?” My voice broke when I spoke. I weaved a little bit as it sank in. I hadn’t expected that. I thought the doctors would find Robert had a mysterious illness and would be able to help him.

  “Soph? You okay?” Wolf placed his hands on my upper arms as though to steady me.

  “I found Robert this morning and called the ambulance. I can’t believe he died.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was a friend of yours.”

  “I hardly knew him. I’m just so shocked. He had botulism poisoning? I thought people didn’t die from that.”

  “They tell me it depends on how much they ate and how soon they got help.”

  Velma would be devastated. What a bizarre turn of events.

  “Maybe I should get you some coffee.”

  “That’s sweet, but I’m okay. It was just so unexpected. I can’t believe they’re closing The Parlour. His sister-in-law said he felt sick yesterday.”

  “Hopefully they’ll find the culprit in his kitchen, but it’s a major public health issue. We don’t want more people getting sick. They have to close the places he ate until they find the source.” He stared over my shoulder for a moment. “Still seeing Alex?”

  I nodded.

  His eyebrows jumped ever so briefly. “I have to get back to work. If you feel even the slightest bit ill go to the hospital right away. Okay?”

  I assured him that I would.

  Wolf sighed and cocked his head like he pitied me. “Take care.”

  What was that about? I watched him walk away, turned abruptly, and slammed into Alex, who spilled his jumbo-size coffee on the pretty brunette I had seen him with at The Parlour.

  “I’m so sorry!” I gushed.

  She brushed her ivory suit with one hand, holding her own coffee in the other hand. Alex’s drink had a good bit of milk in it, but I suspected that the suit was ruined.

  Alex fetched paper napkins from the coffee stand and handed them to her.

  She wiped her skirt and looked up at me from under her long bangs. If looks could fry, I would have sizzled.

  Alex, dressed in a well-cut suit with a white shirt and a burgundy tie, apologized to her profusely.

  “Now stop that,” she drawled in what had to be a North Carolina accent. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  Oh! The nerve. It wasn’t my fault that they were right behind me in a crowded lobby. But it did annoy me that they made a pretty couple, both with dark brown hair and more fit than I would ever be.

  “Elise Donovan, this is Sophie Winston,” Alex said.

  She extended a hand and when I shook it I realized that she wore the sapphire I had bid on.

  “What a lovely necklace.”

  “Thank you. It was a gift from Alex.” She resumed wiping her skirt.

  It wasn’t as though Alex and I had an understanding of exclusivity, but at that very moment, I wasn’t as sorry as I might have been about her ruined suit. I shifted my gaze to Alex, who didn’t appear embarrassed about being caught with another woman. Was that his military training? Buck up and never show your discomfort?

  “Elise was married to my law partner in Charlotte,” he explained. “Their son, Kevin, is going to live with me and go to school here this year.”

  His sentence was ordinary conversation, yet so fraught with innuendo that I was taken aback. Wasn’t she married to his partner anymore? Hadn’t
school started weeks ago? Had her son been with Alex that long but I hadn’t known? And why on earth would he be moving in with Alex anyway? This could mean only one thing—we weren’t dating anymore. We’d had some nice times together. I just wished he would have told me.

  I smiled as sweetly as I could muster. “Are you coming to the cocktail party at the National Museum of American History?”

  Alex nodded. “I’m looking forward to—”

  “Sweetheart, you’ve forgotten that we’re having dinner with Kevin.” Elise looked me in the eyes and added, “Just the three of us.”

  I was stunned. I recognized a barbed jab when I heard it. Ohhh, this was not a nice woman. The truth was that Alex and I weren’t so close that I would make a fuss. If he had moved on, I would wish him well. But I had a sneaking suspicion that if Elise was showing her true colors, their relationship wouldn’t last very long.

  “That’s a pity. Alex and Kevin would have enjoyed it.” Determined to take the high road, I added, “Nice meeting you, Elise.” I walked around her and went in search of the conference organizer.

  For the next two hours, I pushed Robert’s death and Elise out of my mind and focused on the details of the special events I had been asked to plan. In a way, they were easy money. I had done them so many times for other groups that it was almost like having a week off. Cocktails at the museum tonight. A guided tour and luncheon for spouses at the Capitol tomorrow. And finally, a gala dinner at a restaurant overlooking the Potomac River.

  On the lookout for Alex or the dreaded Elise, I left the hotel. I had plenty of time to walk home, change shoes, and let Daisy out before driving to the museum. But on my way, a small crowd blocked the sidewalk in front of The Parlour.

  Martha consoled her regulars, assuring them she would reopen as soon as possible. I made my way to her.

  “I’m so sorry about this.” Whispering, I asked, “Has anyone else reported feeling ill?”

  “No. Not at all. Not that I’ve heard of, anyway. I’m horrified.”

  A tall gentleman with the same kind of erect military bearing as Alex joined us. His gray eyes sized me up like a mountain lion on the hunt. At first glance I thought he was bald, but soon realized that he shaved his head. He wore glasses shoved partway up his forehead.