by Krista Davis
PRAISE FOR
The Diva Cooks a Goose
“For fans of Donna Andrews and Diane Mott Davidson… [A] real winner.”
—The Season
“Sophie keeps a cool head… ensuring a Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.”
—The Mystery Reader
“A great whodunit.”
—Once Upon a Romance
“This is not your run-of-the-mill cozy; the characters are real to life, interesting, and keep you wondering what will happen next. Krista Davis writes one enjoyable read.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
The Diva Paints the Town
“[Davis] handles this tricky tale with aplomb and fills it with a cast of eccentrics… And the three animals are endlessly amusing. Davis includes several recipes, and although the novel takes place during a Virginia winter, the strawberry daiquiris will have you pretending it’s summer.”
—Richmond Times-Dispatch
“Davis plates up another delectable whodunit, complete with recipes. Indeed, her novels are every bit as good as Diane Mott Davidson’s Goldy Schulz mysteries.”
—Shine
“Davis’s latest is an enjoyable mystery that includes decorating tips, a few pets, an unusual bequest, and recipes… Once again, Krista Davis brings us interesting, fun characters.”
—Lesa’s Book Critiques
“Ms. Davis immerses the reader into the world of interior design.”
—TwoLips Reviews
The Diva Takes the Cake
“The Diva Takes the Cake does just that—takes the cake.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“Mistaken identities, half truths, buried secrets, missing jewelry, wedding jitters, and family squabbles are whipped into a sweet froth in this second of the Domestic Diva Mysteries… A fun little bonbon of a book to enjoy on the beach or as a break from any wedding plans.”
—ReviewingTheEvidence.com
“Sure to thrill cozy fans.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Davis has devised a delightful romp, with engaging characters and a nicely crafted setting in which to place them. The author sets just the right tone to match her diva’s perfect centerpieces, tablescapes, and lighting effects.”
—Shine
The Diva Runs Out of Thyme
“[A] tricky whodunit laced with delectable food… [A] fine mystery that’s stuffed with suspects—and a reminder that nobody’s Thanksgiving is perfect.”
—Richmond Times-Dispatch
“A mouthwatering mix of murder, mirth, and mayhem, nicely spiced by new author Krista Davis.”
—Mary Jane Maffini, author of The Busy Woman’s Guide to Murder
“This cozy mystery delivers a plethora of useful household tips and mouthwatering recipes immersed within a keep-you-guessing plot filled with suspicious-acting characters, and twists and turns around every corner. Davis’s smart writing style and engaging characters are sure to garner fans.”
—AuthorsDen.com
“Filled with humor, delicious recipes, and holiday decorating tips, The Diva Runs Out of Thyme is a lighthearted mystery that is sure to get you in the Thanksgiving mood… [A] must-read to prepare for the holiday season!”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“[A] fun romp into the world of food, murder, and mayhem.”
—Armchair Interviews
“The Diva Runs Out of Thyme is as much comedy as mystery… [A] really good book… [A] series worth watching.”
—Mysterious Reviews
“An entertaining mystery novel with charming characters. The plot of the mystery is well drawn out… Davis is an excellent mystery author.”
—MyShelf.com
“The beginning of a good culinary cozy series with some interesting and different characters.”
—Gumshoe Review
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Krista Davis
THE DIVA RUNS OUT OF THYME
THE DIVA TAKES THE CAKE
THE DIVA PAINTS THE TOWN
THE DIVA COOKS A GOOSE
THE DIVA HAUNTS THE HOUSE
THE DIVA DIGS UP THE DIRT
The Diva
Digs up the Dirt
KRISTA DAVIS
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England • Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) • Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) • Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) • Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.
THE DIVA DIGS UP THE DIRT
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / June 2012
Copyright © 2012 by Cristina Ryplansky.
Cover illustration by Teresa Fasolino.
Cover design by Diana Kolsky.
Interior text design by Laura K. Corless.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ISBN: 978-1-101-58094-3
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME
Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
ALWAYS LEARNING
PEARSON
To my editor, Sandra Harding,
and my agent, Jessica Faust.
Every author should be so lucky.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am deeply grateful
for the information and suggestions I received from Luci Hansson Zahray, fondly called The Poison Lady by mystery writers. She was so very knowledgeable and enormously helpful. Any mistakes, of course, are entirely my own.
The gorgeous house on the cover is loosely based on the Rosemary House Bed and Breakfast in Pittsboro, North Carolina. Thanks to Karen Pullen, who so graciously allowed me to share with my cover artist a beautiful photo taken by Dr. John Shillito. I knew it was Roscoe’s house the moment I saw it.
Which brings me to Teresa Fasolino, the incredible artist who always paints the most wonderful covers for Sophie and Natasha. Her covers are like special gifts every time. Thank you, Teresa.
Huge thanks to Mary Wheeler Jones for allowing me to use her other name and especially for being such a great sport about it.
I would be remiss if I didn’t thank my friends and fellow authors Avery Aames, Janet Bolin, Peg Cochran, Kaye George, Janet Koch, and Marilyn Levinson. They’re always available for silly questions, serious opinions, and professional advice. I would be lost without them.
And last, but more certainly never least, I am always grateful for the unflagging support of my mother, Marianne, and my friends Susan Erba, Betsy Strickland, and Amy Wheeler. I count myself unbelievably lucky to have such wonderful people in my life.
Join us for the annual
PLANTER’S PUNCH and BACKWOODS
Picnic and Open House
Bring the whole family for fun, games,
and our famous ice cream bar!
At the Greene Homestead
Sunday at 4 p.m.
Chicken Lickin’ Attire
Roscoe Greene
Mindy Greene
Audie Greene
GREENE FAMILY PICNIC GUEST LIST
Roscoe Greene
Mindy Greene
Audie Greene
Cricket Hatfield
Violet
Francie Vanderhoosen
Nina Reid Norwood
Mars Winston
Natasha
Note: Picnic is an open house. Friends and family are welcome.
Per Mindy, Olive Greene is not invited this year.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Recipes & Cooking Tips
CHAPTER ONE
Dear Sophie,
My mother-in-law is an avid gardener who makes her own herbal teas. She grows a lot of poisonous plants like rhubarb, lilies, irises, and bleeding heart. How do I know she’s not offering me poisonous tea?
—Suspicious in Lily, Kentucky
Dear Suspicious,
Bring your own tea bags.
—Sophie
“I’d like to hire you to find my daughter.”
The woman’s request caught me by surprise. I’d been deadheading geraniums in pots by my front door in the early morning and held flower snippers in my hand.
Pouffy dark hair framed her face. It wanted to curl but had been firmly set into a helmet by a hairdresser. Her clothes were equally impeccable. Full-figured from top to bottom, she made no effort to hide her shape under black garments. Her skirt and matching short-sleeved top bore a festive purple, pink, and yellow print. I guessed her to be in her midsixties, but she oozed energy.
My hound mix, Daisy, sniffed the woman’s dainty purple and yellow shoes. Kitten heels weren’t the best footwear for Old Town’s uneven brick sidewalks. Daisy’s tail wagged with restraint.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You must have the wrong person.”
“Aren’t you Sophia Winston?”
Close enough. “Sophie, actually. But I’m not an investigator.”
“That’s okay. I’ve heard about you.” She dug in a leather purse big enough to hold four large loaves of bread and pulled out an envelope stuffed with cash. “How much do you charge?”
I splayed my fingers and waved my hand at her. “You don’t seem to understand. I don’t know anything about finding people. I’m an event planner.”
“Please.” She tucked the money away and pressed her palms together. “Maybe I could tell you a little bit about my Linda?” Her gaze swept to the salmon-colored geranium blooms. “I called her my little Anemone because she loved flowers and gardening. She was such a gentle soul, almost timid. Her father and I made a mistake by pushing her to study accounting. I see that now. We wanted her to make a good living. We only wanted the best for our little girl. She would have been so much happier studying horticulture.” The woman plucked a tissue from her pocket and wiped her teary eyes.
I couldn’t help noticing that she spoke of her daughter in past tense, as though she didn’t expect to find her alive. I wasn’t in the habit of inviting strangers into my home, but this woman didn’t look like an ax murderer. I considered offering her a cup of coffee.
She looked up at the second story of my house. “This is quite a place for a single girl.”
Red warning flags jumped up in my mind. “How did you know I was single?”
For the most fleeting instant, panic crossed her face. So briefly that I wondered if I had imagined it.
She reached out to me. “Your finger, dear. No wedding ring.”
The red flags drooped. My mother would have made the same observation, and she would have referred to me as a girl. Still, the woman had crossed some imaginary line and left me wary. “I’m terribly sorry, but you must have misunderstood someone. I’ve never searched for a missing person. I don’t even know anyone who could help you. Good luck to you.”
Her mouth twisted to the side. She issued a huge sigh, turned, and trudged away, heading toward the center of Old Town.
My best friend and across-the-street neighbor, Nina Reid Norwood, crossed the street to my house, causing Daisy’s tail to spin in an excited circle. “Who was that?”
Without prompting, Daisy sat and offered a paw. “You’re such a good girl.” Nina pulled a treat from the pocket of her loose drawstring pants and offered it to Daisy.
“I have no idea. She wanted me to find her daughter.”
“Your reputation is growing. After all, you have solved a few murders.” She followed me into the house and stroked Mochie, my Ocicat.
“That’s way different from locating someone.” I stashed the flower snippers and poured each of us a latte.
“A lot of missing people have been murdered…”
“I’m not a private investigator. I wouldn’t dream of taking anyone’s money for something I’m not qualified to do.” I set the lattes and a white platter of chocolate croissants on a wicker tray and carried it out to the backyard.
Daisy and Nina followed me.
I set the tray on a small table in the shade. I’d found the old-fashioned wrought-iron furniture ages ago when I was still married, painted it white, and sewn bright floral cushions for it that matched the gorg
eous Blaze roses in bloom by the fence.
I settled back on a chair, cupping the latte in my hands and listening to the birds twitter.
“It’s going to be another scorcher.” Nina helped herself to a croissant. “This is the only time of day when the temperatures are still bearable. What are you wearing to Roscoe’s picnic?”
I hadn’t given it any thought yet. It had been a busy month so far. Everyone claimed that the event-planning business slowed down in the summer months, but that hadn’t been true for me. I had wound up a big Fourth of July extravaganza and run a weeklong international radiology expo. I was also working on Roscoe’s event, but his annual picnic on National Ice Cream Day was tiny in comparison. And when it was over, I was taking time off for two glorious weeks. I didn’t plan to do anything but laze around, with a margarita in my hand and flip-flops on my feet, and throw a cookout for my friends.
“The invitation said something cutesy, didn’t it?” she asked.
I groaned. “Chicken lickin’ attire.”
Low snickering arose on the other side of the fence.
“Do you want to ride with me, Francie?” Nina raised her voice to be sure my elderly neighbor, Francine Vanderhoosen, heard her.
“Not going,” came the response from the other side of the fence.
“Do you feel okay?” I asked.
“For pity’s sake, it doesn’t have anything to do with how I feel. Olive Greene is my friend. I wouldn’t dream of making an appearance there.”
She didn’t have to say more. A longtime resident of Alexandria, Roscoe Greene was CEO of Planter’s Punch, a catalog that catered to southern gardeners. His parents started the business, but he had expanded it to include Backwoods, for hunting and fishing enthusiasts. Roscoe had set tongues wagging all over Old Town when he’d replaced his wife of forty-five years with one of his employees. Their destination wedding in Ireland ten days before had been the talk of the town. Roscoe had at least twenty-five years on his bride, who reportedly played the role of the trophy wife to the hilt, complete with tiara.
