The Diva Digs Up the Dirt

by Krista Davis

It was late afternoon by the time I went home. The moment I stepped foot on my property, Natasha swooped down on me like a screaming banshee. “You’ve been away all day! Sophie, this is it. I’m not taking no for an answer. We have to repurp!” Natasha’s voice became shrill and frantic. “Please! Do this for me. I got you a free garage. You owe me! We have to come up with a brilliant repurp.”

  I had a bad feeling that the “free garage” phrase would pop up frequently in the future. More specifically, every time Natasha wanted a favor from me. “Okay, quit whining. Is first thing in the morning all right? I’m a little bushed.”

  “That’s cutting it close, but it will have to do. Why are you so tired? You’re on vacation, just dawdling about. I’m doing all the work.” She rewarded me with a hug. “Now, there are strict rules tonight because you have to be surprised tomorrow when it’s all revealed. And I don’t mean phony surprised. You’re not a great actress. Can I trust you?”

  I said yes, but when she ran through her list, I nearly choked. Not only was the sunroom off limits, but the living room was, too, which really worried me. I hoped it meant they didn’t want me to look out the window, but the huge plastic sheets they’d hung at the entrance to my dining room concerned me.

  “And absolutely no going into your backyard whatsoever. Agreed?”

  All I really wanted was to relax with my feet up in my own home. I would have agreed to nearly anything at that point.

  Mochie met Daisy and me at the door, mewing like crazy. I had to think he was complaining about Natasha. When I cut up a couple of shrimp, his favorite treat, and offered them to him, he seemed to forgive me for leaving him to deal with her.

  Troy knocked on the kitchen door and opened it. “Is Natasha here?” he whispered.

  “You’re safe.”

  “I’ve met a lot of people through this show. Some of them have been obnoxious, some have been worried, but up to now, no one has ever tried to write and direct the show.”

  “That’s Natasha!”

  “I think you’re going to be happy with the results. I sure hope so.” He fidgeted with a key chain. “Um, I just wondered—have you heard anything more about Heath’s death? He doesn’t have family here to look after him, so I talked to the cops. They said he probably asphyxiated under the mulch. That doesn’t sound right to me. How could that happen unless he was unconscious?”

  “Maybe he was. Did he drink a lot? Could he have passed out?”

  “He drank more than anyone ought to. But he held his liquor very well. I never saw him weave or stumble. And even if he did pass out, someone had to cover him up with that mulch.”

  “I don’t think there’s any question that it was murder. Do you know anyone who would have wanted to kill him?”

  Troy snorted. “The husbands and boyfriends of a dozen or so women.”

  “I know he was your friend, so I hope you won’t think ill of me for asking you this, but do you think Heath could have killed someone?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Dear Sophie,

  My mom and I garden together, but we have one major beef. I say plants should be watered at night. Mom says they should only be watered in the morning. Who’s right?

  —Night Owl in Drytown, California

  Dear Night Owl,

  You are. At the end of the day, plants are parched from the hot sun. Watering them in the evening refreshes them and gives the roots the benefit of the water throughout the cool night.

  —Sophie

  “Heath wasn’t any better or any worse than the rest of us.” Troy bowed his head. “My dad was a less-than-shining example of a human being. When I was a kid, and I was disappointed in him, my mom used to say, ‘We all make mistakes. It’s part of being human.’ It took me a long time to understand that all of us are flawed. The worst people among us have some redeeming qualities. And the ones who seem like angels have made mistakes. And Heath was no angel.”

  It was a very gracious way of saying he thought Heath could have murdered someone. “You’re a good friend, Troy.”

  “I’ve made some mistakes of my own. And this week, I was sorely tempted to commit murder.” He winked at me and left.

  The noise out back melted away, and I knew the production crew had shut down for the day. As tempting as it was to run outside and see what they’d done, I decided against it. After all, at this point, there wasn’t a thing in the world I could do about it. I might as well go along with them and be surprised tomorrow. I had come to terms with the fact that they tore up my plants. Who knew? Maybe I would like it. I would try to keep an open mind.

  I trotted up the stairs and into the bathroom to turn on the shower. Troy’s crew had covered the window with plastic sheeting. They were taking this no-looking business very seriously. I turned on the water and took a long cool shower, delighted to be alone in my own home without any banging or engines in the yard—or Natasha.

  Refreshed, I pulled on a cotton dress the shade of periwinkle flowers and blew my hair into a passable style. Finally doing the relaxing vacation thing of puttering around the house, I watered the herbs in pots outside my kitchen door. I refilled my water jug and opened the front door to water the geraniums in the front.

  The smoky smell of someone cooking on a grill wafted to me. Mona toddled along the sidewalk and stopped to chat with Nina.

  They crossed the street to me. Mona held out a little package, wrapped with a coral ribbon.

  “What’s this?” I asked, pulling the ribbon.

  “A little thank-you. I appreciate all you and Nina have done for Anne.”

  I opened the box and found a sweet little vase.

  “It’s a rosebud vase. Just for a single flower,” said Mona.

  “She gave me one, too!” Nina smiled at Mona. “That really wasn’t necessary.”

  “Thank you, Mona. You didn’t need to do this.” I felt a bit guilty. We’d been hoping to help Wolf.

  Mona glanced at me, licking her lips. “I still want to get inside Wolf’s house.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” I said. “I don’t have a key.”

  She huffed. “Kenner won’t go inside, either. He says he has to have a search warrant unless Wolf gives his permission—and we know that’s not going to happen. Well, if you get any leads, let me know.”

  Nina and I watched her stroll away.

  “I know she needs closure, but I wonder if it would be worse for her if Kenner found Anne’s remains,” said Nina.

  “It’s awful! Either way, there can’t be a happy ending for her.” We headed for my kitchen. “Want some dinner? I thought I’d make a salad with chicken tenders.”

  “After seeing all that Italian dressing, I have it on the brain. Can you make a Caesar salad with Italian dressing?”

  “I don’t think it would be called a Caesar salad, but we can make it any way we want.” I picked up a paring knife and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To cut fresh herbs for the salad. At least Troy didn’t disturb my pots of herbs.” I stepped outside and cut sprigs of parsley, oregano, and thyme and tweaked a branch of leaves off a bushy basil plant. The spicy scents of oregano and basil floated from my little bouquet of herbs. When I returned to the kitchen, Nina was setting the table with a cheerful yellow and blue French tablecloth and round, peacock Fiestaware plates.

  “Maybe we should have asked Mona to stay for dinner,” I said.

  “It’s too bad that we didn’t. I feel terrible for her. Imagine having to live like that. I go nutso when I know there’s an animal missing or scrounging on the streets. If it were my daughter who was missing, I don’t know if I could deal with it.”

  “I wish she weren’t so determined that it was Wolf who killed Anne. I’m beginning to believe Heath must have murdered her. It probably had something to do with the embezzlement. Maybe an argument about giving back the money. But now that he’s dead… We’ll probably never know what happened to her.”

  I rinsed and
dried the herbs. I bundled the basil into little rolls and sliced them into a chiffonade with a chef’s knife, then went over them again to chop them into fine bits for the dressing. The fragrant smell of basil overtook the other scents.

  Nina watched me pull tiny thyme leaves off the stems and chop them. She gasped and pointed at the chopped herbs at the same time that I said, “What does that remind you of?”

  “Maybe the poison is in the Italian dressing!”

  “It would be so easy to mince foxglove and add it to bottled dressing—I bet it wouldn’t even taste very different. Most people probably wouldn’t notice. Call Mars. He should tell the cops to test it.” I finished chopping the oregano and parsley and put them aside. I whisked together white wine vinegar and olive oil, added salt, pepper, and the chopped herbs, and whisked again.

  My phone rang exactly as Nina reached for it. “Wooooo. Spooky!” she said. “Hello? You’re kidding! We’ll be right there.” She nearly jumped up and down. “We caught the cat! That was Francie calling from Roscoe’s house to tell us.”

  I covered the dressing and shoved it into the refrigerator. “Wolf’s car is closest.” I grabbed the keys, locked the house, and the two of us raced to his car.

  Traffic was light, so we made excellent time.

  “It’s too late to take the cat to the shelter tonight,” mused Nina. “I’ll have to take her home. Do you think she’s feral or just skittish?”

  “I don’t think we’ll know until you open the trap.”

  In minutes, we drove up to Roscoe’s house. I counted six cars in the driveway. “Wonder what’s up?”

  A man wearing a clerical collar stepped out of one of the cars.

  Nina and I looked at each other. “Roscoe!” We hurried to the door.

  Happily, Violet had the courtesy to say “Good evening” to the minister. She pointed him toward the family room.

  “Is something wrong with Roscoe?” I asked.

  Violet hovered nervously, glaring at us with those frightening eyes. She wore a black dress with a lacy white collar that was eerily reminiscent of Mrs. Danvers.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  She hissed at us like an angry black cat. “You will not betray me by revealing my indiscretion.”

  “Mum’s the word,” I said, although I suspected she would eventually be outed for removing the mallard print.

  Nina and I sped through the empty family room and out to the patio, where a three-tiered wedding cake waited on a round table. Amazingly lifelike pink and white roses and lilies cascaded down the cake. We stopped short. Dom Pérignon champagne cooled in an ice bucket.

  “Thanks for coming to get the kitty!”

  We looked up. Cricket waved to us from the window. “Audie and I are getting married in a few minutes.” She grinned, obviously deliriously happy.

  A heart-wrenching yowl issued from the direction of the pond.

  Nina and I rushed across the lawn and around the pond. Sure enough, a very unhappy calico cat looked out at us.

  She was gorgeous, though, with long luxurious fur. A queen among cats. But she weighed a ton. Nina and I lifted the trap together, but it was slow going with one of us on each side of it.

  The Greene family and Francie had gathered on the patio. As we neared the house, Audie walked toward us wearing a dark suit with a pink rose in his lapel.

  “Is that the calico cat?” He peered in the trap. “Hi, Cupcake.” He poked a finger into the cage. “Where are you taking her?”

  “To my house tonight, then the shelter,” said Nina. “Is she your cat?”

  “Not really. She comes and rubs against my legs when I putter around the garden. She’s my little Cupcake. Why are you taking her away?”

  Violet hovered just behind him. “Because she’s killing my birds.”

  I leaned toward him and whispered. “Violet was going to poison her.”

  “Violet! You wouldn’t do that to a sweet kitty like this!” He wedged open the trap and pulled out the cat. She snuggled against his chest. Holding up one of her paws and waving it, he spoke in a little kid’s voice. “Hi, Violet. I’m sorry I disturbed your birdies. I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

  I couldn’t help thinking Audie’s behavior was slightly odd, but it worked.

  Violet giggled. “Audie, you rascal!”

  The austere, gloomy woman giggled! She clearly had a very special relationship with Audie. He brought out a completely hidden side of her.

  He stroked Cupcake’s luxurious fur. “Can I have her?” he asked Nina.

  “Absolutely. She needs shots.” She glanced at Violet. “It’s probably unwise to leave her out here.”

  “Hey, Cupcake! How do you feel about being a bridesmaid?” He whispered, “We thought we better speed up the wedding, given Dad’s health issues.” Audie lifted Cupcake into the air and looked up at her. “We’ll get you your shots first thing tom… tom…

  Nina ditched the trap and grabbed Cupcake as Audie clutched his stomach.

  Olive hurried toward us. “Audie?”

  “I’m okay, Mom. Just wedding jitters.”

  “You haven’t eaten anything here, have you?” she asked.

  “Don’t worry so much. Cricket brought food from my house.” He smiled at Nina and me. “I’m so sorry, ladies. Nina, why don’t you put Cupcake in the guest house? She can stay there during the ceremony. Excuse me while I get a drink of water.”

  Olive took a deep breath. “This poisoning that’s going on is very scary. Would you like to stay for the wedding? The cake came from my favorite Old Town bakery, so it’s safe!”

  I accepted for both of us, while Nina carried Cupcake to the guest house.

  “How’s Mindy?” I asked.

  Olive’s mouth twitched to the side. “I understand she’s better now, but they’re keeping her overnight to watch her heart.”

  “Oh?”

  “Digitalis is powerful medicine. It slows the heart. Too much of it can kill you.” Olive spoke unemotionally, as if she were a scientist merely relaying medical facts.

  Nina returned as everyone gathered near the sprawling bed of daisies.

  A woman played the wedding march on a violin, and Roscoe walked Cricket toward us on his arm. She wore a strapless wedding gown with a voluminous ball gown skirt and smiled like it was the happiest day of her life. Her stunning copper hair was pulled back off her face and cascaded down her back in loose curls.

  Audie, on the other hand, had gone white as a ghost. He weaved, and instead of watching his gorgeous bride, he stared at the ground. I thought he might heave right then and there. He doubled over.

  Olive gasped, but Audie waved everyone off and struggled to stand upright. “Continue, please.”

  The minister watched Audie as he recited, “Dearly beloved—”

  “Gah!” Audie fell to the ground and writhed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Dear Natasha,

  My daughter and I garden together. She insists on watering plants in the evening, which I think is wrong. (I suspect it’s because she likes to sleep in.) Who’s right?

  —Early Bird in Drytown, California

  Dear Early Bird,

  You are. The water evaporates on the hot soil and never reaches the roots. In cooler weather, watering late in the day promotes root rot.

  —Natasha

  “Water! He needs water!” shrieked Olive.

  I ran to the guesthouse. Using the phone on the wall in the kitchen, I called 911 and told them what had happened while I filled two glasses with tap water. It spilled over my hands when I ran to Audie with them.

  Olive seized the glasses and propped his head up. “Drink.” She looked up at me. “More water.”

  I wasn’t sure about the wisdom of giving Audie water, but Olive seemed to know what she was doing, so I fetched more water.

  When I returned, Cricket leaned over Audie, screaming his name. “No! No! Not Audie!”

  “Cricket, what did you bring for dinner?
” I asked.

  She looked at me like I had lost my mind.

  “It could be important. What did he eat?”

  “He hasn’t been feeling well and didn’t want anything heavy, so I brought some salad.”

  “With Italian dressing?”

  She blinked at me. “Yes.”

  I grabbed her shoulders. “Where is it? Did anyone else eat any?”

  “It’s in the kitchen at the main house.”

  Audie didn’t look good. He moaned and curled into a fetal position. I feared the person doing the poisoning might have gotten it right this time. I hoped not. Running as fast as I could, I headed for the house, through the family room to the kitchen. A siren grew louder in the distance.

  Most of a salad had been tossed into a tall trash can. A fly landed on it right in front of me. The buzzing stopped immediately and the fly fell over. Not a good sign. I tied the flaps of the trash bag and looked for the dressing. It was in the fridge. Afraid to handle it, I used an oven mitt to stick it inside a plastic bag.

  The EMTs had arrived when I dashed back outside. They fussed with Olive, but she stood her ground. “He has to keep drinking huge quantities of water.”

  “Ma’am, we don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

  “Two other people have been poisoned here over the last couple of days. What do you think is wrong with him? Drink, Audie, keep drinking!”

  I handed an EMT the two bags. “I think the poison is in here.”

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “A salad and dressing. I wouldn’t touch either with bare hands if I were you.”

  He turned his attention to Olive, who coaxed Audie to drink. “Ma’am, we don’t know what the poison is. Drinking water might be contraindicated.”

  “Well I do know—Audie, drink more—and I’m telling you that he needs to drink as much as he possibly can. Vast quantities of water.”

  Roscoe reached for his son’s hand. “You’ll be all right, Audie. Do as your mother says.”

  I didn’t think Audie would drink much more, since he seemed to be in a lot of pain.