The Diva Takes the Cake

by Davis, Krista

  Mars gave me a friendly squeeze. “Frighten another man away?”

  I gently jabbed my elbow into his stomach.

  “Oof. Don’t be so touchy.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. “You were at my house when I left.”

  “Natasha called and insisted I come down here to pick up chocolate mousse. Is the plural of mousse mousses? So many mysteries. I don’t know why Natasha is so fascinated with that Mordecai guy, either.”

  “She’s trying to set him up with her mother, you dolt. She said as much yesterday when she caught Wanda and Robert canoodling in my potting shed.”

  “Before Stan died, I hope. Well, color me stupid! That explains a lot.”

  We turned the corner and headed for home. “Don’t you two ever talk?”

  Unfortunately, Wolf hadn’t made it far. He glowered at the sight of Mars and me but wasted no time in asking Mars, “Do you know where Natasha was when Emily was killed?”

  Mars blinked. “At work?”

  Wolf locked his gaze on Mars in a way that made me want to squirm, but it didn’t appear to faze Mars, who was used to taking on politicians. “You were in a meeting with half a dozen people who confirmed your presence. Bernie’s employees verified that he was at the restaurant, but oddly enough, we have no confirmation of Natasha’s oblique explanation of her whereabouts.”

  “Surely you don’t suspect Natasha of strangling Emily?” said Mars.

  “I’m just saying we have a lot of peculiar issues that remain unsettled, and Natasha is one of them.” Apparently satisfied that he’d unnerved Mars, Wolf said, “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  He strode away, and I suspected he’d been all too happy to slam Mars a fastball. “Do you know where Natasha was?”

  “No. I didn’t know she’d dodged giving the cops a straight answer, either.”

  “Your mousses are probably melting.”

  He lifted the box in his hand. “Guess I’d better go home and do a little interrogating of my own.”

  We walked in the direction of our homes. Birds chirped and proud parents pushed strollers past us. It was impossible to believe that someone had murdered Emily and Stan in our backyards.

  As we passed Mordecai’s house, we saw Natasha and Detective Kenner speaking with him on the front porch. He appeared agitated. Holding Emmaline, he pointed a quivering finger at me. “This is your sister’s fault. I saw her walking right by here the morning she killed that woman.”

  I recoiled and Mars stepped in front of me as if to shield me. So Mordecai was the neighbor who’d reported seeing Hannah on the day of Emily’s murder. “Hannah didn’t kill anyone. Even if she did walk by your house, that’s not a crime or proof of a crime.”

  Mars whispered, “We should go.” He took my arm and coaxed me around.

  Natasha surprised me by squeezing between Mars and me. She hooked her arm into Mars’s and pulled him close as we crossed the street to my house.

  As soon as I opened the front door, we heard happy chatter. Daisy, Mochie, and Hermione raced to the foyer to see who had arrived. Jen followed, carrying two leashes. “Gramps and I are going to walk the dogs.” I held the door for them as they left.

  I could hear Natasha in the dining room. “Mother! Kevin! What are you doing here?” I joined them and found my family and Hannah’s friends still gathered around the table. Mars was already helping himself to the buffet. Wanda and Kevin exchanged a guilty look, and Wanda spoke slowly, like she was making up an answer as she went. “When you didn’t come right home, we went looking for you.”

  “How thoughtful.” Natasha peered at the selection of now cold dishes. “Sophie, couldn’t you cook something special for the wedding breakfast?”

  If she didn’t eat barbecue, I suspected hash browns were beneath her, too. “I think there are hash browns, aren’t there, Mom?”

  Natasha’s jaw clenched. I enjoyed her quandary a bit too much. Her mother served hash browns every day at the diner where she worked, and I knew Natasha wouldn’t dare insult her by being haughty about them.

  “None for me!” Natasha turned on her sweet TV persona. “I’m watching my weight.” She scootched an empty chair over to Kevin and tried to wedge it between him and Phoebe. They grudgingly made room for her.

  Mars surprised me by pulling out a chair for me. He hadn’t done that in years. Naturally, that little gesture did not escape my mother. To make matters worse, he set a plate of food in front of me and brought me a mug of coffee.

  Natasha’s nostrils flared. Folding a napkin in her hand, she wiped an imaginary crumb from Kevin’s mouth. I thought he might lose his breakfast. Instead he leaped to his feet, his chair scraping across the floor. “Thank you for brunch.”

  I couldn’t blame him for wanting to escape, but I’d managed two bites of quiche and wanted nothing in the world more than to sit and enjoy a meal.

  Nevertheless, Kevin’s departure signaled an end to brunch, and before I knew it, Mars, Tucker, and I were the only ones left at the table.

  A melody played and Tucker clamped his hands over his ears.

  Mom stuck her head in the dining room. “What is that? It’s driving me nuts.”

  The soft jingle stopped playing as Jen and Dad returned. “Must be Darby’s phone.”

  “Do you have Darby’s landline number? She’ll be looking all over for that thing.” Mom brushed imaginary crumbs off her blouse. “I hope you don’t mind if I skip the brunch cleanup. I need to pack if we’re going to leave soon. Jen, honey, can you pack your own bag?”

  Hannah emerged from the foyer, worry lines etching her face. “You’re leaving?”

  “Well, Hannah, I’m not sure there’s anything more we can do. Craig is leaving for New Jersey, and Sophie will be here with you.”

  With an irritated glance at my mom, Dad wrapped an arm around Hannah. “If it would make you feel better, then we’ll stay.”

  Mom tapped her fingernail on the buffet. “I could arrange for someone to fill in for me at the hospital volunteer desk, but your father has a Fourth of July parade committee meeting, and Jen would miss the first days of the children’s summer theater group.”

  That was my mom. Micromanaging three lives.

  “Hannah, we’ll certainly stay if you need us. It’s your decision.” Hannah and I knew the answer when Mom used that tone.

  “You should go.” Hannah put on a confident face. “We’ll be fine. Besides, it would be safer for Jen.”

  Tucker preened like a mating bird. “I’ll take care of my darling Hannah and drive her home to Berrysville whenever she likes.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

  “You needn’t bother trying to seduce me. I know you better than anyone, and I haven’t forgotten the reasons for our divorce.”

  At least Hannah wasn’t being sucked in by him.

  “Isn’t it time you were on your way, Tucker?” asked Dad. “There must be someone else you could irritate.”

  “I am duty bound to the winsome Hannah.”

  Dad shuddered. “Given the circumstances, Hannah, perhaps you ought to go back with us today.” Glaring at Tucker, he added, “It would remove you from harm’s way.”

  Humphrey shyly sidled up to Hannah. “I can drive you home whenever you’re ready to go.”

  Hannah squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I have a responsibility to Emily and Stan. They came here because of me. I have the week off, and if it’s okay with Sophie, I believe I should stay and do whatever I can to help in the search for their killer.”

  “That’s my girl.” Clearly satisfied, Mom went upstairs.

  “Be careful.” Dad followed Mom, saying, “Jen, you’d better hustle. You don’t want to keep Gramma waiting.”

  Humphrey, the wan ninety-pound weakling, said, “I’ll stay by your side, Hannah. I won’t allow that dreadful man to whisk you away.”

  Tucker laughed at him, which produced a beet red flush on Humphrey’s pale jaw.<
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  But Hannah handled them graciously. “You’re both very sweet. We need to put our heads together and figure out what happened. There must be something we’re overlooking.”

  I didn’t want to ask Hannah about Mordecai’s accusation, but I had to know. “Mordecai says he saw you walking by his house around the time Emily was murdered.”

  Hannah frowned. “I was mad at Craig and got out of the car three blocks away. But I came straight here.”

  That sounded like something Hannah would do.

  They settled in the sunroom, but while they speculated, I excused myself to phone Darby at home. As I dialed, I wondered if Craig or Robert would bring her cell phone to her. She’d clearly been afraid of Craig. Maybe she wouldn’t want him to come to her home.

  An answering machine picked up the call. “This is Donata, you know what to do!”

  THIRTY-THREE

  From “THE GOOD LIFE”:

  Dear Sophie,

  One of my daughter’s bridesmaids has the most awful tattoo of a dragon on her breast. The tail comes up in the middle of her cleavage, and it looks like a creature jumped into her bra. The bridesmaid dresses aren’t low cut, but we can’t cover up that tail unless the girl wears a turtle-neck. I’ve told my daughter that she has to pick another bridesmaid and write off Dragon Lady, but she refuses.

  —No Lizards Please in Slaughter Beach

  Dear No Lizards,

  Kudos to your daughter for standing up for her friendship with Dragon Lady. Although ordinary makeup seldom covers tattoos, there are now companies selling kits that can cover the darkest dragon tails.

  —Sophie

  Donata? It sounded like Darby. I must have dialed wrong. I tried again. The same perky tape answered again. The Jersey accent sounded like Darby’s. Maybe she had a roommate?

  I debated leaving a message and finally said, “This is Sophie. Just wanted you to know that Darby left her cell phone at my house and I think she might have mine. Call me if you want Craig or Robert to bring it to New Jersey.” If I had the wrong number, the Donata person could ignore the message. If Donata lived with Darby, I hoped she would pass it along.

  I perched on the desk chair and typed the number into a reverse directory on the Internet. It turned up under the name D. Franchini. Donata Franchini, probably. There could be half a dozen explanations. Idly, I searched “Donata Franchini,” but all the results were for women in Italy.

  “Hannah,” I called into the sunroom, “did Craig or Darby ever mention someone named Franchini?”

  Hannah appeared in the doorway with Craig behind her. Where did he come from?

  “Nope,” she said, her jaw tense.

  “Where’d you get that name?” asked Craig.

  When did he return? I promptly shut down the computer. Darby’s fear rushed back to me, and I wanted to protect her. It seemed imprudent to mention her name, and I was at a loss to explain my question. “Craig.” I forced myself to sound pleasant. “How’s your dad?”

  “Torn up. He’s taking it very hard.”

  Unlike his son, apparently. “Is there anything we can do for him?”

  Craig placed a hand on Hannah’s shoulder, and her eyes sprung wide. “You can convince Hannah to come to New Jersey with us. Meeting the newest member of the family might soften the blow of losing Stan.”

  Hannah gulped and appeared frightened but quickly composed herself. “Not this time, Craig. We have some things to resolve first.” She turned and pushed past him and must have been desperate to find something to do because my sister, who detests cleaning even more than I do, suggested that everyone pitch in to help clean up the brunch dishes.

  I joined them in the dining room. Humphrey and Hannah carried dirty dishes to the kitchen, but Tucker, not used to lifting anything heavier than a poker chip, stared out the window at the street.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” I said, though I suspected they weren’t worth that much.

  “Saint Thomas Aquinas said ‘Justice is a certain rectitude of mind whereby a man does what he ought to do in circumstances confronting him.’ ”

  Maybe his thought was worth more than one penny. I stopped stacking dishes. Did that mean he knew something about the murders? “And what ought you to do in these circumstances?”

  He held up a finger and bowed his head, as if deep in thought. The finger waggled and he said, “Atlantic City.”

  “What about it?”

  He swung around to face me. “That’s where I know Stan from.”

  “You knew Uncle Stan?”

  “Well, not to speak to. I didn’t know him by name, but he was a fairly distinctive guy, being so tall and all. I just couldn’t place him until now. He hung with some unsavory types.”

  “You should tell Wolf.”

  He smacked a hand over his mouth, and for one fleeting moment I thought he’d remembered something. But he removed his hand and grinned. “I should have set up a poker game with him. Missed my chance.”

  I sighed. Why had I thought for even a moment that Tucker might think of something other than himself?

  I carried the leftovers into the kitchen, wrapped them in foil, and stashed them in the fridge.

  The reassuring murmur of Hannah and her friends in the kitchen followed me when I returned to the dining room. I paused to look out the window where Tucker had stood and saw Nina running along the sidewalk toward Natasha’s house.

  Fearing something was wrong, I rushed to the front door, slammed it behind me, and loped along the sidewalk. Little Hermione dodged back and forth across the street with Nina chasing after her.

  I raced toward them, hoping to herd Hermione in Nina’s direction. But the impish dachshund dodged both of us and wedged herself under Natasha’s gate. I caught up to Nina at the yellow tape.

  “She dashed out the front door. At first all she did was hide, but now she thinks she’s the queen of the neighborhood.” Nina fingered the yellow police tape. “I have to go in and get her.”

  She had no choice. It wasn’t like she could explain the meaning of the yellow tape to Hermione.

  Nina unlatched the gate and we slipped through to forbidden territory. All I could think of was Emily. When we rounded the corner, I half-expected to see her, but the beautiful pergola stood alone and abandoned.

  “There she is.” Nina pointed toward the garage in the rear, where Hermione was digging in the soft soil of Natasha’s flower garden.

  “You come around from the side and I’ll go for her straight on.” Nina flexed her fingers like she was ready to grab the little dog. “If we’re very quiet, maybe she won’t see us coming.”

  I stole across the yard, changed direction, and hurried to the rear. Crouching, I prepared to stop the clever dog if she bolted. Across from me, Nina stepped stealthily toward her.

  As Nina bent to grab her, I heard heated voices.

  A figure moved in the shadows of Natasha and Mars’s garage, giving me a jolt. It turned out to be Mars, who scurried toward me, a finger pressed across his lips.

  “It’s not working, is it?”

  “Obviously not.” Natasha sounded angry. “I’ve done everything except howl at the moon.”

  Holding a wriggling Hermione, Nina joined Mars and me to listen.

  “Maybe you should visit her again. I’ll go with you this time.”

  “All right. But Mother, be careful. Mars saw the chamomile in his wineglass last night. He confronted me about it when he came home.”

  “No wonder it didn’t do the trick. What did you tell him?”

  “What could I say? I made up something about wanting to calm him. He was furious with me. And then this morning he ran straight to Sophie’s house again. I’m getting desperate . . .”

  The voices came closer. Mars signaled wildly and the three of us sprinted across the yard toward the passage leading to the front gate.

  Once we were safely on the other side of the yellow tape, Mars asked, “What in the devil could they be plotting?”

&nb
sp; I felt sorry for him. Of course, I wasn’t the idiot who had fallen for Natasha. Considering the amount of time he’d spent at my house lately, I wondered if their problems ran deeper than I’d suspected. “Have you been fighting?”

  “Not at all.”

  Nina shifted Hermione in her arms. “Want me to talk to her?”

  “Oh, right,” I said. “I forgot you were such good friends. I’m sure she’ll reveal her darkest secrets to you.”