Read Diva 02 _ Diva Takes the Cake, The Online
Authors: Krista Davis
Tags: #Winston; Sophie (Fictitious Character), #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #General, #Mystery Fiction, #Women Cooks, #Large Type Books, #Cookery, #Mystery, #Divorced Women, #Cooking, #Divorced Women - Crimes Against, #Weddings, #Crimes Against, #Sisters
Diva 02 _ Diva Takes the Cake, The (27 page)
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“Sophie!” He said my name softly but with undisguised lust. “You’re not dressed . . .”
I yanked him inside. If a long T-shirt nightie excited him that much, he needed a girlfriend—but not me. I felt a little bit guilty, but I invoked Mars’s name anyway to quell his eagerness. “You look like you could use some coffee. Mars is already here.” I pointed Humphrey toward the kitchen and ran up to shower and dress before Humphrey got any more ideas.
I was stepping into a sleeveless print dress the colors of mangos, lemons, and papayas, when Hannah burst in, wearing nothing but a towel.
“I’m trying to avoid Craig,” she whispered.
“He’s staying here,” I whispered back. “I don’t think that game plan will work very long.”
She sat on my bed, her skin damp. “What am I going to do?” She didn’t cry, but she was breathing so hard that I could see her shoulders move with each breath.
“First go through my closet and find something to wear. Then come downstairs and help me with brunch.” Her head sagged. “Hannah! He doesn’t have a reason in the world to hurt you.” I sat next to her, wrapped my arm around her, and told her about Uncle Stan dating Emily. I thought it would reassure her and that she would be comforted by the thought that Craig had no reason to knock her off, but Hannah tensed and said, “Then why did Emily come here?”
I could only imagine one reason. “To warn you about Craig.”
Hannah shivered. “If that’s true, then everything he said about her was a lie.”
“Probably. Can you think of anything that would help Wolf?”
She sat up straight. “That’s the key, isn’t it? That’s my only way out of this mess—to remember details that might tie him to the killings.”
The door knocker sounded again downstairs, reminding me that the caterers and hungry guests were arriving. After a quick look in the mirror, I put on gold earrings, urged Hannah to find something cheery in my closet to wear, and bounded out the door.
But footsteps overhead stopped me cold. Jen didn’t weigh enough to make that kind of clomping sound. I made it no farther than the first step when Tucker traipsed down the stairs from the third floor.
“Good morning, dear sister-in-law. Have you seen my sweet Hannah?”
I intended to grill him, but the door to Craig’s room opened and I was caught in a bind.
“I think you’ll find what you’re looking for in my bedroom.” To Craig, I feigned friendliness. “Was that your father I heard downstairs? I’m so sorry about Stan. How is Robert taking it?”
Thankfully, Craig followed me down the stairs and, as much as Hannah probably didn’t relish being alone with Tucker, at least she didn’t have to fear being alone with Craig right now.
The caterers, as well as Phoebe and Joel, had just arrived, so I solved the problem by sending Phoebe up to rescue Hannah from Tucker. Joel joined the growing crowd in the kitchen, bubbling about seeing Robert E. Lee’s boyhood home. He helped himself to coffee, and I couldn’t help noticing how different his mood was from the rest of us.
He high-fived with Jen about something and asked if she’d been to Lee’s house.
Mom smiled at Joel’s fervor and murmured to me, “He’s such a nice man. Why can’t Hannah meet someone like that?”
“He’s available,” I whispered.
“No! They broke up? What a shame. Hmm, now what can I do to bring them together again?”
“Mom,” I warned, “stay out of it.”
She ignored me. “Paul, we have all that champagne left. How about pouring some and splashing a little bit of leftover peach schnapps in it?”
“Do they have a name?” Dad asked.
Jen chirped, “Schnappinis? Schnapeachies?”
As I poured coffee into the samovar, Joel opened the kitchen door for Nina and Hermione. Hermione sniffed Joel’s feet and looked up at him hopefully. “Sorry, I don’t have any doggy treats today.” He stooped to pet Hermione, who wagged her tail and didn’t run away.
Humphrey hovered near me, too close for comfort. “I need to talk with you. Privately.”
I didn’t have time for Humphrey, but he pleaded with sad eyes and I let him tow me into the family room.
Whispering, he said, “I know Mars holds your heart, but I think Wolf is interested in you, too.”
I didn’t care which one he thought I was involved with as long as he left me alone. “Humphrey, when everyone goes home, we’ll work on introducing you to some women.”
“They found your fingerprints on the knife that was used in Stan’s murder. Kenner wanted to bring you in for questioning, but Wolf wouldn’t hear of it and walked out on Kenner. Everyone’s talking about it down at the morgue.”
For a second, my heart beat a little faster. Maybe it wasn’t over with Wolf. “Of course they found my prints. I didn’t wear gloves when I put the knife on the table. Did they find any other prints?”
“They haven’t identified them yet.”
They would be as inconclusive as mine. Any number of people might have handled the knife. “Thanks, Humphrey. I appreciate the update.”
He beamed but his eyelids sagged, and I wondered if he’d slept at all. “Did you get any coffee?” He followed me into the kitchen, and I poured him a mug.
Craig leaned against the kitchen counter, a glass of orange juice in his hand. “Is Hannah up?”
I tried to buy her time. “She’s getting dressed.”
“I need to check on my father. It would be nice if my wife came with me.”
All conversation came to a halt. I could see apprehension on my parents’ faces. Hannah would panic if she knew Craig wanted to be alone with her. We needed to give her a reason to stay with us.
“Shouldn’t she stick around here to entertain her guests?” I hoped I’d said it casually and immediately poured orange juice into a pitcher.
Mom jumped on it. “Craig, dear, it would be impolite if she abandoned the people who worked so hard for you two yesterday.”
“Very nice—my own wife won’t go with me to console my father.” He gazed around at us. “Where’s Darby?”
THIRTY-ONE
From “THE GOOD LIFE”:Dear Sophie,I’m conflicted. I’m a do-it-yourself kind of gal, but I keep reading that I should leave my wedding to experts. It seems like I could save a lot of money by doing things myself, like baking my own cake and arranging the flowers.—Labor of Love in LovedaleDear Labor,It’s easy to create your own table numbers, menus, save the date announcements, and place cards ahead of time. You can prepare favors in advance, too. But food, flowers, and cake need to be fresh. Do you have a refrigerator large enough to accommodate the cake? Where will you store the flower arrangements if you make them the day before?It’s a lot of work setting everything up, especially if you have the ceremony in one place and the reception in another. You will be very busy on your wedding day. Don’t wear yourself out trying to do everything. Hire the pros to do some of it for you.—Sophie
Pretending to be unconcerned, I said, “Darby left.”
Craig banged his glass down on the granite countertop so hard I thought it might shatter. “Darby!” He raced out of the kitchen, and I could hear his heavy footsteps heading for the den.
Feeling anything but calm, I strained to show a placid outer demeanor and checked on the caterers setting up a buffet in the dining room. It was an odd assortment, the result of a compromise between Mom and Hannah—white cheddar grits and peppered ham biscuits for the southerners, hash browns, scrambled eggs, bacon, spinach quiche, pasta with artichokes, and assorted pastries.
As I passed through the foyer, Jen raced down the stairs.
“Someone stole my tiara. It’s gone!”
Craig swept back through and overheard. His stormy expression changed to amusement. He reached into his pocket, crouched, and fastened a diamond necklace on Jen’s neck. “This is much better,” he whispered.
The necklace looked like Emily’s. Jen ran off to admire it in a mirror. “Is that real?” I asked, wondering if it
had
been Emily’s.
had
been Emily’s.
“I was going to give it to Hannah as a wedding gift, but then Stan gave her one. The way things stand between us now, well, Jen will probably appreciate it more.” He took a great breath. “When did Darby leave?”
“Early this morning.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. It had been morning, technically speaking. I hoped that would buy her more time. “She’s probably still on the train.” Moving with care so I wouldn’t show my nervousness, I returned to the kitchen with him and offered him a Schnappini.
Craig’s rigid stance betrayed his fury. It seemed as though everyone in the kitchen held their breath. Even Mochie and the dogs kept their eyes on Craig as if he might explode.
Mom came to the rescue. “Please be sure to express our sympathies to your father, Craig. We couldn’t be more horrified by the tragic death of your uncle.”
The others chimed in, murmuring condolences. Craig acknowledged them with a simple “Thank you” and left through the front door. From the kitchen window, I watched him walk away, his hands stuffed into his pants pockets, his head down as if deep in thought.
“Thank goodness!” said Nina. “That was frightening. Poor Hannah, to be married to such a man.”
Dad jumped from his chair and peered out the window. “He’s gone.” He scanned those of us present. “I want to know where everyone was yesterday afternoon.”
“And what you saw,” I added.
Joel jumped right in, almost too eagerly. “Phoebe wanted to get dressed here and help Hannah, so we came back early. I hung out in the garden mostly. Humphrey was there, too. Sophie and Natasha were quibbling about the ice bar. Then I came in and watched golf on TV in the family room before I changed clothes. I passed through the sunroom on my way to the bathroom, and, I’m sorry to say this, but I saw Craig entering the shed.”
That news startled Humphrey. “I didn’t watch golf. I was trying to get a minute to talk to Sophie, but she was too busy. I remember Inga serving iced tea and handing boutonnieres to Robert to distribute.”
“What time was that?” I asked.
Mom sipped a Bloody Mary. “Well before the ceremony. I felt so sorry for that young man who was taking care of the ice. You’d think he would have been freezing, but it was right warm outside.”
“The ice guy,” I mused. “Why didn’t he see anything?”
Mom tsked. “I’m afraid that was my fault. I invited the ice fellow into the family room to cool off. He watched golf with the boys.”
“What about the string quartet?” I asked.
“I didn’t come over until I saw the musicians unloading their cars.” Nina watched Hermione, who behaved surprisingly well. “I showed them the way, and a whole bunch of people were already in the backyard.”
“Rather a fun parlor game.” Tucker picked up his coffee and spoke dramatically, like a has-been actor. “On my arrival, Natasha’s mother fed me a dreadful concoction—but now that I think about it, my head did clear up. I, too, wit nessed the amusing squabble between Sophie and Natasha. I had to wait while Stan changed clothes in the den. When he left, I took my turn, then rested my weary self on the settee in the sunroom and dozed off. On waking, I joined the golfers in the family room.” With a flourish, he took an elaborate bow.
“Joel, I presume you saw Tucker on your way through the sunroom?” asked Dad.
“Absolutely. He was snoring.”
“Inga?” asked Dad.
“I think you can count out Hannah, the bridesmaids, and me,” said Mom. “Between dressing, makeup, and hair, none of us were paying much attention to the backyard.”
I paced the kitchen floor. “We’re overlooking something here. Who was the last one of us to see Stan alive?”
Joel piped up. “Right before I went inside, Stan was checking out the ice bar. I remember that distinctly because he was kidding around about how your tongue would stick to it if you licked it.”
“Inga,” said Dad, “did you see Stan in the house?”
A frown wrinkle appeared in the middle of Mom’s forehead. “I remember that he changed clothes in the den. But I was busy with Robert. He was so proud of Craig and tickled pink to be best man. He said hundreds of years ago, the bride was often stolen from another village, and the best man’s job was to stand by with a sword and make sure her family didn’t whisk her away on her wedding day.”
“This is all irrelevant,” clucked Tucker, slouched on the window seat. “The suspects aren’t present. We should be asking where Darby, Craig, and Robert were.”
Mom eyed him with irritation. “Robert took the box of boutonnieres to hand out to the men.” Pointing at Tucker, she said, “And I distinctly recall you waltzing in here with a shameful hangover, young man.”
Hoping they would think of something significant, I snagged Jen to help me set the table. We had so many beautiful flowers left that centerpieces would be a snap. I thought Hannah might have had enough of pink, so Jen picked a yellow tablecloth and helped me set it with white plates. The living room was a disaster area, full of tables and chairs from dinner the night before. I moved Natasha’s enormous heart topiary to the desk in the den and dragged a folding screen to the opening between the two rooms in an effort to block off the unsightly view. While Jen folded multicolored French Provincial napkins into diamond shapes, as she’d seen on Natasha’s show, the catering crew departed.
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