Diva Runs Out Of Thyme

TWENTY-ONE

From “Ask Natasha” :

Dear Natasha,

I’m having a party Thanksgiving weekend and want to decorate the staircase in my small foyer. What can I do besides cheesy swags and bows?

—Harried in Herndon

Dear Harried,

One of my favorite decorations is simple and quick. Collect twenty or so colorful leaves from your yard and place them between the pages of an old book for a few days so they’ll dry flat. Buy enough clear glass votives to place one on each step of your staircase. Using rough twine, tie one of the pressed leaves around each glass. Some will be too large and stand taller than the glass but that’s okay. If you don’t have time to press the leaves, you can vary this by substituting berries or interesting twigs. Don’t worry about hiding the rough knot or bow, that’s part of the charm. Place a candle in each glass and light. When your guests arrive, they’ll enter to a seasonal cascade of festive lights.

—Natasha

“Bernie?” Fear clutched at me. I wanted to imagine there was a logical explanation for his brunch with Mrs. Pulchinski, but Wolf’s demand dampened that hope.

Bernie emerged from the kitchen.

I invited Wolf in and the two men shook hands.

“We’ll speak in your sunroom, if you don’t mind.” Wolf headed in that direction with Bernie behind him. Mochie ran ahead of them. My poor parents were stuck and would hear the conversations on both sides of them.

I should bring Wolf and Bernie something to drink. It was the hospitable thing to do and it wouldn’t hurt if I happened to overhear something while I carried it in to them.

Irish coffees were out of the question. Bernie needed to be sober when he answered Wolf’s questions and Wolf was clearly on duty. Working fast, I put on more of the Viennese coffee. While it brewed, I sidled along the hallway to eavesdrop.

I could hear Bernie saying, “I don’t see what’s so unusual about it. I was invited for Thanksgiving, not the days before. One doesn’t want to be the guest that smells like stinking fish. Besides, I had some banking to do in the city and I didn’t know quite how far away Natasha’s grand country estate might be.”

“What kind of banking?”

“Changing pounds to dollars. And I had a rather complicated transaction for my mum. She needed funds from an account in England wired to her in Shanghai.”

I hurried back to the kitchen, poured two mugs of coffee, quickly added sugar, cream, napkins, and spoons to a tray and carried it into the sunroom.

When I walked in, Wolf said, “Exactly when did you arrive in Washington?”

Bernie took a mug of coffee from me. “Thanks, Soph. I flew in the day before the contest. That would have been . . . Tuesday morning.”

“How did you choose the hotel?” When I held out a mug to Wolf, he waved me away. I set his mug on the glass-topped wrought-iron side table next to him and left the tray on the oversized ottoman I used as a coffee table.

“When I talked to Mars on the phone, he mentioned the stuffing contest. I saw an article about it in the Miami Herald and thought it would be most expedient to stay in that hotel Tuesday night. Mars and Natasha would be there on Wednesday and I could follow them back to Natasha’s place in my rental car. Frankly, Detective, I don’t see why any of this matters.”

I assumed I wasn’t supposed to be present and feared Wolf would throw me out any minute, so I backed slowly to the door.

“Did you know Simon Greer?”

Bernie leaned back on the sofa and casually crossed a leg over his knee. “I never met the man.”

I lingered in the doorway, guilt banging at my conscience.

“Did you see him when he was dead?”

“That’s rather ghoulish, isn’t it?”

“Let me make this easy for you. Were you ever in the Washington Room?”

“I presume that’s the place Simon set up camp? No, I had no reason to hunt him down.”

“Even after he was dead?”

“What are you suggesting? That I mutilated his corpse? Tampered with evidence?”

Wolf’s back was to me. I wished I could see his expression.

He said, “The key card to your hotel room was found in the Washington Room.”

Bernie scratched the back of his neck. “Is this some absurd American method of prompting a confession? Because it’s not working.”

Good move, Bernie. Aggravate the man with the handcuffs. I waved my hands at Bernie and shook my head in dismay.

Wolf didn’t miss the twisted grin on Bernie’s face or the fact that his eyes focused on me.

Without turning, Wolf said, “I’d appreciate some privacy, Sophie.”

Appropriately chastened, I slunk into the hallway.

My conscience worked overtime. Wolf clearly did not want me to listen. But if I remained completely quiet, I could hear from the hallway and he wouldn’t know about it. I should do the right thing and return to the kitchen. Or I could dust the pictures hanging in the hallway . . .

“Where is everybody?”

Mars! I scurried to the kitchen before he gave away my location.

Wearing black gloves and a leather bomber jacket that resembled Craig’s, he roughhoused with Daisy.

“Very snazzy. New duds?”

He peeled off the gloves. “Everything we own reeks of smoke. I had no idea that smoke alone could do so much damage.”

Mochie zoomed into the kitchen and flew onto the table, where he watched Mars. Mars tossed the new jacket over a chair, stroked Mochie, and turned his attention to the kitchen counter. “Is this the cranberry cake I like so much?”

I could take a hint. I cut a piece for him and poured coffee into two mugs. He didn’t bother to sit down. He retrieved a fork and ate while standing. “Is Bernie here? I want to borrow his rental.”

“Wolf is questioning him in the sunroom.”

“About what?”

“Where he was, what he did, and why the key card to his hotel room was found in the conference room where Simon was killed.”

Mars set his coffee down. “They’re desperate. When they question someone from England who didn’t even know the victims, they’re reaching.”

I hoped Mars was right. I hated to think that Bernie could be involved somehow. Between England, Hong Kong, Shanghai, and Miami, his world, like Simon’s, was much larger than mine. Unfortunately, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities that he’d hired Otis and come here for a specific reason.

Mars checked his watch. “I can’t hang around here long. Have you seen his car keys?”

“You can’t just steal his car.”

“It’s not stealing between Bernie and me.” Mars spied the jacket Bernie left in the kitchen. He took a long swig of coffee, picked up the jacket, and felt the pockets. “Aha!”

“What’s wrong with your car?”

“Nothing.” He fumbled in his pants pocket and tossed his keys onto the counter. “In case Bernie needs to go anywhere.” He reached for the last bite of cake.

I snatched it away and held it as a bribe. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t need that last bite, you know.”

“Of course you don’t.” I cut another tiny slice and added it to the plate. I waved it under his nose but pulled it back when he reached for it.

“Okay, but no sharing this with Wolf. I didn’t know that Nat hired Otis until you told me. She shares almost everything with me, but she skipped that, which worries me. There’s only one other thing that she won’t tell me. I tease her about it all the time, but it didn’t matter until now. Once a week she turns off her cell phone and disappears for a few hours.”

I handed him the plate with cake on it.

He ate a piece before continuing. “It never bothered me before. Everybody needs some private time, right? But now that she’s being stalked, I’m afraid she’s gotten herself into a mess and doesn’t know how to handle it. That has to be the reason she hired a private investigator. It all fits together with the not sleeping and the lack of appetite.”

I was glad he told me but didn’t quite understand. “What’s that got to do with Bernie’s car?”

“I’m going to follow her. Maybe I can identify her stalker. If nothing else, I’ll know where she goes every week. I need Bernie’s rental so no one will realize it’s me—at least not right away.”

Wolf’s voice filtered to us from the hallway.

“Gotta go.” Mars snarfed the rest of his cake. “Not a word to Wolf.” He grabbed his jacket and gloves. “Oh, and if Andrew comes in here looking for me, you don’t know where I am.” He rushed out into the cold without bothering to bundle up.

The door clicked shut seconds before Wolf walked into the kitchen.

“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked.

I wanted to interpret his question as flirtatious but his demeanor was definitely angry cop. “Nina told you . . .”

“Never mind what Nina said. I want to know if you’re dating anyone.”

“No.” Did he mean Humphrey? I thought he’d misconstrued Humphrey’s words on Thanksgiving when he walked in on us in the kitchen. “Humphrey appears to be suffering from delusions stemming from a childhood crush, but it’s nothing.”

Wolf raised his chin. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss him. Anyone else? What about Bernie?”

What did he mean about dismissing Humphrey? “Bernie is an old friend. He was Mars’s best man at our wedding.”

Wolf stared into the fireplace, deep in thought. “That’s right. Can’t forget about Mars. What did you do after the stuffing contest?”

Clearly, romantic thoughts had not been the source of his questions about my love life. “You should know. I was driven down to the police station to relinquish my clothes.”

“And after that?”

“You were here Thanksgiving Day. Maybe you didn’t notice all the food? I was home all night cooking and baking.”

“You didn’t go out for dinner, to get take-out, make a quick grocery run?”

His line of questioning annoyed me, mostly because I didn’t understand what he was getting at. “You have my car, remember?”

He loosened his tie. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

“I’d like to know why you’re asking these odd questions.”

“Thanks for your time.” He headed for the front door and let himself out.

So much for Mom’s theory that he was sweet on me. And then it hit me. He was trying to figure out who might have buried the turkey in Natasha’s yard. It could have been me or someone who liked me enough to do an important favor for me. After all, as far as I knew, I was the only one who remembered seeing the bloody turkey trophy. He thought I’d planted it.

The kitchen door opened behind me and Andrew stuck his head in. “Where’s Mars?”

I didn’t have to lie. “I don’t know.”

“His car’s outside, he must be here somewhere.”

“He left the car here, but I don’t know where he went.”

“Shoot!” Andrew came in and shut the door. “How about Mom? Is she here?”

“She’s entertaining the colonel in the living room.”

“I think I’ll join them.”

I placed my hand against his chest to stop him. “There might be a little romance brewing. You wouldn’t want to spoil that.”

“At her age? You’re kidding me, right?”

“How about a piece of cake?” Maybe that would distract him.

“Sure.” He plopped into a fireside chair. “Did Vicki tell you I’m going to become a private investigator? Yeah. I’ve been watching Wolf, it’s not that hard. Andrew Winston, detective. Sounds pretty cool. I’ve been following Mars. He doesn’t know, so don’t tell him. You know, to protect him in case the killer goes after him again.”

I handed him a plate of cake and said, “Definitely cool.” Mars obviously knew that Andrew was tailing him. I couldn’t help wondering what Vicki really thought about Andrew’s latest career plan.

“I’m way ahead of the game. I’ve got this murder all figured out, well almost, and Wolf is still working on it. And he has people helping him.”

Pouring his coffee could wait. I perched on the other chair, anxious to hear Andrew’s theory. “Spill it.”

“It’s elementary, my dear Watson. The killer talked Francie into making that scene outside so everyone would leave the table and he could poison Mars’s soup. But, you ask, why would he want to kill Mars? He didn’t. He meant to kill me because I knew too much.”

I had a feeling Andrew intended to drag out his story for his own amusement so I rose and fetched his coffee after all.

“You know how they say the killer always revisits the scene of the crime? On Thanksgiving morning I went over to the hotel looking for Mom. She’d left Natasha’s house in a snit the night before and all. But in my new profession as a private detective, I stopped to check out the Washington Room where Simon was killed. There was yellow tape up but that never applies to those of us in the profession. And who did I see there? Craig, surreptitiously looking for something.”

I hadn’t expected to hear Craig named as a suspect. I thought for sure Andrew would point a finger at Natasha. “Have you told Wolf?”

He beamed with pride. “Give away my secrets? No way. I’ll reveal the killer when I’m ready. I’m so good at this. I can’t believe it’s taken me this many years to figure out that detective work is what I was meant to do.”

“Are you absolutely sure it was Craig?”

“Not a doubt in my mind. He wore running shoes and a big sweatshirt from Georgetown U.”

That cinched it for me. Craig left here to run and clearly ran over to the hotel for some reason. But there were major holes in Andrew’s theory. “Why did Craig kill Simon?”

“Because . . .” Andrew raised his index finger. “. . . I haven’t figured out that part yet.”

A major omission. “If Craig meant to kill you, and Mars was never a target, then why are you following Mars?”

“In case I’m wrong.”

Sounded like he had as much confidence in his theory as I did. Still, Craig’s behavior disturbed me. He washed the clothes he wore when Simon was killed and he went back to the scene of the crime the next morning.

Andrew sipped coffee so deep in thought that he paid no attention to the tinny ringing in his pocket.

“Andrew.” I tapped his knee. “Isn’t that your cell phone?”

“Oh!” He flipped it open. “Hi, dear.” He jumped up and placed his plate and mug on the counter. “Stay there but outside.” Panic registered in his voice. “I’ll be home in a jiffy.”

He snapped the phone shut. “Vicki went out for groceries and when she came home, the house had been ransacked!”