Diva Runs Out Of Thyme

TWENTY-TWO

From “Ask Natasha” :

Dear Natasha,

My mother insists that a host should always provide a toothbrush for each overnight guest. Do I leave them in the bathroom in the package unopened? On their pillows? It all sounds sort of dime-store tacky. Should I provide toothpaste, too?

—Hopeless Hostess in Harrisonburg

Dear Hopeless Hostess,

A luxurious bathroom basket should await each of your guests. I roll fingertip towels and washcloths of long-staple Egyptian cotton and place them in the basket along with one new and unopened battery-operated toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. Gentlemen receive a tiny bottle of aftershave and ladies get perfume. Don’t forget a loofah and a personal bottle of scented shower gel. In the summer, it’s extremely thoughtful to add powder. I always include a magnolia-scented soy candle and a carved soap, both in my signature color of robin’s-egg blue, for guests to take home.

—Natasha

“Wait,” I said. “I’ll come with you.” Vicki could probably use someone to lean on.

I dashed to the den, poked my head in, and whispered to my parents, “Give my Ford’s Theatre ticket to June. I’ll fill you in later.” Without waiting for a response, I rushed to the front door to catch a ride with Andrew.

When we arrived at their house, Vicki sat on the stoop, the collar of her fleece jacket turned up against the wind. Andrew parked in haste and ran up the walk to the town house before I’d managed to remove my seat belt. By the time I reached them, Andrew held Vicki in a bear hug.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Andrew released her and Vicki placed a hand on her chest. “My heart’s still pounding, otherwise I’m fine. How lucky that they’d left by the time I came home. At least I think they had. The cops are in there now and I imagine we’d have heard if they discovered anyone in the house.”

I followed them inside. The lovely dining and living rooms were a mess. Sofa cushions lay on the floor. Drawers hung open and shards of a lamp spread across the hardwood floor.

“Mrs. Winston?”

I turned out of habit, but Wolf meant Vicki.

“Can you tell if anything is missing?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t been upstairs yet.”

“When we’re through fingerprinting, I’d like you to do a thorough inventory.”

“I assume your presence means you think this is related to the murders in some way,” I said.

Wolf pulled a pen from his breast pocket. “These days I respond to anything involving a Winston.”

He’d been so curt today that I wondered what was up. Had I done something to offend him? When we’d first met, he’d been sweet with Mochie. What happened to change his demeanor? I wished he would open up and tell me what he’d learned.

“Do you realize that Natasha and Mars are also staying here?” I asked.

The news startled Wolf. “Anyone else living here?”

While Vicki answered Wolf, Andrew pulled me aside and whispered, “Do you think it could have been Craig?”

“Sorry, but he’s touring museums with Hannah. I think she’d notice if he left her.”

Andrew snapped his fingers. “I may have to rethink my theory.”

No one had closed the front door, and when I turned around, Natasha stood in the doorway, her large eyes taking in the situation. Vicki spotted her and rushed to Natasha’s side to explain. Panic registered on Natasha’s face and she bolted for the stairs, but Wolf blocked her.

“Not yet. When the officers are finished, I’d appreciate knowing if anything is missing.”

Natasha backed away from him as though he’d threatened her.

Wordlessly, she tugged me outside. “Every time I think nothing could possibly get worse in my life, some horrible thing like this happens.”

Her shoulders slumped and I felt sorry for her. I was going through similar troubles, but at least I hadn’t lost my home and no one was stalking me.

“They’re going to use this opportunity to search our stuff, you know. No warrant needed.” She groaned.

I patted her shoulder and wondered what kind of stuff she had that worried her.

“Sophie, you have to help me. This situation with June is becoming serious and Mars closes his eyes to it. He refuses to see that she’s confused and needs help.”

Her statement caught me off guard. Considering the magnitude of Natasha’s other problems, I expected her to forget about June. In any event, I wasn’t going to let Natasha talk Mars into moving June to a nursing home.

“She’s behaved normally at my house.” Most people didn’t talk with the ghosts of their siblings, but I hoped Mom was right about that. Maybe a lot of people did it in private.

Natasha squared her shoulders and placed her fists on her hips. “I stopped by Nordstrom to buy new clothes, since the smoke from June’s fire rendered everything unwearable, and I found her in the teen section buying clothes completely inappropriate for a woman her age.”

“Like what?”

“Like lacy tops and frilly skirts.”

“You’d rather see her dressed in somber prints and black orthopedic shoes?”

“She bought a silk slip!” Natasha’s nostrils flared.

I didn’t understand why a silk slip indicated a disconnect with reality. “What’s wrong with that? The expense?”

“It’s sexy!”

At the risk of further annoying Natasha, I couldn’t help laughing. Thanks to the colonel’s attention, June felt good about herself. Instead of thinking about holing up in a nursing facility, June had romance on the mind.

“What if she were your mother? Would you feel the same way then?” I regretted my words immediately. Natasha had always been sensitive about her mother. They couldn’t be more different.

“Why do I bother thinking you’re my friend? You’re impossible.” Natasha stomped to her car and drove away.

Guilt kicked in. We all nursed stress as a result of the murders and the investigation. At the moment, poor Natasha probably felt everything in her life had gone haywire and there wasn’t a thing she could control and put back on track. She needed help.

I strolled up the steps and into the foyer, where Wolf spoke with Andrew and Vicki. Mars would hate me, but Natasha’s life might be at stake. I would never forgive myself if she was killed and I hadn’t said anything. “Wolf, someone is stalking Natasha.”

Simultaneously, Vicki, Andrew, and Wolf said, “What?”

Mars probably hadn’t had a chance to tell Andrew and Vicki about the stalker. They, more than anyone else, deserved to know now that Natasha would be staying with them.

“Nina and I have seen him twice.”

“This is terrible!” Vicki’s hand flew over her mouth in terror.

Wolf squinted at me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Nina called you. She reported him to the police the first time and said she thought they blew her off. The second time I heard her leave you a message.”

I could tell Wolf was angry with himself. He’d probably been working long hours on the murders and hadn’t paid enough attention to his voice mail. His ears burned red and he strode away.

Andrew took a deep breath. “This changes everything.” He looked at Vicki. “Was the guest room ransacked, too? The burglar might have been looking for something in Natasha’s possession.” Without Wolf there to stop him, the self-appointed detective pounded up the stairs.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked Vicki.

“Just a little shaken. I’ll be fine. Thanks for coming over with Andrew. I’m worried about Natasha, though. A stalker! She never said a thing to me about it.”

“Now that she’s staying with you, maybe you can talk with her privately and find out what’s going on.”

Vicki promised to tell me if she gleaned anything from Natasha. When Wolf called Vicki from another room, I decided I was only in the way and said good-bye.

I walked the ten blocks home, glad for a few minutes alone. Porch lights flicked on as darkness settled over Old Town. Each block seemed worthy of a Christmas card picture as warm lights began to glow inside the ancient homes. As I ambled up my block, Mars arrived in Bernie’s rental. I waited for him to park and we walked to the house together.

“Did you know someone broke into Andrew’s house?”

Horror crossed Mars’s face. “Was anyone hurt?”

“I just came from there. Everyone’s fine.”

In spite of my assurances, he called Andrew on his cell phone. When he snapped it closed, he said, “What’s happening to us?”

Daisy and Mochie demanded our attention the moment we opened the kitchen door. Dressed for an evening at the theater, my parents and June waited for Hannah and Craig in the kitchen. Bernie leaned against the counter, a half-eaten sandwich in his hand.

“Hear you have an admirer.” Mars hugged his mother.

June’s cheeks flushed. “Maybe a little bit.”

“Is he going to the play with you tonight?” he asked.

“They’re sold out. We tried to get a last-minute ticket but couldn’t.” June turned to me. “Are you sure you don’t want to go, dear?”

“I can go anytime. I’d rather you had fun. What did the colonel say about Simon?”

“He never came right out and admitted he went to the hotel. However, he confirmed that the lovely young woman who lost her leg is his granddaughter. A terrible tragedy. She taught mountain climbing in the summer and skiing in the winter. Very athletic. It looked like she would win the contest on Simon’s show.”

Dad fidgeted in his chair. “They’d rigged some sort of contraption over a dramatic gully that the contestants had to cross. A rope snapped when she was on it; somehow her leg tangled in the rope and it cut off the blood supply. They couldn’t save it.”

“The colonel blames this on Simon?” asked Mars.

“He thinks the show was rigged,” said June. “The problem is that the rope disappeared so there’s no evidence. Simon claimed the remaining contestants burned the ropes in a cleansing ritual that night. The colonel has been doing research to try to prove that Simon’s crew staged his granddaughter’s accident.”

“That’s horrible.” I cringed at the thought. “She could have died. Losing her leg was bad enough.”

“Simon was always ruthless. He left chaos and death behind him everywhere. No honor or decency or regard for human life. Money drove everything he did.” Bernie couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice.

I finally posed a question that had been nagging me. “Do you think he asked me out to irritate Mars?”

“Could be.” Mars laughed. “But I wouldn’t have killed him over you, honey.”

“So what happened with Natasha today?” I asked Mars.

“You won’t believe this. She went to a soup kitchen.”

“To contact someone.” I’d tried so hard to believe Natasha couldn’t have killed Simon. Had she hired someone to kill him? Had she hired Otis to find a paid assassin for her?

“It looked like they knew her. She put on an apron and dished out dinner. I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Maybe she spotted you and drove there on purpose to throw you off,” suggested Dad.

“Or maybe she works at the soup kitchen every week when she disappears. But why keep it a secret?” Mars gazed at us like we had answers.

“She’s looking for her father,” Mom said quietly. “You were so young, Sophie, I don’t think you understood the impact on Natasha. She was only seven when he left. Her mother couldn’t afford the mortgage on their pretty house over on Elm Street and she couldn’t sell it without his signature. The bank foreclosed and her mother filed for bankruptcy. I’m certain Natasha felt it was her fault he abandoned them; children so often do.”

“But that happened over thirty years ago,” I protested.

“Don’t you understand? His leaving was the driving force in her life. That’s why she strives, to this day, to be so perfect. It’s also the reason she always competed with you.”

“Oh, please.” My mom, the shrink.

“You weren’t competitive by nature, but you had everything she didn’t. A dad and siblings and a nice house. And you gave her a run for her money. You were both good at the same things. You didn’t mean to but you made her reach a little higher, work a little harder, and when she kept one-upping you, it turned out you had a competitive streak in you after all.”

“That explains a lot,” Mars teased, “but I’m with Sophie. Hard to believe she’s still searching for him after all these years. And why would she think she’d find him at a soup kitchen? He could be a multimillionaire.”

“I imagine her mother painted a fairly dim picture of him,” said Mom. “She was probably brought up to believe that he was a ne’er-do-well.”

“Why do you think he left?” asked Mars.

“Berrysville is a small town, You can imagine the rampant gossip. Some people thought he had another life somewhere else. Others think he died and no one knew who he was. I think he felt too much pressure.”

“I’d have run away from that pushy woman, too.” Dad made a face like he’d sucked on a lemon. “Natasha’s mother wouldn’t be easy to live with.”

The phone rang, interrupting our conversation. I scurried to answer it.

The coordinator of the Stupendous Stuffing Shakedown asked if I could participate in the contest on Monday. Simon’s TV network decided to go forward with it after all. I checked my work schedule to be sure I could fit it in. I assured her I would be there and hoped the others would be able to compete as well. Before hanging up, she said, “And as a precaution, we’re providing all the ingredients this time. All you have to do is show up and make stuffing.”

Mars was leaving when I returned. Mom closed the door behind him and said, “Why can’t we ever manage to get him over here at the same time as Wolf?”

“Surely you don’t think Mars is the killer?” I asked.

“Goodness, no. But I want to shake up Mars a little bit. He would have to be pheromonally challenged not to feel the attraction Wolf has for you.”

Not anymore. “Mom, Wolf is watching me because I’m a murder suspect.”

“Think what you like. Wolf looks at you like you’re an ice cream sundae with extra chocolate on top.”

I shot my dad a pleading look. “Didn’t you hear the way Mars talked about Natasha? We’re not getting back together, Mom.”

“She’s right, Inga. Mars is very concerned about Natasha.”

The corners of Mom’s mouth pulled back in disapproval. “In that case, you’d better start dressing sexier for that Wolf of yours. And it wouldn’t hurt you to use eyeliner and brighter lipstick.”

I adored having my family around, but when the door shut behind them and quiet reigned in my home, I felt tension ebb away. The play and dinner would keep my parents, Hannah, Craig, and June out until eleven or so. Bernie left when they did but was somewhat hazy about his plans. I couldn’t help wondering if he had a date with the widow Pulchinski.

Before indulging myself in a long bath, I hit the den to catch up on my column. Questions poured in from readers. Coswell wrote me suggesting I set up a website to handle some of the overflow. The response to my column delighted me. Excited as I was about the prospect of a web page, it would have to wait a couple of days until my family went home.

I put the column out of my mind as I left the den. I needed to think about the murders. The killer had to be stopped before another one of us fell victim to him. Wolf was probably a great detective, but I knew everyone so much better than he did. I had to be overlooking something, some tiny clue to the identity of the killer. As though she knew what I had in mind, Daisy trotted upstairs. Mochie followed us.

I ran water in the tub and poured in vanilla-scented bubble bath. Mochie perched on the edge, fascinated by the growing foam that disappeared when he touched it. While the tub filled, I undressed and tossed a bathrobe on the vanity in case someone returned unexpectedly. I sank into the warm water and focused on the murders.

I figured I could eliminate my parents, sister, and June from my list of suspects. Wolf and Humphrey also seemed unlikely candidates. Wolf might have killed his wife but so far I hadn’t heard about a connection between him and the victims. Humphrey seemed too wan to undertake a murder spree. He could have hired Otis to trail me and he could have killed Simon after he asked me out, but I was neither vain enough nor stupid enough to believe anyone, even smitten Humphrey, would take such drastic action on my account. I was no femme fatale.

Bernie didn’t appear to have a motive, unless he was involved with Mrs. Pulchinski somehow. Since he’d been living abroad, he came in low on my list of suspects. But the timing of Bernie’s visit seemed a bit more than coincidental and I still couldn’t shake the image of him in the restaurant with Mrs. Pulchinski. Nor could I dismiss the fact that he’d been at Natasha’s house the night of the fire and present when Simon died.

The colonel, on the other hand, had both the motivation and the opportunity to kill Simon. I hadn’t connected him to Otis yet, but he’d been very interested in Otis’s death at Thanksgiving dinner. And Francie had been the one who reported a Peeping Tom. Could the two of them be in cahoots?

Mars and Andrew both hated Simon. Both had been present in the hotel when Simon was murdered. Either of them might have known or worked with Otis. Mars had warned me about Simon on the day he was murdered. Had Mars hired Otis to follow me? That didn’t make sense. The Mars I knew could become furious, but he ranted and paced. He would never kill anyone. Would he clean up after his brother if Andrew committed murder? He might. And while I couldn’t see Vicki being irrational enough to kill Simon because of the way he’d treated Andrew, I supposed that was a possibility.

And that brought me to Natasha. She hired Otis for something and met privately with Simon. She was prone to drama but she’d displayed uncharacteristic nervousness on Thanksgiving, especially when she discovered Wolf would be joining us. Had she lost her tight self-control and let Simon have it? Either she killed Simon or she knew something.

Had I omitted anyone? Craig. The outsider. The one least likely to have a connection to any of us. Yet he spied and eavesdropped, and even more suspicious, he returned to the scene of the crime. Hannah would be furious if she knew what I thought of Craig.

My relaxing bath had been anything but. The killer and the person who tried to poison Mars was clearly one of us. I closed my eyes and tried to unwind, but Daisy alarmed me by barking and running down the stairs. For a moment I thought Bernie might have come home, but Daisy stopped barking and I decided she’d probably heard Francie knocking around the backyard again.

When the phone rang, I lay in the bath and debated whether or not to answer. My indecision lasted longer than the caller’s patience and the ringing ceased.

And began again. I still didn’t bother to get up. But when it rang a third time, I feared the worst, stepped out of the tub, and wrapped a towel around me. The phone stopped ringing before I could answer. I was on the verge of checking the caller ID when it jangled again and I finally picked it up.

Nina’s voice said, “There’s someone in your house. Get out now.”