Diva Runs Out Of Thyme

TWENTY-SEVEN

From “Ask Natasha” :

Dear Natasha,

You always look so elegant and pulled together on your show. I bet you even look gorgeous at home. People who drop by always catch me in my bathrobe or with curlers in my hair. How do you do it?

—Grubby in Grundy

Dear Grubby,

Never linger in your bathrobe. Bathe, do your hair and makeup, and dress first thing in the morning, before you do anything else! Even before that first cup of coffee. Hang a mirror in the kitchen and another in the foyer so you can do a quick check before answering the door. I keep lipstick and a brush in a drawer in my foyer. It only takes a second to freshen up before answering the door.

—Natasha

I passed the magnifying glass over the photo and concentrated. It showed my ingredients clustered on my workspace counter and . . . “Is that an arm?”

“Exactly!” crowed Hannah.

The arm appeared to originate in Wendy’s work space behind the curtain that divided our sections. I followed the sweater-clad arm in the other direction and discovered what I thought were tiny fingers on one of my spice jars.

“I’ll enlarge it on the computer. I think we might be able to identify the crumb who swapped the salt for sugar and messed with your thyme.” Hannah picked up Mochie and disappeared into the den.

As Bernie slid the last plate into the dishwasher, he said, “You’ve been very kind to put me up, Soph. But I suppose I should be shoving off soon. I’d like to stay through the contest tomorrow if that’s okay.”

“Are you going back to London?”

“To tell the truth, I thought I’d make some job inquiries around here.”

It was my chance to ask about Mrs. Pulchinski. “To stay closer to your girlfriend?”

He snapped his head up in surprise. “Something like that.”

Had I alarmed him? Maybe I shouldn’t have asked about the girlfriend. But did he plan to brazenly move in with the widow so soon after her husband’s death?

“Sophie!” Hannah shouted.

Bernie and I rushed to the den. I didn’t really think anything untoward had happened to Hannah, but after all we’d been through lately, I wasn’t taking any chances.

Hannah was viewing an enlarged photograph on the computer screen. “I zeroed in so it’s a little bit fuzzy, but I think we have a major clue.”

The printer whirred as it churned out a page.

“Look here,” she said, pointing. “The guy is reaching with his left hand and you can see his wedding ring with an etched circular design. Do you recognize the ring?”

I didn’t. “Thanks for trying, Hannah.”

“Don’t give up yet. At least we know it’s a man. Those chunky fingers couldn’t possibly belong to a woman. Craig and I will make a point of checking wedding bands when the contest resumes tomorrow. I can pretend I’m looking at them because I don’t know what I want for our wedding bands.”

Her offer startled me. She was still focused on the wedding but this time, it wasn’t in a selfish me-me-me way.

“Thanks, Hannah.”

She tilted her head. “You do realize I’ve been overdoing the wedding bit to distract Mom and Dad. They’re so worried about you. When Craig showed me the newspaper article about the dead PI, we put it together with your lame explanation about how you found Mochie and realized you were in trouble. I’ve been trying to lighten the mood by bringing up the wedding, which is a much cheerier subject.”

I threw my arms around Hannah. “And I thought you couldn’t think of anything but your wedding.”

“Aw, c’mon. I know I’ve been a pill, but Craig and I have been discussing the murders, too. If there’s anything I can do to help you, I will. We can’t quite figure it out, though.”

Sprawling on the unmade sofa bed, Bernie said, “We should lay a trap for him tomorrow.”

“For the killer?” I asked.

“No, for the guy who monkeyed with the ingredients.”

Hannah spun toward him in the desk chair. “Great idea! Sophie can leave her work station and you and Craig and I can be on the lookout.”

Bernie ran with the idea. “You could print little pictures of the ring. Then June and your parents can help as well.”

Emotion welled inside me. I wanted to pull them both into a huge grateful hug but someone called my name.

Bernie sat up. “Is that Francie?”

The three of us returned to the kitchen. Francie sat by the fire like she had this morning, but now she hid her face behind her fingers.

Hannah knelt beside her and asked, “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”

I wet a kitchen towel, wrung it out, and offered it to Francie.

She pressed it against her forehead. “I’m never like this, I just can’t believe he’s dead.” Tears squeezed out of her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I only came to pick up my coat.”

“Nonsense. You stay with us for a while.” Hannah stroked Francie’s arm. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Was it my imagination or did I like my sister a lot better when Craig wasn’t around?

The scratching at the kitchen door alerted me to Daisy’s return. When I opened it, she and MacArthur bounded inside and wedged their noses in Daisy’s water bowl at the same time. Then Mom, Dad, and June entered and clustered around the fireplace. Dad hung up coats while Mom clasped her hands and said, “We’ve had the best idea. June will be leaving tomorrow after the stuffing contest and we’ll be going home the next morning, so we thought we should all get together and go out to dinner tonight.”

Francie let out a little cry.

Mom patted Francie’s hand. “I wish the colonel were here to come with us, but we think it’s a way of honoring him. We should invite everyone who came for Thanksgiving. Sophie, will you call Mars and ask them to come? I’ll call Humphrey.”

Having dinner again with Mars and Natasha, not to mention Humphrey and Wolf, appealed to me about as much as a root canal. But Mom unknowingly handed me exactly what I needed—an empty house. Except it wouldn’t be empty. I would make some kind of last-minute excuse and stay home to spy and see if anyone turned up to retrieve the vial. I embraced her suggestion with enthusiasm.

I could hear Mom giving Francie a little pep talk while I dialed Mars’s cell phone number.

He answered on the first ring and asked, “Is Mom okay?”

“She’s fine. Right here in front of me. Why? Has something happened?”

He took a minute before answering me. “Sophie, I don’t know what to do with her. Natasha is certain that something awful will happen to her if she goes home and stays by herself, and I couldn’t live with that. We’ve been talking about this all morning and I’m afraid . . . Andrew and I don’t have any choice, we’re going to have to put her in a home where they can watch her.”

I bristled at the thought. June would not go to a retirement home until she wanted to go. Even if I had to take her in to live with me. This time Natasha had gone too far. Lowering my voice so June wouldn’t overhear, I wandered into the sunroom with the phone. I told Mars about the dinner plans and insisted he come over immediately to discuss June’s situation.

When I hung up, I found Mom behind me, listening. “Is he on his way?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Run upstairs right now and change into that white sweater I gave you last year. And put on some makeup.”

“Mom, they want to put June into a home for the aged.”

“Because she talks to her sister’s ghost?”

“No, because they think she started the fire at Natasha’s. Mars is afraid something horrible will happen to her if she lives by herself.”

Mom crossed one arm over her abdomen and massaged her chin with the other hand. “Nonsense. We can’t have that. I’ll have a talk with Mars when he arrives.”

The knocker on the front door sounded.

“Too late to change.” Mom reached toward me and fluffed my hair. “You couldn’t have put on a little lipstick? You ought to keep some in the console in the foyer for these emergencies. Natasha does.”

I escaped her and answered the door. It couldn’t possibly be Mars yet anyway.

When I opened the door, Wolf stood on the stoop. “Is Mrs. Winston here?”

I presumed he meant June. “She had nothing to do with the colonel’s death. I promise you she did not kill him.” I stepped outside and closed the door behind me. “I don’t know what you’ve heard but she’s a very sweet lady and she’s not incompetent.”

He drew back, a perplexed look on his face. “Someone murdered the colonel?”

I’d put my foot in it. “I don’t know that he was murdered. But whatever happened, June wasn’t involved.”

“He’s dead? When did this occur?”

“Last night. I assumed you knew.”

Wolf flipped open his phone.

I motioned for him to come in the house. “You can talk in the living room. I can’t guarantee privacy but it’s your best bet.”

Digging in my pocket for the vial, I followed him and said, “Mochie found . . .”

Wolf held up his forefinger in a gesture that meant “wait a minute,” turned away from me, and spoke into his phone.

I didn’t want to stick around the living room to eavesdrop, but when I retreated to the dining room, I caught Craig ducking into the foyer. I’d had about enough of his creeping around and spying and was about to tell him off but thought better of it. Maybe the poison vial did belong to him.

Pretending I hadn’t seen him, I acted as though I was hiding the vial in the top drawer of the dining room buffet, while actually leaving it safely in my pocket. Hopefully when we were all out to dinner and he thought the house was empty, the killer would feel free to come back to retrieve it. Except I would be waiting.

Mustering courage and a friendly smile, I strode toward the kitchen, feigning surprise when I saw Craig. “Back from your run? Good that you got it in. I think they’re calling for rain this afternoon.”

I continued to the kitchen. What a horrible day.

Craig followed me, plopped into a fireside chair, and Hannah promptly sat on his lap. Why did she turn into a simpering sexpot around him? Yuck.

Mom handed me a lipstick that she must have retrieved from the bathroom upstairs. “Humphrey agreed to meet us at the restaurant. We should invite Wolf, too. Where is he, Sophie?”

“He’s in the living room. He didn’t know about the colonel.”

Francie stiffened. “The detective is here? In the house?” She looked around frantically, jumped up, and lunged toward the kitchen door.