Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The (20 page)

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Authors: Krista Davis

Tags: #Murder, #Winston; Sophie (Fictitious Character), #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #General, #Dwellings

BOOK: Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The
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He must have, too, because he said, “No way.”
Natasha fixed a pout on her face that was so fake, I wanted to retch. “But I really want this wallpaper on the foyer ceiling of my new house.”
I guessed Natasha had overused the pouty face, because Mars snorted and said, “No paper, no new house.”
Natasha’s nostrils flared. “You’ll help Sophie but not me? I bet Ted would do it for me.”
Mars fixed her with a calm stare. “I hope he pays for the house, too, because I’m not moving.” Mars fled for the door without waiting for a response.
Natasha eyed Bernie, who would have been my top choice for the job. But Bernie prided himself on not being suckered into Natasha’s schemes. He smiled at her politely and bent to place lids on the remaining paint cans.
That left Francie, who flicked a hand at Natasha. “Sorry, I’m on team Sophie. I don’t cross to the dark side.”
“Honestly, you’re all a bunch of cowards.” Natasha hoisted the ladder and carried it into the foyer.
Amused that she would think the ladder could be tall enough, I trailed after her, followed by Bernie and Francie. Thanks to the staircase, the ceiling was two stories up. At the very least, Natasha would need scaffolding.
She set up the ladder and gazed at the ceiling. Her mouth twitched to the side, and she turned to glare at those of us who watched her.
The front door opened, nearly hitting her, and she lashed out at poor Humphrey. “Watch where you’re going! What do
you
want anyway? Oh no. Don’t tell me. You’re on team Sophie, too.”
He looked so bewildered that I had no choice but to rescue him from Natasha’s misplaced wrath. “Of course he is. Come on in and tell me what you think of the color.” That sounded totally bogus, but it was all that came to me at that second.
I ushered him into the family room, where he blurted, “I just came from the medical examiner’s office. The killer shot Tara in the back of the head with a nail gun.”
Just like the person who sabotaged Ted’s pond.
Francie listened from the doorway. “I thought you had to have an air compressor to use one of those things. Wouldn’t that have been a little bit obvious? They’re incredibly noisy.”
Bernie shook his head. “They make cordless ones, too. That’s what I used in making the window seat.”
Humphrey whirled around to face him, his fists clenched.
“Hold it, Columbo,” I said. “Dozens of people at Rooms and Blooms probably used one of those things. And the killer could have borrowed or stolen it from someone, too. Natasha even had one on display. I don’t think Bernie’s your man.”
Natasha flew into the family room. “Do you think it’s too much to ask my assistant to get up on a ladder and install the wallpaper on the ceiling?”
We answered as one. “Yes.”
“Remind me not to hire any of you. I think it’s part of the job.”
“And what will you do while she’s putting up the wallpaper?” I asked.
“Sophie, you’re so innocent. I will be supervising, of course. That’s what an employer does.”
Poor Beth. She hadn’t wanted to stay, and now Natasha was badgering her. But the thought of Beth reminded me of Humphrey.
Taking him by the arm, I towed him into the kitchen. “Beth? I’d like you to meet someone.”
I swear I saw abject terror in her eyes when she turned around.
TWENTY
From
“Ask Natasha”
:
Dear Natasha,
My foyer is a dingy nightmare. I can’t afford what I really want—an artist to paint a mural that will make the walls appear taller. Any suggestions?
 
—Low Ceilings in Lower Keys
 
Dear Low Ceilings,
Trompe l’oeil means “to deceive the eye,” but you don’t have to be a talented painter to do that. Try painting stripes on your wall one to two feet wide, from floor to ceiling. Alternate similar colors, like light and dark yellows. They’ll automatically make your foyer feel taller.
 
—Natasha
“Beth, I’d like you to meet my friend Humphrey.” There. I’d finally introduced him to someone.
They nodded shyly and said hello. And then we all looked at each other in awkward silence. Maybe this was why opposites attract. Someone had to be assertive enough to get the ball rolling.
I was about to say that Humphrey was an undertaker, then reconsidered. That might not be the most appealing way to present him. “Humphrey and I grew up together—Natasha, too.”
“That’s nice,” said Beth.
Maybe this had been a totally stupid idea. I didn’t know anything about Beth or what might appeal to her. “Where are you from?” I asked.
“Nevada.” She answered with one word and stopped. Not much of a conversationalist.
Humphrey finally came to life. “Nevada has the highest rate of cremation in the country.”
Not exactly what I’d hoped for. Beth cringed, and I could see her pull back physically. I forced a chuckle. “Humphrey’s a mortician.”
“I see. If you’ll excuse me, I need to finish up. Natasha’s crew will be here to shoot the demolition in the morning.”
It looked like I would have to host a dinner after all, to throw them together in a more congenial atmosphere. “Beth, I’m having some friends over for dinner the day after tomorrow. Nothing fancy. I hope you’ll be able to join us.”
Unless I misread her expression, she was surprised. “That would be nice. Thanks.”
I couldn’t quite get a handle on Beth. She seemed to run hot and cold. “You
are
coming back to work tomorrow, aren’t you?”
She swallowed hard. “I need the job. As long as Natasha doesn’t make me break my neck papering that foyer ceiling, I guess I’ll be here.”
I tried to give her a reassuring smile. “We’ll be around as reinforcements if she gets pushy about it.”
When I turned back to Humphrey, I realized he’d wandered through the kitchen to the butler’s pantry and was observing Posey as she painted on the dining room wall. She’d already completed enough for me to see that her trompe l’oeil involved arched double doors that looked as if they’d just been opened. Mike and Ted were still working on the puzzle.
I wedged past Humphrey, who murmured, as if in a trance. “Posey . . .”
“Looks great already, Posey,” I said.
She didn’t stop working. “These two morons suggested I paint it to look like the dining table is inside an aquarium.”
Mike chortled but concentrated on the puzzle pieces. “The inside of an aquarium would match Nolan’s living room. She could even add little fishies.”
Ted laughed. He’d tilted his chair back so that it rested on two legs, and he looked rather leisurely.
I peeked into the living room and understood what had upset Iris and driven her to insist on decorating the master bedroom instead of the dining room. Nolan’s painters had covered the walls with a shockingly bright turquoise. The window trim and molding shone sparkling white in stark contrast. Maybe he was planning to hide a lot of it with curtain fabric? I tried to reserve judgment, but I didn’t have high hopes for Nolan’s living room.
“It’s dreadful, isn’t it?” called Posey. “I think Iris was an idiot to give up the dining room, because anything would look great after that.”
Humphrey watched Posey with adoration, making me glad I’d planned to throw him together with Beth at a dinner party. Posey was as wrong for him as Tara would have been.
Posey turned around, paintbrush still in hand, and exclaimed, “Mike! You did it!”
“Huh?” He frowned and studied the table.
She pointed as she said, “That section goes with the one I was working on down there.”
Mike tried to lift as many of the joined pieces as he could, but some tumbled to the table. He ran them down to the end. “Where? Which one? Oh, I see. You’re right.” He fit the pieces in and retrieved the rest.
“It’s an owl. An owl!” screamed Posey. “Like on the wall unit Mordecai built.”
We rushed into the family room, each of us breathless in spite of the short distance we’d run. Posey’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. She grabbed the owl on the left and tried to move it. Nothing happened.
I glanced around for Bernie. A woodworker might be able to figure it out. But it appeared he and Francie had called it a day.
Mochie pawed at the base of the wall unit, stopping every few seconds to lower his head and sniff.
“There must be some kind of latch,” said Mike. He examined the owl on the right, carefully running his fingers over the wood like he was reading braille.
Ted stared at the key in his hand, then looked at the unit that covered the wall as though he was trying to figure out the mechanics of how it might work.
“Here! I’ve got it.” Mike waved with one hand while holding the other in place, “There’s a groove. It’s ever so subtle—just the size of a fingertip.”
We watched as he exerted gentle pressure on the wood and swung the owl to the side, revealing a keyhole.
It took them all of four seconds to realize that Posey’s key fit into the lock. She tried to turn it, but it didn’t budge.
She pointed to the other two owls. “We have more keys. Let’s try those.”
In short order, we located similar finger depressions and swung the owls to the side. Mike’s key fit into one lock, but Ted’s key didn’t fit into the other one.
“Kurt’s key,” I blurted. I dashed out the door and across the street to my house. I seized Kurt’s bequest package and ripped it open as I returned to Mordecai’s. I entered the family room, triumphantly holding a key that slid perfectly into the remaining keyhole.
“Okay,” said Mike, “everyone turn on three. One . . . two . . . three.”
I twisted Kurt’s key and felt a small shift, as though something could move but was jammed.
“Still nothing,” whined Posey. She backed up and looked at the wall unit. “There are five keys,” she mused.
Mike’s expression changed to hopeful. “Of course. He’s forcing us all to work together. There we were, stupid fools, thinking he had something special for each of us, but the old man was teaching us another lesson. We all have to be present to open the thing.”
Posey moved closer again. “Are there other owls? Smaller ones, maybe, that we overlooked? This darned thing is so ornate.”
And huge. I stepped back and tried to focus on the detail, one section at a time. Posey, Ted, and Mike used a more tactile method, feeling the wood.
A small, lightly gilded swirl caught my eye, and I moved closer to inspect it. Close up, it appeared to be a snake, but Mordecai hadn’t gilded the head. The snake coiled on a disk with a tapered edge that made it appear to be part of the unit, but when I tried to move it, I could feel a bit of give. “Is there a snake like this on the other side?” I asked.
“A snake?” Posey peered over my shoulder. “I just saw it!” She shuffled to the other side.
“A snake and an owl?” Mike laughed. “Mordecai had quite an imagination.”
“The snake is a guardian of freshness,” I muttered.
“How would you happen to know something like that?” asked Posey. “Are you an archaeologist or something?”
I could feel my face flush at her question. “A German cookie company came up with packaging that prevents cookies and crackers from getting soggy from the moisture in the air, and because of that, they use the snake as part of their logo. It symbolizes preservation, protection from danger.”
“Cookies?” sputtered Ted. “That’s absurd.”
“I’m going to call Nolan.” Posey pulled out her cell phone. “If we can move the snakes and there are more keyholes, we’re going to need his key.”
She drifted into the kitchen and I could hear her talking excitedly.
“I was beginning to think this would never happen.” Mike couldn’t hide his grin. “Mordecai was a sly old fox.”
“You must have been his favorite class for him to go to all this trouble setting up a puzzle for you,” I said.
Posey marched back, her expression sour. “That stupid Nolan.” She lifted her chin and mimicked his superior tone, “ ‘I’ve no interest in Mordecai’s garbage.’ ”
Mike laughed. “He’s full of baloney. Haven’t you noticed him snooping around here? He’s every bit as curious about the bequest as we are.”
“I’m not beneath swiping the key from him,” said Posey. “What say we go get it?”
TWENTY-ONE
From
“Ask Natasha”
:
Dear Natasha,
I am the kiss of death to orchids. I adore them, but I can’t keep them alive. Is it too tacky for words to use fake ones?
 
—Orchid Killer in Kill Devil Hills
 
Dear Orchid Killer,
 
You don’t have to resort to faux flowers. Frame gorgeous pictures of orchids and hang them in groups. Or stencil orchids on curtains and pillow covers to carry out your decorating theme.
 
—Natasha

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