Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The (28 page)

Read Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The Online

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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Instead, I watched as Wolf paused at the landing and listened.
I still didn’t hear anyone. But someone must have started the fire. I supposed they could have left with the fire still ablaze. We should hear some wood crackling if we got close enough.
We? I wouldn’t hear anything if I stayed in the foyer
.
As soon as Wolf turned right, I sprang up the stairs, taking them two at a time, stepping carefully near the wall, on the theory that they might not squeak so much there. I was wrong.
I made it to the landing and expected Wolf to turn around and be mad at me, but the front door squealed open. Nina, making all the noise in the world, shut the door and stomped up the steps. “You left me alone,” she hissed. “I thought you were smooching, but you just went off and left me!”
Wolf turned and glared at us. In haste, I clapped a hand over her mouth and held a finger up to my own, hoping she would realize we were trying to be quiet.
Wolf crept farther along the hallway. In the dim light coming through a window, I could see that the door to the bedroom at the very end of the hall was closed.
Floorboards grumbled, but I didn’t think the noise came from Wolf’s footsteps this time. He was treading carefully on a long Oriental runner.
Wolf placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. A momentary glint let me know he had drawn his gun. Maybe Nina and I should step out of the line of fire in case the other person had one as well.
But then, in a flash, Wolf was through the door. A commotion ensued with loud thuds and grunts as though he was wrestling someone, and a woman screamed.
What to do? I’d read somewhere that a person could break up a dogfight by throwing a blanket over the dogs. I looked in the closest bedroom and knew instantly that it was the one Iris was decorating. I snatched the spread off the bed, raced to Wolf’s aid, and threw the huge cover over the people on the floor. Hoping my plan would work, I flicked on the overhead light—and found Beth, wearing a man’s shirt that hung loosely on her, holding a lamp over her head as though she planned to crash it down on Wolf.
She screeched and jumped back when she saw me. “It’s the killer, Sophie. Be careful!”
The killer?
“Wolf,” I yelled as two people struggled under the bedcover, “it’s the killer!”
Beth lowered the lamp. “Wolf ? Isn’t he a cop?”
I nodded, wondering what I could do to help him.
“Stop!” Beth threw the lamp onto the bed and rushed at the people writhing on the floor. “Stop, Mike. It’s the cop!”
Mike? Nina and I grabbed corners of the cover and yanked, revealing Mike and Wolf in a death lock. Somewhat sheepishly, they released their holds and stood up, badly mussed and with the beginnings of what I suspected would become impressive bruises.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Wolf.
Mike looked at Beth, who flushed bright pink. With her new hairstyle pushed out of her eyes and some color in her cheeks, Beth looked the best I’d ever seen her.
“We, um, well, I live with my parents, and Mike is staying with Ted, so . . .”
Wolf’s eyes narrowed, and I guessed he wasn’t buying it. “Then get a hotel room.”
Mike wrapped a protective arm around Beth. “Do you know what a hotel room costs in this town? We don’t have that kind of money.”
Well, that certainly explained Beth’s lack of interest in Humphrey. But how did Mike and Beth hook up so fast?
Wolf wasn’t through with them. “This house is a crime scene. There’s police tape across the door.”
Mike shook his head. “They took it down tonight. Beth noticed when she left Sophie’s house. Both of us have keys. It’s not like we’re not allowed to be here.”
Wolf turned to me. “Did you see police tape?”
I shrugged. We came over so fast, I hadn’t paid attention.
Nina giggled. “
Aww
, Wolf. It’s so romantic. Cut them some slack.”
A fire crackled in the old fireplace. The designer redoing the room had used a blend of country and shabby chic. An old white wrought-iron bed was loaded with ruffled pillows and a sumptuous, barely pink comforter. I recognized pieces of furniture that had been deposited on the porch by other decorators. This decorator had repurposed them, including a very clever reuse of an old arched mirror over the fireplace mantel. Almost everything in the room was white, with random touches of the softest pink.
“Who’s doing this room?” I asked. “She won’t be happy that you’re using it.”
Beth turned scarlet.
“Natasha thinks someone else is decorating the room, but Iris said Beth could do it.” Mike hugged Beth to him.
I’d heard of sleeping together on a first date, but there was something about the way they acted, as though they knew each other very well, and almost moved in unison. “Good grief! You’re Hot Lips!”
I didn’t think Beth could be more embarrassed.
Wolf pointed at them. “That’s it. Everybody get dressed and meet us downstairs in the living room in three minutes.”
On the way down the stairs, Wolf asked, “Who is Hot Lips?”
“Mike’s old girlfriend from his college days.” I stopped and raised my eyes to meet his. “And Mordecai’s niece.”
Mike and Beth followed us to Nolan’s turquoise living room and sat primly side by side on the sofa, as though they expected to be reamed out.
Wolf paced. I wanted him to sit down, but he didn’t seem capable.
“So you’re Mordecai’s niece. Did you come to claim the estate?” asked Wolf.
“I’m only related by marriage. His wife, Jean, was my aunt. I moved back here to help my parents and landed a job with Natasha. I had no idea that it would involve coming back to Mordecai and Jean’s house.”
“That’s why you were so hesitant that first morning here,” I said.
Beth nodded. “It all came rushing back to me. So many memories. Some wonderful, but some bittersweet. We left in such haste that day. I never dreamed I would return to this house. And then, to walk in and see the love of my life after all these years—I was mortified.”
Mike gave her a little squeeze and Beth said, “I was scared to death that he would recognize me. I’m not the cute little Hot Lips I used to be. Two children, more than two decades, and way more than twenty pounds—I always thought if I met Mike again, I’d be svelte and successful, not fat and broke.”
“Aren’t women silly?” Mike said to Wolf. “I’m no prize anymore, either. But for all Beth’s efforts to hide, I couldn’t help noticing this very attractive woman sneaking around. And then one day, I was watching her when she didn’t realize it and”—he snapped his fingers—“it clicked. I knew she was my Hot Lips.”
“What do you mean, you left in haste? What happened?” Wolf appeared unmoved by their love connection story.
“It was such a gorgeous day. Even though it was more than twenty years ago, I remember it so well.” Beth twisted the hem of her shirt. “Perfect spring weather, no humidity. The lilacs were in full bloom and the backyard smelled heavenly.”
“Mordecai and Jean threw a party for the whole department,” said Mike. “We were celebrating the successful construction of our straw cottage. We’d been in the paper and on the local news, and school was almost out for the summer. Everyone was pretty giddy.”
“You were here, too?” Wolf asked.
“We all were. Posey and Kurt and Ted and Nolan. We all worked on the straw cottage.”
Beth picked up the thread of the story for Mike. “Everyone was outside in the garden, and then Mordecai wanted to show all of his students something inside, and when we came in, Mordecai caught Aunt Jean and Mr. Ledbetter in a serious lip-lock”—she pointed toward the fireplace—“right there. Well, you can imagine all you-know-what broke loose. Aunt Jean pushed Mr. Ledbetter away, and he fell and hit his head on one of those andirons.”
THIRTY-TWO
From “THE GOOD LIFE” :
Dear Sophie,
 
We bought a new house, but I adore a vintage look. How can I bring a romantic, old-fashioned feel to boxy modern rooms?
 
—Hopeless Romantic in Lovejoy
 
Dear Hopeless Romantic,
 
Use a soft color scheme on the walls and upholstery. Gauzy or balloon curtains will soften hard edges. Draw the eye away from modern lines by hanging sparkling chandeliers nearby. Replace sleek handles with antique glass knobs, and add those important accessories—mirrors, silver, and a few shabby chic pieces to complete the look.
 
—Sophie
Nina jumped up. “Just like Kurt. The same thing happened to me. Those are deadly andirons.”
Wolf ignored Nina’s outburst and prompted Beth. “And?”
“They helped Mr. Ledbetter into the family room to lie down. But you can imagine the fight between Mordecai and Jean.”
“And then we got the news that our cottage was on fire,” said Mike. “We took off to see it, and our group of friends began to fall apart because we all blamed each other.”
“I helped Aunt Jean pack her car, and we left right away. What I remember most was the search for Aunt Jean’s insulin. She was diabetic and had to have it, but the refrigerator was packed with food and so many people were milling around and Aunt Jean was just hysterical about it. We didn’t even stick around to clean up the food or anything. I’ve never eaten another blondie since that day.”
Blondies? And lilacs?
“Did they serve strawberry daiquiris and quiche?” I asked.
Mike shrugged, but Beth smiled. “How did you know?”
“The bequest party—Mordecai tried to re-create that day with the food and the lilacs. And he specifically instructed me to set it all up in here.” I sat back on one of Nolan’s fancy chairs, perplexed.
“Why would he want us to relive that day?” asked Beth. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“He wanted to bring his students back together,” I theorized. “He meant for you to work together again, that’s why the wall unit would only open if all five keys were present.”
Wolf had stopped pacing. “Did you find the insulin?”
“No. We took off without it and went straight to her pharmacy.”
Wolf’s eyes narrowed, as though he was thinking. But then he stifled a yawn.
“Are you going to turn us in?” asked Mike.
Poor Wolf looked exhausted. He stepped out to the front porch and returned a minute later. “No police tape. If you have keys, I don’t know that it’s any of my business what time you come to work.”
Mike smiled and planted a kiss on Beth’s forehead.
Wolf motioned to Nina and me, and walked us home. Nina latched a leash on Emmaline and took her out back while Wolf said good-bye.
“It was nice of you to let them stay there,” I said.
Wolf massaged the side of his face with his hand. “With all the weird stuff going on, maybe it’s a good thing that someone is keeping an eye on the house at night. Unless they’re the killers.”
“What?”
“C’mon, Soph. They’d clearly practiced that story. In spite of Nina’s theories to the contrary, I’d lay odds that one of Mordecai’s other students killed Kurt.” He threw his hands in the air. “And who knows? Maybe Tara’s death had nothing to do with Kurt’s death. There’s something else that you don’t know. There was an old bottle on top of the grave in Mordecai’s basement. A little glass bottle—the kind insulin comes in. It was dirty, as though it had been buried.”
A chill ran through me. Had Beth inadvertently expanded the implications against her aunt and uncle? “It was on the grave? Like Mordecai wanted us to find it?”
“Looks like it.” Clearly distracted, Wolf dispensed a perfunctory kiss, said good night, and strode away.
Nina must have seen him, because she walked up to the kitchen door clucking. “The bloom off the rose already?”
“They found a bottle that might have contained insulin on top of the grave in Mordecai’s crawl space.”
Nina took off Emmaline’s leash. “Jean’s missing bottle of insulin!”
“That’s what I thought. It was dirty, like it had been buried.” I poured each of us a glass of sherry, and we sank into the comfy chairs by my fireplace.
Nina sat up, excited. “Just like my husband’s high-profile case—the murderer injected the victim with an overdose of insulin. Do you think Mordecai killed his victim that way? It can’t be a coincidence that he left the bottle in the crawl space.”
I bit back a grin. Curious Nina was the perfect spouse for a forensic pathologist. “It’s kind of hard to imagine how an insulin bottle could have made its way to Mordecai’s basement otherwise. But Wolf said it was dirty, like it had been buried.”
“So he buried it to hide it, and later changed his mind and left it on the grave, like a confession.”

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