Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The (4 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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Iris had a broad face and features to fill it. When she crossed her arms defiantly, her jaw went as rigid as a bulldog’s, and I caught a glimpse of a menacing side.
“We don’t even know if we can use Mordecai’s house yet.” Camille spoke softly but with authority. “The first thing we have to do is find out who’s representing the estate.” In a split second, the three of them were off at a fast walk, gabbing like crazy.
Francie tucked her strawlike hair under a knit cap. “Boy, the apple doesn’t fall from the addled grandmother tree, does it? Bedelia Ledbetter, Iris’s grandmother, was one of those phony-baloney women who wanted to think she was better than everybody else. You know the type, talked incessantly about the house in Palm Beach, which I happen to know is a one-bedroom condo. You’d think she would have figured out that the ones with real money don’t brag about it, like that Camille DuPont.”
Camille’s husband owned an antiques store in the heart of Old Town that was so expensive I was afraid to step inside. “They certainly have high prices at their store.”
“That’s just a hobby. Camille is the real deal—a bona fide heiress. She inherited a fortune from her grandfather’s pipe and steel company.”
On the petite side, with ash blond hair as perfectly coifed as Natasha’s, Camille was nice to everyone. She sat on several boards, and was always the first to volunteer her time for a worthy cause—unlike her husband, Nolan, who had elevated snootiness to new heights.
“So their money came from Camille’s family? I thought they were related to the famous DuPonts.”
“Nolan certainly works at giving that impression, but DuPont is a common surname in France. It means ‘of the bridge,’ not exactly the name of nobility. I met his father once. He’s a very down-to-earth pharmacist. Nothing like his pompous son. I’m telling you, it’s always the ones without money who want you to think they’re loaded.” Francie was chuckling as she and Duke left.
By noon, I was ready to bail and leave any crises to my staff, at least long enough to grab lunch. Originally, Design Guild members ran Rooms and Blooms, but after one particularly nasty incident of sabotage involving Guild members in the eighties that resulted in a fire and a lawsuit, they wisely decided to hire professionals to organize the event. The general cutback in fancy parties had put a lot of event professionals out of business, so it hadn’t been hard to put together a competent team. Besides, I would only be a block away at The Laughing Hound, the restaurant my friend Bernie ran. I would be close enough to hurry back in an emergency.
I found my ex-husband, Mars, short for Marshall, and our friend Bernie chowing down in the bar lounge near the humongous fireplace. I ordered hot English breakfast tea and roast beef au jus at the bar, told the waitress I’d be with Bernie, and gladly collapsed into the cushy sofa next to him.
Bernie shot me a quizzical look. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me. How come you’re not answering your phone?”
I explained about cell phones not working at Rooms and Blooms. “What’s up?”
“Mordecai’s lawyer wants us to spread the word to be on the lookout for Emmaline.”
“Mordecai’s Pomeranian?” I’d been so busy that I’d forgotten about the little dog. “Who’s taking care of her?”
Mars groaned. “That’s the problem. When Mordecai died, Natasha let her run out the door, and no one knows where she is.”
Poor Emmaline. She’d been treated as a precious lapdog all her life. She must be traumatized to have lost Mordecai and be alone, outside in the frigid weather.
“Bernie is the one who found Mordecai,” said Mars.
Bernie flushed and held up his hands in protest. In his unmistakable British accent, he said, “Twice a day I sent someone by with a meal for Mordecai, and when he didn’t answer the door, I knew something was amiss.”
“I had no idea you were so close.” His kindness to the old man made me feel guilty. Mordecai had lived little more than a stone’s throw from me, yet I had done nothing for him. I’d met him briefly when my sister was getting married, but for the most part, he hid in his gorgeous historical home and peered at the world through a slit in heavy curtains.
“Don’t get the wrong idea. He never invited me into his home, but he always came to the door for his food.”
“Natasha has been trying to get inside that building since the day she saw it. She had the gall to go inside when the rescue squad arrived to check on poor Mordecai. I mean, the guy wasn’t even cold yet!” Mars shook his head and slugged down coffee.
Eww
. That seemed a bit uncaring, even for Natasha. Located on a corner lot, Mordecai’s house, the color of soft butter, stood out among all the redbrick Federal-style houses that surrounded it. White pillars on the front porch added to the southern charm.
Mars’s jaw tensed in an angry reflex. “I told her last night that if she intends to move into that house, she’ll do it without me.”
Natasha, with whom I’d had a friendly rivalry when we were growing up, had set up housekeeping with my husband, Mars, after we split up. There were those, notably my family, who insisted Natasha had stolen Mars from me. The truth was far less exotic—Mars and I had grown apart. Nevertheless, in spite of Natasha’s considerable efforts to march Mars down the aisle, he’d balked at every opportunity. I wondered if he worried about this exact scenario. He had a lot more leverage over the willful Natasha if he could threaten to walk away from the relationship.
“We dumped a small fortune into our house to renovate it,
even though it didn’t need it
, and Natasha still hasn’t sold her country home. It’s sitting out there, pretty as a picture book, with a huge price tag and no buyers. I’m not taking on another mortgage. I’m just not.”
Bernie’s eyes met mine, and I suspected Mars’s old pal was thinking along the same lines I was. Had the relationship reached its breaking point? Natasha couldn’t be easy to live with.
Under his breath, Bernie said, “There’s a big meeting going on in the back corner about Mordecai’s estate. Seems he left the place to his little dog.”
The waitress delivered my sandwich as Natasha strode in. Her dress clung to her thighs, showing off long, slender legs.
She tossed her coat onto a chair. “Beef and bread, Sophie? No wonder you’re pudgy.” She turned to the waitress. “I’ll have an Evian, garden salad, no dressing, and a cup of defatted chicken broth, please.”
I ignored her and sank my teeth into the savory meat.
“Great news! Mordecai’s house is going to be sold, but it’s in such disarray that they’re letting me—well, the Design Guild—make it into the spring Show House. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“You mean one of those houses where a different decorator fixes up each room, and then the public parades through to see it?” asked Bernie.
“Exactly. I can shoot episodes about decorating, and I have fabulous ideas about remodeling the kitchen. We could shoot shows about how it’s done. Some of the leading designers in town are clamoring to take on a room. But can you imagine, that awful Iris Ledbetter told Camille DuPont that Iris and I should co-chair the Show House!”
Bernie listened, his fingers wrapped around a mug of coffee. “Why don’t you give Sophie a room to decorate?”
I glimpsed a moment of panic in Natasha’s perfectly made-up face. She held a hand to her throat and tilted her head. “Now, Bernie, don’t embarrass Sophie. We all know she’s not much of a decorator.”
“That’s not true. Everyone loves Sophie’s kitchen. Her house is beautiful.”
Natasha’s lips pulled into a thin frown. “It wouldn’t be fair to Sophie. This has to be done fast. I have people and I’m still hiring a new assistant to help me.”
At any other time, I’d have leaped at the opportunity, just to put Natasha in her place, but Rooms and Blooms was a major production. “Thanks, Bernie, but with Rooms and Blooms in full swing, I really don’t have the time.”
“It will be over in a few days,” Bernie persisted. “I’ll be Sophie’s assistant. I spend far too much time here anyway. It would be good for me to get out and use my hands a bit.”
“I will, too,” said Mars. “We could get started right away if Sophie tells us what needs doing.”
I groaned inwardly. What was Mars thinking? He knew Natasha would be impossibly jealous if he helped me instead of her. But then it dawned on me that Mars knew exactly what he was doing, and after his rant about not buying Mordecai’s house, I wondered if he volunteered so he could spy on her.
When I’d walked into the restaurant, I couldn’t have cared less about decorating a room in Mordecai’s house. Nothing had been further from my mind. But my lengthy rivalry with Natasha always brought out the very worst in me, and I was enjoying her discomfort.
Natasha couldn’t control her expression anymore. A storm cloud washed over her face, and then she smiled—a wan, bitter smile that reminded me that Mars was totally useless around the house. He couldn’t even hammer a nail to hang a picture.
“Very well. Meet me at Mordecai’s at four o’clock to pick up your key.”
Bernie high-fived me, looking quite smug about trumping Natasha. I hated to leave the fun and the cozy fire, but I had to get back to work.
“Don’t you have a job to go to anymore?” I asked Mars, my tone loaded with sarcasm since he worked for himself as a political consultant.
“I have a meeting two blocks away. C’mon, I’ll walk you out.”
But as soon as I donned my coat, Adam Swensen, a local attorney, waved me down and took my hand between his. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Sophie.”
“My loss?” The only loss I felt at the moment was my cluelessness about what he meant.
“Mordecai spoke so fondly of you. He said he wouldn’t trust anyone else with it.”
I thought Natasha might choke.
“With what?” I asked. Had he left me his dog?
Swensen looked at his watch. “I’ve taken care of my part.” He smiled at me. “When Mordecai came to me last summer to make arrangements, he said the oddest thing.” Adam held up his hand as though no one should speak while he collected his thoughts. “He said—for nearly twenty years he thought he knew the truth, and then his little dog dug up something and he realized that he’d labored under a misconception all that time. Do you know what he meant?”
It sounded like the ramblings of a confused mind to me, but I couldn’t say that. “I’m sorry, I haven’t a clue.”
Adam nodded. “I guess we’ll never know. Well, a courier should deliver it to your home any time now. I do apologize for the late notice, but no one can plan these things. Right? Mars, aren’t you in my meeting? We’re going to be late.”
I wanted to follow Adam to ask what he was talking about, but Natasha grabbed me by the arm. “Mordecai left you something? But I’m the one who invited him to dinner last summer. I’m the one who befriended him. Why would he leave
you
anything?”
I didn’t have the faintest idea.
Natasha tossed me a withering look as she returned to her broth. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be involved in one of her grand schemes. On the other hand, Rooms and Blooms was well in hand, and it might be fun to paint and fix up a room in Mordecai’s house.
Bernie winked at me. “I’m off tonight. What say we get started this evening?”
Nothing doing. I was finally going out with Detective Wolf Fleishman. Our schedules made it difficult to get together, but we’d both vowed to make tonight’s date. “I’m busy tonight,” I said, “but you and Mars could get started. Why don’t you meet Natasha and me at Mordecai’s just after four, and we can see what needs to be done?”
At a quarter past four, I perched on the steps of the front porch to Mordecai’s house and pulled my coat closed against the wind. Working in the springlike atmosphere of Rooms and Blooms had made me forget how dismal it was outside. I checked my watch and hoped Natasha wouldn’t be late since I wanted to shower before Wolf picked me up for our date.
“Em-ma-line? Emma-puppy . . .” I bent forward enough to see Nina crouching with a piece of fried chicken in her hand.
I was about to pretend to bark when a soft “woof” came from behind Nina. She glanced up, and promptly fell over in a highly undignified
plop
onto her rear end. From my vantage point, I could only see Nina’s tomato-red face and a hand reaching out to her.

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