Diva Wraps It Up, The (21 page)

Dear Sophie,

I was roped into bringing one hundred cookies to a fund-raiser at my child’s school. Now someone has dropped out (were I only that wise!) and they expect me to bring 250 cookies. What’s the easiest cookie to bake?

Overworked Dad in North Star, Nebraska

Dear Overworked Dad,

The spritz cookie is your best choice. You can press out a lot of cookies in no time at all. They’re butter cookies, which will appeal to most people, and you can make assorted shapes, which are especially festive.

Sophie

“Things are going to change now that Gwen’s gone.” Patty gulped coffee. “I needed this. Remember how we were talking about me moving here? I’ve made up my mind to stay. Bethany and Bradley only have a few more years before they’re off to college. Baxter is such a mess they can’t depend on him right now. I have some straightening out to do with those kids. Job number one is getting Bethany back into school.” Patty sighed. “I know I’m not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but Gwen sure made a mess of things when she broke up my marriage to Baxter.” Her nostrils flared. “If she hadn’t come along, my children wouldn’t have all these issues.”

A little chill ran along my arms. I had to find out the time of death. Patty had been at my house until Luis was injured. After that, I couldn’t account for her. Especially that little trip out of the house in the middle of the night.

“Sophie, you’ve been wonderful to put me up. I’ll be out of your hair now. I’m moving into a guest room at Baxter’s.”

Liza tucked her head coyly and wiggled her eyebrows. “That was some quick work. How convenient of you to be there to comfort him.”

“It’s not like that.” Patty waved her off. “If you only knew how thick the air is in that house. Trust me, there’s no hanky-panky.”

Nina appeared thoughtful. “Won’t that look bad for Baxter? I mean, before a jury or to the police?”

Patty’s eyes grew wide. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

Liza
tsk
ed. “It doesn’t sound good to me. Ex-wife moves in one hour after new wife’s corpse is found?”

“That’s terrible!” Patty sat back. “Well, it’s not like that, and I have witnesses. The kids, Sugar, and Elvin can see that I’m in a guest room.”

“You do realize,” I said, “that you’re all talking about it as though you know that Baxter killed Gwen.”

“Oh, Baxter didn’t murder her. It was Natasha.” Patty spoke matter-of-factly.

“How do you know?” Nina asked.

“I can tell from the kinds of questions the cops are asking. Everything is about Natasha’s relationship with Gwen.”

“I know she’s your friend, but it does seem as though everything points toward Natasha.” Liza brushed her hair out of her face. “Her garage, her wrapping paper, she had that column in the paper recently about how to wrap big objects, and from what I understand that was exactly how Gwen was wrapped up. Not to mention what she posted on the Internet.”

Nina wasn’t one of Natasha’s fans, but I saw the worry on her face. It didn’t look good for Natasha. But why had the mouse been in her workroom if it was Gwen who had been tormenting Edith?

Wolf knocked on the kitchen door.

“Oh no, not him again!” Patty exclaimed.

I opened the door for Wolf who said, “Sorry to interrupt—”

Patty’s face turned purple. “Look, I’m telling you for the last time that I did not murder Gwen. Did I hate her? Yes! Despise her? Lie awake at night imagining horrible things would happen to her? Yes! But I did not kill her. How would you feel if someone stole your husband and then took your children, too? It was like she sucked the oxygen out of the very air I breathe and left me with nothing. But let me be clear. I did not kill her!” She pounded a fist on my kitchen table for emphasis.

Wolf had listened quietly. In a soft tone he said, “Sophie, Mrs. Scroggins asked me to bring your coats over to you.” He handed me the coats Nina and I had left at Edith’s house. “But thank you for clarifying that, Patty. It was most helpful.” He left and shut the door.

“Nooo!” wailed Patty. “Did I say something incriminating?”

When everyone left, I pulled on my coat, slipped the toy glasses into my pocket, and took a stroll intending to visit Rocking Horse Toys. On a whim, I turned the corner and went a couple of blocks out of my way to pass by Alex’s law office.

I was sorry I did. Fortunately, I was across the street when the door opened and Sugar left. But I didn’t miss the way she grabbed Alex’s shirt collar and planted a big smooch on his lips.

I confess I was steaming a little bit when Phyllis, Horace’s secretary, tugged on my arm.

“Sophie! I’m so glad I ran into you. I go to sit with Horace every day, but he worries me so. He just doesn’t seem to be getting any better. I’m not a relative, so they never tell me much about what’s going on with him. When I went by Baxter’s house with a casserole, he said you’ve been checking in on Edith. Has she told you anything?”

The door to Alex’s office closed, and Sugar sashayed along the sidewalk, a little smile playing on her lips.

I shifted my focus to Phyllis. “I can ask Edith. I’m afraid you probably know more than I do.”

“Thank you. Edith isn’t very forthcoming. I think she’s always been resentful of my relationship with Horace.”

“Oh?” I gazed at her pretty brown eyes. Was she the author of the girlish love letter?

“Horace and I have worked together so many years. I think today they call it an office spouse. My ex-husband used to hate that term. But it applies to Horace and me. He knows everything about me”—her gaze drifted sadly downward—“except how much I care about him.”

“Did you know Horace before you went to work for him?”

“I sure did. Edith acts like she’s the only one who was born and raised in Old Town, but I was, too. I remember her wedding—the one that didn’t happen because her fiancé died? Oh my word, you would have thought she was royalty. It was the biggest wedding you can imagine. Everyone who was anyone was invited. And then the big shock when she had to bury him instead of marry him. I never understood what Horace saw in her. She was pretty once, of course. You know her parents sent her off to study art at the Sorbonne. She had everything . . .”

“And then she got Horace, too.”

“Hmm, lucky girl. It’s a pity she never appreciated him.”

I didn’t know what to do. That remark about office spouses made me wonder if their relationship went further outside of the office, too. “You’re a very good friend to visit Horace every day.”

“The office reopens officially on Monday. Goodness, but there’s a lot to do. I hope he can come home soon. People mend so much faster at home.”

Had she really said
come home
? As if he was coming home to her? As gently as I could, I said, “It sounds like you had a crush on him when you were young.”

“How did you know?”

“You’re obviously still extremely fond of him.”

She patted my arm. “Let me know what Edith tells you. I’m quite anxious about his condition.”

I watched her walk away, wishing she were Brown-Eyed Girl.

I window-shopped as I walked, but my heart wasn’t in it. And then I spotted Natasha through a store window. She was perfectly coiffed and dressed in a coat and matching plaid scarf in her signature robin’s-egg blue. Her chic winter boots had impossibly high heels. She seemed totally pulled together. But she held a gold star in her hands and didn’t move. She simply stood there with tears streaming down her otherwise flawless makeup.

I hurried inside. “Nat?” I placed my hand against her back.

“They laughed at me, Sophie.” She spoke in a bare whisper. “I’m the big joke around town.”

“Who?”

“The women who work here.”

I glanced toward the cash register. They were snickering all right. One even made motions like she was bashing the other one over her head.

I took the star out of Natasha’s hands. “Let’s go home.” I placed my arm around her and guided her toward the door.

We shuffled by the women, who burst into laughter as we left. Natasha didn’t say much on the way home. I didn’t, either.

Safely back in my kitchen, I put on the kettle for tea and handed her a warm washcloth to clean her face. “Spiced holiday tea, or just plain black tea?”

“Plain.”

She had walked home with her head bent forward and still sat that way at my kitchen table. I lit a fire and helped her out of the coat she hadn’t bothered to take off.

Her hands trembled. I’d never seen her this was—beaten down and hopeless.

I doctored her tea with a little sugar and milk, which I knew she didn’t take. Mars had said she wasn’t eating, so I was determined to get some food into her. I found the cookies she had baked for the cookie swap and brought a few to her on a little plate. Surely she would eat her own cookies.

I sat down and watched her. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She didn’t raise her eyes. “I work all the time. Around the clock. Every day. I try so hard to look and be professional. My house is impeccable. Do you know what I’ve gone through to get where I am? And in one second, Gwen wiped out all my efforts. No one remembers my fabulous recipes or my beautiful decorating tips. All they can see is those hideous pictures. I’m a laughingstock. I’m ruined.”

“They say there’s no such thing as bad publicity.” I wasn’t sure I agreed with that, but it was what she needed to hear. “Why don’t you turn this around by using it to your advantage?”

“That’s impossible.”

“What if you went online and made a joke about having a bad hair day? You could ask people to submit pictures of their bad hair days and make a contest out of it.”

Natasha sat up straighter. “And I could tell them how to fix their hair problems!”

“Noooo. You wouldn’t want them telling you how to fix your hair problem in those pictures.”

“They think I already have by murdering Gwen. Why did Gwen hate me so much? Why did she post those stupid pictures?”

“You often tell me that people want to be you. In this case, I think Gwen might have wished she were more like you.”

“I don’t know why anyone would want to be me. No one likes me. Everyone comes over to your house instead of mine. Maybe I should be more like you. I mean, look how you’re dressed. You don’t care what people think. You don’t even have a signature color. Your house isn’t fashionable, you even use red and green to decorate for Christmas, just no originality at all.”

I would have protested if she hadn’t looked so miserable.

“Mars says you’re even cheerful in the morning.”

“Not every morning.”

Natasha pointed at her cookies. “Look at these pathetic cookies you baked—”

“You baked those.”

She picked one up and nibbled on it. “See how distracted I am? I didn’t even recognize my own cookies. They’re good, too!” She ate the cookie and helped herself to two more. “I should bake more of these. I know! Gwen goofed everything up, but I’ll go forward with the big block decorating party just like I planned. I’ll bake cookies, you can bring mulled cider or hot chocolate. Think you could manage that? And we’ll finish stringing lights on the trees along the sidewalk and on the homes of those who can’t do it themselves. That will restore my holiday spirit.”

She stood up but bent over to hug me. “And one day, you really must let me tell you what you should do with this kitchen.”

After she left, I grabbed my coat and made my way to Rocking Horse Toys. It teemed with children and parents. I waived at Twiggy briefly. “Kat’s not here?”

“Sugar is supposed to pick her up from school.”

A woman sidled over to us clutching two dolls in her hands. They were identical except for the color of their dresses. “Can you set these aside for me to pick up tomorrow?” she whispered. She flicked a credit card at Twiggy and hurried back to twin girls who were admiring a dollhouse.

The busy store was perfect for what I had in mind. I wasn’t sure I wanted to draw Elvin’s attention just yet. I browsed through the store in search of mice like the one Edith had bought. Two of them perched on a shelf laden with stuffed animals. My heart thudded when I saw them. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the glasses Kat said she had found in the Babineaux living room. I held them up to one of the mice. They were a perfect match.

I slid the glasses back into my pocket and brought the two mice to the register to pay for them. Twiggy smiled when she took them from me. “These are so cute. They’ve sold very well for us.”

“Did Gwen or Baxter buy one?”

“Not that I know of. Excuse me, Sophie. Elvin, would you please ring these up?” Twiggy hurried off.

Elvin looked at the mice in his hands. He paused for a long moment. Without raising his head, his eyes moved up to meet mine. A little chill shook through me. Elvin was definitely uneasy.

He forced a smile. “Cute little guys, aren’t they?”

I tried to sound casual. “I thought Kat might like one. She seems to have the glasses but not the mouse.” I pulled the glasses out of my pocket to show him.

The genial flush in his face blanched to white. He rang up the mice and with a shaking hand, slid them into a bag.