The Diva Digs up the Dirt (11 page)

Police vehicles lined the street in front of Wolf’s house. At Francie’s direction, I parked in Olive’s driveway. I hopped out, attached Daisy’s leash, and immediately suspected
that I would be able to see more from Olive’s yard. The cops would probably block me from entering Wolf’s backyard. Daisy loping beside me, I ran along the shrubs and trees separating the two properties. An engine rumbled in Wolf’s yard. I recognized the sound, since I’d heard it at my house the day before—a backhoe.

I could make out Wolf’s potting shed between the branches. I stepped into the brush, wondering what had possessed me to wear a dress. I needed jeans and sneakers. Pushing branches down, I peered through them. Kenner watched the progress of a backhoe, his arms folded over his chest, his expression grim.

I scanned the little group for Wolf, but didn’t see him. Mona, on the other hand, stood only feet from the soil that had been turned over, inspecting it carefully.

As though he had Sophie radar, Kenner looked in my direction. He strode over casually, like we were at a baseball game. Using one hand, he moved branches on his side. “What are you doing?”

“Are you digging for Anne?”

The hollows under his cheekbones seemed even more pronounced today. “Yeah. Unless you have a better idea.”

“Me?”

He sighed so hard I could hear it in spite of the noisy backhoe. “Mona thinks Wolf told you the truth.”

“In the first place, I’m not sure I’d believe anything Mona says. She’s done nothing but lie to me. She even pretended to collapse yesterday. And second, if she’s right and Wolf told me the truth, then the truth is that he doesn’t know what happened to Anne. So there!”

Daisy’s growl punctuated my ire.

“You brought that vicious dog again?”

“She’s not vicious!” But she didn’t like Kenner. Not that I could blame her. The man was sour, stiff, and forbidding. “Besides, what is Mona doing in the crime scene? Aren’t you afraid she’ll contaminate it? She messed up any prints on the purse big time yesterday.”

“She’s behind the yellow line in the grass. We combed
it, but after all these years, it’s unlikely we’d find much there unless it was buried. Plus, Mona is Anne’s mom. She deserves to be there and see what’s happening. It would be cruel to expect her to sit in a hotel room waiting for word that might never come.”

“When did you become so sensitive?”

“Always have been.”

Not to me!

I could barely bring myself to ask, but I had to know. “Have you found anything?”

“Not yet. We’ve just gotten started, though. It’s a big yard.”

“You’re not digging up the whole thing?”

“I hope we don’t have to.”

I hoped he would have to. That would mean they didn’t find anything.

He swung around, his attention on Wolf’s house. “Now we’ll get some answers.”

“What happened?” I crouched, trying to see.

“The cadaver dog has arrived. He’ll be able to tell us where Anne is buried.” Kenner ambled off.

“Sophie!” I could barely hear Francie calling me, but Daisy tugged in her direction.

Francie beckoned to me frantically. Olive stood next to her, also motioning to me.

I ran toward them.

“Wolf won’t come out.”

“What?”

“We’ve knocked and rung the doorbell,” said Olive.

“We even peeked in the windows,” added Francie.

“Maybe he left.”

Olive shook her head. “I don’t think so. His car’s in the driveway.”

My heart pounding from running in the increasingly warm morning air, and out of concern for Wolf, I rushed toward his house with Daisy.

To my complete dismay, reporters already clambered in
his front yard. I scooted by them, aghast at their questions about whether I knew the victim or—the killer.

I ducked around the rhododendron, only to be blocked by a cop whom I didn’t know. I introduced myself and told him I was there to check on Wolf. Daisy wagged her tail and sniffed his knees.

“I don’t think so.” He pointed to the front yard, evidently meaning that was where I should go.

“But I know where the spare key is. Someone should check on him.”

“Good try, lady.”

“Do you really want me to bring Kenner in on this?” I asked.

He flinched and his eyes narrowed. “Come with me.” He led me to the back of Wolf’s house. “Which one is Kenner?”

Too easy. “Blue shirt, sleeves rolled back, leaning over to look at the dirt.”

“Okay, where’s the key?”

Part of me wondered if I should give away the location. On the other hand, I wanted to go inside. Wolf would have to find another hiding place. Daisy and I walked over to the side door. I lifted a concrete bunny that nestled among the leaves of a hosta and pulled off the key taped to the bottom. “Happy now?”

He took the key from me and tried it in the lock. “Doesn’t fit.”

“Of course not.” I held out my hand for the key.

He gave it to me with some degree of reluctance.

I walked around to the back deck and unlocked the sliding glass door. Daisy and I barged inside. I dropped her leash and locked the door immediately, the cop looking in at me from the other side. Mona caught wind of what was going on and chugged across the lawn toward us. I pulled the drapes closed.

“Wolf?” The grandfather clock ticked steadily. Dark and cool, the house offered a comfortable breather from the sun. The family room, an addition to the original bungalow,
featured high, beamed ceilings and a stone fireplace, in keeping with the Arts and Crafts style. Everything appeared to be in place. I took off Daisy’s leash, so she wouldn’t drag it over the hardwood floors.

“Wolf?” I called out louder.

I wandered to the kitchen. No coffee brewing. No sign of breakfast at all.

Where had Daisy gone? I should have followed her.

No one in the dining room or the living room. I walked up the stairs. “Wolf?”

His bedroom appeared untouched. Maybe he wasn’t home.

A thudding sound pulled me down the hallway to another bedroom. I knew that sound—Daisy’s tail hitting something.

I peered inside. “Wolf?”

He sat on a bench at the foot of the bed. His elbows on his knees, his head bent forward. Daisy had wedged her head between his knees, demanding his attention.

Gauzy white curtains couldn’t block the sun—or the view of the backyard. I’d never paid much attention to this room before. In fact, I’d thought it was a guest room. But now that I saw Wolf here… “This is the master bedroom, isn’t it?”

He didn’t move. My heart went out to him. When Anne disappeared, he’d abandoned their bedroom. What could I possibly say to console him? Everything seemed trite or vapid.

Mostly, I was angry with myself. How could I have dated Wolf without giving Anne much thought? Somehow, I’d imagined him as being single. I knew about her, but I’d managed to compartmentalize her in my mind—because I thought she was dead. My left hand swooped up to cover my mouth in horror.
I’d been dating a married man.
People asked me about marriage and engagement and rings. Everyone acted like he was single. I hadn’t given any thought to marriage, but I wished I had because I’d have given his current marriage more thought.

I walked over to him and gently pried Daisy away. Kneeling on the floor, I looked into his face. “I’m sorry, Wolf.”

He rose and took a step toward the windows. “I’m sorry, too, because you’re about the last person in the world I want to see right now.”

“Because you feel like you’ve been cheating on Anne?”

He clutched the windowsill with both hands and bent his head again.

“Isn’t there anything I can do?”

“Go away.”

“Have you eaten anything? I could make you an omelet.”

He turned toward me. “Food isn’t going to fix this, Sophie.”

And just like that, I turned into my mother. “Of course not, but you have to keep up your strength.”

I retreated downstairs to his kitchen and put on the kettle for tea. Coffee might be too strong for him right now. I’d left my tea in the car, and I needed another little morning jolt.

Wolf must have been to the grocery store not too long ago. In his refrigerator, I found leftover asparagus that was already cooked, sliced deli ham, and Cablanca, a nice salty goat Gouda. While I heated the pan for the eggs, I could hear Francie arguing with the obnoxious cop outside. I opened the kitchen door and hissed, “Francie!”

She and Olive piled into the kitchen.

I shut the door in the cop’s face and locked it. “Tea?”

“Where’s Wolf?” asked Francie.

“Upstairs. It’s probably not a good time to talk to him. He’s… shaken.”

I whisked the eggs and poured them into the hot pan. Rustling through a drawer, I found a wood-handled steak knife that sliced through the asparagus and ham like they were butter.

Francie and Olive sniffed hungrily.

“No one has had breakfast?” I asked. “Get the other eggs out. I’ll make more omelets as soon as I’m done with Wolf’s.

“So what did he say?” asked Francie.

“Go away.”

“That’s sort of rude.”

“He’s devastated!”

Francie frowned. “That boy needs to buck up.”

Boy? Wolf passed boy a long time ago. It was all relative, I guessed. I loosened the edges of the omelet and shifted the pan to allow excess egg to run underneath and cook. Using a vegetable peeler, I sliced the Gouda into thin, wide strips and laid them on top of the cooked eggs with bits of asparagus and ham. Loosening the edges again, I rolled the eggs gently into an omelet and slid it onto a plate.

“Stay down here. I don’t want to upset him any more than he already is.” Taking a deep breath, I loaded a mug of tea, a napkin, a fork, and the omelet onto a tray and marched it up the stairs.

He sat on the bench again, holding a small pillow in his hands.

“Where would you like to eat?”

“Sophie, I don’t know of a nice way to say this, and I don’t think I have it in me to be kind to anyone right now. Please, leave me alone. I need to deal with this by myself.”

I placed the tray on the bed, took the pillow, tossed it on a chair, and handed him the plate and fork. “I’m not going to pretend that I understand your pain. But you have friends, Wolf. We’re not going to abandon you.” Well, not unless they proved him guilty of murder. Then I might have to reconsider. Was it terrible of me to feel that way? “Come on, you know you’re hungry.”

To my surprise, he ate a bite. And then another. I perched on the edge of a cushy barrel chair. The curves and floral fabric contrasted nicely with the stark dark wood furniture. Anne’s touch, I guessed. I picked up the pillow Wolf had held. It was made of yellow gingham with a white fringe. On it, someone, presumably Anne, had embroidered a ladybug sitting on a daisy. It was darling. Summery and sweet—the sort of personal imprint that made a home cozy. Examining those careful stitches brought Anne alive to me.

Lest I say something that would cause Wolf to lose his appetite, I kept quiet company with him while he ate. Francie and Olive could wait a bit. I was totally parched and couldn’t wait for my own cup of tea. I should have brought one up with me.

Wolf finished the omelet. “Thanks, Soph.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shot me a look hotter than the pan I’d cooked the eggs in. I collected everything except the mug of tea, which he held, and retreated in silence, glad that he’d eaten.

At the bottom of the stairs, I passed the entrance to the family room addition and backed up. A pile of pictures had been left on a side table. Bracing the tray on my hip, I scattered them with my free hand. Anne and Wolf camping. Anne and Wolf’s wedding. Anne and Wolf at the beach. He must have looked through them last night. No wonder he was so short with me—I wasn’t Anne. I swiped the picture of them at the beach and slid it into my pocket. Chances were that she was dead. But if I was going to help him, a picture might come in handy if someone claimed to have seen her.

Francie, Olive, and Nina sat around Wolf’s kitchen table, gabbing. “Where did you come from?” I asked Nina.

“I cannot believe that you didn’t call me this morning so I could come along.”

“I was in a bit of a panic. How did you find us?”

Francie waved my cell phone at me. “You left your purse in the car. That didn’t seem safe, so I carried it with me. When the phone rang, it only seemed polite to answer it.”

“So how’s Wolf?” asked Nina. “Maybe he’d feel better if he came down here with us.”

I was about to say that I didn’t think so, but Olive spoke first.

She rose from her seat. “Maybe I should go. My presence might make things worse.”

“You sit right down and tell them.” Francie drummed her forefinger on the table.

I poured hot water for tea and cracked more eggs for omelets. “Tell us what?”

Olive sat down. “I feel uncomfortable talking about this in their kitchen.”

“Sophie deserves to know,” said Francie.

Nina placed the mugs of tea on the table. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

“You aren’t as close to Wolf as Sophie. For heaven’s sake, Olive, if you don’t tell them, I will!”

“You have to promise you won’t tell anyone else.” Olive looked straight at me.

Yeah, right.
Why did people always say that before they spread gossip they knew they shouldn’t tell?

“It’s just that—” Olive seemed flustered. “Okay, I’ll cut out everything except the pertinent part. Anne was involved with another man when she disappeared.”

“What?” I drifted to the table. “I’m stunned.”

Nina frowned, creating a deep crease between her eyes. “That can’t be. Everyone would have known and talked about it. No way.”

“It’s true,” said Olive. “For various reasons, it was kept very quiet. Are those eggs burning?”