The Diva Digs up the Dirt (19 page)

“No it’s not,” protested Mars. “It didn’t land there until Violet knocked it out of my hand.”

“No can do, Mars. It was part of the crime scene when I arrived. How do I know the victim didn’t grab it off you when you were attacking him?”

I had never seen Mars at a loss for words before. He blinked at Kenner. “Aw, that’s funny. Okay, give me the phone.”

“Get out of here.” Kenner clearly meant to dispatch us.

“But it has all my contacts on it. It’s my life!”

“Give it up, Mars. You’re not getting it back.” Kenner reached out and grabbed my elbow, pulling me aside. “It appears that Wolf’s past has finally caught up with him. Thanks for turning in Anne’s handbag.”

“I didn’t. Wolf reported it himself.”

Kenner turned his face up to the cloudless blue sky. “Don’t let him deceive you. Anne is dead, and I don’t want the same to happen to you. He thought he got away with it, but he’s about to pay the piper.” He looked me in the eyes. “Are you in touch with him?”

“No. I don’t know where he is.”

“Huh.” He obviously didn’t believe me. “Did he stay with you last night?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It’s police business. How about the night before?”

Why did I feel like no matter how I answered that question, somehow I was going to sink Wolf deeper into trouble? Even though I understood the implications of the handbag, I felt compelled to defend Wolf. “You have never liked him. I don’t know what your problem is, but I assume you’re professional enough not to let your personal feelings intrude on the investigation.”

He blinked at me a couple of times and then looked in the direction Cricket had gone. “There are things you don’t know.”

Why did everyone keep saying that? “Then tell me!”

“Maybe someday. Not here, not now. But thanks to you digging up that purse, I think I’ve got him this time.” He walked back toward Heath.

Mars and Nina waited for me by her car.

“What did Kenner want?” asked Mars.

“He asked where Wolf was last night and had to tell me how much trouble Wolf is in. Like I didn’t already know that. And that it’s my fault—for uncovering Anne’s handbag. I’m just sick about it. People keep telling me there are things about Wolf that I don’t know, but they won’t tell me what. It’s like he has some big secret.”

An expression of pure delight came over Nina’s face. “Ohhh, I love ferreting out a good secret. Must have something to do with Anne. Maybe he had a fight with her lover? Think we could coax Olive to tell us?”

Mars’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll ask around. Wolf is a decent enough guy, even if he does insist on dating my ex-wife. I have trouble imagining him killing anyone.”

“You’re the one with reason to kill your”—Nina stopped short—“whatever Natasha is. She’d drive anyone to murder.”

Mars didn’t flinch. “Has Wolf ever been violent toward you?”

“Never. He got a little hot under the collar the other day about my meeting with Roscoe. Evidently they had a run-in sometime.”

“Olive!” Nina almost shouted her name. “Do you think
anyone bothered to tell her about Roscoe? Maybe we should call her.”

Was that butting into their lives or being helpful? When did life get so complicated? “They’re divorced. Maybe we should leave it to Audie to tell his mom.”

“I would want to know if
you
were taken to the hospital.” Mars raised his eyebrows at me.

I wouldn’t have admitted it at that moment for the world because I didn’t want to lead Mars on—I had enough problems as it was—but I would want to know if Mars was sick or injured. Audie had to be in his forties, so Olive had undoubtedly spent at least forty or more years married to Roscoe. In spite of the divorce, she probably still had a soft spot for him—unless she was still so angry she couldn’t stand him.

Nina punched keys on her phone. “Rats! I can’t find her number. I think we should drive over there. It’s not far.”

Mars nodded in agreement. “I’m headed to the hospital. I’ll call you with an update on Roscoe.”

We drove away in opposite directions.

“You want to pump Olive about Wolf,” I accused.

“I’m shocked that you would even suggest such a thing. We’re doing Olive a favor, and if she should happen to tell us something that might be helpful to Wolf in the process, then that would be a fortunate coincidence.”

“So you don’t think he killed Anne?”

She paused before answering. “Sophie, please don’t hate me, but I don’t know what to think. The Wolf I know and love would never hurt anyone. But everyone has a temper. Everyone! It’s possible that they argued and there was an accident. Maybe she fell and hit her head.” She glanced at me as if to gauge my level of annoyance. “Some people have two sides to their personalities. Maybe there’s another Wolf that lurks underneath. He’s not the type who tells all.”

“If he has a violent streak, he’s hidden it very well. We’ve spent a lot of time together, and I’ve never seen it.” I had to suppose an accident was possible. “Would he have tried to cover up if she fell and hit her head and was dead? Don’t you think he would have called an ambulance?”

“I’m very sorry to say I know from personal experience that you can’t predict how someone will act in the heat of the moment. Wolf is as capable of panic as everyone else. Just because he’s the strong, silent type doesn’t mean he can’t make a bad call in the horror of the moment.”

We passed a dozen cars parked on the street near Wolf’s house. Nina pulled into Olive’s driveway. We stepped out and could hear the roar of a backhoe.

“Sounds like they’re still digging at Wolf’s.” I hadn’t paid much attention to Olive’s house the day before. Azaleas that must have been gorgeous in the spring lined the front of the yellow Cape Cod. Scented lavender and golden black-eyed Susans bloomed profusely on both sides of the white steps that led to the front door. Pink petunias overflowed their pots and cluttered the little stoop.

Nina rang the bell. We waited in silence but never heard footsteps on the other side of the door.

“Maybe she’s not home.” Nina rang the bell again. “Audie might have called her. She could be on her way to the hospital already.”

“Or she could be out back, doing what she loves.”

We cut around the side of the house, which turned out to be larger than it looked in the front. Olive toiled in the back of her lot near the woods. She wore a sleeveless denim shirt and golf shorts, revealing bronzed arms and legs, wiry from working in the garden. A broad-brimmed straw hat kept the sun off her face. I noted with amusement that it had no veil or seed packets attached to it.

She saw us coming and waved a trowel. “I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been dying to hear an update on Wolf, and Francie doesn’t know anything.” She pulled off gardening gloves. “Watch your step. There’s a patch of poison ivy over there behind you.”

“Has Audie called you?” I asked.

“Audie?” She adjusted the hat. “Is something wrong?”

We explained what had happened to Roscoe. Olive took the news surprisingly well, but tension showed in the
tightness of her mouth. “Excuse me while I place a phone call to my thoughtless son.” She marched across the lawn with us and stopped mid-stride. “Is an ex-wife still considered family? Will the hospital let me see him?”

I shrugged. “I don’t see why not. You’ve known Roscoe a lot longer than Mindy has.”

“Excellent observation.” She lifted her chin and stoically proceeded to her house.

We accompanied her into an older eat-in kitchen with country charm and comfort. The cabinets had been washed with white paint so that an earlier green paint showed through just a hair. Pots of herbs sat on a windowsill above an old-fashioned double ceramic sink with a floral cloth hiding the plumbing underneath. Pots hung from a black rack adorned with chickens. Olive hadn’t bothered to hang curtains on the huge windows overlooking the property. Wall-mounted pieces of old mantels and headboards held a collection of vintage teapots, all in floral and herb patterns. A basket of pickling cucumbers rested on the table.

Although the kitchen was mostly white, flowers bloomed in a riot of colors in pots on the floor, the counters, and among the teapots.

I was still taking in the details of the kitchen when she screeched. “No!”

She said good-bye and hung up her phone, breathing hard. Placing her hands on the edge of the sink, she looked out into the yard, her back to us. A full minute ticked by.

“Is Roscoe…” I was afraid to ask if he’d died.

“I need a drink!” Olive opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher. “Iced tea?”

After hours in the heat, Nina and I eagerly accepted her offer. She poured it into chunky hand-blown glasses with green rims and tiny bubbles. Mexican, if I had to guess. We sat at her kitchen table, as roughly hewn as her old dining room table at Roscoe’s house.

Slapping the hat into an empty chair, Olive smoothed her forehead with a trembling hand. “I was planning to
make pickles today. Roscoe always loved my three-day crock pickles.”

Pickles! Either she was rambling or this was how she coped with stress. “Is Roscoe all right?” I couldn’t stand not knowing.

“Audie says he will be fine. I could hear Roscoe bellowing about going home. But you didn’t tell me about the murder! What is going on over there?”

“I suppose you heard about the stolen Audubon print,” I offered.

Olive snorted. “I never like to hear of anything bad happening to an Audubon. I wouldn’t have named my son Audubon if I weren’t a huge fan, but in this case, I am just a teensy bit amused. Schadenfreude they call it. Amusement at someone else’s misfortune. It’s about as low as a person can get to feel happy about another person’s bad luck, but after the way Roscoe replaced me with Mindy, I can’t help being just a tad gleeful about the missing Audubon.”

“So is Roscoe going home?” asked Nina.

“They’re keeping him for a bit, for observation and tests. Can you imagine—Audie said that I shouldn’t come to the hospital. He thinks I’ll cause a ruckus and upset the new lady of the manor.” She checked the time on a vintage wall clock featuring a cow’s head. “I’ll clean up and go over there in a couple of hours. Roscoe will need me. By then his hustler will have grown weary and gone home.” She took a deep breath. “So tell me about Wolf. Did the press find him? I gather they still haven’t located Anne’s body? It’s a shame what they’ve done to his yard. It looks like they don’t plan to leave a bit of soil unturned.”

“Olive,”—Nina rested her elbows on the table and leaned toward her—“we need your help.”

How very clever of Nina. Poor Olive felt discarded and unwanted. Nina honed right in on that by making her feel needed.

“As you know, Sophie has been dating Wolf.”

Ack! Where was Nina going with that?

“All of Sophie’s friends are worried about her relationship
with him. She thinks he’s a nice guy who would never murder anyone, but there seems to be some big secret about him.”

Olive bent forward toward us, nodding her head. “What can I do to help?”

Nina gave a little jolt as though surprised. “Tell us the secret!”

Olive sat up straight. “Well Lord, honey, how would I know? You two are far better acquainted with Wolf than I am.”

Nina frowned at me when her plan didn’t work.

I tried not to sound accusatory. “Isn’t there some conflict between Wolf and Roscoe?”

“They just had a disagreement is all. You know how it is when two stubborn men lock horns.” She made two fists and slammed them together at the knuckles to make her point.

“May I ask what they argued about?” I said.

Olive tsked. “I don’t want to hurt you by saying this, Sophie, but I believe Wolf put Anne on a pedestal. I’m not sure that she was the delicate angel he wanted to think she was.”

“Go on.” Nina crunched on a piece of ice.

“It wasn’t a big deal. Wolf obviously loved Anne very much and refused to face the truth about her. He got angry when Roscoe didn’t buy it and spoke his mind. Wolf would have defended that girl with his dying breath.” Olive snorted. “I wish Roscoe had felt as protective of me.”

I never expected to have so many conflicting emotions at one time. I wasn’t hurt. After all, wasn’t it commendable that Wolf had defended his wife? I had to admit that I was a tiny bit jealous, but in the end, wasn’t that what we wanted from a spouse? Someone who would stand by us through thick and thin? “He told me she never had a lover.”

“That’s a perfect example,” said Olive. “It was so obvious…” Her forehead wrinkled and she twirled her glass on the table.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“It’s just that… It’s rather curious that Anne’s lover would show up right now, just when you’ve discovered her handbag.”

“Show up? Who is he?” I asked.

“I thought you were there today—at my house. Well, Roscoe’s house now. Didn’t you see him?”

Who was she talking about? I wracked my brain to
remember. “Not Roscoe, surely not Mars or Detective Kenner. Audie?”

“Heath. He disappeared at the same time she did.”

“Heath who worked for Roscoe’s company?”

“That’s the one. I’m afraid your Wolf was in denial about it.”

The news knocked me for a loop. Wolf could not have been more insistent that Anne had never been involved with another man. Unfortunately, in an odd way, his adamant protests supported exactly what Olive had just said. “That would explain why he always thought she would return. Maybe he didn’t want to admit it, but deep down he thought or hoped she had run off with Heath.”

Nina jumped to her feet. “Thanks for the tea, Olive. We need to get going so you can check on Roscoe.”

In a flurry of thanks and good-byes, we were out the door and in Nina’s car in two minutes flat. She backed out of the driveway fast.