Krista Davis - Diva 01 _ Diva Runs Out of Thyme, The

Daisy wagged her tail and moved in for a dog hug when I closed the door.

“It’s the first time we’ve had the house to ourselves in days, huh, girl?”

She followed me into the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator, so laden with leftovers that containers threatened to fall out. In looking for turkey to nibble on, I found two gorgeous pork tenderloins I’d meant to cook before Thanksgiving. I checked the dates on them. They were still good. Pork with cherry sauce, savory rice, and asparagus would be a wonderful break from Thanksgiving foods for my houseguests.

I took out the turkey, sliced off a few pieces, and shared my treat with Mochie and Daisy. The peace didn’t last long. From the kitchen window I saw Nina dashing across the street, waving her arms like a madman. I opened the door and leaned out. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“The Peeping Tom,” she panted. “He’s in your backyard.”

Daisy and I rushed outside. Daisy loped ahead into the increasingly dark backyard. Nina paused at the corner of the house. She peeked around the back. “He’s there! He’s looking in your sunroom.”

I wanted to see a Peeping Tom about as much as I wanted to see a snake. Nina stood back and I peered around the corner of my house. The Peeping Tom wore a shabby jacket and an old hat.

Nina whispered, “I’ll call the cops.”

“Not yet.” Something wasn’t right. Daisy sniffed around the Peeping Tom without so much as a growl. “It’s someone we know.”

I heard Nina suck in air. “The killer! I knew it was Natasha.”

I wasn’t so sure it was Natasha but I thought we should find out. “I’m going to run straight back and cross to the other side of the yard. I’ll stick to the shadows. It’s getting so dark, I think I can do it without being seen. Give me about two minutes, then we’ll sneak up on him from both sides.”

Nina seized the back of my shirt. “And then what? What if it’s not Natasha? We say, ‘Oh, please, Mr. Peeping Tom, don’t kill us’?”

She was right. We huddled by the side of the house. “You stay here,” I said. “I’ll get a fireplace poker.”

But just as I took one last look around the corner, I came face-to-face with the Peeping Tom.

SIXTEEN

From “THE GOOD LIFE”:

Dear Sophie,

My husband says I make horrible tea because I heat the water in the microwave. I’m making a spiced holiday tea for a family brunch next week and he insists that I boil the water on the stove. We have a little bet riding on this. I say it doesn’t make a difference. What do you think?

—Teetotaler in Troutdale

Dear Teetotaler,

While the microwave is great for hot chocolate, I have to side with your husband about tea. Microwaved tea usually tastes flat. For full body and flavor, bring your water to a boil on the stove and pour it over tea bags or leaves.

If you must microwave water, be very careful. It can easily overheat and explode extremely hot water on you and the microwave.

—Sophie

I screamed.

The Peeping Tom screamed.

Nina screamed.

Daisy finally barked, no doubt happy about all the excitement.

The Peeping Tom clutched at his chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Francie.

Not again. “Come on in, Francie.” She’d better have a good explanation this time.

The three of us trudged back to the kitchen. Half frozen, Nina started a fire while I put on the kettle for tea. Francie took off her floppy hat and slumped in a chair to catch her breath. I should have been nicer but Francie’s antics grated on me. I crossed my arms and counted to ten so I wouldn’t be too rude when I demanded an explanation.

Nina rubbed her arms to warm up. “She started in the colonel’s yard. I saw her creeping around in the back. By the time I ran downstairs, she’d snuck out the old service alley and crossed the street.”

Francie raised her chin defiantly. “So what if I did?”

My anger subsided as I watched Francie, a pathetic figure, her hair mussed into spikes from the hat, her face weathered like an old sailor’s. In spite of her brave front, she came across as small and withered.

“You’ve been the Peeping Tom all along, haven’t you?”

She started to answer but Nina interrupted her. Pointing a finger at Francie, she said, “Don’t give us any of the baloney you told the cops.”

“There really was a Peeping Tom. Honest. I don’t know who it was but it wasn’t me.”

Daisy placed her head in Francie’s lap and Francie stroked her gently. Nina took the kettle off the burner and brewed three mugs of tea while I commenced with the interrogation. I pulled a kitchen chair in front of Francie’s and sat down. “What were you doing?”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Taking a shortcut.”

“A shortcut that involved staring into my sunroom?”

Nina handed us steaming mugs of tea spiced with cinnamon and cloves and sat in the other fireside chair. “Okay, out with it or I’ll call the cops the next time.”

Francie flicked her hand at Nina, indicating she wasn’t intimidated by Nina’s threat.

I sipped the tea to warm up. The last time we caught Francie in my backyard she’d been dressed for Thanksgiving dinner. This time she wore loose, shabby clothing and a hat to hide her face. She wanted anyone who saw her to think she could be the original Peeping Tom. What did she want in my sunroom? Had she been checking to be sure no one was home?

Remembering how she’d barely taken her eyes off the colonel at Thanksgiving, I plotted a way to get her to talk.

I stood up and addressed Nina. “I guess I’ll call the colonel and tell him. He has a right to know that Francie has been prowling in his backyard and down his service alley.”

The scowl on Francie’s face turned to horror. “No! Don’t involve him. I’ll . . . I’ll tell you the truth. But only if you promise me you won’t tell the colonel.”

Nina and I agreed to keep mum.

“I’ve been following him.”

Nina burst out laughing. “You’ve been stalking the colonel?”

“I prefer to think of it as observing. Honestly, you girls are old enough to know you can’t catch a man by just batting your eyelashes at him.”

Nina covered her mouth with her fingers and I knew why. I didn’t dare let our eyes meet. Suppressing a grin, I asked, “How does it help to observe him?”

“You’d be surprised what you can find out about a person. He sends out all of his laundry. Even his underwear. A cleaning woman arrives every Monday morning. He’s very neat, though. I imagine that’s from his military days.”

“Francie,” I said, “wouldn’t it be easier to invite him over for dinner? You’d learn so much more about him that way.”

“Not necessarily.”

“That explains why you were in his yard poking around, but what were you doing looking in my windows?”

“I lost track of him. I thought I saw him walk over here. I went upstairs to change my clothes, but when I came down, I couldn’t find him anymore. I didn’t know where he went. I checked his house but he didn’t appear to be home. The light in his mudroom was on; he always leaves it on when he goes out. Since I’d last seen him crossing to your house, I thought maybe you had invited him over for drinks.”

My heart went out to Francie. I couldn’t imagine being so lonely and desperate.

“The colonel has never caught you?” asked Nina.

Francie glowered at her. “Give me a little credit. Besides, the original Peeping Tom made it easier for me. If anyone saw me, they’d think it was the real guy back again.” She looked around. “So where is he?”

I didn’t dare tell her the colonel invited June to dinner. I couldn’t break her heart that way. “He went out. He just stopped by for a minute.”