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

“Where’d he go?”

At least I didn’t have to lie. “I don’t know exactly.”

The knocker on the front door banged. Nina looked out the bay window. “That’s my dinner.” She rose to answer the door.

Francie’s eyes roamed the kitchen. “Where’s June?”

I chose my words carefully. “She went out.”

Francie leapt from her chair. “Together! They went out together.”

I didn’t deny it. I couldn’t.

Nina carried a pile of party-sized take-out containers into the kitchen. “Okay if I borrow some of your pots and pans so the monster-in-law will think it’s homemade?”

“Of course.”

Francie paced. “I’ve invested so much time. Then June arrives in town and boom, he’s smitten with her immediately. How could this happen?” Francie’s fingers curled into little balls. “Nobody trifles with Francine Vanderhoosen. Nobody. That . . . that . . . man!”

“Francie, calm down. It’s just dinner,” I said.

“Just dinner? When I think about the way I’ve been treated. Ooo. He’ll rue the day he did this to me. I’m not keeping his secrets anymore.”

Nina swung around. “Secrets? Do tell.”

“I’ll tell you something the police don’t even know. The colonel went to see Simon the day he was murdered. And the colonel was there when Simon was killed.”

SEVENTEEN

From “THE GOOD LIFE”:

Dear Sophie,

The holidays are upon us and what with decorating, writing cards, and going to school pageants, I have less time than normal. But family and friends expect more than a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner. Any suggestions for something fast and festive?

—Frazzled in Fredericksburg

Dear Frazzled,

Pork tenderloins to the rescue. They’re like the filet mignon of pork, delicious and easy to make. Better still, they go well with a variety of nuts and fruits if you feel like dressing them up. A whole tenderloin cooks in twenty to thirty minutes. Don’t overcook them! They should be a little bit pink in the middle. You can pop them in the oven or cook them on the stove top. If you opt for a pan on the stove top, brown them first in olive oil and be sure to add some liquid like chicken broth or apple juice and cover tightly.

Need to speed up dinner? Cut the tenderloin into half-inch slices and cook on the grill or in a pan.

—Sophie

“How do you know the colonel was at the hotel the day Simon was murdered?” I asked.

“Haven’t you been listening?” asked Francie, her expression incredulous. “I followed him.”

“So you were there, too.”

“Obviously.”

“But why wouldn’t the police know? They corralled us all in the ballroom.”

“The colonel isn’t an idiot. He left when word broke about the murder. Simply walked through the main lobby and out the front entrance. No one tried to stop either of us.”

“Maybe he went to the hotel for another reason,” suggested Nina.

“Not a chance. He knew exactly where he was going. Waited until that driver of Simon’s left his side and then the colonel paid Simon a visit in the Washington Room.”

I thought I caught an implausibility in her story. “If that were the case, Natasha would have seen the colonel coming or going.”

“Not if she went in the back way. I would have seen her if she had come down the main hallway.”

I frowned at her. “Then why didn’t I see you?”

“I guess we had moved on by the time you found Simon. I was lurking behind a potted plant but I’d have noticed you or Natasha going into the Washington Room.”

Nina appraised Francie with admiration. “Francie, how’d you like to come over for dinner? My monster-in-law would love company.”

Francie fingered the oversized sweater she’d worn under her jacket. “Dressed like this?”

“Go home and change first.”

They headed for my front door.

“But one word about this being take-out and I’ll spill everything to the colonel,” warned Nina.

I followed them to the foyer and as they walked out into the early darkness I heard Francie say, “Deal.”

I shut the door and returned to the kitchen to start dinner. After rinsing the meat and patting it dry, I seasoned it with salt, pepper, and thyme. The day I’d found Otis’s body I’d bought fresh rosemary sprigs. I snipped the tiny leaves with scissors, enjoying the slightly piney scent. After sprinkling the meat with the rosemary bits, I rubbed the seasonings across the pork loins. Since the entire gang hadn’t yet returned, I covered the two pork tenderloins with plastic wrap and placed them in the fridge. They wouldn’t take long to cook. I’d wait until everyone had returned before starting them so they wouldn’t dry out.

The heads of romaine in the refrigerator would provide a good base for a salad. I chopped crunchy pecans and tossed them with the washed and spun-dry lettuce. Using my favorite mini-whisk, I swirled together orange juice, rosemary, salt, freshly ground pepper, thyme, and olive oil for a vinaigrette but left it on the counter in its bowl. It would only take a second to dress the salad before we ate. If I dressed it now, the lettuce would wilt and become soggy. I chopped an onion and two cloves of garlic for the rice and set them aside. Next to them, I placed cottony dried sage, basmati rice, a knob of butter, and the pot. That would be ready to go in a flash.

Frozen cherries went into a small saucepan to which I added a little sugar, a splash of brandy, cinnamon, and ground cloves. The wintery scent of cinnamon mixing with cloves wafted into the air the minute the pot heated.

Bernie arrived home first. Daisy and Mochie clambered for his attention. He obliged them by kneeling on the kitchen floor. Daisy licked his face while little Mochie head-butted him.

When their excitement subsided, he stood and tossed his leather jacket on top of the jacket I hadn’t bothered to hang up.

“I like your Old Town Alexandria. Has character. Walked over to check on Mars and then spent the afternoon roaming around a bit. Never had the time when I visited before.”

I longed to ask him about the newspaper article I’d found. I stirred the thawing cherries and wondered how to steer the conversation to Miami. “Where’s home these days?”

“Was living in London but I’m seriously considering a change. Mars thinks there are opportunities around here.”

Rats, he didn’t take my bait. “So what began as a vacation might become a permanent residence?”

Bernie poured himself a glass of orange juice. “Yeah, maybe.”

I tried a different tack. “How’s your mom?” She traveled a lot. Maybe he’d visited her in Miami.

“Met some bloke she likes and went to Hong Kong. Last I heard they were in Shanghai on business. She’s likely to ring me any day now about another wedding. What’s for dinner?”

If he wouldn’t talk about Miami, I would have to be more obvious. “Miami Vice Rice and Pork Tenderloins.”

“You Americans have odd names for food. I stopped over in Miami on my way here. Lovely to catch some sun this time of year but I don’t recall seeing Miami Vice Rice on a menu.”

The kitchen door opened and Dad walked in. “It’s cold enough to snow!” He rubbed his hands briskly.

“Where are the others?” I asked.

He contorted his face in mock pain. “I begged them to drop me off. They had to see one more store.”

Dad’s coat landed on top of the jackets. The chair would topple soon. I swooped them up and hung them all in the foyer closet.

When I returned to the kitchen, Dad had settled into a chair. Mochie and Daisy demanded his attention but while he stroked them, he addressed Bernie.