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

“Oh, no.” Humphrey kicked me under the table and motioned with his head.

I looked up.

Wolf was heading straight for us. His demeanor grim, he said, “Sophie, I need a word with you, please.”

Like a twelve-year-old at my first dance, I scooted around the table and imagined that he might lead me to a cozy nook for another kiss. I couldn’t suppress a smile and I was glad I’d listened to my mom and worn a sexy sweater.

Wolf escorted me out of the pub. “I want to apologize for my behavior.”

I melted. He realized he’d been abrupt and gruff. I admired men who could see their flaws and knew when to apologize. I stepped toward him and was about to place my hand on his coat when he said, “I never should have kissed you. That was inexcusable and unprofessional.”

So much for that. Even my sexy sweater hadn’t made a difference. I consoled myself with the thought that maybe he did murder his wife. “There are a few things I should tell you. I should have done it earlier but well, I took off too soon,” he continued. A chilly breeze penetrated my sweater. In spite of his obvious inattraction to me, my heart raced. I was afraid of what he was going to say.

“You were probably right about the turkey trophy being the murder weapon. We found traces of blood on the tail, as you said, and according to the medical examiner it’s consistent with Simon’s injury.” I stood up a little straighter. I’d been vindicated on one tiny item but it felt good. At least he knew I didn’t make it up.

“What about the soup?” I asked.

“We found the poison in only one soup bowl. That doesn’t clear you or implicate you.”

“Wolf, I’ve been wondering about blood spatter. You interviewed all of us right away. If one of us had been the killer, wouldn’t he have had blood spatter on his clothes?”

Wolf’s head jerked back. Apparently my question surprised him.

“I’m always underestimating you, Sophie. But it’s not unusual for blood spatter to be absent in cases where the victim is killed by a single blow to the head. That’s what we think happened to Simon.”

But I hadn’t known that and the killer might not have, either. He might have worn a dark shirt and rushed to wash it—just in case.

“We’ve been a little slow processing everything because of the holiday. I’m sure they’ll get to your clothes next week.”

I’d forgotten all about them. “How about my car? My folks will be going home soon and I’ll need transportation for work.”

“Better rent one. I doubt they’ll turn it over to you until the perpetrator is in custody.” He focused on the door of the inn and said softly, “And that could be a while. What are you doing here?”

“Asking questions.”

“Suspect everyone, trust no one,” said Wolf.

“That’s a terrible attitude. Your suspects are my family and friends. I’m not turning on them.”

Wolf flexed his fingers while he thought. “Sophie, this would be so much easier for everyone if you would tell me what you’re hiding.”

The same old tune again. “I don’t have any secrets. Believe me, Mars did not hire Otis to have me tailed and I’m not in a relationship with Humphrey.”

“Look, Sophie, I’ve seen the tapes from the grocery store—”

“Then you know I didn’t do anything.”

He studied me in silence before saying, “I know that Otis approached you in the parking lot and that you waved your hands at him and ran away, into the store.”

“Because he was trying to pawn Mochie off on me.”

“And I know that when you came out, you scanned the parking lot like you were looking for him.”

“Because of Mochie. I changed my mind while I was shopping. I wanted to take him to Nina to be sure he’d get a decent home.”

“That’s not how it looks on the tapes.”

This was ridiculous. “I can’t help that. What about the film in the rear of the store? Doesn’t it show the killer?”

“There aren’t any cameras on the rear of the store. All we know is that you ran from Otis and then looked for him nervously when you left. Did he threaten you?”

“Only with a kitten.” I flung open the door and stalked back into the pub. There was no point in subjecting myself to more of that nonsense. Wolf obviously didn’t want to believe me.

I wondered if I’d said too much. I couldn’t incriminate myself because I hadn’t done anything, but Mars and my dad were probably right about getting a lawyer. I should have done that from the beginning. I’d wanted to cooperate with Wolf because I found him attractive. How stupid of me.

“Let’s go.” I said to Nina and Humphrey, as I picked up my coat and put it on.

Humphrey jumped to his feet. “Did he work you over? Are you all right? I should have come with you.”

I didn’t have the patience to deal with him. My temper flared, partly out of disappointment over Wolf and partly because I’d hoped the tapes would vindicate me. I ignored Humphrey and charged through the crowded pub.

Standing by the doorway, Wolf watched me, but I didn’t care. I shoved by him and burst out the door. Outside, I gulped cold air and waited for Nina and Humphrey. It didn’t take them long.

“We stopped to tell Bernie we were leaving,” said Nina.

I calmed down while we walked home. As we approached my house, I realized I should have asked Humphrey where he parked so we could have walked him to his car and I wouldn’t have to pretend to be polite and invite him in. Maybe it wasn’t too late to try. I stopped on the sidewalk in front of my house and was about to address Humphrey when Nina hissed, “Stalker. In the bushes in front of your house.”

TWENTY-FIVE

From Live with Natasha :

In the summer, I love to harvest fresh raspberries and other fruits, like peaches and black currants, from my garden to make liquors. It’s surprisingly easy to do using fruit, sugar, and vodka. The liquor needs to sit for a few months so the flavor can develop, which means it’s ready just in time for those blustery winter nights. Delicious over homemade ice cream or straight in a cordial glass. Add a festive bow to the bottle and it makes a very thoughtful one-of-a-kind gift.

I was in no mood to deal with any more of this nonsense. But at that moment the last thing I wanted was to call the police and face Wolf again. The lantern by my front door lit enough of the bushes to reveal movement in the branches. If I yelled, the lurker would probably take off running.

“What do we do?” I whispered to Humphrey and Nina.

Nina whipped out her cell phone.

I reached for it and snapped it shut. “We have to find out who it is. Nina, you block him on the right, Humphrey . . .” I doubted Humphrey could stop a flea but he was all I had. “You take the left. I’ll act like I’m saying good night to you and walk straight to the door.”

“Are you insane?” Humphrey whispered in a higher pitch than I’d have thought possible.

I didn’t give him a chance to argue. Projecting my voice, I called out “Good night! See you tomorrow,” and headed for my front door. Keeping my eyes on the bushes, I tried to hold my head straight so the man in hiding wouldn’t know we were on to him. When I was almost at the stoop, Mars stepped out of the shadows.

“Are you trying to scare us to death?” My heart raced. “Why are you lurking outside the house?”

“I wasn’t sure who was with you or who might be home. Hi, Nina. We need to talk, Soph—”

Humphrey charged from the left, a pale blur that intersected Mars at his knees.

Mars crumpled to the ground.

“Stop, Humphrey! It’s Mars. It’s okay,” I shouted.

I couldn’t tell which one moaned louder. Nina and I helped them stand. Humphrey rubbed his shoulder but forced a smile. “I always wanted to be a football hero.”