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

Mars grumbled, “I need a drink.”

“I should go.” Humphrey dusted himself off. “It’s been a most adventurous evening.” He leaned in for a kiss.

I evaded him by pulling away. I jammed the key into the lock and turned it. “Thanks for going with us, Humphrey.”

Mars staggered into the house. This was the third time he’d been by today. Did he really need to talk or was he making up excuses to come over and see me?

“I think everyone’s still out.” I motioned feverishly for Nina to come in. She hurried in after Mars, and I could tell she was pleased to be included. When I closed the door, Humphrey was limping toward the street.

Mars waited for Nina and me in the kitchen. “Sit.”

We draped our coats over a chair before taking seats at the kitchen table. Mars unzipped his new leather jacket, placed a package wrapped in plain brown paper on the table, then slammed down a photograph. The glossy enlargement showed Clyde, Simon’s driver and bodyguard. He stood casually, with one hand on his hip, and wore an embarrassed smile like he found it silly to pose for a photo.

“Too bad he’s so obnoxious; he’s not bad-looking,” said Nina.

Mars glared at her. “I found it in Natasha’s briefcase.”

“You were snooping?” said Nina.

“Yes, I was snooping. Somebody’s stalking her, somebody poisoned me, and she hired Otis for heaven knows what reason.” He paused and said in a hushed voice, “I was afraid Nat might be having an affair.”

“And you think this picture confirms that?” I asked.

Mars paced. “What else can I think? Fairly incriminating evidence, wouldn’t you say?”

“So she has this picture. It’s not like he’s nude or anything.” Nina craned her neck. “Where was this taken? It looks like the Jefferson Memorial.”

I examined it again. The round structure behind him didn’t leave much doubt about the location. “Pretty recent, too. He’s dressed for fall weather.”

Mars punched his fist into an open hand. “What do I do? Do I confront her? Do I leave her?” He paused and held the back of a chair. “Do I pretend nothing ever happened and just go on?”

I flipped the picture over, but the back side was plain white photographic stock. “Could Natasha have taken this picture?”

Nina and I bent over it.

“I don’t see any reflections.” Nina’s mouth twisted doubtfully. “There’s nothing incriminating about it. Mars, this picture alone isn’t evidence of an affair.”

“You two are a gas,” Nina continued. “How many other men would go to their ex-wives when they suspect their girlfriends of cheating?”

Mars sighed. “We’re divorced, Nina, not archenemies.”

“What’s in the package?” asked Nina.

“Don’t protest, Sophie, you need this,” said Mars as he slid the package toward me. “I got one for Nat, too.”

I unwrapped the brown paper to find a Taser.

“They’re not easy to buy, but a client of mine came through for me. It’s like a stun gun. It won’t kill an adult, but it’ll incapacitate one long enough for you to get away.”

Nina chirped up. “I want one, too. I’ll pay for it. Can you get me one?”

I didn’t like guns, but I’d decided long ago that I should carry mace in my car since I regularly came home late at night after events. This was another step in the direction of a gun.

“Sure. I think my source can procure one more. I want you to carry it with you, Sophie. Your folks will be going home soon and you’ll be here all by yourself. I don’t know what we’re up against, but strange things are happening around you and Nat. I knew neither of you would carry a gun. This is the best alternative I could come up with.”

As if on cue, the front door opened and a cold draft floated through the kitchen. Judging from the lively chatter, the theatergoers were returning and had enjoyed their evening.

Mars snatched the picture from the table and hid it in his jacket. “Don’t tell Mom. She already hates Nat.”

I glanced toward the foyer to be sure June wasn’t in earshot. “Natasha’s pushing to put her in a home.”

Mars couldn’t have looked more miserable. “She keeps telling me Mom can’t live alone anymore. That she’ll burn her own house down if I don’t have her put away.”

“I don’t suppose she could move in with you and Nat?” I asked, only half teasing.

He blanched. “I couldn’t take the two of them in the same house. Don’t you think there’ve been enough murders? C’mon, Nina. I’ll walk you out to be sure Humphrey doesn’t jump you.”

Mars paused to peck June on the cheek before leaving with Nina.

While the theatergoers changed clothes, I poured red wine and spices into a pot for a grog to warm them. On a baking sheet, I placed slices of Italian peasant bread and slid them into the oven to broil for a quick black bean bruschetta. Suspecting that June would like chocolate chip cookies, I prepared a tray of them from my freezer stash.

Bernie came home in time to share our midnight snack by the blazing fire in the kitchen. While the others discussed the play, I thought about Bernie and his stepfather and Mrs. Pulchinski, and eyed him surreptitiously. He was listening to the conversation, his expression as animated as if he’d been there. At one point he turned his blue eyes on me, and caught me watching him, but instead of shying away, he flashed me a dazzling smile.

I wanted to believe that someone with such easygoing charm couldn’t possibly kill anyone. That wasn’t true, of course. But by the time we turned in, I’d decided I didn’t need to worry. If Bernie intended to murder one of us, he’d had plenty of opportunities already.

I woke to the thundering of the door knocker. Daisy whined and pawed at me and Mochie stood on the edge of my bed, alert. Whoever was banging the thing must have been trying to wake us for some time. I glanced at the clock—two thirty in the morning. I didn’t bother with a robe and ran down the stairs in my single-girl flannel pajamas. The person outside tried again.

Bernie emerged from the den, yawning, and wearing only sweatpants. I could hear murmuring behind me and glanced back to see that the caller had awakened everyone. My parents, Craig, Hannah, and June watched from the second-floor landing. I unlocked the door and flung it open, afraid the killer had struck again and someone needed help.

Instead, a bleached blonde wearing too much makeup stepped inside and dropped a shiny purple raincoat on the foyer floor. Posing seductively in black stockings, garters, and underwear that left nothing to the imagination, she arranged her long hair so it draped over her shoulders. She looked at Bernie and said, “So which one of you is the colonel?”

“The colonel!” June cried, dismay in her voice.

“I’m afraid you have the wrong house.” I picked up her coat and held it out to her.

“No, I don’t.” She reached for the coat and withdrew a piece of paper from the pocket. “Right here. See?”

What I saw was my address and the colonel’s name.

I opened the door and pointed. “The colonel lives on the other side of the street.”

Pulling on her coat, she giggled and said, “My bad.”

After she left, June walked down the stairs and slammed the door behind the blonde. June hurried to the kitchen to look out the window and we all followed her. The blonde strutted across the street in heels that had to be five inches high. The raincoat couldn’t provide much warmth against the winter air. She must have been freezing.

“He can’t be serious. The colonel is such a proper man.” June clenched her fists.

I signaled my mom. “Since we’re all up, why don’t we go in the sunroom for a nightcap?” Mom took June’s arm and steered her away from the window. I shooed everyone else along behind them.