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

We had. Those five-inch heels were an accident waiting to happen. His story sounded authentic so far.

“I didn’t know quite what to do. A twisted ankle isn’t really worth calling an ambulance for. But while she sat on the front walk, your friend, Humphrey, came along. He offered to deliver her to the emergency room. Humphrey and I helped her to his hearse and I thought I’d better go with them. I was afraid she might not have medical insurance and I certainly didn’t want her suing me.”

June’s expression softened. “Did she break her ankle?”

“It’s only a sprain, though I understand they can be very painful. A most unsavory boyfriend arrived to pick her up. It was dawn by the time Humphrey brought me home. I went straight to bed and when I awakened, MacArthur had vanished.”

“I’m so sorry. We thought you had died and that MacArthur was alone,” I said.

“Sophie”—he flashed me an emotional smile—“it’s good to know I have such caring neighbors. Thank you for looking out for MacArthur. One mystery solved. But I still don’t understand how that young woman got my name. I would never use that sort of business. It’s most peculiar.”

“She had Sophie’s address. If you’d”—June cleared her throat—“placed the order, surely you’d have given the correct address.”

“It’s almost like someone sent her here on purpose,” said Bernie.

I turned very slowly toward Francie, who held a damp cloth to her forehead. She averted her eyes.

Bernie’s lips curled into his lopsided grin.

Mom scolded, “Francie, you didn’t!”

“I’ve suffered a huge shock. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Francie avoided looking at any of us. It was no small feat given that the kitchen was packed.

“Francie?” said the colonel.

“Okay, okay. I ordered the call girl. I wanted to get you back for not being interested in me. You know, a gag. And then I thought I’d killed you.”

“You mean he didn’t arrange for the tart?” asked June.

“Of course not.” Color flooded back to Francie’s skin. “He’s much too proper for anything like that. I never meant to kill him, just shake him up a little bit. Maybe start some neighborhood rumors to embarrass him.”

Funny how life turns out sometimes, I thought. Francie’s vengeful little game backfired on her. No wonder she’d been inconsolable. She thought she’d murdered the colonel by sending the tart. I started to giggle and poor Bernie couldn’t hold back his amusement any longer. It was contagious. In a flash, everyone, even the colonel and Francine Vanderhoosen, laughed and wiped teary eyes.

When we recovered, the colonel asked, “Just one thing. Did I leave a door unlocked? How did you get MacArthur out of my house?”

The color that had returned to Francie’s face turned an ugly shade of red.

“A neighbor knew where you hide the key,” I said.

My vague answer wasn’t lost on the colonel.

He looked straight at Francie when he murmured, “I see.”

Just then the knocker banged on the door again. Daisy barked and we all heard the door open and close. Wolf appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of the colonel. “Glad to see you hale and hearty, sir. That explains why we didn’t have any record of your demise.”

The colonel grinned. “I’m fairly pleased about it myself.”

“I didn’t expect to find so many of you gathered here,” said Wolf. “I came to see Mrs. Winston, but I suspect she won’t mind if the rest of you hear what I have to say. The Loudoun County fire chief called me this morning. They know how the blaze at Natasha’s home started.”

TWENTY-NINE

From “THE GOOD LIFE”:

Dear Sophie,

My guests are still hanging around for the weekend after Thanksgiving. I’m itching to start decorating for Christmas, but I don’t dare make that kind of mess until my mother-in-law leaves. How do I create a transitional ambiance without a lot of work?

—Eager in Earlysville

Dear Eager,

Think red and amber. It doesn’t take a lot to create a cozy winter feel. Look around for wide-mouthed jars in shades of amber and red, drop a votive candle in each and use them on your table or mantel. The amber and red glass will cast a soft romantic glow. Use similar narrow-necked jars and glasses by popping in a single branch of berries or pine and place them among the candles. Just be sure they don’t get too close to the flames!

—Sophie

Mars tensed and protectively snaked an arm around his mother’s shoulders. They wouldn’t arrest June for arson, would they? Even if she did set the fire, I felt sure it was an accident.

“Apparently there were small glasses of candles on the stairs in the foyer,” said Wolf. “It seems they had something flammable tied to them.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Stairs are no place for candles. One of them caught fire. It ignited a basket of dry pinecones on the stair landing, basically a basket of kindling. The basket rolled down the back stairs into the kitchen and the blaze spread from there.”

Andrew and Mars stared at Wolf, speechless. June rushed Wolf. She hugged him like a long-lost friend and Wolf broke into a grin for the first time in days. Pointing a finger at her sons, June said, “There is nothing wrong with your old mother. Just because I have a few wrinkles and I sag in the wrong places doesn’t mean I’m ready for the old folks home. And don’t you pretend you weren’t planning on that. I’m young enough to see a gentleman friend and enjoy myself and that’s what I intend to do. Talking to a ghost doesn’t mean a person is a looney tune.”

She straightened her shoulders and strode from the room.

Simultaneously, Andrew and Wolf said, “Ghost?”

Their question brought Mars to life. “It’s nothing. Wolf, would you mind going over to Andrew’s house to tell Natasha about the fire? We’ll follow you. Mom should come with us.” Mars walked across the kitchen toward Wolf, paused, and turned. “Colonel, perhaps you’d care to join us for lunch? Bernie?”

Hannah jumped up. “It’s been fun but we have a little shopping to do . . .”

“Good golly, Hannah. Haven’t you seen every bridal store yet?” asked Dad.

“Christmas shopping, Dad.”

But we’d forgotten all about Francie. She huddled on the bench, forlorn. Everyone else had someplace to go and something to do. Following the colonel wouldn’t be fun for her anymore. Actually, I wasn’t sure she deserved much sympathy, but I felt sorry for her anyway. She left my house as though each step zapped her strength.

Within half an hour, everyone scattered for the afternoon. I invented an excuse to stay home because I needed a little time to think through my scheme to reveal the killer and bring Nina up to speed on my plan.

I packed my black burglar-chic outfit, shoes and all, in a duffle bag. With all the commotion, I’d forgotten to give Wolf the poison vial. I withdrew it from my pocket and studied it. The rounded ends or gemstones might have yielded good fingerprints if I hadn’t inadvertently messed them up. No one could have worn gloves on Thanksgiving without being noticed. No wonder the killer wanted it back so desperately.

I debated letting Wolf in on my plan to identify the murderer but decided against it. He’d say it wasn’t accepted police procedure and would surely throw a monkey wrench into my plans. Tonight had to be the night. Everyone else would be accounted for at the restaurant. An opportunity like this wouldn’t come along again.

Using masking tape, I attached the plastic bag containing the poison vial to the underside of a drawer in my nightstand. It wasn’t the most original hiding place, but it wouldn’t be discovered by snoopy Craig right away, either.