Diva Wraps It Up, The

by Davis, Krista

  I plopped a piece of aluminum foil over the top to keep the cold out, slid on a lush, white Polartec jacket, and carried the mac and cheese across the street.

  Baxter opened the door, haggard and drawn, his skin the color of gray skies.

  “I’m so terribly sorry, Baxter. I brought you something for lunch.”

  He nodded lamely, as if he couldn’t function right yet. I stepped inside and followed him to the kitchen. It wasn’t as spotless as it had been when I’d seen it a few days before. The island counter brimmed with kitchen items. Foil, spoons, bowls. A few dirty dishes and an orange box like the one that held Gwen’s bars for the cookie swap. But the house was still. The police must have left.

  I located a dish towel that I could use as a trivet and set the hot casserole atop it on the island. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  He rubbed his forehead with a fleshy hand in an odd jerking motion. “I don’t know what needs to be done. I’m just trying to get my footing.”

  “Well, don’t worry about Kat. Twiggy and Jonah are taking good care of her.”

  His eyes flicked. “Kat! How could I have forgotten about Kat? I don’t know what will happen to her now.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He licked his lips. “I’m not her father.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Dear Natasha,

  You are my idol. I’m always asking myself, “What would Natasha do?” I’ve been hand-stamping my wrapping paper for years. Now I’m wondering how to make my Christmas letter special.

  Crafter in Garland, Pennsylvania

  Dear Crafter,

  Each person should receive a personal handwritten card. Surprise them with a little pop-up. Write your Christmas greetings on the inside of folded craft paper. Adorn the front of the card. Use a glue gun to attach the ends of a short string on opposite sides inside. Cover the glue with a bead. Attach a tiny round or rectangular photograph of each family member to the string, and you have a spectacular Christmas card!

  Natasha

  I almost lost my own footing at that revelation. “Who is Kat’s father?”

  “I don’t know.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Kat was about three months old when I met Gwen. I wanted to adopt Kat, but somehow we never got around to making it official and, after a while, it just didn’t seem to matter. Her biological father never came around or called or anything. I didn’t give it any thought in recent years.”

  His head fell forward. “I don’t know if they would even let me adopt her now. My world is falling apart,” he sobbed. “It’s over. There’s nothing left. My wife is dead. I don’t have a job. The kids’ college funds are gone. I’m out of money, so broke I’m going to have to sell this house.” He crumpled to the floor and sat with his head in his hands, his entire body shaking.

  I knelt next to him and wrapped my arms around him. There was nothing to do but hold him and let him cry.

  “I wish I had died instead of Gwen. She was the strong one. I have nothing to live for anymore.”

  “Don’t say that! You have something very important to live for—Bethany and Bradley. You have the one thing no one else can give them, Baxter—a father’s love. They need you now more than ever before.”

  He clutched my hand. “I’m of no use to anyone.”

  “Then you have to pull yourself together for them. You have to be the strong one now. You know you can.”

  “I can, can’t I?”

  “You’ll pull through this together. You and Bradley and Bethany.” I omitted Kat’s name on purpose. Poor baby. She had no idea how her life would change.

  He sucked in a deep breath. His chest heaved. I stood up and handed him a tissue. He took my hand and rose slowly, like a very old man. “I apologize. I’ve never had a meltdown like that before.”

  He hugged me to him, still sniffling. “You’re so right. I have to figure it all out for my children. I owe them that. Life might not be as sterling as it was, but, actually, that might be good for them. Elvin and I had summer jobs at their age.”

  “See? Everything will work out.”

  He released a long, shuddering breath. “I guess it’s lucky that Patty’s here, huh? At least they didn’t lose their mom.”

  It probably wasn’t the time to ask, but I went for it anyway. “Did I understand correctly that Gwen is Sugar’s mother?”

  Baxter huffed. “I didn’t know that myself until yesterday.” He winced and massaged the back of his neck. “I’m discovering that Gwen had quite a few secrets, and I don’t mean the guess-what-I-got-you-for-Christmas kind. Now that she’s gone, the truth is slithering out. I wonder if I knew her at all. Maybe . . . maybe Gwen didn’t mention Sugar because she wanted everyone to think she was young. The cops are telling me she lied about her age. Gwen told everyone she was forty when she was really fifty.”

  “She looked great. I know she worked out a lot.”

  “She wanted to go to Paris,” he said sadly. “The one in France. We couldn’t afford it. I promised her we would go for our tenth anniversary. And now she’s died without ever seeing Paris.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. You couldn’t have predicted that.”

  He placed his hands on my shoulders. “Sophie, don’t put off your dreams.”

  He turned and walked away.

  I wandered out through the living room, pausing only long enough to notice that the shade from a floor lamp was missing. A pang ripped through me. It must have been the one atop Gwen’s head.

  I let myself out of the house, shaken by Baxter’s deep depression. What had I expected? Of course he was sad and probably numb, too. I’d had no idea there were money issues. Poor Baxter.

  While I was out, I went next door to check on Natasha. Mars and Daisy answered the door. The big tail-wagging hug from Daisy was just the canine therapy I needed to cheer me up.

  “How’s Natasha?” I asked Mars.

  “Indignant. Gwen really pushed her buttons.”

  “Sounds like our Natasha.”

  He led me to their kitchen. Not a single item lay on the spotless stainless steel countertops. A huge square wreath of glistening silver ornaments hung in the window, adorned by an airy black bow. It was striking in a high-tech sort of way.

  Natasha stood on a ladder, holding a long garland of silver stars. “At least it’s not the police again. I hate your Wolf, Sophie.”

  “He’s not my Wolf.”

  “I hate him anyway.”

  Mars sighed. “Why don’t you tell Sophie what happened?”

  Natasha turned. “Mars thinks you can help me.”

  I shot him a doubtful look. “Was it your wrapping paper that covered Gwen?”

  “Of course it was! There’s not any point in denying it because I make it myself. You can’t find paper like that in stores.”

  “You make the paper?” asked Mars.

  “No! I have made paper before, but I usually buy the paper and then hand stamp it with something appropriate for the recipient.”

  “Like what?”

  Natasha gazed down at me. “Didn’t you teach Mars anything when you were married to him? I might stamp it with a French horn or a note for a musician, or trains for a little boy.”

  “Must have taken quite a bit of paper to wrap a whole person,” I said.

  “Doesn’t matter. I changed my color scheme, so I didn’t need it anyway.”

  I hoped she hadn’t said it that way to Wolf! He might think she had used it instead of throwing it out. “Why do you think Gwen was wrapped?”

  “Mars, I told you Sophie couldn’t help.” Natasha sighed. “Isn’t it obvious that the killer wanted to pin it on me?”

  A reasonable assumption.

  “Tell her what you did.” Mars was insistent.

  Natasha tilted her head upward, her chin j
utting forward. “It was a natural reaction. I didn’t know she would be killed!”

  Mars left the kitchen for a few seconds and returned with an iPad. He flicked to a page and showed it to me. Gwen had posted a photo of Natasha on her website. Natasha’s almost black hair stuck out from her head. If she had placed her finger in an electrical outlet she wouldn’t have managed as much static in her hair. It must have been from the pantyhose and balloon game. Even worse, Natasha’s chin was tucked in, and she looked up, with an absolutely devilish expression. I had never seen her like that before. If I hadn’t known Natasha, I would have been terrified of her.

  Mars flicked the page up. In the next photo, Natasha wore the balloon antlers on her head. The pantyhose bottom smashed her hair tight to her head and the balloon-filled antlers curled like ram’s horns. I bit my lip as hard as I could to keep from laughing. “Well, let’s hope that Gwen doesn’t have a big following on her website.”

  Natasha glared at me. “Oh, that’s right. No one will go to that page now that she’s dead.”

  Oof. Of course they would.

  “Not to mention that she posted the same charming pictures on her Facebook page!”

  Mars flicked the screen a couple of times. “And there they are again.” He flicked it one more time. “And here’s what Natasha did.”

  “I had to retaliate! I wasn’t going to stand by and watch her grind all my hard work to dust!”

  Mars zeroed in on a message from Natasha. Heaven help me not to kill the woman whose deranged jealousy of me led her to post such unflattering photos, which were clearly Photoshopped to present me in a way I have never looked. It’s a shame that liars and untalented copycats have access to worldwide audiences who have no knowledge of their true character and believe the trash they post.

  I was stunned. “Why would you do anything so incredibly juvenile?”

  “What was I supposed to do?”

  “The mature thing would have been to say nothing and let it slide. This is a direct threat! No wonder the police are looking at you. They had opportunity, and you handed them motive. Why didn’t you just leave your signature on her corpse? Oh, I’m sorry. You did! You wrapped her in your personal private stash of wrapping paper.”

  “You think I killed her.”

  “No, I don’t think that at all.” I really didn’t. “I know you better than that.” At least I thought I did. “But this does not look good for you.”

  Natasha finally climbed down the ladder. In a very small voice, she asked, “Will you help me?”

  “I’ll do what I can. But you have to promise never to be so incredibly stupid and hotheaded again.”

  I watched Natasha carefully for her reaction. “Wouldn’t you have noticed someone in your workshop?”

  She didn’t flinch. “Carriage house. It’s a carriage house. I was out front, changing the decorations, and then I had to sew a black tree skirt and black stockings in my upstairs sewing room.”

  Horrified, I looked to Mars.

  He closed his eyes briefly, as though resigned to the black décor, and nodded his head. “What do we do first?”

  “We’ll have to do some poking around to see if we can figure out who really killed Gwen. And you”—I pointed at Natasha—“stay home and finish decorating. No more posts on the Internet of any kind.”

  “Oh, I know who killed her,” Natasha said casually. “Claudine. I saw her sneaking around the carriage house when she should have been at work.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Dear Sophie,

  As much as I would love to pour a glass of wine and spend some time having fun with my friends at a cookie swap, my husband always complains about being “thrown out of the house.” Is there a way to include husbands that wouldn’t be a lot more work?

  Harried Mom in Christmasville, Tennessee

  Dear Harried Mom,

  Make it a family affair. Invite your friends, their spouses, and their kids. Instead of asking everyone to share a dozen cookies that day, maybe they can all bring two dozen. Set up two tables, one with cookies and drinks for children and one for the adults. Be smart and hire a couple of high school kids to entertain the children!

  Sophie

  “Why would Claudine want to murder Gwen?” I asked.

  Natasha gave me a look like she thought I was too stupid to live. “Obviously, Gwen was a despicable person. The fact that she posted those hateful photos proves that. She thought nothing of ruining the career I’ve worked so hard to establish. And, by the way, I’m a little miffed at you because you’re the one who told me to play nice.” She shifted her focus to Mars. “And you, too! You nagged me until I went to that cookie swap.” She switched to a nasty little tone of voice. “You must be nice to the neighbors or they’ll think you’re a snob. Look where that got me!”

  It got me out of their house about as fast as I could go. Mars barreled after me, attaching Daisy’s leash as they went. “Where to, Sherlock?” He handed me the leash and pulled on a brown leather jacket as we walked.

  “Mars, what possesses you to stay with her?”

  “That’s what we’re going to talk about now? Don’t you think that’s better suited to a glass of wine by the fire?”

  Actually, I didn’t think so at all. In fact, it sounded too cozy and romantic for me. Like a complete chicken, I changed the subject. “Yesterday morning, Baxter asked me if Gwen was having an affair.”

  “Whoa-ho!” Mars chuckled. “Why am I not surprised? Gwen liked attention.”

  “Oh?”

  “Don’t look at me that way. If she was seeing someone, it wasn’t me. But she liked to dress to show off her figure. You know what I mean. And she was good at flirting and being seductive. Sugar is like that, too. The Babineaux men must like that type.”

  “Like mother, like daughter.”

  “Huh?” He stopped walking. “You’re kidding!”

  “I wish I were. I don’t know why they kept it quiet. Turns out Baxter is broke, too. There was a lot going on under their roof that no one knew about.”

  “How can he be broke? They bought that house less than a year ago.”

  “I guess they overextended. Didn’t Gwen do a lot of renovating?”

  “I know they redid the kitchen, because Natasha was so jealous that she wanted to rip ours out again.”

  “Why? Natasha acts like she has the perfect kitchen.”

  “She says stainless steel is out.”

  “Then what’s the new trend?”

  “Please,” Mars groaned. “Like I listened to her that long? I said no more renovating. She chose what she put in our house and now she has to live with it.”

  “Natasha and Gwen were a little bit alike. I have a feeling that Gwen might have been extravagant. She bought some incredible candleholders and the most amazing sleigh. They’re sterling silver. They would have cost a bundle.”

  “Living beyond their means, eh? So what do we do next? Interview Claudine?”

  I shot Mars a skeptical glance as we walked. “Seems like there could be other, more likely candidates. What do we know for sure? Gwen was killed after the cookie swap and before the next evening. It would help if we knew exactly when. It seemed to me that Wolf was most interested in the evening before I found her. Who had a motive?”

  “Baxter, for one.” We paused so Daisy could sniff a gate. “If Gwen was running through their money, it’s a good bet they had some major fights. Maybe one got out of hand. What about Baxter’s ex-wife, Patty?”

  We walked again, and I drew in a deep breath. “She seems very nice. But if anyone was angry with Gwen, it was Patty. She feels like Gwen stole her children. Apparently Gwen wasn’t very generous about sharing them. And there’s one other thing.” It pained me to say it. “Patty slipped out of the house that night. I have no idea where she went, but it doesn’t look good for her.”
/>
  Mars stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. “That’s it! You’re brilliant! It was Patty. Let’s call Wolf and tell him.”

  “Slow down, Mars. We don’t know that. Besides, I’m sure he interviewed her. After all, she spent the night at Baxter’s . . .”

  “That ties it up even tighter. Maybe they killed her together.”

  There was a horrible thought that hadn’t crossed my mind. “It’s possible. But I think she felt everyone was in shock and she needed to help out, especially with the children.”

  “You don’t have to make her out as a nice person, Sophie. She obviously murdered Gwen.”

  “Mars,” I said casually, “what time did you finish working on my roof and go home that night?”

  “You suspect me?” He snickered.

  “No. But answer the question.”

  “I knew Natasha was at the cookie swap, so I went down to The Laughing Hound with Bernie for a beer. There were loads of witnesses in the bar.”

  I smiled at him. He didn’t realize where I was going with my questions. “What time did you get home?”

  “Natasha had prepared a pumpkin, blue cheese, and radish quichelike thing for dinner, so I was in no hurry to go home. I split a pizza with Bernie, then hung around because he asked the chef to whip up crepes filled with vanilla ice cream and topped with a chocolate hazelnut sauce. Have you tried them? I could eat them every day. Why can’t Natasha cook things like that? But to answer your question, I wasn’t home until ten. And I can give you the names of witnesses.”

  Did he really think I suspected him? I was a lot more interested in knowing just how much time Natasha had in the privacy of her workshop and garage. Not that I thought Natasha would intentionally kill anyone. Still, it was worth ruling her out. The garage and workshop were detached from their house. If Natasha had been inside their home decorating for extended periods of time, anyone could have slipped into the garage or workshop to steal the wrapping paper and hide Gwen’s body. Including, unfortunately, Natasha.