“Did he give you a description?”
“Yeah, what’s a Burberry coat? Common?”
“Fairly popular, actually. Their trench coats are classics. I have one.”
“Allow me to quote him, ‘Sleek black hair with bangs, makeup like a hooker, a fashionable Burberry coat, garish nail polish, and she wore a rock that belongs in the Smithsonian on her bony left hand.’”
“Doesn’t sound like anyone I know.”
“Can you believe it? He thinks she wasn’t very young, and he did notice that she had brown eyes, which—”
I finished his sentence for him, “—only includes over half of the population. Tell me about it. So you can’t check the candleholder for fingerprints.”
“The store owner polished them when they were returned, so that was doubtful anyway, but we’d like to have them.”
“To match them to the wound on Gwen’s head?” Maybe the killer snatched it off the mantel but conked Gwen over the head in the kitchen?
He smiled. “I’ll keep after the store owner, but you might hear about it first on the grapevine. Let me know, okay?”
Daisy and I walked on toward Natasha and Mars’s house. It was the holiday season, and plenty of Old Town residents would love those pieces of silver. Who was I kidding? I would love to have them. It wasn’t outside of the realm of possibilities that someone totally unrelated to Gwen’s murder had bought the set.
Still, if I had bonked Gwen over the head with one of the candlesticks and had accidentally left it behind in my haste, I might want to buy them before the cops could use them against me. Not many people could come up with that kind of cash, though.
Edith could buy just about anything she wanted. Claudine had sold her house, so she might be flush with cash at the moment. On the other hand, she was living with the kids in very tight quarters, so she maybe she didn’t have much money. I didn’t know anything about Natasha’s finances, but I could certainly ask Mars. I knew nothing about Sugar’s financial background, either. Didn’t pole dancers rake in a lot of money in tips? Phyllis had worked as Horace’s assistant. Hadn’t she mentioned a divorce? That could have left her with some cash, depending on how they’d split things up.
We trotted up the front steps and knocked on the door.
Mars swung the door open. “Daisy!” He said hi to me as an afterthought.
“How’s Natasha this morning? Is she eating yet?”
“Come see for yourself.”
Mars led us to the kitchen.
Sugar and flour canisters, a bowl of chocolate chips, salt, baking powder, soy milk, balsamic vinegar, and assorted herbs in bundles sat on the stainless steel countertop. A sugar pearl silver-colored KitchenAid mixer whirred together ingredients. The scent of baking herbs wafted to me.
I waited for Natasha to shut off the mixer. “You look much better today.”
Natasha grimaced. “I’m so embarrassed. Mars says no one took a picture. Is that true?”
“You’ve got to lighten up a little bit, Natasha. You’re making yourself sick. I promise, no pictures were taken.”
She adjusted her apron. The dominant fabric featured silver snowflakes on a snow white background. The straps, cinched-in belt, and flared apron skirt that layered underneath the white fabric were all black. A retro look—it brought chic to the kitchen.
“Did you sew your apron? It’s beautiful.”
“You like it? Really? Mars, maybe I should try marketing these. Oh! We can call the line Natasha Cooks! No. Natasha Buon Natale!”
“Italian? What’s Italian about it?”
“Sophie, you don’t understand branding and marketing. But you’ve given me a grand idea.”
Oy, she was back all right. Back to her old self.
Natasha raised her arm toward the windows as though she were imagining billboards. “Aprons are only a small part of the business. I see pot holders and towels, wreaths and ribbons, and, oh my—wrapping papers!”
Meanwhile, I saw something else. Soy milk. “Natasha, excuse me for interrupting your grandiose dreams, but did you make your cookies for the swap with soy milk?”
“I did! It’s a wonderful ingredient. With the addition of the balsamic vinegar, it becomes like buttermilk. Really, Sophie. You should know things like that.”
My head spun. “Did you give any of your cookies to Liza or Luis?”
“Only at the cookie swap.”
“Excuse me, I have to run. Come on, Daisy.”
Mars blanched. “Don’t be upset. Natasha’s like that to everyone. You know that.”
“See you later.” Daisy and I shot out the door and down the stairs. Once we reached the sidewalk, I slowed down to think.
Luis was allergic to soy milk. The day he was shocked by the frayed Christmas lights, he’d had a rash on his chest.
I took a deep breath of the cold winter air.
But Liza and Nina came straight to my house with their cookies. Luis couldn’t have eaten one of Natasha’s cookies unless he had been in Gwen’s house, where they were arranged on the table for everyone to see—and sample. Of course, he could have eaten soy elsewhere. It was in everything these days.
I had to keep my cool. If I told Wolf about this, he would sneer like he did about Edith’s mouse. Only one person would understand—Nina. Daisy and I hustled to her house. I raised my hand to the door knocker just as Nina swung it open.
“Sophie! Perfect timing. I’m going over to Liza’s. Come with me.”
While we walked next door with her, I explained my soy milk theory.
Nina tilted her head. “Oh, honey! You’ve been concentrating on this way too much. It’s in candy bars, salad dressings, bread. He could have eaten soy so easily. I’m sorry. I really don’t think that means anything.”
Maybe she was right. I was back to suspecting everyone again.
Liza waited for us at her front door. Her expressive brown eyes opened wide. “Sophie, thanks for coming. There’s safety in numbers, right?”
“Safety? What are you two cooking up?” Daisy loped into the house to play with Oscar.
“I’m so frustrated. This is the very first time since Luis and I have been married that I haven’t been able to find my Christmas gift hidden in our house. I told you this place is too big for us.”
I grinned. Luis had her pegged. She wouldn’t find it this year, and it would finally be a surprise.
“It’s driving me crazy. I’ve turned the place upside down.”
“Are you sure he bought it yet?” asked Nina.
“He must have. He already bought several things for Pandoooora.” Liza rolled her eyes. “It’s jewelry, so it has to be in a small box. I’ve been through all his trouser pockets, all his desk drawers, even the faux ones that you have to know how to open.”
“We’re going into the dungeon,” Nina told me. “He knows Liza won’t go down there.”
“I don’t like going by myself, so Nina agreed to come with me. Everyone ready?”
I couldn’t tell her it wasn’t there! I kept mum and followed them through the kitchen. A dark wood prep island with open shelving underneath dominated the kitchen. The cabinets against the wall had been painted a grayish green and rectangular coarse-textured tumbled tiles formed the backsplash.
Liza opened a roughly hewn door. Oscar and Daisy raced down ahead of us. That would take care of any mice. We crept down the stairs slowly.
I expected the worst. But Luis’s private man cave turned out to be as inviting as a historic pub. The stone walls and beamed ceiled fit perfectly with plush overstuffed brown leather chairs and a sofa deep enough for a good nap with a fuzzy throw on it. A large-screen TV hung on the wall near the ancient fireplace. The opposite wall had been outfitted entirely for wine storage.
“This is charming, Liza.” I gazed around. Not a single window, but one r
eally didn’t even notice. Luis had excellent taste.
She shuddered. “Ugh. Not my style at all. Now, where would he have put that thing? Aha! In a wine rack.” She hurried over, stopped, and pulled her hands back in little fists.
“What’s wrong?” asked Nina.
“What if there are mice in there?”
I scanned the bookshelves, impressed by the variety of reading material.
“Sophie! You have to look behind the books.” Liza resorted to poking the handle of a fireplace tool into empty spots in the wine racks.
“Soph,” Nina murmured my name softly. She cocked her head.
I drifted over, trying to be casual.
She lifted the fuzzy blanket from the sofa. It wasn’t a blanket at all. The Grinch’s face adorned a pair of green men’s pajama bottoms. I’d seen the fabric somewhere before. On the morning Baxter fell from his roof. Someone wore the matching top—
Simultaneously, Nina and I whispered, “Gwen.”
“Liza, where is Luis right now?” I asked.
“At work. Don’t worry, he won’t be home for hours.”
“Watch Daisy for me,” I said to Nina. “I rushed up the stairs and could hear Liza asking, “What happened? Where’s she going?”
I couldn’t very well tell her I was going to open her Christmas present.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Dear Sophie,
I love sugar cookies, but my icing always looks like my kids did it. What am I doing wrong?
Desperately Inept in St. Nickolas, Pennsylvania
Dear Desperately Inept,
Add a little extra powdered sugar to a portion of your royal icing. Use that to pipe on a border. Apply the runnier icing to the center with a squeeze bottle. Add a drop of water if it’s too thick. Allow to dry. Now pipe on the thicker royal icing in a different color as decoration.
Sophie
I hurried next door to the Babineauxs’, my thoughts racing. Why would Luis have pajama bottoms that matched Gwen’s top? Had she been truthful about having an affair with a yummy neighbor? Too many things were falling into place. They couldn’t all be coincidences. I had dismissed Luis’s reaction to soy. But maybe it did place him at Gwen’s house after the cookie swap. Maybe he had been there and eaten one of Natasha’s dreadful cookies. If I was right, then Luis had pretended to be a woman to buy the silver sleigh and candleholders incognito. I would know as soon as I ripped open Liza’s Christmas present.
With any luck, Wolf would still be there. To my surprise, Claudine answered the door.
“Sophie! Guess what I’m doing.”
“Babysitting?”
“Almost, but even better. Come on in out of the cold. I’m on nana duty!”
“The test results came back? You’re officially Kat’s grandmother?”
“It’s the best Christmas ever. What a gift. Jonah and Sugar are at the courthouse now getting everything squared away. Meanwhile, Kat has a Christmas pageant tonight and no one has any idea whether Gwen made or bought a costume for her. I’m afraid Baxter is no help at all. He’s in a deep funk. What can I do for you?”
“Is Wolf here?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh.” How could I say this without sounding nosy? I’m going upstairs to open Liza’s Christmas present from Luis because I think he’s the killer and he hid the murder weapon in her gift. “Uh, there’s something I, uh, left upstairs.” That sounded incredibly stupid.
But she bought it. I chalked it up to being giddy about her new role as grandmother. I hurried up the stairs before she could change her mind.
I slipped into the room where Baxter had placed Luis’s gift. I could hear Kat playing with Harry and talking to him.
I slid the bow and ribbon off the present and ripped the paper in haste. It was certainly heavy enough to contain silver. Fumbling, I lifted the lid. Nestled under white tissue paper were the sleigh with the reindeer and the two stag-head candleholders. Luis must have been the woman who’d bought them for cash. The sad thing was that I didn’t think they were just a very generous gift for Liza. He wouldn’t have disguised himself to buy them if they were. Wrapping them as a gift was an ingenious way to hide the murder weapon—the candleholder—from the police.
A sad sound drifted to me.
Guttural, almost like a moan, or a weak protest. As silently as I could, I tiptoed toward it. The door to the room was closed. I debated for only a few seconds before slowly turning the knob and peeking in.
Baxter lay in his bed, propped up on a pillow. Luis perched on the edge of the bed offering pills and water which Baxter feebly pushed away.
“Now Baxter,” said Luis in a calm singsong voice. “You have to take these. It’s just alprazolam, a sedative. You know they’ll make you feel better. They’ll help you relax and sleep. All your troubles and pain will go away.”
Baxter swallowed the pills.
“Just a few more,” said Luis. “They’ll just make you very drowsy, so you can go into a deep sleep.”
A few more? That didn’t sound right!
Baxter cooperated, chasing them down with the water. But when he swallowed, he gasped, like people do when they drink alcohol straight. Something definitely wasn’t right.
I slid my cell phone out of my pocket and hurried back to the bedroom where the package had been stashed. I dialed 911 first and told them we needed police and an ambulance. Next I called Wolf. With any luck, he wouldn’t be too far away.
But luck wasn’t with me. Luis swung open the door. He grinned at me, dimples showing near the corners of his mouth. “Sophie! Hi. What are you doing here?”
“How’s Baxter?” My gaze drifted down to Luis’s hand. He quickly tucked a pill bottle into his pocket.
“As well as can be expected. He’s taking a nap. What are you up to? Opening my gift to my wife? That will land you on Santa’s naughty list!”
I played along. “I was actually trying to move it. Claudine is bringing a sewing machine in here to work on a costume for Kat.”
“Why don’t I believe that? Come, come.” He backed up and motioned to me. I didn’t much like being trapped in the bedroom. Out of the corners of my eyes, I sought a weapon of some kind.
In a second we were on the upstairs landing. No weapons there!
“I knew that Christmas letter would get me in trouble. Gwen never should have mentioned our affair. And so publicly. Baxter will be dead shortly. A tragic overdose brought on by his inability to cope with having killed his wife. So very sad. It’s an old story, though, the husband killing the wife over money.”
“You’re trying to frame him by killing him?”
“I prefer to see it as Baxter accepting the blame for Gwen’s death. I might have known it would be you who would come along at an inopportune time. Well, I’m sure I’m not the only one in the neighborhood who will be glad when the nosiest neighbor is gone.”
I backed up a step. “There are three of us. You’ll have witnesses.”
“Right. A little old lady and a distraught child.” Luis tittered. “Ohhh, I’m scared.”
“I think you’ve counted wrong. Wolf is with us.” It was a big fat lie, but I needed to buy time.
“I’m not that stupid. I didn’t see him come in with you.”
“He’s parking the car.”
Luis’s eyes narrowed. “Then he’ll be the first to find you dead at the bottom of the stairs. Good-bye, Sophie.”
Claudine appeared behind him. She held a marble rolling pin up high in her right hand. Instead of whacking him, though, she moved in close behind him. “One ought never mess with little old ladies, Luis. You never know when one of us might be packin’.”
As though we were in a movie, he raised his hands into the air.
“Sophie,” said Claudine, “close the door to Kat’s room and tell her to stay
inside. I don’t want her to see this.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I have no reason to harm Kat.”
I didn’t believe his lie. The sparkle in his dark eyes told me he was thinking fast.
“I bet you didn’t mean to kill Gwen, either.”
“That’s absolutely right. I never intended to hurt her.”
“Like I believe that.”
“It’s true. I was taking out trash when I saw Gwen coming through the Scrogginses’ back gate. I asked her if we could talk, and she got sassy. I followed her into her house, pleading with her to listen to me.” Luis’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “You know Gwen. She offered me cookies like a hostess, then she turned into a sultry vixen and asked me again to leave Liza and marry her. When I said no, Gwen told me it was my fault that she had to move to plan B. She was so proud about using Horace’s own warfarin meds in peanut brittle to kill him. You should have heard her talking about what a pity it was that the railing broke and the doctors discovered the overdose.”
Luis’s shoulders sagged. “I knew I should rely on my training. She suffered from a disorder, but she rambled on about tricking Mrs. Scroggins so people would think she’d become senile, which would put Baxter in charge of Scroggins Realty, and they would finally see some real money with the Scrogginses out of the way. It was the babbling of a sick mind.”
I had a feeling I was hearing the babbling of a sick mind.
Luis rubbed his forehead. “I should have called Baxter, or her doctor. But she turned on me and said she’d have her revenge. She would reveal our affair. She would make sure that Liza knew, and she would tell people I had been treating her privately, which would ruin my career, leaving me destitute. Don’t you see? I would have been in Baxter’s shoes. My life would have been over.”
He snorted air like an angry bull. “I lost it.” He moaned. “I just lost it. She grabbed the candlestick and came at me. I overpowered her, flipped her around, and slammed it on the back of her head.”
Diva Wraps It Up, The Page 26