The Diva Spices It Up

by Krista Davis

  I almost overlooked Schuyler as I ambled toward my house. She sat in the end of a tubular slide in a small children’s park, her red hair blowing across her face. She didn’t move or make any effort to wipe it away.

  Taking a deep breath, I crossed to her and crouched beside her. “I’m so sorry about your mom, Schuyler.”

  She pushed her hair off her face, pulled it together with her hands, and twisted it, revealing a glimpse of a small red heart on the back of her neck. Was that a tattoo? I couldn’t imagine Mia, the overprotective mom, being okay with that. I could envision the argument that ensued when Mia learned about it. Schuyler looked at me with vivid blue eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Would you like to talk, or do you want to be alone?”

  “Alone.” She said it so softly that I could barely hear her.

  “Okay.”

  I stood up wondering if I should just walk away and leave her to deal with her grief, when she said, “I wanted a mom like Tilly.”

  Remorse. I sat down on the ground beside her.

  “I feel so guilty. She devoted her life to me. I was everything to her, but I never appreciated it. She homeschooled me for years. I didn’t really know any other kids until I was ten. She never let me out of her sight. She had to come with me, even when I was invited to someone’s house to play. It irritated me so much. I was the only kid whose mom was always present.”

  “You must have been very close to her.”

  “I hated her! When I was going into eighth grade, my dad told her I had to go to public school. He told me it was the only way he could get her to cut me loose. You know what she did? She came with me!”

  “Oh no!”

  “It was so embarrassing. One of my teachers finally threw her out and said she wasn’t allowed in his class. But my mom didn’t understand what no meant. She got a job at the school and checked up on me all the time.”

  “That does sound a little bit obsessive.”

  “That’s why I’m sitting here. I thought it would be wonderful to be free of her control. But when I scooted down the slide and came to the end, I realized that it wasn’t freedom, it was just the end. Life as I know it has ceased. I resented her for so long, and now I’ll have to muddle through without her. I thought that was what I wanted.” In the tiniest whisper, Schuyler said, “I wished her dead and it happened.”

  “Schuyler, you had no power over her death. You had nothing to do with it at all. She was . . . in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s all. There was nothing supernatural about it. And it’s not surprising that you would have felt that way. It sounds like your mom didn’t give you much breathing room. Maybe you can talk to your father about this?”

  “Maybe eventually. He doesn’t know what to do right now. He wanders around the house staring at things like he’s never seen them before.”

  “It sounds like you need each other. You need to be there to help him get through this.”

  “I feel so guilty. I never appreciated her, never loved her the way she deserved. And now she’s gone.”

  This was out of my league. I wasn’t a shrink. But I tried to give her a reason. “She made it hard to love her. It sounds like you spent a lot of time being angry with her and embarrassed by her. I’m sure she knew that you loved her, but she probably also knew that she was overbearing.”

  Schuyler looked down at her sneakers. “Why would anyone murder her?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think anyone knows right now. But I can assure you that the cop on her case is very good. He’ll figure out what happened.” I stood up and held out my hand. “May I walk you home?”

  She took my hand and let me hoist her up to her feet. We began to walk toward her house. “I wish I could make it up to her.”

  I didn’t want her to suffer like Natasha, who was spending her whole life trying to be someone her father would approve of and love. “She knows, Schuyler. I’m certain that she knew every time you held her hand or smiled at her.”

  Schuyler stopped walking and gazed at me. “Do you really think so?”

  “I’m positive. Day-to-day life can be trying. We all get mad at people we love. That doesn’t mean we don’t love them.”

  “Hey, Sophie, do you know anyone who has lived in Old Town for a really long time?”

  “I do.”

  “For school we’re supposed to interview someone about what Old Town used to be like a long time ago. I have to interview someone old to get the story.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t mind talking to people, but a lot of kids have a grandparent they can go to. . . .”

  “I have the perfect friends for that. Two little old ladies who would love to chat with you. I can almost guarantee you an A in that class.”

  As we approached Schuyler’s house, Tilly was outside talking to someone on the sidewalk. The moment she saw us, she broke off her conversation and hurried toward us. “Where have you been?” She hugged Schuyler to her.

  “Your father is worried sick. Come on over to my house, and we’ll give him a call.”

  Schuyler entered the house first. Tilly hung back and said, “Her dad is at the funeral home making arrangements. She either left her phone at home or wasn’t answering. He freaked out. It was just like when Mia disappeared! I was about to form a search party.”

  I followed her into the house. Schuyler had joined Briley at the kitchen table. Briley looked glum.

  Wesley and Jericho watched me with interest. “Any word from Wolf?” asked Jericho.

  I chose my words carefully. “I saw him briefly this morning. They haven’t found Abby yet.”

  “You saw him?” Wesley ambled over.

  “I did. But he had little to say. Only that they didn’t find Abby.”

  Wesley looked at Briley. “What’s wrong with you, sourpuss?”

  Tilly didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Don’t mind her. She’s put out because she has a homework assignment to tell a story about the history of Old Town.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.” Wesley sat down at the table with her.

  Tilly wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. “Honey, I’m sure we’ll find someone.”

  Schuyler almost smiled when she said, “Sophie knows two ladies who have lived in Old Town a long time. I could share them with you.”

  Briley brightened a little. “Really?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “Would you like to meet them? I bet they won’t stop talking. I’ll just make a couple of quick calls.”

  Minutes later, I reported, “Francie and Eunice are thrilled. Here’s Eunice’s address. I predict that you and Schuyler will have fun with them.” I extended my hand to give Briley the slip of paper.

  Wesley snatched it out of Briley’s hand. “I’ll drive you over.”

  “Dad, please!” Briley seemed embarrassed.

  “Wesley, you coddle them too much. This is Old Town and they’re not babies,” said Tilly. “You two walk over there. And here.” She handed them a white bakery box tied with a red gingham ribbon. “Some of the apple cupcakes I baked yesterday. Don’t forget to thank these ladies for being so generous with their time!” Tilly ushered them out the back door as quickly as she could.

  She closed the door and said, “This is the best thing for Schuyler. It will get her mind off Mia for a little while.”

  Wesley frowned. “I don’t mean to be impolite, Sophie, but Tilly and I don’t even know these women!”

  “They’re little old ladies, Wesley. Not ax murderers.” Tilly got back to work creaming butter and sugar.

  “Tilly thinks I’m overprotective.” Wesley leaned against the kitchen counter where Tilly worked.

  “Get used to it, Wesley,” Tilly said. “In just a few years they’ll be off to college.”

  “Would you care for some tea, Sophie?” asked Tilly.

  “I need to get going, but thanks for asking.”

  “Thanks for bringing Schuyler home. How did she seem?”

  “Remors
eful. Now she wishes she had been more loving toward Mia.”

  “Mia told me there was a time when she thought she would never have a child, but then Schuyler came along.” She paused. “I have to think of her exact words, because I could relate. She said, ‘Schuler is so precious to me. I want to shrink down to fairy size and sit on her shoulder to make sure everything goes well for her.’”

  I laughed. “Except for shrinking, that’s pretty much what she did, according to Schuyler.”

  “I guess a lot of parents feel that way. Wesley and I have talked about this. He feels like Mia did. But I was on a set most of the time. My mom was always there hovering over me. And when she wasn’t, the studio teacher was. I never had time to just be a kid and hang out. I don’t want Briley to feel that way. I want her to have friends, and fun, and make a few mistakes along the way so that she’ll learn.”

  Wesley paled. “I don’t want her making the mistakes I made.”

  I hoped he was talking about silly things kids do. But I wondered if he meant something else. Something bigger, like murder.

  “Not anything major.” Tilly laughed. “I think it’s part of growing up to not be perfect all the time. We can’t shelter them from everything. I want Briley to be confident in her own abilities. Little things like letting them walk over to see a couple of old ladies will build their confidence. They can do that!”

  Wesley tapped his fingers on the counter. “I still don’t like it. Maybe I should tail them in my car!”

  Tilly cracked an egg. “You’ll do no such thing. They have good heads on their shoulders, and they’re together. They’ll be fine.”

  “Briley wants to be Miley Cyrus for Halloween,” said Wesley. “I wish she were back in the Little Mermaid phase.”

  “I know!” Tilly added the spices to her cake batter.

  I would have added more cinnamon. I felt as if I were channeling Abby, again.

  At that moment, I spied a roll of red gingham on a shelf. “Is there any significance in red gingham?” I asked Tilly.

  “I love anything gingham. To me it’s a sign of home, of cozy, lazy days with family. Nothing pretentious, nothing fancy, just the comfort of a country home.”

  “So it’s sort of your trademark?”

  “I guess you could say that.” Tilly pulled back and looked at me curiously. “Is there something wrong with it?” She gasped. “Oh my! Does it mean something else that I don’t know about?”

  I laughed. “If it does, I don’t know about it, either. I was thinking that you should use it on the cover of the cookbook in some fashion. It would be a fun way to market anything else you might make. Like if you decide to sell jam, for instance, you could put some red gingham on the jars somewhere.”

  “I love that idea! I’ll tell the producer of my TV show, too. Maybe they can use it as a logo somehow.”

  Chapter 19

  Dear Natasha,

  My daughter is getting married and moving into her first home. I would love to surprise her with a housewarming gift of spices and herbs. Which ones would you recommend for a novice cook?

  Proud Mom in Boring, Oregon

  Dear Proud Mom,

  What a thoughtful gift. I would recommend ghost chili powder, cayenne pepper, saffron, licorice root, cloves, and turmeric. Your daughter will be ready to create delicious dishes.

  Natasha

  I walked home feeling like a traitor. I didn’t think Natasha was capable of sharing a TV show with someone else. She always had to be the star, the center of attention. And it would be a miserable experience for Tilly because Natasha would constantly correct her. But why couldn’t they each have a TV show?

  That evening, I ate leftover chicken and dumplings for dinner. Neither Natasha nor Wolf called me, so I assumed Charlene’s condition hadn’t changed and that no one had found Abby.

  I settled in with a good book and relaxed. But I double-checked all the doors before going to bed. For all we knew, a crazed killer had attacked Charlene and was still roaming the streets.

  * * *

  My neighborhood was quiet and calm when I walked Daisy on Thursday morning. I decided to treat myself to breakfast at The Laughing Hound. Who knew? Maybe I could pick up some news there.

  After feeding Daisy and Mochie, I hopped in the shower and noted with dismay that steam from the shower was beginning to loosen the tape where the tiles were missing. I would have to make that a priority as soon as I finished the cookbook for Tilly. I blew my hair dry and pulled on stretchy black jeans, a wine-colored sweater set, and gold hoops. I doubled a black, white, and red plaid scarf and pulled both ends through the loop. I let it hang loosely, but it made all the difference in the outfit.

  With Daisy and Mochie contently snoozing, I walked down to the Laughing Hound.

  Brittany made a beeline for me when I entered the restaurant.

  “Bernie found the most recent receipt from Fred Conway,” she whispered. “He lives a few blocks from here on Princess Street.”

  “How did you find out his address?” I asked. Wolf wouldn’t have shared that, would he?

  Brittany’s face flushed, but she seemed very proud of herself when she said, “On my way to work this morning, I saw Wolf get out of his car and walk up to a house. I may have lingered a little bit to see who answered the door. It was Fred.”

  It was exactly what I would have done. I grinned at her. “Excellent work! Now maybe we can find Charlene’s relatives and learn more about her.”

  “I have to get back to my tables. Bernie and Mars are eating on the private terrace upstairs.”

  “Thanks, Brittany.” I knew exactly where it was and quickly found the two of them. I took one look at Mars’s plate and teased, “You’re eating eggs Benedict without me?” It was one of my favorites.

  Mars’s plate hadn’t been touched. That wasn’t like him at all. Something was wrong.

  Mars shoved his plate toward me. “Help yourself.”

  I sat down next to him and ate. “It’s good. What’s your problem?”

  Mars’s gaze met Bernie’s.

  “Uh-oh. What’s going on?” I asked.

  Mars sucked in a deep breath. “I have been fired.”

  I nearly choked on the eggs Benedict. Bernie poured me a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table. When I caught my breath, I asked, “By Wesley?”

  Mars nodded. “It’s the first time in my entire life that I’ve been fired. No one fires me. I can’t believe this.”

  “Maybe it’s for the best,” I said.

  Mars shot me an annoyed look.

  “Wesley wouldn’t have fired you if something underhanded wasn’t going on. It might be a good thing that you’re no longer involved with him. I was over there yesterday, and your pal Jericho was calling the shots.”

  “Interesting,” he muttered. Mars’s entire demeanor shifted from dejected to suspicious.

  I could tell that he felt better already. “They’re sitting around watching the news and complaining about the fact that Wolf hasn’t been in touch. In fact, Jericho tried to talk me into getting information for them from Wolf, like a spy. Can you imagine?”

  “Yeah, well, I might have done that, too,” said Mars. “It’s frustrating not to know what’s happening.”

  “Mars! You know perfectly well that Wolf wouldn’t tell me anything.”

  “Not unless he wanted you to know,” observed Bernie. “Wolf’s a smart guy.”

  “I heard you found Fred Conway’s receipt,” I said.

  Mars picked up a fork and began to eat the other half of the eggs Benedict. “I can’t imagine what the deal is with Wesley. I’m having trouble imagining that he was having an affair with Abby.”

  “He was about to jump out of his skin when I was over there. In my most humble opinion, he’s overreacting for someone who barely knew Abby.”

  “Firing me is certainly proof of that. But why did he want me out of there? That’s what I don’t understand.”

  Bernie said, “You don’t supp
ose that Abby overheard something and was onto them?”

  Mars stopped eating. “That would make sense.”

  “No, it wouldn’t!” I swiped a napkin from Mars. “What about Mia? Did she overhear something, too?”

  “Why not?” asked Mars. “They both hung out with Tilly. That’s entirely plausible. Maybe Mia went over to Abby’s house to discuss whatever they overheard.”

  “You realize that you’re incriminating your former client,” I pointed out.

  “Or Jericho,” said Mars. “He’s sleazy enough to do something underhanded.”

  “By the way, we have another problem. It sounds like Tilly has been asked to take over Natasha’s TV show.”

  Mars coughed. “She’ll flip out. She’s already crazy upset about her sister. This is going to kill Natasha.”

  “Is Mercury in retrograde?” asked Bernie. “It feels like everything is going a bit awry.” He sipped his coffee quietly. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t Natasha have a lot of fans?”

  “That’s been my impression,” I said.

  Mars groaned. “Does she ever. They’re rabid! They treat her like she’s the Queen of Sheba. When we were dating and they saw her in public they would rush to her to fawn over her.”

  “Then why don’t we stage a protest of some kind? We can pick a time and date and announce it on Facebook and Twitter. I bet we can fill the restaurant.”

  “Bernie! What a great idea. And you pretend that you don’t care for Natasha,” I said.

  “It doesn’t mean I’m a fan. But I hate to see her lose the show.” He grinned when he said, “Besides, if she doesn’t buy Mars’s share of that house, I’ll never get him out of my house!”

  I was most intrigued about the way Bernie put that. He had told us that he was taking care of the mansion for the absentee owner of the restaurant. I’d had my doubts and suspected Bernie might have bought the house. I wasn’t sure why he would want to hide that fact from us, but for the time being, I would let him keep his secret.