The Diva Runs Out of Thyme

by Davis, Krista

  “Vicki?” A man’s voice, scared and small.

  “Nooooo!”

  The high-pitched scream melded with the sound of someone running into the living room.

  A flashlight flickered on Vicki, who hovered over Andrew sprawled on his back.

  But who held the flashlight? Wolf? I squinted to see better, but it didn’t help.

  “Why is it that you make a mess of everything? You couldn’t just come in this house, find the poison bottle, and leave? Why am I always cleaning up after you?”

  The man’s voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him.

  Somebody sniffled. Vicki?

  “You’re not even supposed to be here! And neither are you, Andrew,” she wailed. “I didn’t mean to shoot you. I thought you were Sophie or Wolf. And now you’re bleeding . . .”

  “You poisoned Mars?” Andrew sounded remarkably calm for someone who’d been shot. “But why?”

  “You’re such a dolt, Andrew,” said the other man. “She was supposed to poison Natasha, but, as usual, little Vicki couldn’t get the simplest thing right and she poisoned Mars instead. I thought she’d outgrown that, but it’s just like when we were kids.”

  “That’s not true,” protested Vicki. “I don’t mess up everything.”

  “Really? I suppose you thought it through before you whacked Simon over the head?” He walked to the buffet and shone the flashlight on it. The drawer complained when he jerked it open. “Thanks to you, I’m unemployed. Today is another perfect example. Instead of finding the poison container, you’ve shot your husband and I’m going to have to clean up after you. Again.”

  “You . . . you killed Simon? Why did you want to kill Natasha?” Andrew’s voice had grown weaker.

  Had he already lost too much blood? I wavered. If I went to his aid, they’d kill me. Where was Wolf?

  I inched back, praying the floorboards wouldn’t creak. Holding the cell phone under my sweater to dim the light, I pressed 911.

  The operator answered too loudly. I looked up, afraid I’d given myself away, but Vicki’s sobbing must have covered the operator’s voice.

  Whispering as loud as I dared, I said the address and “shooting.”

  “I can’t hear you. You have to speak up.”

  I tried again. “Send ambulance.”

  “I can’t hear you,” she shouted.

  I flipped the phone shut immediately and hoped Nina had the good sense to call the cops.

  “Andrew,” blubbered Vicki, “I’m so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

  The other man continued to jerk open drawers and cabinets. “Now I have to decide what to do with you, Andrew. Clearly you’re too stupid to live. Your dear wife has been having an affair with Simon for a year.”

  “Is that true?” Andrew asked in a whisper.

  Amid snuffles and snorts Vicki said, “Can you ever forgive me? In the beginning, Simon was so good to me and I felt like a princess. I never stopped loving you, Andrew. I just wanted . . .”

  “She wanted somebody to clean up her messes and take care of her like her big brother always has.” The man dropped to the floor and shone the light underneath the furniture. “Instead she married a dufus whom she had to take care of.” He sneezed.

  “Natasha hired that private investigator,” said Vicki, “and found out that Clyde was my brother and that I was seeing Simon. She pressured me to get Simon to give her a TV show on his channel.”

  Clyde! Simon’s driver was Vicki’s brother?

  “But that day at the stuffing competition”—she paused to blow her nose—“Simon asked Sophie on a date in front of the whole world and then when I went to talk to him on Natasha’s behalf, he made fun of me. He . . . he said it was over and that he didn’t care if people knew about our affair and it ruined my life. I would have lost everything if he exposed me. My job, you, everything. But he wouldn’t have lost anything. Wouldn’t even have noticed. He would have gone right on to the next woman without giving me another thought.”

  Vicki’s voice grew cold. “He made jokes and I realized that I meant nothing to him. He thought I’d left the room, but I watched him from the door to the service corridor. The turkey trophy was on a table behind him and I clobbered him with it. All he cared about was money. He used me and threw me away like that girl on his TV show who lost her leg.”

  “I don’t see the stupid poison vial in here anywhere,” said Clyde. “Where do you think you lost it?”

  The flashlight traveled around the living room. Any second the beam would land on me.

  THIRTY-ONE

  From Natasha Online :

  Every house should have an area that serves as a coffee bar. Locate it away from the kitchen work triangle so that coffee drinkers can help themselves without getting underfoot. The coffeemaker, espresso machine, and coffee grinder as well as measuring spoons and filters should be grouped in this area. I always use gold filters. The coffee tastes better and they can be washed and reused for years. If you don’t have a drawer or cabinet for the small items, place them in an attractive basket. And don’t forget to set out porcelain coffee mugs that match your decor.

  “Oh, for pity’s sake. Give me that gun before you shoot me, too,” said Clyde. “I’ve never known anyone so incompetent. What are we going to do with Andrew? Too bad he hasn’t died yet. I hate to add another bullet wound. It’s so unprofessional.”

  “No!” I screamed, flying to Andrew’s side before I thought about it. “He hasn’t done anything to hurt either of you. Leave him alone.” I looked at Vicki, who still knelt by him. “You can both go right now. You have time to get away. Please, Vicki. Don’t let Andrew die.”

  Andrew wore a leather jacket and I wondered if it was Mars’s. I unzipped it, my hands slipping from the blood. I pulled a decorative throw off a plaid chair and felt Andrew’s abdomen, trying to find the spot where the bullet entered. When I thought I had it, I pressed the throw against it in what was probably a vain attempt to prevent him from bleeding out.

  I bent close. “Andrew, can you hear me?”

  His hand gripped my wrist with more strength than I’d expected. I shrieked.

  At that moment, a blur leapt from the shadows near the foyer.

  Clyde grunted as someone attacked him from behind. The man clung to Clyde’s back as he staggered through the living room. Clyde waved the gun wildly and I feared he’d shoot.

  The two men slammed into the wall beside the grandfather clock. The chimes dinged softly and a fuzzy missile landed on Clyde’s head like a bad toupee.

  Clyde screeched and I imagined that Mochie sank his claws into Clyde’s scalp to hold on. The gun skittered across the floor as Clyde sneezed and fell.

  Relief flooded over me. It had to be Wolf who wrestled with Clyde.

  “The gun, Vicki. Get the gun!” yelled Clyde.

  She rose to her feet.

  I glanced around; where had it gone?

  Vicki was quicker than me. She retrieved the gun from the floor near the door to the den where I’d hidden. “Let him go or I’ll shoot!” she shouted.

  The person who’d attacked Clyde now sat on him with his back to me. I squinted but couldn’t make out who it was. It looked like he had Clyde’s arms pinned behind him.

  “Shoot him, Vicki.” Clyde spoke without emotion. So matter-of-fact that I was alarmed by his cold-blooded nature.

  She held the gun in both hands and aimed. Behind her, the door to the den opened wide and someone slammed a frying pan over Vicki’s head. She crumpled to the floor.

  I lunged at the light switch on the wall and surveyed the scene.

  Natasha stood in the doorway to the den, staring down at Vicki. Andrew lay on the floor, pale but alive, his eyes wide with terror.

  It was Bernie who sat on Clyde’s back and said, “Could I trouble you for something to tie him up with?”

  I raced to the kitchen for turkey twine and returned to the living room. Bernie continued to sit on Clyde whi
le I tied his wrists and ankles together. For added security, when Bernie rolled off Clyde, I trussed Clyde’s wrists to his ankles so he couldn’t stand up. Mochie sniffed Clyde’s head.

  Clyde sneezed again. “Ged it away,” he said with a clogged nose. “I’b very allergic.”

  Bernie called 911 while Natasha helped me truss Vicki.

  “Vicki?” called Clyde. “Vick, can you hear be?” he slurred.

  Vicki groaned. I had a feeling she would be all right, since she screwed her eyes shut like she wanted this nightmare to go away.

  “Huh,” said Bernie, “they’re already on their way.”

  “Nina probably called them,” I said, pulling the twine tight around Vicki’s ankles.

  “Don’t tell them anything. Don’t admit to anything.” Clyde wormed along the floor toward Vicki. “I’ll take care of you.”

  Vicki’s nostrils flared. “You won’t be able to take care of anything when you’re in jail for killing that private investigator.”

  “Shut up!” yelled Clyde.

  “You think I’m so dumb. Well, I knew Simon’s secrets. I knew he rigged the outcome of his shows. I don’t know where Otis found that rope, but Simon wouldn’t have paid you to kill Otis if he wasn’t desperate.”

  “That was different. It was business. Otis knew the kind of chance he was taking when he tried to blackmail Simon.”

  Mochie tentatively patted Clyde’s head with a paw.

  Clyde sneezed again. “Simon would have been ruined.”

  Flashing lights strobed the windows. I ran to the front door and opened it. A stream of police officers poured into the living room, followed by Wolf.

  He paused for the briefest moment, cupped my cheek with one hand, and sucked in a deep breath. “You’re okay.”

  I followed him into the dining room, where he took in the chaos.

  Natasha sagged against me, her head in her hands. “I feel so responsible. I never intended for anything like this to happen. I hired Otis. Sophie”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“I hired him to research Simon so I could know how to pitch my TV show to him. I want to go to a national audience and Simon could have made that happen. I never thought it would lead to all this mayhem.”

  I shook Natasha. “Didn’t you hear Vicki? Your TV show didn’t have anything to do with Simon’s death. Simon brought it on himself, I’m sorry to say, by being callous and treating her like dirt.”

  “But don’t you see? If I hadn’t hired Otis, he never would have dredged up the information he used against Simon.”

  “You didn’t force Otis to blackmail Simon. Get a grip, Natasha.”

  She sniffled. “Otis told me about Clyde being Vicki’s brother and gave me a photograph of Clyde. I thought Vicki could help me. I thought she could get Clyde to put in a good word for me, I never imagined that anything like this would happen.”

  Paramedics rolled Andrew by us on a stretcher.

  He reached out to me and croaked, “Vicki?”

  She’d cheated on him, shot him, and murdered her lover, yet he still worried about her. “Natasha gave her a good thunk on the head, but I think she’ll be fine.”

  I watched the paramedics carry him out the door. Nina, my family, Craig, Humphrey, the colonel, Francie, June, and Mars stood next to the sidewalk in a line. They called out when they saw me.

  “Andrew’s been shot!” I yelled.

  June and Mars walked beside Andrew as he was rolled to the ambulance.

  “Mom!” I called. “Come on in.”

  “They won’t let us,” she said. I pointed toward the kitchen door.

  On my way there, Natasha said, “Shouldn’t we offer all these police officers something to eat?”

  Everyone piled into the kitchen, except for June, who remained with Andrew. Mars asked excitedly, “Did you use the Tasers?”

  Natasha’s eyes met mine. “I left my Taser at home.”

  “Mine is in the foyer.”

  Mars shook his head in disbelief. “Mom and I are going to follow the ambulance to the hospital. I’m guessing you’ll have to stay here, Nat, to give the cops your story?”

  She gave him a kiss and said, “Pick me up on your way home.”

  We spent the next half hour raiding the refrigerator and freezer. Everyone, even Francie, Nina, and Hannah, pitched in to make pizzas and panini grilled sandwiches.

  We set up a buffet in the sunroom for the police officers to help themselves to coffee and food.

  An hour later, only Natasha and I remained in the kitchen, baking the last of the chocolate chip cookie dough I kept in the freezer for emergencies.

  “I know how Bernie entered the house, and I gather Vicki and Clyde were adept at picking locks, but how did you get in?” I asked.

  Natasha didn’t flinch. “I used Mars’s key.”

  “Mars gave his keys back to me.”

  She shot me an incredulous look. “Like you really didn’t think he’d make a copy first? You know Mars, always the prepared Boy Scout.”

  Since we were getting along fairly well for a change, I asked, “When you hired Otis, did you ask him to check me out?”

  The surprise on her face seemed genuine. “Why would I do that? I wanted the TV show, Sophie. I thought I was doing what men would do in my position, getting the goods on the man who could make it happen. I never intended to blackmail Simon; I wanted to know more about him personally, to find some common ground that would help me get an edge with him. I already know pretty much everything about you . . .”

  So why did Otis have my picture I wondered to myself.

  Natasha pulled a tray of cookies from the oven. “I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you about the stalker. That night I ran into you, I realized someone was following me, but I thought it was Andrew. Actually, I thought it was exceptionally nice of you and Nina to warn me.”

  “Did you tell Wolf that Clyde was Vicki’s brother?”

  “And admit that I hired Otis? No way. My lawyer scared the pants off of me. I couldn’t admit anything. Besides, I didn’t know about Vicki’s affair with Simon. That would have been different.”

  I leaned against the dishwasher. “How could we not have known that Clyde was her brother?”

  Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Are you kidding? Mars and Andrew hated Simon vehemently. They said such ugly things. I’m sure she was ashamed to admit that her brother worked for Simon. And then when the affair started, well, I guess it wasn’t a good idea to say anything then.”

  “I feel sorry for her.”

  “She killed Simon!”

  “I know.” I twisted a dish towel in my hands. “But she worked so hard while Andrew ran through their money with his ridiculous ideas. All the while she had to hide her affair and her brother’s identity. She must have been miserable.”

  In the doorway to the kitchen, Wolf cleared his throat. “Could I have a word with Sophie?”

  Natasha nodded and hurried out of the room.

  “In case you haven’t figured it out, Vicki was your intruder,” he said.

  “Then who ransacked her house?”

  “She did it herself. To throw us off. And it appears that Clyde was Natasha’s stalker, waiting for an opportunity to kill her since Vicki hadn’t managed to do it. Natasha was the only one who could tie them together and they thought she knew about the affair.”

  “Then one of them planted the turkey trophy in Natasha’s yard?”

  “Clyde snagged it at the stuffing contest and passed it along to Vicki to bury at Natasha’s party that night. He was pretty sharp.” Wolf jammed his hands into his pockets. “I ought to chew you out for doing something so dangerous.”

  “You should have believed me and trusted me.”

  Mochie marked Wolf’s legs by rubbing against them.

  “I didn’t know you. Everywhere I went I learned things that were the opposite of what you claimed.”

  “Like about Humphrey dating me?”

  He swallowed hard. “Not true?”
/>   I closed in on him. “Nope.”

  He looked over my head at the stone wall. “So this is where Faye’s ghost resides?”

  I grinned. “So I’m told.”

  He wrapped his arms around me. “I hope she doesn’t mind this.”

  He kissed me tenderly but not nearly long enough.