The Diva Serves High Tea

by Krista Davis

When I rose the next morning, a clatter outside drew my attention. I threw on warm sweats and stumbled downstairs. Daisy waited at the front door, eager to go out. I snapped on her leash and stepped outside.

  A green pickup truck that had seen better days was parked in front of Natasha’s house. Daisy tugged me in that direction.

  She sniffed her way through Natasha’s service passage, where Wanda and an unfamiliar man were trying to catch chickens.

  “Good mornin’, Sophie! Do you know Harvey Gooch?” asked Wanda.

  “I don’t believe I do.”

  “Mornin’!” the man said. “That looks like a mighty fine hunting dog—let her drive these chickens over my way.”

  Even on the leash, Daisy’s curiosity about the chickens was enough to send them toward Harvey. It didn’t take long for all the chickens to be in cages.

  “Where’s Natasha?” I asked.

  Wanda stretched. “That girl! I don’t know what to do with her. Shush now. Here she comes.”

  Natasha carried a tray of coffee mugs so hot that they steamed in the chilly fall morning. “Thank you, Daisy. I saw how you helped. You’re better at dealing with chickens than I am.”

  I couldn’t help noticing that Natasha had returned to her usual style of dressing. Her sleeveless asymmetrical dress wasn’t made for rounding up chickens, or collecting eggs for that matter. Burnt red, it followed her figure nicely without being tight. She was a knockout in it. “That’s a great color on you,” I said.

  “It’s new to me. I much prefer blues and browns.”

  We stood on her patio to drink our coffee. I guessed she didn’t want us to bring the chicken mess into her house.

  “Harvey, do you remember that girl Rosie?” asked Wanda. “I was telling Natasha and Sophie about her the other day.”

  “Rosie Barnes! There’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. Poor kid. I was young and new on the volunteer fire department when she went missing.” He shook his head. “A sad, sad business. That fellow got away with murder. You know a couple of us spotted Rosie’s daddy on his way to pay that guy a visit. Had his rifle with him, and it sure wasn’t hunting season. It was just a good thing we stopped him when we did or he would have spent his life in the slammer for killing the man who murdered his daughter.”

  “Murder? I thought she disappeared.”

  “You got it part right. At the time, everybody thought her boyfriend did her in and hid the body.”

  How I wished that were our Rosie. “Do you recall the boyfriend’s name?” I asked.

  “Aw, honey, that was years ago. It will come to me in the middle of the night. Well, I best get these chickens packed in the truck. It’s awful nice of you to give them to me, Natasha.”

  “I know you’ll provide them with a good home, Harvey. And you can bring ’round some fresh eggs sometime,” said Wanda.

  “Sounds fair.”

  I went home, showered, and dressed. The phone rang at the exact same time as Bernie and Mars showed up at my kitchen door.

  I opened the door as I said hello into the phone. It was the conference organizer.

  “Sophie, honey, I hate to do this so last minute but we’re canceling the banquet tonight. Over half our attendees are checking out this morning. Elise’s murder and the rampant rumors about botulism poisoning put a damper on everything. They don’t want to eat anything here and way too many of them are concerned about being outdoors after dark. I’ve looked at the cancelation clauses in our contracts. Please assure the restaurant that we’ll uphold our end. And you’ll be paid, too. There’s just no point in fighting it.”

  And that was that. I couldn’t blame them. They were from out of town and who knew what kinds of gossip had flown around the conference? Elise was one of them. No wonder they were scared.

  I phoned the restaurant. They weren’t nearly as upset as I feared. Turned out they thought they’d have a good crowd anyway because Bernie’s place was closed.

  When I hung up, Mars was brewing Yorkshire Gold tea, and Bernie was in the middle of poaching eggs.

  “Okay if I use up the ham, Soph?”

  “That’s fine!”

  I felt thoroughly spoiled. I flung a fresh gold-and-blue country French tablecloth over the table and set it with square lapis Fiesta ware plates. Mars handed me a mug of tea and whisked a platter on the table that made me yelp—chocolate-iced Krispy Kreme doughnuts!

  I turned to look at them. “Okay. What’s up? I know when I’m being buttered up for something.”

  They laughed at me. It wasn’t until we sat down to eat that Mars pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen.

  “We don’t know where to start,” he said.

  “Neither of us knew Robert very well,” explained Bernie. “Finding the source of the poisoning may be the only way to restore The Laughing Hound’s reputation.”

  “We have to begin with the facts,” I sipped my tea. “The things we know for sure.”

  Mars held his pen poised over the paper. “And what exactly would that be?”

  I saw his point but was savoring the hollandaise sauce Bernie had made. Bernie certainly knew how to make perfect eggs Benedict.

  “Let’s begin with Robert eating at The Parlour,” said Bernie.

  “I think you have to go back farther than that. Velma said Robert had an upset stomach at the auction. So he had probably already eaten the tainted food.”

  Bernie placed his fork on the side of his plate. “That’s just aggravating. There was no need to close me down.”

  I didn’t remind him that Mars might have been poisoned by something from his restaurant.

  “But he’s dead,” Mars said. “How will we ever know where he went that day or the day before?”

  “Velma and Francie might know,” I said. “Let’s stick to what we know for sure. Elise was at the auction, making a big fuss about dating Alex. Then Robert appeared to be quite taken by Wanda.”

  Mars wrote that down. “That’s just weird. I like Wanda, but those two look like opposites. I don’t get it.”

  “Maybe she reminded him of someone he liked?” suggested Bernie.

  “Then Natasha refused to go to dinner with Wanda and Robert because she had eyes for Robert.”

  Mars shook his head. “As long as I live I will never understand Natasha. What did she see in him?”

  I wasn’t going there. “Wanda walked Robert home. And then I found him in the morning.”

  “Sorry, Sophie. I don’t mean to criticize, but this isn’t helping at all.” Bernie looked so glum that I wanted to hug him.

  “We do know that Elise left the hotel at night before Robert died, and she had had an affair with Robert in the past. I think she might have paid him a visit,” I said.

  “Elise had an affair with Robert? What was it about that guy?” said Bernie.

  “Unbelievable. Wanda, Natasha, Elise. He was a chick magnet.” Mars shook his head. “Maybe Elise poisoned him? And that’s why someone killed her?”

  “Velma,” I said softly. “She adored Robert. She thought the world of him and was crushed by his death. All along she’s been upset because the police aren’t treating Robert’s death as a crime. Maybe she took justice into her own hands.”

  “Are you joking?” Bernie licked hollandaise off his fork. “Elise was young and strong. She could have pushed Velma over with one finger.”

  I nodded my agreement and sank my teeth into an impossibly soft doughnut. Heaven!

  “We didn’t go back far enough.” Mars picked up a doughnut. “What about the person who attacked Natasha?”

  “So much has happened that I keep forgetting about that,” I said. “There’s only one thing I’m sure of. Well, sort of sure—Rosie seems to be the key.”

  After the guys left, I headed to Robert’s house with Rosie on my mind. As I had hoped, Velma and Francie
were there, hard at work packing china and crystal.

  “Would you mind if I poked around upstairs a bit?” I asked.

  Francie almost dropped a glass. “Really? You mean you’ve come to your senses? You think Robert was murdered?”

  “Don’t go getting excited. I just think we should find out more about this mysterious Rosie and the notes.” And then I told them all about Kevin. “It seems Elise had an affair with Robert. Did you find any mention of her in his stuff?”

  They dashed up the stairs faster than I had ever seen them move. They had already emptied most of the drawers in his desk. Still, I poked around. It was an antique rolltop. “Did they put hidden drawers in these things?”

  Francie and Velma crowded in. We removed every drawer, checking the bottoms in case Robert had taped something to one of them.

  We didn’t find anything of interest. While I reinserted all the drawers, Velma gushed over a framed photograph.

  “This must be the day they opened the store in Charlotte. Robert has big scissors in his hand.”

  “You look a lot like your sister,” said Francie.

  “You think so? She was so delicate. I always felt like a rhinoceros around her,” said Velma.

  I peered over their shoulders. “There’s definitely a family resemblance. Robert looks very distinguished.”

  They chattered on but I saw something that made my skin crawl.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Dear Sophie,

  I’m so confused. At the grocery store, I found parsley tea, lemongrass tea, and (I’m not joking!) spinach tea. Hello? Those aren’t real teas, are they? What happened to plain old tea?

  —Where’s My Tea? in Parsley, West Virginia

  Dear Where’s My Tea?

  Unless they have black or green tea added, those would fall in the category of herbal teas. Spinach might even be a vegetable tea. Black tea is what most of us grew up with and it’s probably still in your grocery store, though you may have to hunt for it.

  —Sophie

  “Francie, Velma, take a closer look at that picture. Do you recognize anyone?”

  They peered through their reading glasses. Velma gasped first. Francie slapped a hand over her mouth seconds later.

  “So I’m correct in thinking that’s Callie over there on the right?” I asked. She stood apart from the jolly group cutting the ribbon.

  “To think that we’ve been walking by this picture hanging on the wall, and we never noticed.” Velma took another look. “What does this mean?”

  “What it means is that our beloved Callie murdered Robert!” Francie said.

  “Francie, don’t go jumping to conclusions,” I said. “But it certainly means she knew Robert before she ever showed up in Old Town.”

  Velma staggered to a chair and fell into it as though her knees gave way. “That’s why he moved here. To be with Callie! Oh my. That little trollop never said a word.”

  “Did your sister mention suspecting Robert of having an affair?” I asked.

  “Not a thing. She always was the one with the stiff upper lip, though. She might have perceived that as a failure on her part somehow. Or maybe she never knew!”

  Francie leapt to her feet. “I believe it’s time to pay Callie a visit. Let’s go. Her place is practically next door.”

  “Wait a minute, Francie.” Velma frowned at us. “I never saw her going into Robert’s house. Or him into her house, for that matter.”

  “We couldn’t watch day and night, you know. And he had a back door. Maybe she visited him that way. Come on, let’s go!” Francie said.

  “Won’t she be working at The Parlour?” I asked.

  “Even better!” Velma recuperated quickly.

  I hadn’t expected to be back at The Parlour so soon.

  Martha greeted us when we walked in. “You ladies are just the best! We had a little flurry of takeout this morning, but it’s been dead since then. Hunter hasn’t even been in today. Would you mind sitting by a window again? Maybe that will encourage other people who walk by.”

  Velma picked a location, and we settled into the comfy chairs and love seat. Callie arrived with the serving cart immediately.

  Velma and Francie stared at her.

  To break the awkwardness, I said, “What service! You’re so prompt.”

  Martha hurried over. “Callie, everything is on the house today for our good friends. It’s the least I can do to thank you for coming. I have a little errand to run. Think you can handle the bustle in here?”

  We thanked Martha profusely and she left.

  Callie was her usual cheerful self, chattering as she set the table with lavish china. “I hoped Hunter would be by. He likes this china.”

  Dark red, pink, and apricot roses adorned the china. Gold accented the rims and the handles of the cups. They were beautiful.

  Breaking out of her funk, Francie said, “This is his favorite pattern? I’d have expected him to like something more masculine. Of course, Royal Albert Old Country Roses is one of the most popular china patterns of all time.”

  “I’ll never tell his secrets.” Callie said it flirtatiously.

  I couldn’t help looking at all those roses. “Callie? What do you mean by Hunter’s secrets?”

  “I was just teasing. Sophie, I can’t believe I got so lucky. He’s about the most decent man I’ve ever met.”

  “Did you know that he grew up in Forest Glen?” I asked.

  “I think that’s kind of cool. The two of us lived in towns a half-hour drive from each other. We went our separate ways and now we’ve met up. Actually, I think that’s what attracts me to him. We grew up with the same kinds of things. The same values, you know?” She set a tiered server on the table. It was loaded with scones and sandwiches, little cakes and fruit tarts. “We like to garden and love the countryside. And he’s got the sweetest tattoo on his upper arm, which proves his gentle nature. It’s a rose. Doesn’t that mean he’s tenderhearted?”

  I shuddered a little. Roses were very common tattoos, I reminded myself. It didn’t mean anything. Still . . . Callie might think he was a great guy, but given what she’d said about her previous relationships, she was obviously a terrible judge of character. I wanted to like him. He’d been so nice to Velma. He didn’t have to pitch in and help her. Maybe I was just imagining things. But why had that man called him Eddie?

  “Since the cat’s away, won’t you join us?” asked Velma, finally coming to life.

  As soon as Callie was seated, Velma pulled the framed picture from her giant purse. I hadn’t even realized that she brought it with her. Velma showed it to her. “Look what we found when we were cleaning up Robert’s house.” She passed it to Callie.

  I held my breath.

  “How nice! This must be Robert’s old store—” Her voice faltered, and she looked up at us with fear in her eyes.

  “You knew Robert, didn’t you?” asked Francie.

  “Oh, Velma,” Callie said. “I know how you admired him. I’m so sorry, but Robert was not a nice man. That man I was runnin’ from in Charlotte? It was Robert.”

  That was way different than I had expected. I sat back with my teacup. “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

  “When I lived in Charlotte, I got a real good job working as a receptionist in a furniture factory. I went to school at night and was eager at work, and I moved up in the company. So when my boss was leaving to open his own furniture store, he asked me to come with him.”

  “Robert.” I said it as a fact. I didn’t have to ask.

  “Right. I took the job, that’s why I’m in the picture. For a long while, he was as nice as everybody thinks. He was polite and considerate, and he paid me well. Velma, honey, I don’t know if you should hear this.”

  Velma sat up straight. “I want to know the truth, Callie. Even if you did somet
hing wrong.”

  “One afternoon, Robert and Livy were supposed to sign some papers. I called them, and Livy asked if I could bring the documents out to their house. I’d been there before when they hosted parties for their employees, like at Christmas.” She looked at me and Francie when she said, “They lived out in the country a bit, off a little windin’ road.”

  Callie closed her eyes and shuddered. When she opened them, she took a deep breath, as though the memory was disturbing. “I guess she didn’t tell Robert I was coming, ’cause he sure didn’t expect me. Nobody answered the front door. I thought I heard voices, so I walked around back. Robert’s wife was kneeling on the ground, pulling weeds from her garden and talking with some woman. Robert walked up behind her. She looked around, and he bashed her in the head with a rock. I’m so sorry, Velma.”

  “He killed my sister? Robert? I don’t believe this.” The horror on Velma’s face turned to anger. “It’s not fair to malign a dead man. He can’t defend himself. Why would you lie to us, Callie?”

  Francie watched her friend with concern. “Velma, I’m terribly sorry. And you were so good to Robert, too.”

  Velma closed her eyes a moment and opened them when Callie spoke again.

  “I can’t forget the shock on her face. That poor woman never saw it comin’.” Callie’s voice petered to a bare whisper.

  Velma moaned. “My Livy! Do you think she suffered?”

  “She fell to the ground and was so still. I’d never seen anybody die instantly like that before. I could tell. I knew she was dead.”

  Callie took a moment to compose herself. “But Robert and the other woman had seen me. He ran toward me, and I guess I was in shock. I stood there a few seconds too long until he got close enough for me to recognize the hatred in his eyes. It was the same madman look that my two husbands used to get right before they commenced beatin’ on me. So I ran like the dickens but I swear he was so fast that it was like the devil himself was standin’ in front of me.”

  She paused and gulped tea as though she was fortifying herself. “I knew it was wrong then, and I know it now. Please don’t judge me. They call it survival instinct. And I got it real strong. I knew better than to fight him. We were all alone out there, the three of us. I would be as dead as his wife if I wasn’t careful. Two against one is not good odds. He made me help him move her a little to make it look like she fell. I guess the woman had gone in the house because I didn’t see her anywhere. Velma, I checked—your sister didn’t have a pulse. Robert made me pick up the rock he used to kill her. And then he laughed at me and said what a dope I was because if I didn’t keep my mouth shut, they now had my fingerprints on that rock, and they would say I was havin’ an affair with Robert, and that I had killed Livy to get her out of the way.” A shuddering sigh escaped from her mouth.