The Diva Serves High Tea

by Krista Davis

  “Half the town,” said Nina.

  “Robert, Natasha, Elise, Beverly Hazelwonder, Hunter Landon—” I said.

  “I can confirm,” Nina said. “I was there the other day when Martha and Callie were talking about not knowing where it was. Callie again!” She shook her head. “It all fits together. Who would have thought it?”

  We told Wolf our ideas about Callie.

  He didn’t say anything. I hated not knowing what he was thinking.

  “Well?” Nina demanded.

  Wolf cleared his throat. “I think you’ve cobbled together an interesting theory. I can make a phone call to the Forest Glen Police Department tomorrow morning, and then we’ll know the identity of the fiancée. It might take them a few days to find the old file, though.”

  Nina pulled out her cell phone. “Wait a minute.” She keyed in some words. “Meh. Not much here. Just a paragraph. Rosie Barnes disappeared . . . She was supposed to meet her boyfriend, Robert Johnson . . . Some bones found. Murder unsolved.”

  Bernie asked, “Do we even know for sure that Rosie was murdered? How do we know she didn’t fall into the water and get swept away by a current?”

  Wolf thanked me for the tea and galette. “As I said, many theories. I have to work with facts.”

  When Wolf left, Mars said, “Pour another round of tea and let’s look at those facts.”

  Bernie tossed another log on the fire, while Nina and Mars helped me wash and dry dishes.

  When we sat down again, Mars said, “Natasha was attacked. Then Robert ate something with botulism.”

  “Which may or may not have been intentional poisoning,” I pointed out.

  “Then Callie was chased, but that might not be true,” said Mars.

  “And Elise was murdered.” Mars toyed with his tea. “Good grief. No wonder Wolf is skeptical. When we cut this down to facts, we’ve got nothing.”

  “Who would want to get rid of Elise besides her husband?” asked Bernie.

  They all looked at me.

  “Thank you so much. I’m flattered to be your suspect, but I did not kill Elise,” I said.

  “Alex?” mused Nina. “I guess that’s kind of far-fetched. What about Hunter/Eddie?”

  “Did she even know him?” asked Bernie.

  “Martha Carter? They talked a little bit the day of the auction,” I said.

  “You’re grasping at straws! Be serious,” said Mars.

  “Okay, how about this?” I offered. “Rosie is definitely dead. And someone wrote those threatening notes to Robert. I can think of one person who would do that—her brother.”

  “Hunter/Eddie?” Nina sat forward. “There would only be two reasons to do that. To torture Robert, or to make sure he didn’t think he got away with her murder.”

  “How would this Hunter/Eddie fellow get hold of botulism?” asked Bernie.

  Nina poured herself more tea. “The same way I would. He could have bought something, opened it, and realized it had gone bad.”

  “But wouldn’t other people have bought the same thing?” Mars frowned at her.

  She shrugged. “So they threw it out.”

  “What about Velma?” Mars leaned back in his chair. “She’s the only one who was definitely linked to Robert.”

  “And she was spying on him,” Nina added.

  “Why would she want to get rid of him?” I asked. “She seemed to like him.”

  “Seemed would be the operative word there,” said Bernie.

  “Perhaps she’s been play-acting all along,” suggested Bernie. “What if she always suspected Robert of killing her sister? What if her sister confided Robert’s infidelity to her?”

  I shuddered. “That would give her the motive to murder both Robert and Elise! And botulism would be such an easy way for an older woman to dispatch a man. Francie was right about that.”

  “Do you think she could have stabbed Elise? Is she strong enough to do that?” asked Mars.

  “Maybe.” Nina got up and broke off a piece of the galette on the counter. “Adrenaline can give people amazing strength. They can lift cars and all kinds of crazy things.”

  “Perhaps she caught Elise unaware?” Bernie tilted his head.

  “So we have four people with motives.” Mars tapped the pen on the paper.

  “Four? I only count two?” Nina looked at me.

  “Callie, Velma, and Rosey,” Bernie speculated. “Rosey had reason to kill his wife and her lover, Robert. But who is number four?”

  “Hunter,” muttered Mars. “Hunter didn’t have a motive to kill Elise, though.”

  Nina gazed around the table. “Not that we know of.”

  I didn’t get much sleep that night. I prowled through my house in the dark, Mochie and Daisy underfoot. I finished the apple galette while Mochie and Daisy chowed down on treats.

  I believed that Hunter/Eddie was Rosie’s brother. If someone had murdered my sister or brother, I would have hunted them down to the ends of the earth, too. Ohh. Maybe that’s why he called himself Hunter. Had Elise discovered that Hunter killed Robert? Was that why he murdered her? Was that why she had said Rosie, too? Or were we overanalyzing everything? Had Elise’s husband, Rosey, rolled into town and murdered them?

  When it came to Callie and Velma, I wasn’t sure who to believe. But what reason would Callie have to make up such a horrible story about Robert if it wasn’t true? And I had seen Velma’s face when Callie described Livy’s death. Not many people were that good at acting.

  The next morning, I didn’t know anything more, except that I felt the need to protect Francie. If Velma or Callie was the murderer, and Francie stumbled upon that fact, she could be in danger, too.

  I phoned Francie when I rose. She was planning to meet Velma at Robert’s house. I walked over with her, worried because I couldn’t protect her around the clock.

  Velma was in a tizzy when we arrived. “The Realtor is coming! Can you two help me get some of the boxes and papers tidied up?”

  I stacked boxes for them, and we did our best to bring a little bit of organization to the house. Luckily, they were working slowly and the entire downstairs was still intact and would show well.

  In Robert’s office, I stacked papers that Velma had been going through until my hand fell on a newspaper clipping announcing that The Parlour was coming to town.

  I glanced at the date. It was before The Parlour opened. Before Robert had moved to Old Town. Why would this have caught his attention? If he didn’t want to move here, then why clip this out? Unless he knew Martha. Was that possible? There was only one way to find out.

  I phoned Wolf. For once he actually answered his phone. “Meet me at The Parlour.”

  I beat a hasty exit past the Realtor, and waited for Wolf outside The Parlour. I started talking as soon as he showed up. “I think Martha Carter knew Robert before he came here. It’s only a guess but”—I held out the newspaper clipping to him—“you’ll note the date? It was about six months before he moved here.”

  Wolf sounded very kind, like he was speaking to a child. “That doesn’t prove anything. Maybe he thought a town that could support a tea parlor was a town that would also support antiques stores.”

  “True. Ordinarily I would agree. But he had been here to visit numerous times. He and his wife had planned to open a store here. So why this article? What interested him?” I smacked my finger on the photo of Martha.

  “Sophie, I’m going to indulge you this time, okay? But I have police work to do. I can’t be running over every time you get a crazy notion. This is nothing but wild speculation. I need facts.”

  “Then let’s just act like this is my treat.” I opened the door and led the way inside.

  I selected a cozy spot where we could talk privately with Martha.

  Wolf sighed. “You do remember that we’re not dating? S
oph, I can’t be seen having tea or lunch or hanging out with you like this.”

  “This is business, Wolf. What if I’m right? Do you want her to stab me, too?”

  “I hardly think that will happen over a newspaper clipping, nor would it happen here, in public. Not in front of other people, in her place of business. He gestured around the room, forced a smile, and waved to a woman who was leaning back so far to watch us that she fell out of her chair. “Oh no. Sophie, I’m really sorry but I can’t do this.”

  Wolf rose and walked out.

  I could tell from the heat in my face that I was flushing with embarrassment. That’s the trouble with dating a cop and breaking up. They always think you’re trying to get things going with them again. Not that I was totally unsympathetic. I knew his wife wouldn’t understand. I pulled out my phone and called Nina. When Callie came to the table, I ordered for both of us.

  Nina arrived in ten minutes. Breathless, she said, “Sorry it took so long. I had to drop Peanut off at the doggy daycare. He’s too young to stay home alone. What’s up?”

  “I guess I know who my friends are.” I told her what happened with Wolf.

  When Callie brought our tea and delicious treats, I said, “Would you please ask Martha to join us for a few minutes?”

  Callie looked from me to Nina and back. “Is something wrong? This is Shelley bone china. It’s very popular. Would you rather drink out of a different pattern?”

  The teal rims were laced with gold. Pears, grapes, and plums on a white background graced the middles of the teacups.

  “They’re lovely. I just wanted to talk to Martha.”

  “All right.” Callie appeared dubious.

  Martha arrived more quickly than I expected. “It’s so kind of you to come in again. As you can see, business is slowly beginning to pick up.”

  I handed her the newspaper clipping.

  She smiled. “Gee, this seems like a long time ago but it was only nine months! I was so grateful for coverage in the local newspaper. Where did you find this?”

  “At Robert’s house.”

  The smile faded, and she swallowed hard. Her voice sounded hollow and forced. “How nice of him to keep it.”

  “It was printed months before he moved here.” I took a chance. “You knew him, didn’t you?”

  Martha wouldn’t have looked more miserable if I had knocked over her china display. “When Callie told me about Hunter, I knew it was just a matter of time.”

  Martha sat down with us and spoke in a soft voice. “Remember how I told you that I went to stay with my great-aunt Antonella in Italy? My parents sent me there because my fiancé had broken off our engagement. I was devastated. That doesn’t begin to cover it. I was a wreck. All of my plans, my dreams, the life I had envisioned, it was all over. In a split second. Just like that. Robert came from a well-to-do family and my parents were thrilled that I was marrying up. The wedding plans had to be canceled. The engagement gifts had to be returned. And all I could do was cry.”

  She stopped talking and sat there in her own little world, thinking.

  “And then,” I prompted.

  “And two days later, Rosie disappeared. The police paid us a visit but, of course, I had been home with my parents. And I had never met Rosie. I was such a mess. That was why my parents shipped me off to my great-aunt. They thought I would recover from my broken heart in Italy.”

  “Did you keep in touch with Robert?”

  She seemed surprised. “No! I never saw him again until the day he walked into The Parlour.”

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” I asked.

  She placed her palms on her cheeks. “I couldn’t bear the whole ugly thing about Rosie resurfacing. It was such a nightmare. You can’t imagine. Everyone was out looking for her. That poor girl. And the accusations against Robert. I thought that was over. It was so long ago. I’ve been so many places and done so many things. Well, who would ever expect it to rear its ugly head again? And then Robert died, and I thought, That’s the end. Finally, that’s the end.”

  “You never told your husband.” Nina didn’t ask. It was an affirmative statement.

  Martha shook her head. “No. I didn’t want him to know I had been engaged before. Even my parents and my great-aunt advised against that. We buried it. That was what people did then. They moved on and put the horrible memories behind them.”

  “Do you think Robert killed Rosie?” I asked.

  “I doubt it. He’d broken off our engagement. He had no reason to murder her.”

  “Who did?” asked Nina.

  Martha’s eyes jumped wide in surprise. “I haven’t a clue. I never knew the girl.”

  She rose and forced a wan smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe Callie needs a hand.

  “I didn’t see that coming.” Nina dug in. “I love these pumpkin scones with the bourbon cream.”

  I sat back, sipped my Golden Monkey black tea, and spoke softly lest anyone overhear. “Could Martha have murdered Rosie? Did Robert write those little poems intending to torment Martha? Maybe that was why he saved her picture and moved here.”

  Nina swallowed and nodded. “But why did she murder Elise?”

  Good question. “I might have guessed jealousy, but Elise was bragging to Martha about Alex being her new boyfriend.”

  I was a little bit disappointed when we walked home. Even though I had been correct, the relationship between Martha and Robert hadn’t led anywhere. We didn’t know more now than we had in the morning.

  I tidied up the house and did some laundry, still thinking about Robert and Rosie. I was in the kitchen folding towels when Mars stopped by.

  He opened the kitchen door and asked, “Who wants to go for a run?”

  We smiled like proud parents when Daisy leaped to her feet. Her tail wagging, she followed Mars to her harness, waited impatiently while he put it on her, and then Daisy led the way out the kitchen door. She would miss him when he was gone again.

  I watched the two of them jog down the street, noting that the streetlights would be on soon. I was sweeping the kitchen floor and thinking about Martha when the phone rang.

  Alex sounded as though he was in a panic. “Sophie, is Kevin with you?”

  “No. Has he run off again?”

  “We can’t find him anywhere.”

  “I can come help you look,” I offered.

  “I’d rather you stayed home. He’s likely to go to your place.”

  I promised I would call if Kevin showed up.

  Not five minutes later, I heard something at the door. I looked out the peephole but couldn’t see anyone. It had to be Kevin.

  I was opening the door when someone on the other side pushed it with force. A tall man in a gray sweatshirt with a hood slammed the door behind him. The light glinted off a knife in his hand.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Dear Natasha,

  I always look forward to hearing your annual “in” color predictions. I base my wardrobe around them! What color should I be looking for next year?

  —Always Stylish in Rust, Michigan

  Dear Always Stylish,

  There’s no question about it. We fashionable types will be gravitating to rust red next year. It’s as fabulous in clothes as it is on walls. And think how great it will look with all the gray accents we already have!

  —Natasha

  It was Martha’s husband, Max! My heart pounded in my ears. Odd thoughts ran through my head as I backed up. Mars had been correct when he told me the Taser would not be helpful if it was in a drawer. Natasha was right about how tall he was. He must have followed Callie and Natasha, and killed Elise. He was mad. Stark raving mad. I backed into the kitchen, praying I might find something to use to defend myself.

  In the back of my house, something crashed.

  “What’s that?”
he growled.

  I had no idea. “Cat.” Please let it be Mars!

  Another noise from the back. But this time I was ready. In the brief seconds that Max was distracted I grabbed a bottle of wine, rushed at him and crashed it on his forehead. The glass shattered and rained on the floor, falling into the puddle of white wine. Blood ran down his face in streams.

  I backed out of his reach and to the side, toward my kitchen knives. He was still standing, if wobbling and a bit dazed. I wondered if I had only succeeded in angering him.

  And then, out of nowhere, I heard, “Aaaaragh!”

  Kevin raced at Max from behind, gripping Bernie’s halberd. He lodged the spear end squarely in Max’s right buttock. “Kowabunga!”

  Kevin ran to me. I pulled him close and backed toward the kitchen door. We had to get out.

  And then Max fell flat on his face into the shards of glass and the little lake of wine. His blood tinged it red in spots.

  “Is he unconscious?” asked Kevin.

  “Stay right where you are.” I edged toward Max and kicked the knife away from his hand.

  Of course, Kevin hadn’t listened to me. He stood next to me, gazing at the halberd handle that stuck up in the air. He said slowly, “That’s gotta hurt.”

  I grabbed the phone and dialed 911.

  “Sophie, in the movies the bad guys always wake up.”

  He was right. I handed him the telephone and scurried to a drawer where I kept extension cords.

  Working fast in case Max came around, I pulled his wrists together across his back and tied them tight.

  Meanwhile, Kevin asked me my address. He repeated it into the phone and said, “We got him out cold on the floor, and he’s a big sucker. Sophie, she wants to know if he’s breathing.”

  “Oh, yeah. But they better send an ambulance.”

  “He needs an ambulance ’cause I speared him.”

  About that time, Mars walked in with Daisy. “What happened here? I was only gone twenty minutes.”

  Was that all? It felt like an eternity.

  Kevin handed me the phone. “She wants to talk to you.”

  This was one time I didn’t mind staying on the phone until the officers arrived. Adrenaline still coursed through my veins. Mars was high-fiving with Kevin.