The Diva Digs Up the Dirt

by Krista Davis

  Cricket raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, looking at me as though she’d heard that song before and couldn’t do a thing about it.

  “C’mon, Sophie. What do you think?”

  I thought he ought to hire a retired cop or a security expert of some kind. But, to be polite, I mused aloud. “Looks like there are three ways to enter the room—through the house, through the window, and the back door. Assuming the thief wasn’t already inside the house…”

  I looked at the doorknob. It seemed perfectly fine to me. Aged brass, I guessed. It showed the blemishes of time, but no fresh scratches.

  How many people had touched it since they discovered the print was gone? I didn’t carry gloves with me like Wolf did. Spotting a box of tissues, I snagged one and opened the door to examine the other side, probably wiping off fingerprints in the process. The knob on the exterior was a slightly darker color, not surprising since it was subject to snow and rain. Again, there were no new scratches or indications that someone had tampered with it.

  I checked the door jamb. “I’m no expert, but if this door wasn’t bolted, it might have been easy to unlock it with a credit card. Do you remember if it was bolted?”

  Every single one of them stared at me as though I’d shocked them.

  Roscoe burst out laughing. “Why, Sophie! I always thought you were such a proper woman. How would you know about such a thing?”

  Before I could answer, a stern voice said, “The door is bolted every night.”

  I jerked in surprise when I realized that Violet was in the room. Her drab brown dress helped her blend in against the dark paneled walls, but that only caused her pale face to seem ghostly, like it was floating on its own.

  I walked over to the window. It was a standard sash-type window with a screen on the outside of the lower half that hooked in the middle. I didn’t touch it, just in case Roscoe changed his mind about calling the cops.

  “It’s unlocked.” I turned to Violet. “Is it usually unlocked?”

  “No. Never.”

  There wasn’t much more I could do. I went outside to examine it and returned to the group in the cool house. “Unless there’s a trick I don’t know, the burglar would have had to cut the screen to get inside. My guess is that he came in through another entrance or he had a key.”

  “That was amazing!” gushed Cricket. “You’re like Sherlock Holmes or something.”

  “Hardly. All I did was use a little bit of logic. There’s nothing remarkable about that. It would be helpful, though, if you could remember whether the door was bolted after the print was stolen. If a stranger without a key left through the back door, he wouldn’t have been able to bolt it behind him.”

  “Was the print here after the party?” asked Mars.

  “I couldn’t say. I don’t know about that bolt, either. I’ve been in and out of that door.” Roscoe looked at Violet. “Did you notice or hear anything?”

  “I am not a Doberman pinscher.” Her deep tone left no mistake that she was angry. I couldn’t help comparing her to Mrs. Danvers, a thought no doubt planted by Nina two days before.

  “Who was here after the party?” asked Mars.

  “Just Mindy and me. And Violet, of course.” Roscoe frowned at him. “What are you saying? That one of us did it?”

  Violet spoke again. Clear, crisp, no nonsense. “Other… people… have… keys.”

  He needed to report the theft to the police! I played dumb to convince him. “Will you be able to make an insurance claim if there’s no police report?”

  Roscoe snorted. “I won’t need insurance once I find out who stabbed me in the back by stealing my mallards.”

  “I told you this would happen. You never should have allowed anyone in here during the party.” Mrs. Danvers, er, Violet made of point of staring at me.

  “Exactly when do you think the print went missing?” I asked.

  “This morning,” grumbled Roscoe.

  “You mean you only noticed it this morning.” The corners of Violet’s mouth turned down.

  Was she mad at Roscoe? Her black eyes reminded me of an angry hawk. I bet nothing happened in Roscoe’s house that she didn’t know about. Which made me wonder what she knew about a certain missing print.

  “Did anything unusual happen between the party and now? Anything out of the ordinary? Open doors, sounds in the night?” I asked.

  “Good morning, all,” Mindy trilled from the doorway. “Don’t tell me Roscoe is still going on about that print of his.”

  Roscoe pecked her on the lips. “You look positively glamorous. Are you joining us for lunch?”

  “Gracious, no. I have a hair appointment, and after that I thought I’d better buy some new hats for our trip. You can fill me in later.”

  I was overdue for a haircut, so I was in no position to criticize someone whose every hair was in place, but it seemed to me that her silk dress and pearls might not be the best choices for a beauty salon appointment. Hair spray wreaked havoc on real pearls. Then again, maybe the double strand around her neck was costume jewelry.

  Mindy adjusted a flashy gold bracelet on her right wrist and rubbed her arm. “Nice seeing everybody.” She wiggled her fingers at us. “Don’t let him bore you any more about those mallards.” She walked from the room in the awkward jolting stride of a woman wearing four-inch heels.

  Cricket smiled at us as though she was the lady of the manor. “Mindy is right, Roscoe. The mallards aren’t their problem. Do you want to reschedule lunch?”

  Roscoe flicked his hand. “Aw, everybody’s already here.”

  “Is lunch ready, Violet?” asked Cricket.

  We all looked around, but Violet had vanished.

  In a hushed voice, Cricket added, “That woman drives me crazy. How does she do that? She appears and disappears like she’s walking through walls. Makes me nuts. I’d better go see if she’s ready to serve lunch.” Cricket strode through the doorway that led to the living room.

  Mars shook his head. “Wow. Mindy doesn’t mind that you have a drop-dead gorgeous assistant?”

  Fortunately, Roscoe chuckled. “Down, boy. My Audie’s got dibs on Cricket. They haven’t set the date yet, but I don’t think they’ll wait long to be married. She’s been with the company for quite a while. Don’t know what I would do without her. Don’t let the wrapping fool you—that girl’s got brains, too. Audie couldn’t have done much better this time around. What I want is a bourbon. Mars, I know you like my brand. Sophie? Care to join us?” Roscoe raised a cut-crystal decanter. “Blast that Audie. He and Cricket must have done some damage during the picnic. They didn’t leave a drop.”

  He ambled to an aged globe on a wooden stand and lifted the lid. Pulling a bottle from the center, he said, “Having a second wife is quite a change. This thing was a wedding gift. Mindy keeps her scotch stash in here. Olive never touched the hard stuff unless it was so diluted with fruit juices that it turned pink. I’m not much of a scotch drinker, but in a pinch, when there’s no bourbon…”

  He poured the golden liquid into crystal whiskey glasses engraved with stags. Mars gladly accepted one, but I passed. It was too early in the day for me.

  “How many times has Audie been married?” Mars asked.

  “Lord, who hasn’t that boy married? First it was the cheerleader. You’d have thought the queen herself was getting married from the production her momma put on. That one lasted less than a year. Then he ran off and married a stripper.”

  He guffawed and eased into a cushy leather chair with a deep rounded back. “Yep, you heard me right. I thought my wife might have a stroke over that one. But she turned out to be a real nice girl. We were sorry to see her go. After that, there was a tall blonde from Denmark who baked like nobody’s business! I still miss her Danish apple cake.”

  Roscoe pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Is it hot in here?” He didn’t wait for a response and slugged back his scotch. I thought the temperature was fine.

  “Knowing Audie’s propensi
ty for marriage, I warned him about taking up with any of our employees. Did he listen? Clearly not. But he picked a winner this time. She worked her way up to being my personal assistant. Cricket is already like family.”

  Cricket must have overheard, because she smiled broadly when she appeared in the doorway to announce, “Lunch is served!”

  We followed her to a decidedly understated dining room. A simple, boxy eight-leg sideboard with hammered copper hardware didn’t shout money, but the horizontal plate rack that ran along the back cued me in that it was a pricy Gustav Stickley. The table also appeared deceptively simple. Long enough to seat ten people easily, it wasn’t very wide. Someone, probably Violet, had set it with lacy white place mats so that the dings and dents of age showed through. A shining silver colonial candelabra shone over the table. Everything in the room appeared laid-back and restrained, almost upscale rustic, but none of it was inexpensive. Even the Harcourt goblets on the table followed that theme. Although they had classic lines without engraving or fancy patterns, they were definitely Baccarat.

  A door slammed shut, and through the window, we saw Violet running through the side yard crazy as a bumblebee, waving her arms over her head, her tidy bun coming undone and flopping with each step.

  Cricket looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “We’re not at our best today. You’ll have to excuse us. I’ll bring in our lunch.”

  I followed her to help. We could see Violet through the kitchen window. She continued to zigzag through the yard like she’d lost her mind. “Um, is she okay?”

  “She didn’t even plate anything. Good grief. Yeah, she’s fine. She does this when she sees animals in the garden. She thinks a fat calico is lying in wait for birds, and she has it out for him. But she does the same thing for raccoons and possums. Who knows what she’ll poison next.”

  Oh no! “Poison? I hope you’re kidding.”

  “Nope. She protects those birds like they’re her children.”

  I was itching to know what the deal was with Violet. “She’s awfully grim.”

  “Isn’t she?” Cricket placed pieces of fried fish on each plate. “You’d think she had gone through some kind of horrible trauma, but that’s just how she is. I don’t know how Roscoe can stand it. It’s not like she’s family. He could get rid of her. For some strange reason, Audie loves the old crow, so I guess we’re stuck with her.”

  “I hear congratulations are in order. You’re marrying Audie?”

  She held out her left hand. “No ring yet.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Princess Mindy threw a hissy fit when she found out we wanted to marry. Apparently, she was afraid we might steal her limelight. Can you imagine? Roscoe asked us to wait a few months before we make the engagement official, but I’ve already bought the dress! All I need is a date and I’m there!”

  “Is this catfish?” I asked.

  “One of Roscoe’s favorites.”

  I might as well be nosy, since Cricket seemed forthcoming. “I gather Violet lives here?”

  “She’s been with them for years. The story goes that she’s a family friend who fell on hard times, so they took her in, and she never left.”

  I glanced out the window at Violet. She hunched ever so slightly, like an animal about to launch an attack.

  Cricket looked out at her before adding spoon bread to the plates. “I hope she doesn’t catch that cat.”

  The sun hit Cricket’s hair through the kitchen window and reminded me of the way Wolf had looked at her gleaming tresses when we saw Cricket on the street. “I think we might have a friend in common. Wolf—”

  She sucked in a little bit of air. “How is Wolf? I haven’t seen him in forever, well, not since Anne… vanished.”

  I wasn’t quite sure what to say. It felt somehow disloyal to rattle off the details of my discovery of Anne’s handbag. I went with the truth. “He’s well.” Maybe it wasn’t the complete truth. He’d been better. Then her words sunk in. “You knew Anne?”

  Cricket piled biscuits into a basket lined with a rustic tan cloth embroidered with chickens. “She was my best friend. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her. She would have been the maid of honor in my wedding to Audie.”

  I carried two plates laden with food into the dining room and set them in front of Mars and Roscoe.

  When I returned to the kitchen, Cricket said, “Thanks for helping, especially since you’re a guest.”

  “My pleasure.” I didn’t add that I was thrilled to have a few moments alone with her. “What was Anne like?”

  She paused and leaned against the tiled kitchen counter. “In a word—sweet. The opposite of me in a lot of ways. Maybe that’s why we were friends. I’m sort of bold and brassy, while Anne was timid and quiet. She was stunningly beautiful but didn’t think so. You know the type?”

  I did. I usually liked that kind of person.

  Cricket picked up the basket of biscuits and a bowl of kale dotted with bits of bacon.

  “Just a sec,” I said. “What do you think happened to her?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Dear Sophie,

  I hate weeding. Love my garden, but those pesky weeds keep coming back. We eat organic, and I don’t like herbicides because of the kids. How do I kill the weeds without poisoning the earth?

  —Flower Lover in Weed Patch, California

  Dear Flower Lover,

  Heat kills weeds. Try spraying your weeds with vinegar. This works best on hot, dry days to burn the leaves. Or you can pour boiling water on the weeds. Both plans will need to be used repeatedly until the weeds die. Take care not to kill surrounding plants!

  —Sophie

  “Now there’s the million-dollar question.” She handed me the biscuits. “After we’ve eaten, we’ll take a walk in the garden.”

  Forget the lunch! I wanted to grab her by the hand and run out into the garden with looney Violet. But I minded my manners and tried to focus on Roscoe for the next hour.

  Worried that I might stick my foot in my mouth, I tried to phrase my concern about Violet gently. “I understand there’s a calico cat hanging around your garden.”

  Roscoe swallowed a bite of crispy catfish. “Pretty thing. Size of a Jack Russell dog.”

  “Does it belong to a neighbor?”

  “I doubt it. Fur’s matted. It comes and goes.”

  How could I bring the poison into the conversation without offending anyone? “Cricket says the cat is disturbing the birds. I’m sure Nina Reid Norwood could catch it in a humane trap. Would you mind if she brought one out here?”

  Roscoe bellowed, “Now why didn’t we ever think of that, Cricket? I’ll call Nina soon as we finish up lunch.”

  Violet returned as abruptly as she’d left, even grumpier than before, but her hair had been pinned in place again. When she poured coffee and served blackberry cobbler, warm from the oven, Roscoe said, “Sophie, I have got a whopping problem. My ex-wife, Olive, didn’t care too much for parties. Give her a hoe and a sun hat and she was happy. But my new wife, Mindy, has a hankering to be a little bit more social, so we’re going to be putting on the glitz for a couple of Mars’s clients.”

  Pretty much what I’d expected.

  Roscoe leaned back in his chair. “Mindy, bless her, wants to do it all herself. But if there’s one thing I learned from our wedding, Mindy doesn’t understand the word budget. Not that I want to be cheap, now, but good lord, the woman bought herself a diamond crown. A crown! I could have bought a racehorse for that money.”

  He stopped talking and ate three bites of cobbler. “What I need is someone who can keep Mindy happy while staying on a budget and putting on a good event.”

  Since Mindy had been absorbed with the details of her wedding, I hadn’t dealt with her much on Roscoe’s annual picnic, but I had a hunch she might not be easy to work with. I’d met my share of opinionated people, though. Mindy didn’t scare me. I gazed across the table at Cricket. In that way, we were somewhat similar. I didn’t think anyone would cal
l me brassy, but I could hold my own.

  Mars and Roscoe launched into a discussion about an up-and-coming politician. Cricket cocked her head at me and muttered something about showing me the garden. We slipped through the kitchen, under Violet’s ever-watchful eyes, and out the door.

  Cricket took a deep breath. “This is such a beautiful garden, but the stench does spoil it. The heat just amplifies that smell. Mindy still insists she didn’t order the manure. But…” Cricket laughed. “Sometimes she’s a real ditz.”

  I wanted to move over to the subject of Anne. “I hear Anne was a big gardener.”

  “She was. Just like Audie, so passionate about gardening. He putters around out here once in a while since his house doesn’t have much of a yard, and what he does have is mostly concrete. I live in an apartment with no balcony, so everything is in pots. Anne loved plants. She would do silly little things like plant a cactus in the cut-off bottom of a milk carton. But they always thrived!”

  We walked under the trees, keeping to the shade.

  “I like Wolf.” She closed her eyes briefly, as if there might be some pain behind her words. “I really do, but I just can’t get past the notion that he had something to do with her disappearance. They were fighting. Wolf doesn’t like to admit it, but they had some issues. Her mother and I both heard about them. Frankly, I think Anne may have admitted more to me than to her mom because, well, there are some things you just can’t talk about with your mom.”

  “Do you remember what sort of things they argued about?” I steered clear of mentioning the handbag so I wouldn’t plant that idea in her mind.

  “Anne hated her job. She just loathed it. She never should have been an accountant. It stifled her. Have you ever had a job you hated? The kind when you don’t want to get up in the morning because you think you can’t face another day of it? That’s how Anne felt. She wanted to quit, but money was an issue. Plus, Wolf wanted to have kids. That was a huge problem between them. Anne wasn’t ready, and she said she couldn’t handle the demands of work and motherhood. Wolf had irregular hours, so she knew she would be doing the bulk of the parenting. She was already completely stressed about work, and she couldn’t see adding a baby to the mix.”