The Diva Digs Up the Dirt

by Krista Davis

  “Those cone-shaped things? How come the hummingbird isn’t dead?”

  I had no idea. We edged toward the foxglove cautiously, as though it might leap at us.

  Nina sucked in air. “Look! Some of the foxglove plants have been cut.”

  I crouched to examine the stems. “Maybe they were deadheaded by the gardeners.”

  “Or by Audie.”

  A chill skittered over me at the thought of Audie poisoning his father with a foxglove planted by his mother.

  A happy woof came from the direction of the house. Daisy hurtled toward us, acting as though she hadn’t seen us in weeks.

  “Mars must be here.”

  Daisy wriggled with glee and pawed the air.

  I gave her a big puppy hug, then looked around for Mars.

  Nina bent to her. “Sweetie, I’m trying to catch a kitty cat. Maybe your mom could take you back to the house?”

  “No problem.” I ruffled her fur. “Come on, Daisy.”

  She walked beside me, happily wagging her tail. As we neared the corner of Roscoe’s home, I could hear hushed voices. Roscoe and Mars sat outside on the porch at a round table covered with a sunshine-yellow cloth. Vivid red geraniums bloomed in pots along the black wood floor, and someone had placed a cluster of the red blossoms in a white vase that matched the earthenware. Tall glasses of orange juice added more splashes of color.

  Roscoe and Mars called to me and invited me to join them.

  “I’m surprised you’re willing to eat here,” I said.

  “We watched every single step of the preparation.” Mars fed Daisy a piece of cantaloupe.

  Through the window, I could see Violet hovering inside, no doubt listening to every word.

  I pulled up a chair, ready to get down to business. “Roscoe, did Heath embezzle money from your company?”

  He slapped his napkin on the table, horror on his face. Pointing a fleshy finger at Mars he said, “This is exactly what I’m talking about.” He turned his attention to me. “Where’d you hear that?”

  I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. “You and Wolf have some kind of beef, so I’ve been asking around, and I sort of put two and two together.”

  “Calm down, Roscoe.” Mars glared at me. “I’ve called in the crisis team.”

  That brought back memories. When we were married, Mars had called the crisis team each time one of his politicians made a salacious blunder. They were public relations specialists who dictated a course to minimize the impact of a painfully public catastrophe. “Because Heath stole money? I’m not following.”

  “To handle the news of Heath’s death on Roscoe’s property.”

  Roscoe’s jowls quivered. “There have to be consequences, Mars. Otherwise, people talk. There might not be anything we can do about the police and Heath, but can’t we stop everybody from reviving that old stuff? It’s water under the bridge.”

  I’d been surprised by Roscoe’s reaction to my statement. Clearly, there had been some kind of issue involving Heath, Roscoe, and money. Maybe I should have backed off, but I was tired of getting the runaround and half-truths.

  “Roscoe, I’m sorry to upset you, but this is important. Someone murdered Anne and Heath. I’m not the only one who will be asking questions.”

  He pounded his fist on the table, causing the dishes to jump and clatter.

  Daisy shuffled backward in alarm.

  “For pity’s sake, how many times do I have to say it? It’s over and done with.”

  Mars kicked me under the table.

  “Do you know what happened?” I asked him.

  “You’ll have to excuse Sophie. She’s been dating Wolf.”

  Roscoe leaned back in his chair and contemplated me, drumming the fingers of his right hand on the table. “I did not know that.” He thought for a moment, the left side of his mouth pulling to the side in an irritated expression. “Anne Fleishman was not the angel Wolf thought she was. When Heath worked for me a few years back, he and Anne stole my money. Millions. Funneled it right out of my business accounts. It was a perfect setup because Anne was supposed to audit the accounts. If it hadn’t been for Cricket, we never would have known about it. She noticed a discrepancy and figured it out. Fortunately, Cricket managed to get the money back. That girl is a gem, got every last cent of my money. We didn’t want any bad publicity, so we threw a blanket over the whole thing and never pressed charges. All’s well that ends well, you know. If anything, Wolf ought to be thankful that I didn’t put that precious wife of his in jail.”

  No wonder Wolf didn’t want to tell me. He probably had trouble dealing with it himself. An embezzler! And with another man, which meant she probably was in a relationship with Heath. Wolf must have been mortified… and hurt. A double whammy. Anne had been a duplicitous, two-timing criminal. She betrayed Wolf in every way possible. She couldn’t have been farther from the sweet innocent he or Mona had described.

  I sat back. Cricket had been Anne’s best friend. What would I have done if I’d discovered Nina was stealing from someone? Probably the same thing Cricket did. Report her, try to get the money back, and hope the consequences wouldn’t be severe. Was that the real reason Anne was murdered? Did Heath murder her for taking him down with her? What about Overton? Had anyone considered him? He was a first-class sleazebag. I wouldn’t put it past him to kill her for putting his firm in jeopardy. Or had she angered him by spurning his revolting overtures?

  “What I want to know,” Roscoe grumbled, “is how Heath had the nerve to show his face around here again.”

  I studied Roscoe. I thought I’d known him—not terribly well, but enough. Yet his words gave me an unexpected peek into his mind. Heath had gall to show up after trying to steal Roscoe’s money, no question about that. But why was that Roscoe’s main concern? Why wasn’t he worried about the fact that someone had murdered Heath? Someone who was probably in Roscoe’s inner circle.

  I looked up to see Mrs. Danvers fixing me with a steely glare from a kitchen window. She’d tried to cover up Heath’s hand after we had seen it. It had been laughable, really. Did she think she was protecting Roscoe? Audie? Had one of them killed Heath when he showed up again? Or had she done him in herself?

  A scream broke the tense silence. Another followed, and another.

  We all jumped to our feet. Roscoe yelled, “Was that you, Violet?” He lumbered into the house.

  Daisy had better hearing than the rest of us. She vaulted over the steps to the grass and shot toward the guest house.

  Mars raced after her. I wasn’t as fast, and my sandals slipped on the grass. I slid them off and ran across the lawn.

  Mars and Daisy had gone inside. I flung open the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Dear Natasha,

  My wife and I are having a disagreement about basil. She says we should only cut off the leaves that we need. I say we’re supposed to harvest the leaves by cutting the stem so that only a few leaves remain. Who’s right? Breakfast in bed is riding on this one.

  —Vicious Pruner in Rosemary, Maine

  Dear Vicious Pruner,

  Get ready to enjoy a delicious breakfast in bed. Pruning the stem will produce fuller plants. Leaving the stem allows the plant to go to seed, making the leaves bitter.

  —Natasha

  Nina stood in the center of the guest house shaking, her hands over her nose and mouth. At the bottom of steep stairs, Mindy sprawled stomach down on the hardwood floor. Her head was turned to the side, her eyes closed.

  Mars fell to his knees beside Mindy. “No pulse! Sophie, we’re going to have to flip her!” He tried to tug Mindy away from the wall without much success.

  “Nina! Call 911.” I ran to Mindy and asked Mars, “What if she broke her neck? Maybe we shouldn’t move her.”

  “We have to start CPR!”

  He was right. I grabbed her shoulder and shoved.

  We managed to scoot her out into the room far enough to maneuver behind her.

  “On th
e count of three, we flip.” Mars counted out loud. “One… two… three!”

  We rolled her over onto her back, and I started hands only CPR immediately.

  Daisy sniffed Mindy’s head.

  “Did you get 911?” I shouted to Nina.

  “They’re on their way. I told them we’re in the guest house. What else can I do?”

  The door banged open. Roscoe and Violet peered inside.

  “What’s going on?” Roscoe went pale. “Mindy,” he whispered. He rushed at us and collapsed in a heap beside her.

  Violet screamed. “Roscoe! Roscoe!”

  Mars took over the CPR. A good thing, because I was in no shape to keep it up for long.

  Sirens wailed in the distance.

  Nina and I helped Roscoe to a chair. “I’m fine,” he breathed. “No need to fuss.”

  He didn’t look well to me.

  Two EMTs rushed inside and relieved Mars, whose face sweated like he’d raced in a competition. We waited silently, hoping for the best.

  One of the EMTs asked questions about how Mindy fell. We had no answers. He hammered Roscoe with questions about Mindy. Roscoe appeared to be in a mild daze, and clearly not familiar with Mindy’s medical history or possible drug allergies.

  They stopped CPR, and I felt as though my own heart had stopped. Raising my voice, I asked, “Is she alive?”

  “Barely.”

  They stabilized her neck with a brace, and rolled her out to the ambulance in a gurney. Mars followed them asking questions.

  He returned quickly. “Roscoe, they need you to go to the hospital. I’ll drive you.”

  I sidled over to him and whispered, “Maybe Roscoe should ride in the ambulance, too. I don’t think he’s well.”

  Roscoe reached up to grab Violet’s hand. “Call Olive. I need Olive.”

  Mrs. Danvers’s dark eyes darted around, restless and fearful.

  With Mars’s help, Roscoe managed to stand, but he shuffled out as though he’d been zapped of all energy.

  Violet raced up the stairs. She returned quickly, grabbed a mop, and set to work washing the floor. She moved rapidly, in crazy frenzied motions.

  She glanced at the phone, then at Nina and me. Dropping the mop in the middle of the floor, she collected a pair of white high-heeled shoes with red soles that must have been on Mindy’s feet and ran for the main house.

  “What were you doing in here anyway?” I asked Nina. I’d never been inside Roscoe’s guest house before. We were in a cozy room with a fireplace. A cobalt blue ceramic tile counter separated a tiny kitchen in the back. Books and floral pillows were everywhere. I wanted to brew a cup of tea and snuggle among the pillows with a book.

  The steep stairs led up on the right side. I could see a railing upstairs. I guessed it was some kind of sleeping loft and maybe a bathroom.

  “I wanted to find Violet’s poison so she wouldn’t kill the cat. Do you think it was an accident? That Mindy just slipped and fell?” Nina migrated toward the stairs, looking upward.

  “Good question. Something weird is going on around here, that’s for sure.”

  Nina started up the stairs. “Tell me if Mrs. Danvers comes back.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m snooping, if you must know.”

  “Nina!”

  She looked over the railing at me. “You saw Mrs. Danvers. If there’s any evidence in this place, it will be washed, bleached, or sterilized within the hour. Besides, it’s not a crime scene.”

  “If someone pushed her, he might be hiding up there.”

  Nina swung around. “Daisy! Here, girl!”

  Daisy galloped up the stairs, her heavy paws alerting anyone who might be in the loft.

  “Daisy will let me know if someone is hiding.”

  “Well, hurry up!” I poked my head outside, searching for Violet. No sign of her.

  “Sophie! Sophie! Come up here!”

  We were going to get caught. Violet probably hadn’t gone to call Olive. She was probably retrieving a gun. I tried to recall what had happened to Mrs. Danvers at the end of Rebecca but couldn’t remember. Why did I have a bad feeling that she died? Reluctantly, I climbed the stairs. I knew one thing—Roscoe wasn’t in the habit of going up to the loft. The stairs were treacherous. I paused to catch my breath at the top.

  Nina and Daisy inspected an under-bed storage box on wheels. It held fourteen pairs of designer shoes, from an outrageous leopard print, to silver-gray sequins, to black suede with diamond starbursts on the five-inch heels.

  Nina giggled. “I think Mindy has a shoe addiction.”

  “Please tell me those are rhinestones and not real diamonds.”

  Nina picked one up and slid it onto her foot. “They’re like walking on stilts! Oof!” She took it off and replaced it. “They’re all the latest designers.”

  I blew air out of my mouth. “At least it’s not poison.”

  “No, but this little stash is worth about fifty grand. I bet she’s hiding them from Roscoe.”

  “Please. No one would kill anyone over shoes.”

  Nina laughed. “Hello? Have you ever been to a major shoe sale?” Her tone dipped. “It’s ugly.”

  “Put that back, and let’s get out of here. This isn’t any of our business.”

  Nina rolled the shoe box under the bed. “Maybe not, but she’s not going to need those at the five-hundred-acre hunting and fishing bed-and-breakfast.”

  We trod carefully down the stairs.

  “I forgot about that.”

  “Check for Mrs. Danvers, will you?”

  “What are you doing now?”

  “Looking in the kitchen for poison.”

  I followed her. “Who would keep poison in the kitchen?”

  “Everyone. Maybe it has to be refrigerated.” She opened a tiny pantry. “Someone has a thing for Italian dressing and olives.”

  Although it was sort of interesting to peek into their lives this way, I did feel guilty. On the other hand, Roscoe wasn’t up to the task of searching his property for poison. I pulled open the fridge.

  Nina peered over my shoulder. “Anything interesting?”

  “Bottled water, more of the Italian dressing, roasted peppers in a jar, mozzarella—”

  “Oh! I love those pralines. Think they would notice one missing?”

  I shut the refrigerator. “How do you know they don’t have poison in them?”

  She made a face at me and opened the trash can. “Violet must arrange flowers here.”

  I peered inside the metal trash bin. Tiny bits of leaves and flowers had been dumped inside, along with long stems.

  “Let’s go.”

  We turned to find Mrs. Danvers blocking the doorway. We were trapped.

  “Did you find it?” Violet asked.

  “You mean the po—”

  I kicked backward. My heel made contact with Nina’s calf.

  “Ouch!”

  Trying to smile, I asked in as sweet a voice as I could muster, “Did we find what?”

  Violet pulled her chin back and studied us with cold, hawkish eyes. “The mallard print. Isn’t that why you were snooping?”

  “The mallard print! No, we didn’t see it. I know Roscoe would feel much better if someone found it.”

  Honestly, the woman had such a sour expression that it was hard to tell if she was angry or upset. The corners of her mouth quivered, and she fell into a chair, limp as a rag doll.

  “Could I get you a glass of water?”

  She stared at the floor. “There’s nothing anyone can do. I’ve done myself in.”

  Nina and I exchanged a wide-eyed look. Could we get her to confess and tell us where the poison was?

  “It can’t be that bad.” I tried to sound soothing.

  “I’m afraid it is. I can’t undo it. It’s all my fault.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Dear Sophie,

  I love my dog, I really do! But she’s eating my cucumbers. She pulls them off the vine
and eats them. How do I stop this behavior?

  —Pooch Pop in Dogwood, Tennessee

  Dear Pooch Pop,

  It could be worse. Don’t fight it. Plant extra for the pooch!

  —Sophie

  Good heavens! She hadn’t taken poison, had she?

  Nina beat me to it. She gripped Violet’s shoulders and gently shook her. “Violet! Did you poison yourself?”

  Violet shrank back. “No!”

  “Maybe we could help. Where did you put it?” I asked, hoping Violet would tell me where she had stashed the poison.

  “Upstairs in the loft. I hid it there during the party.”

  “Did you put any in the party food?” asked Nina. “There were children present!”

  Violet lifted her dark eyes to meet mine. “Is she daft? Who could put a print in food?”

  “Oh! You moved the mallard print from Roscoe’s den to the loft?” I squatted to her level and nearly tipped over.

  “For safekeeping, you see.” Her head sagged. “I admit that I wanted to teach Roscoe a little lesson. But I didn’t mean for it to be stolen! Not really!”

  “So you stole the mallard print.” Nina sounded annoyed, no doubt due to the “daft” remark.

  Violet moaned. “Yes, yes, yes. Only I didn’t think of it as stealing because I intended to put it back when Roscoe learned his lesson.” Her voice grew thin. “But now it’s gone.”

  “Someone took it from the loft.” I stated it to be clear that I understood the situation. “Mindy, maybe?”

  Her eyes narrowed, which did nothing to improve her menacing appearance. “She wants to be rid of me. I watch her, you know. I hear the nasty things she whispers to Roscoe about me. She told her friend that I’d better hope Roscoe lives a long time because when she inherits everything, I’ll be the first thing she throws out. I know what goes on around here.”

  Could Violet have intended to poison Mindy but ended up poisoning Roscoe by mistake?