The Diva Cooks a Goose

by Krista Davis

  “I guess you’ve already heard the bad news,” I said.

  Laci whirled toward me and hissed, “Not so loud. We don’t want Jen to know Mom is missing.”

  TEN

  From “THE GOOD LIFE” :

  Dear Sophie,

  Christmas decorations have become a nightmarish chore. Digging through all the boxes in search of things I can’t find drives me batty. Other than hiring someone else to do it (fat chance), is there a way to make it easier?

  —Grumpy in Garland, Nebraska

  Dear Grumpy,

  Instead of tossing things into boxes, take a cue from professional movers and box your Christmas decorations by room. Place all the mantel items in the same box or boxes, put the kitchen towels, pot holders, cookie containers, and decorations in another box. That way it’s fast to put everything away, and when you take it all out, everything you need will be together.

  —Sophie

  Shawna shrieked, “Mom’s missing?”

  My mother grimaced. “Shh. Jen’s in the next room.” To me she said, “Thank goodness for those kittens. George took them into the family room to distract Jen.”

  “I thought Marnie went shopping with you,” I said to Laci.

  “When we got to the mall, she said she’d meet us back here.” Laci tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “I thought ... I thought she was planning to meet my dad and didn’t want us to know about it. But I called him and he hasn’t seen her.”

  Shawna collapsed into a chair by the fire. “Not Mom, too,” she moaned. She jumped up, grabbed Laci by the arms, and shook her. “It’s all Dad’s fault. Where is he? He killed them both and ruined my life.”

  “Killed? No one said Mom was dead. What are you talking about?” Laci’s scared eyes never wavered from her sister’s face.

  “I don’t mean with an ax. He left Mom and broke her heart, then he toyed with Bonnie and she couldn’t take it and died.”

  “Bonnie’s dead?”

  Shawna launched into an explanation that bordered on hysteria, ending with, “And now Beau despises me and blames me—me!—for his mother’s death.”

  Laci swallowed hard. “Then why do you think Mom is dead?”

  “She’s not here. There isn’t any other logical explanation.”

  “Well, I can’t find Wolf’s cell number anywhere.” Hannah marched into the kitchen carrying Mochie. The second she saw me, she did an about-face to leave.

  “Hold it! Why do you want to call Wolf?” Had everyone in my house lost their minds?

  “Sophiieee. Maybe you’ve forgotten but New Year’s Eve is only five days away and I don’t want to spend it alone. I thought Wolf could give me the lowdown on Zack, that cute cop, and maybe invite him for New Year’s.”

  “You won’t be alone. The whole family will be here for fondue and our traditional walk down to the river to watch the fireworks.”

  Hannah tossed her hair like an impatient mare. “Kissing you ‘Happy New Year’ is not the same as kissing a dreamily handsome man in a romantic moment ...”

  “How can you be so shallow?” Shawna turned on Hannah with a vengeance. “Bonnie is dead, and Mom is probably lying in a ditch somewhere freezing to death—and all you can think about is getting a date?”

  “Stop it,” I said. “Turning on each other isn’t going to do anyone any good. Have you reported the fact that Marnie is missing to the police?”

  Laci’s shoulders froze. “I was trying to avoid that. I called but they said we have to go down there to fill out a missing person’s report.”

  “Have you called Marnie’s cell phone?” I asked.

  “All I get is her voice mail.” Laci paced the kitchen. “This can’t be happening. She was so distraught about Dad. You don’t think she did anything awful, do you?”

  “Like murder Bonnie?” muttered Hannah.

  I thought Mom’s angry stare might burn a hole right into Hannah’s forehead, but I noticed that George stifled a laugh.

  “No, I mean like jumping off a bridge,” said Laci.

  “Now, now,” Mom cautioned. “Marnie had a few shocks over the last days, but surely she hasn’t gone over the edge.”

  Laci nibbled at a fingernail. “You don’t know my mother like I do.”

  “Too bad you can’t reach Marnie by phone. She might feel better once she hears Bonnie is dead.”

  “I raised you better than that, George Bauer!” scolded Mom.

  “Give me a break,” said George. “It’s true. Bonnie’s death is very convenient for Marnie.”

  Shawna screamed and pointed at the bay window. A palm hit the glass, compelling Mochie to spring to the top of the table, where he pranced like a Halloween cat. The palm slid down the window with a loud screeching noise.

  I bolted out the kitchen door and around to the bay window.

  At least Marnie wasn’t dead—but Shawna hadn’t been too far off when she imagined her mother lying in a ditch. She was now sprawled on the ground, wearing a Santa jacket and matching hat, complete with white fringe and a pom on the end. She giggled, but couldn’t pick herself up. I reached for her, but she couldn’t grab hold of my hands.

  “Step aside, Sophie.” George and Dad hauled her to her feet and walked her to the door between them.

  “What’s that jingling sound?” asked Hannah.

  Jen pointed to Marnie’s feet. She wore green elf shoes with toes that curled up and ended in jingling bells.

  “Jen, honey, you’d better check on the kittens. They’re all alone. Scoot now!” Laci held a hand to her cheek. “I never wanted her to see her Nana this way.”

  Mom leaned over and whispered, “I didn’t know Marnie had a drinking problem.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Inga, she doesn’t,” said Laci. “She’s just been under such stress with the separation and the holidays without Dad, and now the whole thing with Bonnie and the engagement.”

  Mom motioned to me to follow her into the foyer. “Do you think we can take her back to George’s house? I’m afraid the motion of the car ... Marnie needs to sleep it off, but I hate to stick you with the job of taking care of her.”

  It was petty of me, but I didn’t exactly relish that job. “The beds are all made. Under the circumstances, maybe everyone should spend the night here.” I did some quick calculations. Shawna lived on the outskirts of Old Town, but she might want to stick around to help Laci care for their mom. If Hannah and Shawna took the third-floor bedrooms, Mom and Dad, and Laci and George, could sleep in the second-floor guest rooms. Laci probably ought to be near Marnie, though, and Marnie needed to be close to a bathroom. Which meant giving my bedroom to Marnie for the night. No biggie. “I think we can fit everyone if Jen and I sleep in the family room.”

  “Jen will love that!” Mom kissed me on the cheek and hurried back into the kitchen. I could hear her making up a story about wanting to stay overnight so she could bake a dish to take over to Beau in the morning. Trust Mom to help Laci save face by giving her an excuse to stay that was unrelated to Marnie.

  After a brief scene moving Marnie upstairs to bed, Shawna, George, and all the women in my family scattered to bedrooms, leaving me alone in the kitchen, dog-tired and hungry.

  I opened the refrigerator door hoping I might find delicious leftovers that only needed warming. No such luck, though an entire raw turkey, still in the wrapper, had appeared.

  “If you’re making a snack, I’ll have some, too.” Dad had wisely stayed out of the Marnie chaos upstairs. “Your mom and Laci served leftovers from our take-out lunch for dinner.”

  “Sounds like I missed quite a drama. How do ham and cheese sandwiches sound?”

  “Great! You went through quite a drama yourself, bunnikins. Are you okay?”

  Bunnikins. How we change. Only a decade ago I bristled when Dad called me that silly baby name. But now, surrounded by Christmas lights, with a fire crackling in the fireplace, after finding someone dead, it warmed me and brought tears to my eyes. “I’m fine.” I pu
lled a jar of pickles from the fridge, picked one out to chew on, and handed the jar to Dad.

  “No, uh, sign of foul play?” he asked.

  “Not to look at her.” I sliced a fresh loaf of sourdough bread and doctored the slices with mayonnaise and horseradish mustard. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because a lot of Laci’s family hated Bonnie, and that Detective Kenner is walking up to the door.”

  Oh no! Would this day never end? “What now?” I muttered on my way to the front door. I opened it before he had a chance to bang the knocker, which would have brought everyone downstairs again.

  “Yes?” I demanded.

  “Sorry, I know it’s late.”

  A gust of snow flurries blew into the foyer. I debated shutting the door and leaving him outside, but then he would bang the knocker. “Come on in.” I led him to the kitchen and sliced baby Gouda cheese.

  “Would you care to join us, Detective?” asked Dad.

  My throat tightened in fear that he would take Dad up on his offer.

  “Thank you, Mr. Bauer.” His thin lips twitched to a Mona Lisa smile. “I’ve been trying to take out your daughter for months, but I believe joining you tonight would give the appearance of impropriety.”

  “No it won’t.” It was little Jen who appeared and spilled the beans. “Aunt Sophie is dating Wolf.”

  Where did she come from so suddenly?

  I could feel my face flush. Thankfully, Dad asked, “What can we do for you, Detective?”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your dinner. Smells great, better than the turkey TV dinner I made for myself yesterday.”

  That was a low blow! How sad was that? I didn’t even like the guy, but now I felt terrible for him.

  “You don’t have any family?” asked Jen.

  Stop! Stop that line of thought right now! Kenner wasn’t like a kitten that I could take in or find a home for.

  “I’m afraid my parents have passed on. I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy your meal. Sophie, could I have a word with you?”

  I hurried him into the foyer before Dad could ask him to join us again. I felt a little bit guilty for not asking him to sit down, but I wanted to get the interrogation over with as quickly as possible.

  “How are you feeling, Sophie?”

  “Feeling?” He came by to see if I was upset? He had to be kidding. Was this some kind of new police touchy-feely policy or just Kenner’s method of getting in the door and throwing me off guard? “I’m fine. Thank you.” For that he needed to speak to me privately? Why couldn’t he have asked in front of Dad and Jen?

  He bobbed his head. “Now that Wolf is out of town, you need me. And for the record, don’t go hard on the little girl—I knew you were still seeing him. But I’m not afraid of the big, bad Wolf.”

  He turned and walked out of my house, leaving me with a pit of dread in my stomach. When I returned to the kitchen, Jen was busy inserting Dad’s sandwich into the panini maker under his close supervision. The two of them laughed about something, but Jen stopped giggling when she saw me.

  “Sophie, please don’t be mad at me.”

  Mad at Jen? I couldn’t imagine that. “What is it, honey? Did something break?”

  “I want to sleep upstairs with Hannah tonight.”

  “Okay.” I tried to smile reassuringly, though I was surprised that Jen was turning down the chance to watch TV until the wee hours in the family room.

  “See, if I sleep with Hannah, Alice and Jasper can sleep with us.”

  Dumped for kittens! I laughed aloud. “I can’t blame you one bit.” Though I did suspect that George and Laci were going to have a devil of a time getting her to leave Alice and Jasper behind when they went home.

  Satisfied, she bounded out of the kitchen, leaving Dad and me to enjoy our snack. Although my mother would be horrified, I stacked the dirty dishes in the sink when Dad bade me good night. The day’s events had taken their toll on me and all I wanted to do was crawl into bed—or at least stretch out on the sofa in the family room. Mochie and Daisy snuggled up with me, and I fell dead asleep until two in the morning. When I woke, Mochie and Daisy were gone, and I could hear someone crying in the kitchen.

  ELEVEN

  From “THE GOOD LIFE” :

  Dear Sophie,

  My husband thinks we should leave the Christmas tree up and just scoot it into the basement and cover it with a drop cloth. I have a feeling that’s a very bad idea. Please side with me.

  —Apprehensive in Evergreen, Louisiana

  Dear Apprehensive,

  I’ve heard this advice before and I disagree. Scooting a Christmas tree is sure to result in broken ornaments. It’s not easy to move a tree through a doorway. Even if you take off the ornaments, do you have enough space to devote to the tree all year? And how much will you enjoy the decorative spider webs when you take it out again? You win, Apprehensive!

  —Sophie

  My hand was on the kitchen light switch when Laci’s teary voice said, “Please don’t turn on the lights.” In the near darkness, I could make out a shape in a chair by the dying embers of the fire. Daisy sat before Laci, her head in Laci’s lap.

  “How about the Christmas lights?” I turned on the little white lights in the pine greenery.

  “That’s nice,” she sniffled.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, Sophie. I wanted to have the Christmas I’ve always dreamed of—with all the relatives in good cheer, the house beautifully decorated, fabulous food, with us all singing Christmas carols—not stolen gifts, a cobbled-together dinner, a father announcing his engagement to his mistress, a drunk mother, and certainly no deaths!”

  I poured eggnog into glasses embellished with white snowflakes, and added generous dollops of coffee liquor and rum. “Everyone has a family, Laci, and there are no perfect families. Everything that happened was outside of your control.”

  “You know the worst part?”

  I cringed. The falling-down drunk mother?

  She exhaled, her breath ragged from crying. “Bonnie is dead and that’s horrible. Just the worst possible thing that could happen. Yet, there’s this teeny part of me that’s relieved because she’s not a threat to my parents’ relationship anymore. I’m so ashamed!”

  I handed Laci an eggnog and sat down in the chair on the other side of the fireplace. “Don’t you think that’s only natural? Bonnie brought major problems and heartache to your family.”

  “I still feel guilty. What a heartless person I must be.”

  “You can’t beat yourself up over it. How could you possibly have embraced Bonnie given what she did? Bonnie brought your antipathy on herself through her actions. You’re not actually glad that she died—you just wanted her out of the way. You wanted to protect the people you love.”

  Laci sniffled but sounded a little stronger when she asked, “Do you think your mother will ever agree to letting me host Christmas again?”

  I leaned in her direction. “As long as you promise Jen will be there, Mom will agree to anything.”

  Even in the low light, I saw her smile.

  “Besides, the holidays aren’t over yet. Jen wanted to go ice-skating, and we have New Year’s Eve to look forward to. There are plenty of days of fun ahead of us.”

  I thought Laci felt a little bit better when we shuffled off to bed, but it was very likely that the liqueur in her drink had simply tired her.

  On the morning of December twenty-seventh, I woke to my parents whispering.

  “We have to wake her. It’s the police, for pity’s sake. Sophie was sort of a witness or something, wasn’t she?”

  “Maybe we could ask him to come back later.”

  They tiptoed out, but I could hear their muffled conversation in the kitchen.

  I groaned and sat up, rubbing my eyes. That stupid Kenner. Did he think he’d get breakfast if he dropped by in the morning to ask how I was feeling again?

  I flung on a ginormous red bathrobe made of fleece and tromped into the ki
tchen. “Where is he?”

  Mom pointed. “In the living room.”

  The hardwood floors were cold on my bare feet, but I marched into my living room, prepared to tell Kenner off. Except he wasn’t there. A fair-haired cop in uniform sat on my sofa next to the Christmas tree, playing I-got-your-nose with Daisy, whose tail wagged joyfully.

  “I’m so sorry to get you up,” he said. “It’s just that we have a problem.”

  Jen, adorable in my Christmas cat print nightshirt that hung on her little frame, ran in, a kitten in each hand, and leaned against me. “Sophie didn’t do it!”

  At that moment, Hannah staggered in and came to a stop beside us. She’d borrowed an old blue bathrobe that had seen better days. Her hair clumped up on one side of her head where she’d undoubtedly slept on it, and the makeup she hadn’t removed the night before clung to the skin under her eyes in unfortunate black crescents.

  “Wha’s going on?” Hannah yawned and sputtered like a horse. Her expression changed to horror. “Zack!” She left faster than I’d known she could move, and we could hear her dashing up the stairs.

  Zack grinned. A hopeful sign, I thought.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt your holiday, but as I said, we have a crisis on our hands.”

  I swallowed hard. What could he want with me? Did he think I’d stolen the Christmas gifts?

  “I believe you’ve already heard the sad news of Bonnie Scarborough’s death.”

  My heart pounded. Did he think I had something to do with her demise?

  “You may be familiar with the Auld Lang Syne Auction that Bonnie ran every year. It has something of a reputation and lots of people look forward to it. Well”—he shifted uncomfortably—“it’s only two days away but now, we don’t have Bonnie to run the show. We’d rather not cancel it at this point because we can’t retract the advertising, and so many people have already donated items to be auctioned. It would be a logistical nightmare to store it all or try to return everything.”