The Diva Cooks a Goose

by Krista Davis

  I continued watching, thinking about Forrest—and Marnie. I pulled out my cell phone and called George’s house. My mom answered the phone and launched into an excited discourse about Shawna.

  “Mom,” I interrupted. “Is Marnie there?”

  A moment of silence followed on her end. “What do you want from Marnie?”

  “Nothing. I just want to know if she’s there.”

  More silence. “I don’t understand you, Sophie, but I’m sure you have your reasons. Dad and Phil and I are here with Jen. We’re playing Cat-opoly. Santa brought it to Jen for Christmas, well, late of course ...”

  “Mom!”

  “George and Laci went to arrange for bail and pick up Shawna, but they told Marnie she couldn’t go with them. I think Laci was afraid her mother might act up again—she’s been so unpredictable. She’s supposed to meet them in Old Town at your house. Isn’t she there yet?”

  “I’m out walking Daisy. Guess I’d better get home.” I promised to call her later and hung up. With a last lingering look at the window, I hurried along the sidewalk with Daisy. Though if Marnie was where I thought she was—with Forrest—there really wasn’t any need to rush home.

  Nevertheless, Daisy and I kept up a good pace. Lights on our block twinkled in the cold air, but not a soul moved on the sleepy street.

  Daisy entered the house first and broke away from me immediately, dragging her leash along the hardwood floors. In a sniffing frenzy, she pranced along the hallway, through the sunroom and the kitchen, and down the hallway again. I hung my coat in the bathroom to drip-dry, and when I came out, she pawed at the door to the study.

  I opened it carefully, expecting the kittens to dash out. Instead, Mochie mewed mournfully from the top of the desk. “What are you doing in here?” Had I inadvertently locked him in? I shook my head at my own stupidity.

  Daisy ran around the tiny room in frantic circles. It took me a moment longer to understand what was going on. Alice and Jasper were gone—basket and all.

  TWENTY-SIX

  From “Ask Natasha” :

  Dear Natasha,

  With the kids home from college and four sets of grandparents (all remarried—sigh) dropping by for a few days, my beds will be like revolving doors. I don’t have time to clean with hosting and cooking and entertaining. Help!

  —Drowning in Company in Sleepy Eye, Minnesota

  Dear Drowning,

  Cleaning is essential when you have a lot of guests. Take a cue from B&Bs. The minute your guests depart, strip the beds, and scrub the room and bathroom. Be sure to leave a basket of toiletries, reading material, a scented candle, and chocolates to make each guest feel special.

  —Natasha

  I bent to see if Alice and Jasper were hiding under the desk, afraid of Mochie. That wouldn’t explain the missing basket, of course. I straightened up when I didn’t see them, wracking my brain to recall if Hannah could have been in the house.

  By then, Daisy had moved on to the sunroom. She waited impatiently by the door that led outside. I opened it and she bounded out. I didn’t bother with a coat, and followed her into the frozen lawn of the backyard. I shivered and rubbed my arms, but Daisy ignored the cold, intent on her mission. Her nose to the ground, she followed a straight line to the back gate. My heart sank. Unless I misunderstood her cues, someone had stolen Alice and Jasper. I looked more closely and made out what I thought might be new footprint tracks in the snow.

  I called Daisy back into the house and mounted a room-by-room search anyway in the vain hope that the sweet kittens were hidden elsewhere—like in a laundry basket. Daisy and Mochie brought their expert noses along, but we didn’t find the kittens. Scary as it was that someone had entered my house again, I was almost more afraid of Jen’s reaction. Losing Alice and Jasper might upset her more than the prospect of her Aunt Shawna doing time.

  Daisy’s interest in the sunroom door led me to believe that the kitten giver and thief had entered through the sunroom. Were they the same person? Or had someone dropped off the kittens here, hoping they would be safe from someone else? It chilled me to imagine that anyone could mean harm to those darling, innocent kittens.

  Making a mental note to buy a deadbolt for the door, I dragged a chair over, tipped it to rest on its back legs, and shoved it under the handle. At least it would stop anyone trying to come in that way.

  I turned around and found Mochie and Daisy sitting in identical positions watching me. I had to admit that the house seemed empty and lonely without the kittens. “Don’t bother looking at me like that. Mochie, you wanted them to go away, and Daisy, I’m sure you know who has the kittens from the person’s scent.” I was the only clueless one in the bunch. Purebred kittens were expensive. Could someone have stolen them to sell?

  My heart heavy with fear for Jasper and Alice, I trudged upstairs to straighten up a room for Shawna and put clean sheets on the bed. Cleaning was not my forte, but stripping sheets and making beds weren’t a big deal. I didn’t know exactly what the plan was, but I thought it prudent to put Shawna in the tiny third-floor bedroom. If she decided to take off in the middle of the night, she would have two flights of stairs to contend with, and Hannah would be sleeping in the room next door.

  I set fresh towels on Shawna’s bed and traipsed down to the second floor. My mother had left the front guest room immaculate. I didn’t have to do a thing except change the battery in the candle in the window. When I inserted a fresh battery, Daisy howled behind me. The howl quickly turned into a bark and she clomped down the stairs.

  Alice? Jasper? Or had George and Laci arrived with Shawna? I rushed down to the foyer but didn’t see anything. Daisy pawed at the front door.

  I snapped on her leash and stepped outside. Daisy pulled with all her might, and I ran behind her in the direction of Natasha’s house. Even though I held fast, I tripped on the uneven brick of the sidewalk, and Daisy broke away from me.

  I stood and dusted off my hands. Something wasn’t right in front of Natasha’s house. The turquoise lights that had graced her front stairs appeared to be wrapped around a slender tree on the ground. I squinted into the dark as Daisy neared the odd spectacle, and I thought I saw Santa Claus. What on earth?

  I stumbled along the sidewalk as fast as I could. The Santa figure became more clear, and I realized it was Mrs. Claus. Daisy reached her far ahead of me, and Mrs. Claus dashed around the corner, pursued by Daisy.

  I arrived at the foot of Natasha’s stairs only to discover that the teal lights didn’t wrap a tree at all. Natasha lay on the sidewalk, coiled by the lights. The blinking pink and white lights above her cast a peculiar tinge on her complexion.

  “Natasha?” I tapped her cheeks, but her eyes didn’t open.

  And then I saw it. Mrs. Claus had been strangling Natasha with her own Christmas lights. I rolled her over and unwound the cord from her neck as fast as I could. Why had I left my cell phone at home? Natasha needed an ambulance.

  Placing my arm under her shoulders, I tried to lift her a bit and was rewarded with a sputtering cough.

  “It’s okay. You’re going to be fine.” I tried to sound reassuring.

  I unwound the remaining lights and threw them on the sidewalk. Natasha gripped her throat with both hands, choking and coughing. I considered slapping her on the back but thought that might make things worse.

  “Should I call the rescue squad?” I asked.

  She waved her hands and gripped her throat again.

  I shivered uncontrollably. I had to get her inside, but she didn’t seem fit enough to manage the steep curving stairs to her house.

  Down the block a car slowed and parked in front of my house. I took a chance. “George?” I yelled.

  My darling brother ran toward me at the same time that Daisy rounded the corner, proudly carrying something in her mouth.

  “Do you think you can stand?” I held out my hand to help Natasha up.

  George pounded toward us. “What happened?”

  “Someo
ne was trying to strangle Natasha with Christmas lights.”

  Natasha’s dark eyes met mine. I’d never seen her so fearful.

  George and I helped her stand up. With Natasha between us, we hobbled along the sidewalk. Laci opened the front door to my house and Shawna stood aside, her eyes huge.

  We eased Natasha into a chair by the fireplace. Laci poured water in the kettle and set it on the stove to heat before she removed her coat, while George tossed kindling into the fireplace and started a fire. I rubbed Natasha’s hands to warm them.

  “Did you see her?” croaked Natasha.

  “Her?” asked George.

  “Definitely Mrs. Claus. I couldn’t make out her face, though.” Addressing Natasha, I asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the emergency room?”

  She shook her head “no.”

  “Better call that jerk, Kenner,” said George.

  Shawna stopped collecting coats. “No! I’ve seen enough of him.”

  “Don’t worry. You have an ironclad alibi this time,” Laci assured her. “You were with us. There’s no way you could have done it.”

  “I don’t want to see him,” she whined.

  “You probably need a shower and a change of clothes,” I said. “Why don’t you do that, and when he leaves, you can come down and we’ll make dinner.”

  “I don’t have any clothes.” Shawna glared at Laci.

  “I told you I brought some of mine for you to wear tonight,” her sister snapped back.

  “Like they’ll fit,” Shawna muttered as she left the kitchen.

  Ignoring the sisters, I dialed Kenner’s number. As much as I didn’t want to see him, he had to know about the attack on Natasha. His voice mail answered, and I left a message for him.

  Natasha held out her hands as if asking for something.

  “The tea isn’t ready yet, sweetie,” said Laci.

  “Mirror,” Natasha squawked before launching into a new fit of coughing.

  At that moment, I knew she would be perfectly fine. I started for the bathroom to fetch a mirror, but Daisy lay in my path holding a piece of fabric between her paws. She didn’t object when I picked it up. About four by five inches, three edges of the red material were frayed, as though it had been torn. The forth edge bore white faux fur. A smear of red marred it but looked more like red dirt than blood.

  “Did you bite Mrs. Claus?” I whispered to Daisy.

  She wagged her tail, and I finally noticed that her black whiskers wore a white frosting. Snow would have melted by now. I wiped it off with my finger and sniffed. Cream cheese?

  I turned to Natasha with a big grin, hoping she might like Daisy more for saving her. “Looks like Daisy caught up to your Mrs. Claus.”

  I handed her the swatch of material. She fingered it and pronounced in a froggy voice, “Cheap fabric. Sleeve?”

  That was my guess. Even though Mrs. Claus had tried to murder Natasha, I hoped Daisy hadn’t bitten anyone. Kenner had already accused her of being vicious.

  George grinned. “Daisy took a bite out of crime?”

  We all moaned, and Natasha hacked again. I brought her the mirror and she examined her Audrey Hepburn-esque throat. George, Laci, and I clustered close for a better look.

  “Gee, Natasha. The lights saved you,” muttered George.

  “I think he’s right.” The cord left an ugly red welt on her neck, but some of the tiny lights had left vertical impressions that suggested they’d prevented the cord from digging deeper.

  The kettle screamed, and Laci hurried to make tea. I retrieved rubbing alcohol and cotton puffs and handed them to Natasha, not daring to apply the stinging solution myself.

  Mochie looked on in the classic pose of an Egyptian cat. “No hissing at her today?” I asked. He must have realized something was amiss.

  A rap at the door brought a growl from Daisy. I opened it to Kenner and launched into an explanation of what had happened.

  Wordlessly, he bent to have a closer look at Natasha’s throat. She handed him the cloth Daisy had ripped from Mrs. Claus’s costume.

  I’d never seen him so pensive. He turned to me. “Can you show me where this happened?”

  Ugh. Alone with Kenner. I sucked in a deep breath and retrieved a warm down coat that made me look like the Pillsbury Doughboy. That ought to dispel any romantic thoughts on his part.

  As we walked along the street, he said, “Certainly is curious that someone attacked Natasha right after Shawna was released from custody.”

  “You have to be kidding! My brother and his wife brought her straight to my house. However, I saw Ginger Chadwick cruising down the block late this afternoon.” I felt a little bit guilty about diverting his attention to someone else, but it was the truth.

  “That places her in the vicinity. Are you sure you didn’t get a good look at the assailant?”

  That was the one thing I was sure about. “I never saw her face. Only the Mrs. Santa hat, jacket, and skirt.”

  “Hold it.” He held a hand out in front of me like he was stopping traffic. “Someone is examining the crime scene.”

  Kenner was right. But I knew my ex-husband’s shadowy shape from a distance. “It’s just Mars.”

  He looked up at us as we approached. “What happened here?”

  I started to explain but Kenner stopped me. “Exactly where were you for the last hour?”

  Mars pulled back, his mouth twisting the way it did when he thought someone was being rude. “Vegas and I took her dad to the airport.”

  Great alibi. There were surely lots of cameras and time stamps to confirm his whereabouts. I launched into an explanation.

  “Dear Lord!” Mars exclaimed. “All this time I’ve been teasing Natasha when she talks about Ginger wanting to kill her. I didn’t believe it! Are you sure Natasha’s okay?” He started for my house.

  “What about Vegas?” I called after him.

  He returned quickly. “Right! Gotta get used to that. I’ll fetch her.”

  In the meantime, I showed Kenner exactly where Natasha had been attacked. “The lights hung on her railing, so her assailant must have taken them off and been waiting for her.”

  Kenner made a call for a forensic team. When Mars and Vegas emerged from the house, he shooed them away from the crime scene, but Vegas screamed and ran toward the gate that led to the backyard. In the eerie glow of Natasha’s teal and pink lights, Vegas bent and picked up something over Kenner’s protests. “It’s the kitten basket!”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  From “Ask Natasha” :

  Dear Natasha,

  I made a magnolia-leaf wreath this year but it didn’t last. How do you get yours to stay nice?

  —Turquoise Lover in Aliceville, Alabama

  Dear Turquoise Lover,

  Crush the stems of the magnolia branches and let them soak up a mixture of warm glycerine and water. Keep replenishing it as they absorb it. In a few weeks, the leaves will turn brownish and you can spray them with turquoise glitter. Try inserting some pink peacock feathers for an even more festive look!

  —Natasha

  Addressing Kenner, I said, “Would you shine your flashlight around a little bit? I hope the kittens aren’t out here. They couldn’t survive alone in this cold weather.”

  “What kittens?” asked Mars.

  “It’s the weirdest thing. Someone left gorgeous kittens in my house in this basket, but without a name on the gift tag. When I came home this afternoon, the kittens were gone.”

  Vegas disappeared through the gate. Unless Natasha had decorated the backyard with lights, I didn’t think she’d see much there.

  She returned in seconds. “It’s too dark, but we have to look for Alice and Jasper! How did they get out here?”

  Mars herded her down the street toward my house. “First we have to check on Natasha.”

  Vegas had said what I was thinking. I trailed after her and Mars, peering at houses in the darkness, hoping I would see those adorable kitten faces. Nothing abou
t the kittens made any sense to me. Why had someone left them anonymously to begin with? And why had someone taken them? Had Natasha’s assailant taken the kittens from my house? That would mean someone had stolen a key to my house—or it was someone I knew, someone who had a key.

  I did know one thing for sure—Natasha and Mars had a key.

  Mars acted the duly concerned lover when he saw Natasha, kissing her forehead and checking out her neck, but I barged into the kitchen and folded my arms across my chest. When Mars had finished his soothing coos, I demanded, “What exactly might you happen to know about a couple of Ragdoll kittens?”

  Natasha touched her throat and whispered, “Can’t talk.”

  “Hogwash,” said George. “She just told us how she had walked out of her house and down the front steps when someone bashed her over the head from behind.”

  Speaking in a very weak voice, Natasha said pathetically, “I passed out.”

  “When Mrs. Claus tried to strangle her,” added George.

  “The next thing I saw was Sophie.” She lowered her head and sipped at a cup of hot tea.

  Mixed emotions assaulted me. Natasha had been through a terrible attack, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew something about the mysterious kittens. It seemed like more than a coincidence that the kittens’ basket lay near her gate.

  To my surprise, it was Laci who brought the subject back to the cats. “I thought it was quiet around here. Where are Alice and Jasper?”