I told the host I was looking for Bernie. He led the way through a dining room with French doors that opened onto a private garden that I hadn’t noticed from the street. A few steps up, we walked through another dining room, this one with a glass ceiling and wall overlooking the garden.
Lunchtime diners crowded every seat. If the food was half as good as the decor, the place would be a huge success. It was a little hard for me to imagine eternally rumpled Bernie, with the kink in his nose from being broken one too many times, running an elegant restaurant.
At the end of the glassed-in dining room, the host rapped on a door and opened it for me. Bernie, his yellow hair mussed as usual, read the local paper, his bare feet on the desk, reading glasses perched on his nose.
“Sophie!” His feet landed on the floor with a loud thunk. Addressing the host, he said, “Could you send us two Irish Breakfast teas and a couple of chocolate mousses.” He smiled at me. “I’ve been wanting your opinion on the mousse.”
“When you said you were running the pub, I thought you meant a one-room dive with a fryer in the back.”
“So it’s a restaurant. And a splendid one, I might add. You’ll have to come for dinner sometime. The chef whips up a beef Wellington that you won’t believe.”
“Have you ever managed a restaurant?”
“The owner’s a Brit like me. I suppose we clicked. And I have plenty of help.”
A pretty girl in a refined black waitress vest served our tea British style, by pouring steaming water over loose black tea in a silver strainer.
“Your touch, I imagine?”
Bernie laughed. “Worth an extra star, don’t you think?”
I sipped the tea. Perfect. Strong flavor, pleasant, no bitterness. I dipped a spoon into the mousse and tried it. Dark chocolate, smooth and dense yet airy and light—I was in heaven. Even if I hadn’t been hungry because of a breakfast that had been cut short, I could eat this stuff by the bucket. “It’s fabulous,” I murmured with my mouth full. Absolutely delicious.”
Bernie shoved the newspaper in front of me. “Congrats on the syndication of your column. I imagine Natasha is up the wall about it.”
I hadn’t mentioned my syndication news to anyone. It wasn’t a big deal to anyone but me. The column had been picked up by a few newspapers in Pennsylvania, Delaware, and New Jersey. “How would you know about that?”
“I have my sources.” He winked slyly. “Coswell comes in every morning. He brings the paper, and I provide the coffee and a fresh croissant.”
Coswell, the editor of the local rag, never seemed to have time to dally. I made a mental note that I could catch up with him at Bernie’s pub.
“Smart fellow, Coswell. Keeps his ear to the ground. Likes to hear what everyone’s bellyaching about.” He tapped the newspaper. “Emily Beacham was the topic today. She was in here the night before she died.”
“Why didn’t you say something before?”
“Didn’t know she was the dead woman until Wolf turned up this morning asking questions. When I saw her in here night before last, I thought she was just some pretty girl Tucker had picked up.”
“Tucker? Did they come in together? Did it look like they knew each other?”
“Hard to tell.”
“Tucker. So maybe Craig didn’t kill her.” Guilt washed over me. What if I’d been wrong all along? It seemed so obvious that Craig had killed her, but if Tucker knew her, too, that changed everything.
“Heard he ran off. Bummer for Hannah.”
Old Town felt like a village, but I hadn’t realized just how fast news traveled. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Mars came by this morning. Humphrey, too.” He checked his watch. ”Humphrey’s probably at your place by now.”
What if Tucker was the evil one and I’d tried to sic him on my sister? I recoiled at the thought. “If Craig wasn’t the killer, I’d have expected it to be one of Craig’s relatives, not Tucker.”
“Odd that you should mention them. They were here that night, too.”
Darby had acted surprised to learn that Emily was in town. Had she been pretending? “Did they speak to Emily?”
“They were here a little earlier. I can’t say for certain whether they intersected or not.”
Bernie’s phone rang, so I asked him to keep me posted and left the restaurant. Craig’s abrupt departure had dominated my thinking this morning. But since I was only a block and a half from the bed-and-breakfast where Emily stayed, I thought I should drop in to see what worried Wolf.
A wrought-iron gate marked the entrance. The lush garden, an oasis from the bustle of the city, lay beyond. As I walked through the walled garden, dappled sunlight sneaked through the leaves overhead to dance on a bistro table and chairs.
I knocked on a quaint door, and a disheveled woman answered. Hair the color of straw frizzed around her ruddy face. Holding a large wicker laundry basket, she said, “Hi Honey, I’m Polly. Your room isn’t ready yet, but you can leave your luggage and have a look around town.”
“I’m not a guest.”
She squinted at me. “You don’t look like a cop.”
I introduced myself, but before I could finish, she said, “You must be the one they were teasing Wolf about. The girlfriend who keeps finding bodies, sister of the bride.”
Teasing? No wonder Wolf had cooled off. It might be childish and worthy of elementary school, but I could just imagine the ribbing he would get for dating a woman who’d found more than one dead body. Unless I took a liking to Humphrey, it seemed my love life was doomed.
“Honey?” She shifted the basket. “Come on in.”
I stepped inside and she closed the door.
“I’m never this late. The darned police have got me running behind, so if you want to talk about Lina you’ll have to do it while I take care of getting the room ready.”
Following her to a tiny laundry room, I said, “I wanted to ask you about Emily.”
She tossed white sheets into the washing machine. “Yeah, Emily, Lina, same person.”
EIGHTEEN
From “Ask Natasha” :
Dear Natasha,
When I was a bridesmaid in my brother’s wedding, the bride gave us clunky barrettes shaped like frogs. I’d love to make something more personal for my friends that would show my appreciation. Suggestions?
—Seamstress in Hope Mills
Dear Seamstress,
Embroider their initials on tote bags. You can add embellishments that remind them of good times you’ve shared in the past. Fill the bags with special items, like books, CDs, candles, and hand-knitted throws.
—Natasha
“Lina was very polite.” Polly slammed the top closed on the washing machine and rested her arm on it. “Had that odd New Jersey accent, but then, I imagine they’d think I sounded funny in New Jersey. You meet all kinds when you run a B&B. That’s half the fun.”
I was barely listening, still hung up on what she’d said earlier. “Who’s Lina?”
“The girl they’re calling Emily in the newspaper called herself Lina Kowalski.”
“You’re sure it was the same woman?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Polly bustled through the house and up the stairs into a bedroom.
I followed and watched her run a dust cloth over furniture. “Lina?” Maybe she was wrong. “Did you see any identification? A luggage tag, maybe?”
Polly paused. “Seeing as how it’s your sister that’s all tangled up with her killer, I’ll be honest with you—I never ask for identification. The cops think I did, and I will from now on, of course. I never expected to have one of my guests murdered. Thank goodness it didn’t happen here.”
Did Tucker know her as Lina or Emily, I wondered. “Did she have a male visitor?”
“What do you think I’m running here? Do you think most madams look like me and do their own cleaning?”
“That’s not what I meant. Did you see her with anyone?”
“Nope. Just
a nice girl named Lina.”
“I suppose the cops took all her belongings. Could I see her room?”
“You’re lookin’ at it, honey.”
I gazed around. The bed had been stripped. The top of the dresser held only a crocheted lace runner. The closet door gaped open and revealed a narrow but empty closet. “How about a trash can?”
“Cops took my trash.” She rested a hand on a generous hip. “There’s nothin’ left.”
“What about her necklace? Did you find the diamond necklace?”
“That was a knockout, wasn’t it? She was wearin’ it when she left here.”
I thanked her and saw myself out. Walking home slowly, I was oblivious to the world around me. Had Emily used the name Lina so Craig wouldn’t find her? Had she changed her name to keep him from locating her? But then why would she come here? Was that what Wolf wanted me to discover? Had Emily come to warn Hannah about Craig? That didn’t make sense. Darby said Emily adored Craig. What if Craig was right and she had come to stop the wedding because she loved him?
“You should have told me, you know.”
I looked up to find Wolf blocking the sidewalk. He hadn’t assumed the intimidating police stance, and his chocolate eyes regarded me with such warmth that I wanted to throw myself at him for a much-needed hug. But after the cold reception he’d given me earlier, I didn’t dare. “How did you find out?”
“Your dad. Where do you think Craig went?”
“Oh Wolf, you’re asking the wrong person. Have you talked to his best man, Kevin? He knows Craig much better than I do.”
“Kevin hasn’t been very forthcoming. Either he doesn’t know much or he’s a very good friend and isn’t about to betray Craig.”
A flicker of movement behind Wolf drew my gaze past him. Mordecai observed us from a window that looked out on the front part of his porch.
Wolf didn’t turn to look. “Mordecai watching us?”
I shivered in spite of the heat.
“He’s just a lonely old man.” He glanced at Mordecai’s porch. “Something happened to him long before I came on the force and he’s been a recluse, afraid of the world ever since.”
“That explains the clothes from another era.” Suddenly I wished I’d been nicer to him. It wouldn’t hurt me to spend some time with a sad old guy.
“He calls the cops a lot. Always afraid someone is breaking into his house. Some of the guys hate responding because of the tales about him. People have no shame. They don’t know the facts, but that doesn’t stop them from making up stories.”
My throat constricted. The bitterness in his voice suggested that he wasn’t talking about Mordecai anymore. Finally, the subject I’d wanted to know more about but hadn’t been able to bring up. I had to handle it carefully. Lightly, I said, “Like the stories about what happened to your wife?”
“Exactly.”
I hoped he would elaborate, but he didn’t.
“If you get a handle on Craig’s location, I hope you’ll pass it along to me.”
“I’m hoping he’ll stay away and I’ll never see him again. But I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Does that mean he’s definitely the killer?”
“Not at all. Innocent people don’t usually run away, though.”
“Wolf,” I said softly, “thanks for sending me over to the B&B.”
“I don’t want to see Hannah end up like Emily.”
My heart melted. He cared about people, even about my sister, who was acting like a pill. I wanted to get together but at this point I didn’t know what we would do next since so many guests had already arrived. “Maybe when all this is over . . .”
A male voice called Wolf’s name.
He could have discreetly brushed my hand, but instead he said, “When this is over, I think we ought to talk.”
Oh no! Not talk. I knew what that meant. The big kiss-off was coming.
He walked toward the officer who had called him. Our little chat had seemed to be going well, but that last bit sounded ominous. With a deep sigh, I returned home.
Hannah leaned against the kitchen counter, talking with Mom, Dad, and Humphrey. When Hannah saw me, she defiantly raised her chin and made a beeline for the sunroom.
“Not so fast.”
Hannah drifted to a halt and turned. Her chin still set in anger mode, she lifted a hand and admired her fresh manicure.
“Craig isn’t a doctor anymore,” I announced.
Hannah closed her eyes, and I knew she wished I would fall through a trapdoor and vanish.
“And he had a heart attack.”
Dad swung around to face her. “Is this true?”
Her mouth twitched, and she edged back toward us. “He had the heart attack before I met him. But he doesn’t want people to know. It’s a matter of pride. He’s too young to have had a heart attack. When they told him it would be too stressful for him to continue his practice, he had to find something else to do, and he’s been very successful.”
Mom collapsed into a chair. “So what does he do now?”
“He sells vitamins over the Internet. He has his own brand and puts out a health newsletter called Dr. Craig’s Nutrition News.”
“He’s that Dr. Craig?” Humphrey sounded impressed. “A woman at the funeral home swears by his vitamins.”
“When were you going to tell us this?” asked Dad.
Her elbows on the table, Mom rested her head in her hands. “It doesn’t matter anymore. None of this matters. Craig killed Emily and left.” She lifted her head and looked straight at Hannah. “I’m sorry, honey. You have to face facts.”
“This is all Emily’s fault.” Hannah clenched her fists. “If she hadn’t shown up, none of this would have happened. Craig would be here now, and we would be getting married tomorrow.”
I slumped onto the window seat next to Mochie. Poor Emily. Why had she come? She must have known how Craig felt. Must have realized that he could harm her.
Mom massaged her temples, and I felt terrible for her. The roller-coaster ride we’d been on had taken a toll. “I’ll call all the vendors to cancel, but Natasha will have to notify the people she hired.”
Hannah wiped her eyes. “No.” Her head hung low as she walked to the door, and I couldn’t help feeling sad for her in spite of her reluctance to be realistic.
Both of my parents looked like they wished the nightmare would end. Since Craig was gone, probably for good, I didn’t bother telling them about Emily’s use of the name Lina Kowalski. At least creepy Craig wouldn’t be a member of the family.
Humphrey gazed around at us, then jumped to his feet and followed Hannah out the door.
I helped myself to a brownie from a platter on the table, and Mom didn’t notice. I munched on it without guilt. No need to wedge myself into a bridesmaid dress or lose weight to be slender for Wolf.
Mom clicked her fingernail against a coffee mug. “I didn’t expect this. First a death and now a missing groom. Do you think he left because he was afraid his family would find out he’s not practicing medicine? They’re very proud of him for being a doctor.”
“Maybe he left because he’s afraid of his dad,” I said between bites. “Did you notice how distant they act?”
Dad slid his hand over Mom’s. “I knew something like this would happen.”
“We don’t know what happened,” she muttered. “After all, his ex-wife, someone he once loved, died yesterday. He must be very shaken. Much more than we thought. Think about the horror this must be for him. We’re all focused on the wedding, but his ex-wife died.”
“She wouldn’t have if he hadn’t killed her.” I was sorry the moment the words left my mouth. I’d been fascinated by Craig’s relatives, but they’d lost someone dear to them. And Darby seemed like fun. I hated that she’d lost her friend.
By five o’clock in the afternoon, things around my house had settled to a dull roar. Most of the wedding guests were headed home. A few planned to stick around the rest of the weekend to visit the
Smithsonian and enjoy a mini-vacation. Phoebe and the rest of the bridesmaids invited Hannah out to dinner and, instead of a bachelorette night on the town, a lucky-he-left-me night on the town.
I opted out of Hannah’s fun since she still wasn’t speaking to me. She needed time to recuperate, and her friends were the best medicine I could imagine.
The Diva Takes the Cake Page 11