The Diva Takes the Cake

by Davis, Krista

  Seconds later, the front door slammed, too.

  Bernie sipped his wine and said, “I rather enjoyed the ceremony, especially Humphrey’s contribution.”

  The situation wasn’t funny, but the four of us cracked up, laughing with enormous guilt about Humphrey and his paternity announcement.

  Nina stretched. “Never a dull moment around here. I believe I’ve had enough excitement for one day. You fellows feel like walking me home?”

  I followed them to the foyer. When Nina and Bernie collected Hermione from Jen, Mars hung back. “You’re sure it’s chamomile?”

  “Want your stomach pumped?”

  He considered my question seriously. “Not particularly.”

  Hermione, Daisy, and Mochie raced down the stairs ahead of Nina and Bernie. It took a treat to capture the dachshund, but Nina succeeded and the three of them left. I closed the door and wandered back to the sunroom. A little shout drew the attention of the police in my backyard, and I went outside to see what had caused the excitement.

  A young cop held my mother’s cake knife in a gloved hand. A red substance smeared the blade, and I didn’t think it was jam.

  TWENTY-NINE

  From “Ask Natasha” :

  Dear Natasha,

  So many weddings seem the same. Vows and then a boring reception. What can I do to liven up my wedding?

  —Jazz Girl in Jasper

  Dear Jazz Girl,

  Provide entertainment at your reception and build your theme around it. Live music is a given. Acrobats, mimes, caricaturists, dance troupes, belly dancers, hula dancers, and magicians are only the beginning. And don’t forget to provide a dance floor and lounge for an after-reception party where you and your friends can dance the night away.

  —Natasha

  The red stain covered the long knife blade. Unlike a modern cake knife, it ended in a sharp point and made a vicious weapon.

  “I found it in the neighbor’s yard, on the other side of the fence,” said the young cop, displaying it with pride.

  I shivered at the thought of Stan being killed so brutally. But I realized with a start that the killer hadn’t planned ahead. It must have been a crime of passion, because clearly he’d grabbed the knife from the cake table and lured Stan into the potting shed.

  “Did any of the guests note anything suspicious?” I asked Wolf. “Someone must have observed Stan going into the shed.”

  Detective Kenner looked down his nose at me. “I’ve never encountered so many people ready to admit they were inside the murder site. A lot of folks are afraid their fingerprints are in there.”

  “Well, we were in and out of the shed all day. Everyone in my family went in there for something. Besides, won’t the fingerprints on the knife give away the identity of the killer?”

  Kenner leered at me. “I don’t suppose you touched it?” Chills ran along my spine. “I placed it on the table. My mother packed it and brought it with her. I hope you won’t suspect her?”

  “I never exclude anyone,” said Kenner with an ugly smirk.

  Wolf flinched, apparently pained by our exchange. “Why do you bother?” he said to Kenner. “There isn’t a person alive who hasn’t watched enough TV shows to know to wipe the murder weapon clean. If there are prints on it, I’ll be amazed.”

  It had to be irritating to work with Kenner. Wolf jumped up a notch in my esteem for not strangling the guy.

  Although I wished I could hang around and listen, exhaustion overtook me. I’d had a long day and could finally hit the sack, but poor Wolf had to work.

  I muttered good night and trudged to the house. The second I entered the kitchen, the salty aroma of popcorn hit me. Jen, with the enthusiasm of a grade-schooler who never needs sleep, said, “Go upstairs and change. Hannah’s making popcorn and we’re going to have a slumber party in the family room.”

  Hannah mouthed to me, “Hurry.”

  “What did you tell Craig?”

  “That the murder upset Jen and she’s afraid of the dark.”

  All things considered, it wasn’t a bad excuse. “Leave a light on for Darby. I think she’s outside.” I thought Craig was, too, but thought better of saying so.

  I wanted to fall into my bed and sleep. But Hannah needed me. My legs felt like weights were attached as I climbed the stairs to my bedroom. I reached for a leopard-print nightshirt that Hannah had given me “to make up for the spots that Mochie, the Ocicat, doesn’t have.” Cute, comfortable, and snuggly. I gazed longingly at my bed and gave thought to sliding between the covers, but in the end, I knew I had to be there for Hannah. I took the pillows off the bed, retrieved a blanket from the closet, and joined the girls, Daisy, and Mochie in the family room.

  I munched a handful of popcorn while an old black-and-white horror movie started. A gloomy voice intoned about an exotic princess and as a shadow crossed the wall, the music rose to a frightening crescendo. Thinking that my mother would surely not approve of the film for Jen, I fell asleep.

  A paw patted my forehead. Groggy, I halfheartedly swatted at it, but Mochie’s gentle prodding continued. I peered at the clock. Two-thirty in the morning. If he thought I was going to feed him just because I was sleeping near the kitchen, the poor little guy would be sorely disappointed.

  But a strong light blitzed through the doorway to the sunroom. Trying not to step on Hannah or Jen, who slept on the floor, I stumbled into the sunroom and squinted against the light that shone in from my backyard.

  A gurney, laden with a dark mound, was being rolled across the grass. Mere feet from Stan’s passing body, Darby, Craig, and Robert watched. I could only imagine their sorrow.

  Single file, they fell in line behind the gurney, and like a sad funeral, they followed the corpse out of my sight. Someone pulled the cord on the lights Craig and his team had strung across the yard, and suddenly it lay in darkness, quiet again.

  I sank into the wicker settee, and Mochie hopped into my lap. I was so tired that I thought I might drift off, but the horrors of the last few days pummeled me. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see the desperate fear in Hannah again. Not that I blamed her. The killer had strangled Emily and stabbed Stan in broad daylight. Loads of people had been milling around when Stan was murdered. Clearly the killer had no inhibitions, no fear of being caught. And now that Stan was also a victim, the list of suspects had become woefully short. Only Craig, Darby, and Robert even knew the victims.

  Mochie pricked his ears. Voices murmured. It was probably Craig and Darby coming in. Seconds later, Darby tiptoed through the sunroom.

  “How’s Robert holding up?” I asked.

  Darby stifled a screech, which brought Daisy running. Darby staggered toward me. “Where did you come from? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “Sorry.”

  She slumped into a chair. “Robert is devastated. This has been such a horrible weekend. I thought I’d come down here, see Craig, tweak him a little bit about getting married, and go home. Never did it cross my mind that Stan or Emily would end up dead. You know, it’s almost too much to absorb it all.”

  With everyone in bed, it was my chance to pick up where we left off earlier. “Why did you think Stan killed Emily?”

  She flicked her hand through the air. “She left him! And you don’t run off on Stan.”

  That shook the sleepiness out of me. “Left him? You mean Uncle Stan had a relationship with Craig’s wife?”

  Darby’s eyes darted to the side as if this was an uncomfortable topic for her. “Yeah.” She said it slowly, like she was trying to remember something. “Then she left Stan the same day that Craig disappeared. Stan was crazy mad because he thought they ran off together.”

  “Ewww. Stan dated his nephew’s ex-wife?”

  She brayed like a horse and stood up. “Sounds so creepy when you put it that way. Love the nightie, hon, a real fashion statement.”

  Darby disappeared into the den, and I could hear her moving around. She didn’t seem to realize what a bom
bshell she’d handed me. No wonder she’d been distressed when I asked her if Craig could have killed Emily. Families hid some scandalous secrets. That juicy tidbit explained Craig’s estrangement from his family. If Stan and Emily had an affair, Craig’s ire with Stan would be understandable. It hadn’t been fear of Stan that Hannah thought she’d seen in Craig, it had been suppressed fury. The news about Emily didn’t account for Craig’s alienation from Robert, though. Nevertheless, it put the murders in a whole new light—and meant Craig was even more dangerous than I’d thought.

  “Hon?”

  The light from the den lit Darby from behind. She held a suitcase. “You and your family have been adorable.” She set the bag down and walked over to hug me. “I’m so sorry that we brought our troubles here to you. I will always regret that. Listen, I called a cab and I’m takin’ off. Do me a favor and don’t let on to anybody that I’m gone. At least not until morning. That’ll give me a head start.”

  “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “I know. It’s better this way.”

  “Who are you running from?” It had to be Craig or Robert.

  “I wish I knew. Hey, give Kevin a kiss for me. When this blows over, I’d like to get together with that strapping hunk of man. If you’re ever in Jersey, don’t forget to look me up.”

  She seized her suitcase, tiptoed out, and the front door clicked shut behind her.

  I stretched and Mochie jumped off the settee. But before I was on my feet, a movement in the backyard caught my eye. A mere shadow of a person unfolded himself from a chaise longue, strolled to the back, and let himself out the gate to the alley.

  THIRTY

  From “Ask Natasha” :

  Dear Natasha,

  My son and his fiancée want us to host a brunch at our home the morning after the wedding. I’m going to be worn out, so I guess we’ll have it catered. Is the brunch treated as a formal extension of the black-tie wedding, or will people graze on muffins and coffee cake?

  —Tuckered Out in Tuckertown

  Dear Tuckered Out,

  The postwedding brunch has become a part of our wedding ritual. Make a centerpiece that reflects the new couple in a special way. A coffee and latte bar is a must with whipped cream and chocolate-covered spoons. Serve crab cakes, Quail Eggs Benedict, or seafood crepes. Be sure one food like butter, waffles, or toast is in the shape of hearts. Serve a signature drink made with champagne and bake cupcakes as favors for your guests to enjoy as they travel home.

  —Natasha

  I considered dashing out after the person, but I didn’t particularly want to catch up to him alone. If I woke someone to go with me, he’d already be a block or two away in any direction. I did, however, sprint to the kitchen to peer out the window at Darby. She was sliding into the backseat of a cab. Whoever the shadow was, he hadn’t caught up to her.

  My second wind began to wane and, as disturbing as that person in the garden was, the sofa beckoned. I tried to convince myself that Wolf had left a cop behind. Maybe to watch our behavior? I snuggled onto the couch and pulled the blanket over my shoulders. I would ask Wolf in the morning.

  Fortunately, I wasn’t the only one worn out by the wedding and the murders. Everyone in the house slept late. When I padded into the kitchen yawning, Mars and Dad sat in the chairs by the fireplace reading the newspaper. I scowled at Mars, not that he noticed. I didn’t bother saying anything, though. Now that the wedding was over, Kevin and Wanda would be leaving and Mars wouldn’t have to hide in my house anymore.

  Mom, wearing an elegant floral bathrobe, measured coffee. “How many do you think we’ll be this morning? Should we use the coffee samovar?”

  With all the commotion, I hadn’t given much thought to Sunday brunch. I rubbed my eyes. “I guess we’d better. I imagine Hannah’s friends will be coming by. The caterer should be here soon.” I fetched coffee mugs for the four of us. “I think the body’s gone.”

  Mars turned the page of the newspaper. “Your backyard has yellow tape around it.”

  That made sense. We wouldn’t be eating outside.

  Mom poured milk into a creamer. “I gather there’s a problem between your sister and her new husband since she slept in the family room?”

  I slipped my arm around her waist to give her a little hug. Hannah ought to be the one to explain everything.

  “I can’t believe we slept so late,” said Mom. “Hannah and Craig will have to leave for the airport soon.”

  “They’re not going,” I said.

  The newspapers lowered simultaneously. Dad nodded his approval. “I’m glad they decided it was more important to show respect to Uncle Stan. I imagine they’ll be heading to New Jersey when his body is released.”

  I figured I’d better fill them in about Stan and Emily before Craig came downstairs. But I stopped short of telling them that Hannah was worried about Craig and didn’t want to be alone with him. She’d better be the one to break that news.

  Mom sank into a chair. “Good heavens. We have to protect Humphrey.”

  Not exactly the reaction I expected. “Humphrey?”

  “After that little display at the wedding yesterday, Craig might bump him off, too.”

  “Get Wolf over here right now,” said Dad. “I don’t want us alone in this house with Craig.”

  “Wolf has to work. I can’t just call him and ask him to babysit us. But I do have to let him know about Stan and Emily’s relationship.”

  Trying to remember the things I needed to tell Wolf, I returned to the family room, crouched next to Hannah, and shook her awake. “Did Craig ever wear a necklace with the initial C on it?”

  Hannah groaned and pulled the blanket over her head. “Too tired,” she murmured.

  “Hannah, this is important.”

  She lowered the blanket to her chin. Her eyes closed, she muttered, “He doesn’t like to wear jewelry.”

  I nudged her. “You never saw a necklace like that at his house?”

  “Don’ know.”

  “Hannah! You must know. You married the man yesterday.”

  “Mmffp. Don’ remind me.” She drew the cover over her head.

  Giving up, I headed into the den and picked up the phone to call Wolf. Mochie jumped onto the desk and rubbed his cheek against the computer screen.

  Darby had thoughtfully stripped the sofa bed mattress and left her linens in a pillowcase by the door. Poor Darby hadn’t had much of a guest room. Boxes of Natasha’s dishes and assorted serving pieces cluttered the floor.

  I left a message for Wolf. But before I was through, a jingle played somewhere in the den. I hung up and searched for the source of the sound, but Mochie found it first. He thrust his paw between sofa cushions, trying to reach it. I moved him and discovered a cell phone that looked a lot like mine. It stopped jangling precisely as the knocker sounded on the door. Assuming Darby had left it behind, I placed it on the desk. I would have to call her later to let her know I had it. Maybe Robert could take it back to her. I hustled through the sunroom and down the hallway to answer the door. Humphrey stood on the stoop, half-moons of exhaustion under his eyes.

  “Sophie!” He said my name softly but with undisguised lust. “You’re not dressed . . .”

  I yanked him inside. If a long T-shirt nightie excited him that much, he needed a girlfriend—but not me. I felt a little bit guilty, but I invoked Mars’s name anyway to quell his eagerness. “You look like you could use some coffee. Mars is already here.” I pointed Humphrey toward the kitchen and ran up to shower and dress before Humphrey got any more ideas.

  I was stepping into a sleeveless print dress the colors of mangos, lemons, and papayas, when Hannah burst in, wearing nothing but a towel.

  “I’m trying to avoid Craig,” she whispered.

  “He’s staying here,” I whispered back. “I don’t think that game plan will work very long.”

  She sat on my bed, her skin damp. “What am I going to do?” She didn’t cry, but she was breathing so hard
that I could see her shoulders move with each breath.

  “First go through my closet and find something to wear. Then come downstairs and help me with brunch.” Her head sagged. “Hannah! He doesn’t have a reason in the world to hurt you.” I sat next to her, wrapped my arm around her, and told her about Uncle Stan dating Emily. I thought it would reassure her and that she would be comforted by the thought that Craig had no reason to knock her off, but Hannah tensed and said, “Then why did Emily come here?”