The Diva Takes the Cake

by Davis, Krista

  I could only imagine one reason. “To warn you about Craig.”

  Hannah shivered. “If that’s true, then everything he said about her was a lie.”

  “Probably. Can you think of anything that would help Wolf?”

  She sat up straight. “That’s the key, isn’t it? That’s my only way out of this mess—to remember details that might tie him to the killings.”

  The door knocker sounded again downstairs, reminding me that the caterers and hungry guests were arriving. After a quick look in the mirror, I put on gold earrings, urged Hannah to find something cheery in my closet to wear, and bounded out the door.

  But footsteps overhead stopped me cold. Jen didn’t weigh enough to make that kind of clomping sound. I made it no farther than the first step when Tucker traipsed down the stairs from the third floor.

  “Good morning, dear sister-in-law. Have you seen my sweet Hannah?”

  I intended to grill him, but the door to Craig’s room opened and I was caught in a bind.

  “I think you’ll find what you’re looking for in my bedroom.” To Craig, I feigned friendliness. “Was that your father I heard downstairs? I’m so sorry about Stan. How is Robert taking it?”

  Thankfully, Craig followed me down the stairs and, as much as Hannah probably didn’t relish being alone with Tucker, at least she didn’t have to fear being alone with Craig right now.

  The caterers, as well as Phoebe and Joel, had just arrived, so I solved the problem by sending Phoebe up to rescue Hannah from Tucker. Joel joined the growing crowd in the kitchen, bubbling about seeing Robert E. Lee’s boyhood home. He helped himself to coffee, and I couldn’t help noticing how different his mood was from the rest of us.

  He high-fived with Jen about something and asked if she’d been to Lee’s house.

  Mom smiled at Joel’s fervor and murmured to me, “He’s such a nice man. Why can’t Hannah meet someone like that?”

  “He’s available,” I whispered.

  “No! They broke up? What a shame. Hmm, now what can I do to bring them together again?”

  “Mom,” I warned, “stay out of it.”

  She ignored me. “Paul, we have all that champagne left. How about pouring some and splashing a little bit of leftover peach schnapps in it?”

  “Do they have a name?” Dad asked.

  Jen chirped, “Schnappinis? Schnapeachies?”

  As I poured coffee into the samovar, Joel opened the kitchen door for Nina and Hermione. Hermione sniffed Joel’s feet and looked up at him hopefully. “Sorry, I don’t have any doggy treats today.” He stooped to pet Hermione, who wagged her tail and didn’t run away.

  Humphrey hovered near me, too close for comfort. “I need to talk with you. Privately.”

  I didn’t have time for Humphrey, but he pleaded with sad eyes and I let him tow me into the family room.

  Whispering, he said, “I know Mars holds your heart, but I think Wolf is interested in you, too.”

  I didn’t care which one he thought I was involved with as long as he left me alone. “Humphrey, when everyone goes home, we’ll work on introducing you to some women.”

  “They found your fingerprints on the knife that was used in Stan’s murder. Kenner wanted to bring you in for questioning, but Wolf wouldn’t hear of it and walked out on Kenner. Everyone’s talking about it down at the morgue.”

  For a second, my heart beat a little faster. Maybe it wasn’t over with Wolf. “Of course they found my prints. I didn’t wear gloves when I put the knife on the table. Did they find any other prints?”

  “They haven’t identified them yet.”

  They would be as inconclusive as mine. Any number of people might have handled the knife. “Thanks, Humphrey. I appreciate the update.”

  He beamed but his eyelids sagged, and I wondered if he’d slept at all. “Did you get any coffee?” He followed me into the kitchen, and I poured him a mug.

  Craig leaned against the kitchen counter, a glass of orange juice in his hand. “Is Hannah up?”

  I tried to buy her time. “She’s getting dressed.”

  “I need to check on my father. It would be nice if my wife came with me.”

  All conversation came to a halt. I could see apprehension on my parents’ faces. Hannah would panic if she knew Craig wanted to be alone with her. We needed to give her a reason to stay with us.

  “Shouldn’t she stick around here to entertain her guests?” I hoped I’d said it casually and immediately poured orange juice into a pitcher.

  Mom jumped on it. “Craig, dear, it would be impolite if she abandoned the people who worked so hard for you two yesterday.”

  “Very nice—my own wife won’t go with me to console my father.” He gazed around at us. “Where’s Darby?”

  THIRTY-ONE

  From “THE GOOD LIFE”:

  Dear Sophie,

  I’m conflicted. I’m a do-it-yourself kind of gal, but I keep reading that I should leave my wedding to experts. It seems like I could save a lot of money by doing things myself, like baking my own cake and arranging the flowers.

  —Labor of Love in Lovedale

  Dear Labor,

  It’s easy to create your own table numbers, menus, save the date announcements, and place cards ahead of time. You can prepare favors in advance, too. But food, flowers, and cake need to be fresh. Do you have a refrigerator large enough to accommodate the cake? Where will you store the flower arrangements if you make them the day before?

  It’s a lot of work setting everything up, especially if you have the ceremony in one place and the reception in another. You will be very busy on your wedding day. Don’t wear yourself out trying to do everything. Hire the pros to do some of it for you.

  —Sophie

  Pretending to be unconcerned, I said, “Darby left.”

  Craig banged his glass down on the granite countertop so hard I thought it might shatter. “Darby!” He raced out of the kitchen, and I could hear his heavy footsteps heading for the den.

  Feeling anything but calm, I strained to show a placid outer demeanor and checked on the caterers setting up a buffet in the dining room. It was an odd assortment, the result of a compromise between Mom and Hannah—white cheddar grits and peppered ham biscuits for the southerners, hash browns, scrambled eggs, bacon, spinach quiche, pasta with artichokes, and assorted pastries.

  As I passed through the foyer, Jen raced down the stairs.

  “Someone stole my tiara. It’s gone!”

  Craig swept back through and overheard. His stormy expression changed to amusement. He reached into his pocket, crouched, and fastened a diamond necklace on Jen’s neck. “This is much better,” he whispered.

  The necklace looked like Emily’s. Jen ran off to admire it in a mirror. “Is that real?” I asked, wondering if it had been Emily’s.

  “I was going to give it to Hannah as a wedding gift, but then Stan gave her one. The way things stand between us now, well, Jen will probably appreciate it more.” He took a great breath. “When did Darby leave?”

  “Early this morning.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. It had been morning, technically speaking. I hoped that would buy her more time. “She’s probably still on the train.” Moving with care so I wouldn’t show my nervousness, I returned to the kitchen with him and offered him a Schnappini.

  Craig’s rigid stance betrayed his fury. It seemed as though everyone in the kitchen held their breath. Even Mochie and the dogs kept their eyes on Craig as if he might explode.

  Mom came to the rescue. “Please be sure to express our sympathies to your father, Craig. We couldn’t be more horrified by the tragic death of your uncle.”

  The others chimed in, murmuring condolences. Craig acknowledged them with a simple “Thank you” and left through the front door. From the kitchen window, I watched him walk away, his hands stuffed into his pants pockets, his head down as if deep in thought.

  “Thank goodness!” said Nina. “That was frightening. Poor Hannah, to be married to suc
h a man.”

  Dad jumped from his chair and peered out the window. “He’s gone.” He scanned those of us present. “I want to know where everyone was yesterday afternoon.”

  “And what you saw,” I added.

  Joel jumped right in, almost too eagerly. “Phoebe wanted to get dressed here and help Hannah, so we came back early. I hung out in the garden mostly. Humphrey was there, too. Sophie and Natasha were quibbling about the ice bar. Then I came in and watched golf on TV in the family room before I changed clothes. I passed through the sunroom on my way to the bathroom, and, I’m sorry to say this, but I saw Craig entering the shed.”

  That news startled Humphrey. “I didn’t watch golf. I was trying to get a minute to talk to Sophie, but she was too busy. I remember Inga serving iced tea and handing boutonnieres to Robert to distribute.”

  “What time was that?” I asked.

  Mom sipped a Bloody Mary. “Well before the ceremony. I felt so sorry for that young man who was taking care of the ice. You’d think he would have been freezing, but it was right warm outside.”

  “The ice guy,” I mused. “Why didn’t he see anything?”

  Mom tsked. “I’m afraid that was my fault. I invited the ice fellow into the family room to cool off. He watched golf with the boys.”

  “What about the string quartet?” I asked.

  “I didn’t come over until I saw the musicians unloading their cars.” Nina watched Hermione, who behaved surprisingly well. “I showed them the way, and a whole bunch of people were already in the backyard.”

  “Rather a fun parlor game.” Tucker picked up his coffee and spoke dramatically, like a has-been actor. “On my arrival, Natasha’s mother fed me a dreadful concoction—but now that I think about it, my head did clear up. I, too, wit nessed the amusing squabble between Sophie and Natasha. I had to wait while Stan changed clothes in the den. When he left, I took my turn, then rested my weary self on the settee in the sunroom and dozed off. On waking, I joined the golfers in the family room.” With a flourish, he took an elaborate bow.

  “Joel, I presume you saw Tucker on your way through the sunroom?” asked Dad.

  “Absolutely. He was snoring.”

  “Inga?” asked Dad.

  “I think you can count out Hannah, the bridesmaids, and me,” said Mom. “Between dressing, makeup, and hair, none of us were paying much attention to the backyard.”

  I paced the kitchen floor. “We’re overlooking something here. Who was the last one of us to see Stan alive?”

  Joel piped up. “Right before I went inside, Stan was checking out the ice bar. I remember that distinctly because he was kidding around about how your tongue would stick to it if you licked it.”

  “Inga,” said Dad, “did you see Stan in the house?”

  A frown wrinkle appeared in the middle of Mom’s forehead. “I remember that he changed clothes in the den. But I was busy with Robert. He was so proud of Craig and tickled pink to be best man. He said hundreds of years ago, the bride was often stolen from another village, and the best man’s job was to stand by with a sword and make sure her family didn’t whisk her away on her wedding day.”

  “This is all irrelevant,” clucked Tucker, slouched on the window seat. “The suspects aren’t present. We should be asking where Darby, Craig, and Robert were.”

  Mom eyed him with irritation. “Robert took the box of boutonnieres to hand out to the men.” Pointing at Tucker, she said, “And I distinctly recall you waltzing in here with a shameful hangover, young man.”

  Hoping they would think of something significant, I snagged Jen to help me set the table. We had so many beautiful flowers left that centerpieces would be a snap. I thought Hannah might have had enough of pink, so Jen picked a yellow tablecloth and helped me set it with white plates. The living room was a disaster area, full of tables and chairs from dinner the night before. I moved Natasha’s enormous heart topiary to the desk in the den and dragged a folding screen to the opening between the two rooms in an effort to block off the unsightly view. While Jen folded multicolored French Provincial napkins into diamond shapes, as she’d seen on Natasha’s show, the catering crew departed.

  Phoebe poked her head around the corner. “Where is he?”

  “He went to comfort Robert.”

  “All clear, Hannah!” Phoebe shouted up the stairs.

  Hannah raced down as the phone rang. “You’re sure he’s gone?” When Hannah changed her mind, she didn’t do it halfheartedly. She wore a dress the color of strawberries, bold hoop earrings, but no wedding ring.

  Mom strode into the dining room, holding the phone in her hand. “Sophie, Wolf needs to see you. Down at Bernie’s restaurant.”

  “Right now?”

  Mom nodded, her eyes bright with excitement. “Put on a little eyeliner?”

  I didn’t bother with makeup. I grabbed my purse but when I looked for my cell phone, it wasn’t in the charger where it should have been. Swell. Darby must have taken my phone by mistake.

  On my way out, I said, “The food’s ready, Mom. You can go ahead and eat.”

  She caught my arm. “Good luck, sweetie.”

  If she only knew the truth. “I’m sure it’s about the murders. He, uh, I don’t think I’ll be seeing much of him anymore.”

  I could hear her saying, “What? Sophie, what happened?” but I fled out the front door.

  Although I loved entertaining, this time I would be relieved when everyone went home. It had been a disaster from the beginning.

  The walk to Bernie’s place picked up my spirits. Horrible summer humidity hadn’t descended on us yet, and the sun warmed my bare arms. It felt like the first day after school let out—the entire summer stretched ahead of me.

  A small crowd waited for tables at the restaurant. I squeezed past them and told the host Wolf was waiting for me. He showed me to a table immediately. But Wolf didn’t seem particularly happy to see me. A half-empty cup of coffee rested in front of him, so I guessed he’d been there awhile. When I sat down, he leaned back and said, “What’s up?”

  “I called to let you know that Stan and Emily dated.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Interesting. And?”

  And? What did that mean? What did he want me to say? I didn’t think I needed to spell out the implications. Maybe I should clear the air. Maybe he would never want to see me again, but it was better to get it over with. “About yesterday. It wasn’t what it looked like.”

  “You called me here for that? I’m working two murders. Until they’re solved, everything else goes on a back burner.”

  “You called me.”

  “Don’t do this. You just said you called to tell me about Emily and Stan. I hate catty woman games.”

  Confused by his reaction, I said, “Gee, sorry. I thought you would want to know.”

  “Got anything else that concerns the murders?”

  I should have been conciliatory, but his cool demeanor stunned me. “Are you making any progress?”

  “Not while I’m sitting here.” He left cash on the table and took off without another word.

  I could feel my ears flushing hot and made my way to the front door. I was almost there when an arm wrapped my waist from behind.

  THIRTY-TWO

  From “THE GOOD LIFE”:

  Dear Sophie,

  I cringe and run from the room when the groom removes the garter from the bride’s exposed leg and one of his buddies has to slide it onto the leg of some helpless woman who doesn’t know him. And frankly, I’d like to keep my bouquet and preserve it. Would it be awful of me to skip those two rituals?

  —Garterless in Garfield

  Dear Garterless,

  It’s your wedding. You’re under no obligation to participate in anything that makes you uncomfortable. Besides, there are other fun rituals you can incorporate. Greek brides write the names of single female guests on the bottoms of their shoes. At the end of the night, the name that is most worn will be the next to marry.

/>   Another charming alternative is to ask the married couples to stand. Those married less than five years may sit first, followed by those married ten years, and so on until the couple married longest is the only one standing. The newlyweds then reward the couple’s devotion with a gift of flowers.

  —Sophie