The Diva Haunts the House

by Krista Davis

  “I don’t know—unless the killer poured some water over the dry ice to speed up the process. We’re also thinking that he might have suffocated Patrick by holding dry ice over his nose and mouth. Same principle.”

  After a stunned silence, he said, “I think you might be onto something. That’s the first theory to make any sense at all.”

  I hung up, thrilled that we had helped with the investigation. “There’s only one problem. If we’re right about the dry ice, then Ray wasn’t the killer. He knew about the hole in his wife’s casket.”

  Bernie shook his head. “Don’t count the old fellow out so quickly. He probably thought the concentration of carbon dioxide in that small bedroom would be sufficient to kill Frank anyway. Dry ice labels always warn against letting it dissipate in a small room, or a tent even, because the oxygen will be depleted and people can suffocate.”

  “It’s that window that’s always open. The killer didn’t anticipate that,” said Humphrey.

  I glanced at Blake. He knew about the window. How much had he known about dry ice?

  Gazing around at the somber faces in my kitchen, I said, “Hey, this is a party! Come on, let’s shove the furniture out of the way in the sunroom for some dancing!”

  “Dancing?” Humphrey spat the word with disapproval.

  Mars, Bernie, and I whipped the sunroom into shape quickly. Tiny lights twinkled overhead and gleamed on the glittery wings of bats I’d hung from the glass roof with suction cups. The overall effect was positively romantic. In short order, “Love Potion No. 9” began to play. Bernie and I were the first to make fools of ourselves dancing, but Wong promptly lured Humphrey out to wiggle to the music. Before long, June and the kids joined us, and my house rocked!

  I had to bow out to prepare Dead Man’s Bones for dinner, but the music and fun went on in the sunroom. Catching my breath, I rushed through the family room on my way to the kitchen, where I immediately preheated both ovens and pulled racks of baby back pork ribs from the refrigerator. I swayed to the music as I minced fresh garlic and mixed it with apricot jam and soy sauce. Such an unlikely combination of ingredients, yet one of my favorites, even when it wasn’t Halloween.

  I hauled my mashed potatoes out, spooned them into a pastry bag, and squeezed little ghosties onto an oblong baking dish. In minutes, an army of three-inch-tall ghosts stood at attention. I was cutting raisins to use as tiny ghost eyes when Nina showed up at the kitchen door.

  She let herself in and set a large box on the counter. “Great music!” As threatened, she wore a Morticia Addams gown. “Is Natasha here yet?”

  “No. What’s in the box?”

  “We were supposed to bring something.”

  “But you don’t cook.”

  “I brought chocolate-iced Krispy Kreme doughnuts with an orange drizzle on them for Halloween.”

  I nearly dropped the knife in my eagerness to dive into that box.

  “Feel like dancing, Morticia? I’m sure Gomez would be thrilled if you twirled about with him.”

  She disappeared in the direction of the sunroom, and I finished poking tiny raisin bits into the ghosts’ heads as eyes. Checking the time, I lined baking sheets with aluminum foil for easy rib cleanup, placed the ribs on them, and shoved them into the two ovens. I set the timer for twenty minutes so I wouldn’t forget to baste them with the sauce.

  The music almost drowned out Mochie’s growl, but I caught him prancing on the window seat like a scared Halloween cat, his back arched high. “What’s with you?”

  I started toward him, but someone knocked on the front door, and I hurried off in the opposite direction.

  Maggie walked in dressed as Morticia Addams. Natasha would hate having two other women present wearing the same costume. A pretty good Halloween prank, actually. “Do you find it hard to walk?”

  Maggie groaned. “I hope fashion never goes this way!” She looked out the door and called, “Come on, honey.”

  The one person I would never have invited strode into my house.

  Maggie had brought Patrick to Natasha and Mars’s party, and now she’d invited Karl Corbin to Jen’s celebration. I could only hope it wasn’t a bad omen. I didn’t like the fact that “Lil’ Red Riding Hood” began to play in the sunroom.

  Karl couldn’t have appeared more sinister if he’d tried. He wore a black leather jacket over a black T-shirt and jeans, a tight silver necklace of dagger charms, and a black hat that swooped into a long point over his eyes. “Hello, Sophie. It was so nice of you to include me.”

  I bit back all the retorts that came to mind. “That’s quite a necklace. I’m afraid I don’t recognize the outfit. Who are you supposed to be?”

  “A vampire hunter.”

  “You came to the wrong place,” I joked. “I haven’t seen a single vampire tonight.”

  Maggie giggled like a schoolgirl. “I think it’s positively swashbuckling!”

  “If that’s what you like, wait until you see Bernie.” I showed them along the hallway to the sunroom.

  Maggie hung back and whispered, “Is Dash here yet?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  She leaned down to my ear. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought Karl. He always makes Dash so jealous.” Maggie disappeared among the dancers, leaving me to wonder if she wanted to make Dash jealous because she still loved him and wanted him back, or to annoy him, or to make herself feel special with two men fighting over her.

  The door behind me burst open. Natasha waddled in like a duck in the Morticia Addams costume. “Where is Mars?” she demanded. “This stuff is heavy, and it’s impossible to walk in this dress.”

  I strode toward her, biting my upper lip to conceal my amusement about three women in the same costume. It might just kill Natasha.

  She shoved a casserole at me. “Can you please take this? Mom insisted on making it. Mom, for heaven’s sake, stop that! You’re going to embarrass me!”

  Wanda quite literally Texas two-stepped into my house— in the arms of Ray! A Stetson sat atop his head and snakeskin adorned his boots.

  Choking back my shock at seeing him, I stepped aside to let them dance through the hallway to the sunroom. Morticia number three was about to shuffle off, but I managed to snag her arm in spite of the heavy casserole I held. “What’s he doing out of jail?”

  Natasha answered as matter-of-factly as if she were telling me the weather. “He wasn’t arrested.”

  “You brought the murderer to the party? Are you out of your mind?”

  “You’re joking, right? Surely you don’t think that lumbering old troglodyte is a killer.”

  “I saw Ray with a gun when Patrick paid him a visit.”

  Natasha flipped a hand through the air. “The man likes to pretend he’s a big bad Western hero. That didn’t mean a thing. Patrick wasn’t shot!”

  Something wasn’t quite right. Natasha usually detested men like Ray. She hadn’t invited him to her party. “Who do you think killed Patrick?”

  “It’s between Frank Hart, who has been acting very strange, and—”

  I interrupted her. “Frank? I think he’s out of the running. You saw him stuck in a casket this morning with a leach on him.”

  “He did that on purpose to throw suspicion onto someone else.” She tsked. “And you fell for it.”

  “Who’s the other contender?”

  She twirled slowly, constrained by her tight dress. “Leon. He—” She stopped talking abruptly and raised her voice when she continued. “Leon! What a fab costume!”

  Leon joined us wearing a wig reminiscent of Viktor Luca’s wavy hair. “I hope you don’t mind, some lady let me in the side door. I left my famous worms and eyeballs, really short spaghetti and meatballs in bloooooood sauce, on the kitchen counter.” He tugged self-consciously on the boxy white shirt he wore over trousers cut in tatters below his knees. Instead of shoes, he wore giant faux bare feet with hairy toes.

  “Frodo?” I guessed.

  He clapped his hands togethe
r. “I’m so glad you figured it out.” To Natasha he said, “I told you other people would appreciate Frodo.”

  Natasha peeked into the dining room. “You’re using dry ice. It’s my absolute favorite Halloween effect. I love the way it drifts across everything, like a spooky night fog.” She sniffled. “I saved some to use tonight, but the explosion in my kitchen blasted it to smithereens.”

  Red flags went off in my head. “You saved it? How?”

  “I put it into a huge glass jug and screwed on the top good and tight.”

  Leon and Natasha looked at me innocently. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you blew up your own kitchen with a homemade bomb.”

  “What? Nonsense. I would never do that.”

  “You can’t put dry ice in an airtight container. It will explode like a bomb.”

  Natasha’s expression changed to one of horror. “I had no idea,” she whispered. Her shock didn’t last long. “It catches fire?”

  “I don’t think so. Maybe the resulting shrapnel knocked over a candle.”

  “Leon! Why didn’t you tell me that? What am I paying you for?” scolded Natasha.

  To his credit, Leon didn’t lash out at her like I would have. “Is that ‘I Put A Spell On You’ playing? Bette is one of my favorites. Come on, Natasha!” They scuttled off to the sunroom, Natasha barely able to walk in her narrow skirt and Leon taking giant steps with his huge feet. I was sorry I wouldn’t be there to see him dance in those things.

  I returned to the kitchen to baste the ribs with the thick sauce. The bacon-like smell of the cooking pork reminded me that dinner was being served very late, and I was hungry. Only fifteen minutes to serving time.

  The door knocker sounded again. I didn’t think anyone was missing, and it was too late for trick-or-treaters. I opened the door to find a round woman dressed in a flowing black caftan. “Yes?”

  She focused on the plaque on my house. “I adore these historic homes. Spirits simply thrive in them.”

  How peculiar. I was getting ready to say that she must have the wrong address when Wanda swooped up beside me.

  “Madame Poisson! I’m so glad you could join us.” Wanda swept her arm to the side and bowed slightly, inviting the stranger in as though she were royalty.

  Natasha greeted Madame Poisson in the foyer and airkissed her on both cheeks. “What a delight that you could come.”

  What were they up to? Why hadn’t anyone told me this woman had been invited?

  “The buffet will be ready shortly, but first, you simply must see the kitchen.” Wanda took a large tote bag from Madame Poisson, deposited it on the console, and escorted her to my kitchen, which surprised me since Natasha loathed my kitchen.

  “Do you feel it?” asked Wanda.

  Madame Poisson closed her eyes and held her hands out before her. “Oh my, yes. The spirit is very strong in here.”

  The painting of Mars’s Aunt Faye hanging on the stone wall slid to a tilt. That often happened when Natasha came to visit, but I had a feeling that this time, Faye was telling us what she thought of Madame Poisson.

  Madame opened her eyes and sniffed the air. “Ribs? It’s so rare that anyone serves food at a séance. I’m famished. Lead the way, Wanda!”

  Séance? I grabbed Natasha’s arm as she turned to follow them. “Who is this woman?”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Dear Natasha,

  You carve such gorgeous images on pumpkins. My pumpkins look like my toddler hacked them out with a dull fork. How do you make those intricate images?

  —The Butcher in Pumpkintown, South Carolina

  Dear The Butcher,

  I suspect you’re not using the right tools. Pumpkins have a tough outer shell. Ditch the plastic toy tools. To create shadows and depth, one has to have control over how much of the rind one removes. I recommend wood-carving tools, rotary tools, and sturdy saws to make a pumpkin a piece of art. One of my favorite tricks is using a paddle bit on an electric drill to make holes all over the pumpkin.

  —Natasha

  Natasha frowned at me. “Madame Poisson is one of the best mediums on the East Coast. We’re so fortunate that we were able to get her on short notice and on Halloween of all nights.”

  “That should suggest something to you. Wait a minute. Hold everything. You invited her?”

  “My mother, actually. Don’t look at me like that. It was your darling June who suggested it, and little Jen begged for entertainment for her birthday party.”

  “Yet no one thought to consult me?” I had a vague memory of a mischievous moment between June and Jen. Those rascals!

  “Really, Sophie. You can be a bit staid. You’re so predictable. When is the last time you did anything unexpected? And you needn’t be snarky about it. Of all people, I’d think you would want to hear what she has to say.”

  “About ghosts in my house?”

  “Honestly, Sophie, sometimes you’re so dense. No wonder Mars left you. Madame Poisson will be contacting Patrick, and he can tell us who killed him.”

  “The séance ought to be held in your house then. That’s where he was killed.”

  Natasha inhaled sharply as though I had offended her. Her teeth clenched, she said, “It was on the sidewalk.”

  I might not be the smartest cookie around, but I did see an interesting flaw in her plan. “So then, you don’t think vampires exist?”

  “I didn’t say that! We were talking about ghosts.”

  “You can’t have it both ways, Natasha. Either he’s a ghost or he’s immortal.”

  Shock registered on her face. Who was dense now? I’m ashamed to admit that I turned away quickly to hide a smile of immense satisfaction, and poked my head into the dining room to watch our Ghost Whisperer.

  Madame Poisson’s fortuitous availability on Halloween seemed a little bit suspicious to me. I began to deliver the dinner dishes to the buffet and watched her eye them, dinner plate in hand.

  Unlike Natasha, whose fingernails looked so perfect that I wondered if she had just had them done, Madame Poisson’s short, unpolished nails and chapped skin indicated she worked with her hands. The spray of gray emerging at the roots of the hair on the sides of her face led me to think she might be in her late fifties. She wore it up in a twist, very elegant and a good choice for her round face. Oversized rings adorned her fingers, and multiple necklaces jangled about her neck.

  When I brought in the ribs, she filled a plate and peeked into my living room, as though assessing her seating options. Wanda quickly offered her a chair at the dining room table, treating her like a queen, or at least a princess.

  I really didn’t mind the séance. I had never been to one and thought it might be fun. But I wasn’t crazy about the fact that it had been arranged behind my back.

  I snagged Jen as she walked by. “What do you know about a séance?”

  Jen brightened. “Is she here?”

  “Hold it. How did this happen?”

  She shifted her feet and couldn’t look me in the eye. “June asked you if we could have a party like Faye used to have—and Faye always had a séance.”

  June hurried over. “Don’t be upset with Jen, dear. I’m afraid I’m the instigator this time.”

  “June! Do you really think the medium can contact Patrick?”

  “You never know which spirits might be hanging around. It was always so much fun when Faye had a séance. It’s just so appropriate for Halloween, and I thought it would be delightful entertainment for little Jennie’s party.”

  Jennie? If I had called her that, Jen would have pitched a fit. The truth is that I wouldn’t have chewed out June under any circumstances. If I’d thought Natasha was the instigator, I wouldn’t have been as kind.

  Dash snagged my arm. “How about a dance?” He led the way to the sunroom.

  “When did you arrive?”

  “Mars let Dana and me in.”

  “Dana? Did you . . . come together?” Maggie would be very unhappy if that were the case.
/>   “No. Just got here at the same time.”

  I took advantage of his friendliness to pry a little bit. “Did you go to Natasha’s party?”

  “Gosh, no. I hate that kind of overblown pretentious gathering where everyone is trying to impress everyone else.” He swung me around. “This is what I call a party!”

  When the music ended, I excused myself to get the food on the buffet.

  While the others helped themselves to dinner, I made a quick check of the candles in the sunroom. I didn’t need any accidents like Natasha’s explosion. Voices floated to me from my den. Hushed, but definitely angry.

  “Stay away from me. And from my mother!”

  Blake? They hadn’t fully closed the door. I edged sideways to see through the crack. The lights were off, but glowing bones left little mistake that Blake was one of the speakers.

  A sinister chuckle. “You have to accept that I’m going to be part of your mother’s life. She loves me, and we’ll probably marry.”

  “You stay away from her!” Blake lowered his tone. “If you don’t, you’ll end up like Patrick.”

  Blake barreled out of the den and down the hall. I stepped behind a huge ficus plant. Karl followed at a leisurely pace. The glimmer of the sparkling lights overhead caught his face. For once, the mocking smirk had vanished.

  “Sooophie!”

  Thank goodness Natasha hadn’t charged into the sunroom a moment earlier. “What are you doing back there?”

  “Blowing out candles. What’s up?”

  She inhaled deeply and ran her hands down her hips as though dredging up courage. “I need your help. I’m afraid Mars is having an affair.”

  I couldn’t breathe. I tried to speak but my voice squeaked and the next thing I knew, I was having a coughing fit. When I’d regained my composure, I said, “I’m certain that you’re mistaken.”

  “No, a woman knows these things.”

  Really? The way I should have known when I was married to Mars and you started making eyes at him?