Diva 02 _ Diva Takes the Cake, The (32 page)

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Authors: Krista Davis

Tags: #Winston; Sophie (Fictitious Character), #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #General, #Mystery Fiction, #Women Cooks, #Large Type Books, #Cookery, #Mystery, #Divorced Women, #Cooking, #Divorced Women - Crimes Against, #Weddings, #Crimes Against, #Sisters

BOOK: Diva 02 _ Diva Takes the Cake, The
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A pleasant woman’s voice answered.
I told her my name and continued, “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for an Emily Beacham who was married to a doctor in West Virginia.”
A moment of silence passed. “That would be me.”
“You’re alive.” A stupid thing to say.
She giggled. “Yes, the last time I checked.”
I apologized again and explained my call. “My sister married a Craig Beacham who used to be an internist in West Virginia. He retired young due to a heart condition, and he was previously married to a woman named Emily.”
I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end. “Who are you again?”
“Sophie Winston. You can call Detective Wolf Fleishman at the Alexandria Police Department to confirm.” It was a risk. Who knew what he might say about me these days.
“I will. I’m sorry, I’m at a bit of a loss. It sounds exactly like my husband and me.”
Good heavens. Was Craig married to this woman? “You’re divorced?” My heart pounded.
“No. We’re quite happily married.”
Could there be two doctors named Craig Beacham? “Your husband, is he there now?”
Another moment of silence. “He’s on a fishing trip.”
A fishing trip to marry Hannah. I thanked Emily and hung up the phone.
Reeling from the new information, I returned to the kitchen and put on the kettle for a much-deserved bracing cup of tea. With the steaming cup of Irish Breakfast tea in hand, I nestled on the window seat with my aching ankles up—and then it hit me. If Craig’s other wife was alive and well, who was the woman in Natasha’s pergola?
Craig had lied about the dead woman’s identity. And so had Darby. All we knew about her was that she called herself Lina. And now it seemed the woman who called herself Darby was really Donata.
Why would Darby lie to us about her name? I tried to recall Craig when he saw her. I didn’t remember him being surprised. Maybe her name really was Darby, and she called herself Donata now for some reason? To protect herself from the no-good husband who’d deserted her? Or maybe she had other troubles?
But the bigger picture disturbed me. In spite of the hot tea, I felt cold all over. I’d convinced myself that Emily had come to warn Hannah. But if Darby was afraid of Craig, why did she come? If I could reach her on the phone, would she tell me?
Which brought me to the question that had been nagging at me, but which I hadn’t wanted to contemplate. Why had someone been hiding in my basement? Was he looking for Hannah’s diamond ring and simply hadn’t noticed it on the stairs? Or did he imagine I was Hannah?
Another thought chilled me to the bones. What if the intruder was the same person who had been looking for something in my drawers and cabinets all weekend? I didn’t know if it was more frightening to imagine that he was a total stranger or someone I knew.
The sound of someone at the kitchen door startled me, but it was only Hannah unlocking the door and rushing in with Phoebe, laughing. Hannah hurried straight to the refrigerator, pulled out a pitcher of iced tea, and threw ice cubes into tall glasses.
“It’s unbearable out there,” Hannah said as she shook the neckline of her dress to cool off. “Phoebe and I are parched.” She held out a glass to Phoebe while staring at my legs. “What happened to you?”
I peeked at my ankles. “Maybe I should ice them again.”
I fetched two bags of peas from the freezer, which was not at all as unorganized as Natasha claimed. Then I returned to the window seat, put my legs up, and positioned the bags on my ankles. Phoebe and Hannah were shocked to hear about the intruder, but I cut them short when they asked questions because I wanted to know about Tucker.
Phoebe held the icy glass to her forehead. “Isn’t he here?”
“They let him go,” said Hannah. “Joel and Kevin split to see some historical thing, and we had fun poking through stores on King Street. We thought Tucker would be back by now.”
“I’m glad they didn’t arrest him. His fingerprints on the knife are fairly damning.” Tucker was trouble, but I couldn’t imagine him as a killer. I adjusted the bags of frozen peas that iced my ankles. At least the throbbing in my head had subsided.
I was just about to close my eyes when Hannah popped out of her chair like a jack-in-the-box. “Humphrey!” She ran to the door. “Humphrey, come inside! Can you believe he’s been following us? He’s so funny. I’m through with Craig and it looks like Phoebe and Joel are having a tough time, but Humphrey stuck to us like glue.”
He glided in, his eyes fixed dreamily on Hannah. I snickered into my tea mug. Maybe Mom had told him I thought he was sexy, but now that Hannah had, for all practical purposes, dumped Craig, Humphrey appeared to be fixated on her again.
“Do we have any cake left?” Hannah opened the refrigerator and peered inside. “All that prewedding dieting has taken its toll on me. I need chocolate.”
“I think there’s some chocolate cheesecake. Now tell me what’s going on.”
Hannah cut the chunk of leftover cake into four pieces and handed me a slice on one of the pink dishes. I shouldn’t have eaten any creamy chocolate cheesecake, but I’d had a bad weekend and I needed strength after my run-in with the stocking-wearing intruder.
“We’re going to sleuth in your neighbor’s yard. She’s away, isn’t she?” asked Hannah.
“For a good while,” I murmured with a mouth full of cheesecake.
“We should go over there. After all, that’s where they found the knife. Maybe the killer left other evidence there, too.” Hannah scraped the last bit of cake off her plate and jumped to her feet. “Let’s go. There’s no yellow tape and I know your neighbor—she wouldn’t mind us prowling around.”
Phoebe joined Hannah at the door, but Humphrey remained seated. “Maybe I should stay to help Sophie.”
My ankles improved immediately. I removed the frozen peas and swung my feet to the floor. “All better!”
“You know, we’re going to be trespassing.” Hanging his head, Humphrey dutifully followed Hannah.
Testing my weight on my feet, I stood slowly. They hurt, but I couldn’t sit around all day. I made my way to the kitchen sink and turned on the faucet to tackle the dishes. I’d washed exactly two plates when Wolf’s car slid into a parking spot in front of my house. After Kenner’s charming visit, I figured Wolf was avoiding me.
I was wrong. He knocked on the kitchen door a minute later. I opened it and said, “Yes?”
As formally as if he didn’t know me, Wolf said, “Does the name Franchini mean anything to you?”
I am not a good poker player. Although I wanted to appear calm and collected in front of Wolf, I felt like someone had poured ice-cold beer over my head.
“I gather you’ve heard the name?”
I wanted to know where he’d heard it, but how could I weasel it out of him?
I must have waited too long because he said, “This could be important, Sophie.”
Why did I feel like I was ratting on Darby? “It’s not definite that it’s connected to anyone who was here, but I sort of found it on the Internet.”
“For Pete’s sake, I need to know. The gun that lay next to Stan’s hand is registered to a Tony Franchini.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
From
“Ask Natasha”
:
Dear Natasha,
My fiancé wants umbrellas in our signature drink. We’re having a black-tie wedding, and I think that would be cheesy. How can we garnish our drinks without making them look like they came from a tiki bar?
—Going to the Chapel in Good Hope
Dear Going,
Dip the rims of the cocktail glasses in liquor to wet them, then dip them in edible silver or gold sugar. For that extra bit of bling, wrap the bottom of the stem with silver and clear beaded raindrop garland and fasten with a drop of hot glue. The result is lavish and elegant, and your guests will talk about your signature cocktail for years to come. Visit https://
www.easyleafproducts.com
.
—Natasha
The news about the gun’s owner hit me like a lead bucket. “I think Darby’s name might be Donata Franchini. Did you ask Robert about it?”
“He doesn’t know anyone named Franchini and thinks the gun must have been stolen.”
There must be a lot of people named Franchini, but I wasn’t buying a coincidence. “You’re running a check, right?”
Wolf gave me a look that meant I ought to leave the investigating up to him. My teeth hurt from clenching them. I didn’t know what more could possibly go wrong, but I suspected I ought to forget about Wolf. Or should I try one last time? “Look, about . . .”
“Don’t even go there, Sophie. I didn’t realize you were the obsessive type.”
“Obsessive?” I sputtered. How could he possibly think that? Sure, I’d wanted to have a romantic weekend with him, maybe even dance under the lights in my backyard, but I hardly considered that obsessive.
Wolf stubbed the toe of his shoe against the ground. “You know I’m busy. Calling me six times and setting up that meeting at Bernie’s restaurant and then pretending you were attacked—that’s obsessive. And manipulative.”
“I didn’t set up the rendezvous at Bernie’s. And I really was assaulted. I simply asked the 911 operator to give you the message. Except for one call this morning, I haven’t called you all day.”
“Soph?”
Not the best timing. Daisy trotted up with Hermione on her heels and Mars walked around the corner from the backyard. At least he had the decency to look guilty when he saw Wolf.
“I’m sure it’s not easy to have your backyard roped off as a crime scene. We’ll release it soon and just keep the shed off limits. Until then, I have to ask you not to pass the yellow tape.”
Mars, usually cool and collected, stammered, “I . . . I was just cutting through. I wouldn’t have come in here . . .”
Wolf interrupted him. “I’ll be in touch.”
When he strode away, Mars loosened up. “I’m beginning to think he doesn’t like me.” He handed me Daisy’s leash, said good-bye, and crossed the street to return Hermione to Nina.
I hated that Wolf didn’t believe me. Why couldn’t he believe I hadn’t called him? Maybe someone else was leaving messages for him in my name. Darby? But why? Did she want Wolf and me together? Or did she want to be sure that neither of us was at my house? Maybe my attacker hadn’t meant to harm me. What if he’d intended to search the house while I was gone?
Trying to put Wolf out of my mind, I headed upstairs to search the house myself. Mochie explored the closet in the room where Hannah slept, reminding me that he’d been trapped there the day Emily died. Could someone have searched the house in my absence? Voices drifted to me from the front window and I peered out. Tourists ambled past, but more importantly, I realized that an intruder could have seen Emily and me speaking on the street.
I opened all the drawers and poked through closets, but I didn’t find anything of note. Not that I knew what I was after.
We made our way to the second floor, where I found a drawer in the bathroom hanging open. It contained extra rolls of toilet paper. I slammed it shut, frustrated. Had the intruder been up here earlier? Had he searched the entire house as I was doing now, made his way to the basement, and been pinned there when I returned home?
Another drawer hung open in my room. Mochie jumped inside and pawed around. When he sprang out, I straightened the contents and shut it. The thought of anyone going through my things frightened me. What could the person want?
A chorus of voices drifted up the stairs. Mochie and Daisy raced to the foyer to see who had arrived while I creaked after them on ankles that felt like an elephant had sat on them.
Phoebe bent to stroke Mochie. “We ran into Joel and took a detour to buy brats and burgers to grill. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m starved.”
Joel rubbed his hands in anticipation.
“Where’s Kevin?” I asked.
“He headed home. I think he was glad to get on the road.”
I shuffled into the kitchen, where Hannah and Humphrey unloaded groceries. To my surprise, Tucker was back. His elbows on the table, he pressed his mouth against interlaced fingers. His day with the police had destroyed the joyous spirit that normally sparkled in his eyes.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded but wouldn’t look at me.
I’d never seen him like this. “Could I make you a drink?” He looked like he could use one.
“Iced tea, please.”
The Tucker I knew had never turned down alcohol. I poured a glass and handed it to him. “What happened?”
“He doesn’t want to talk about it. We found him sitting on a bench outside a church.” Hannah frowned at the pile of dishes in the sink. “Shouldn’t those have been washed hours ago?”
Phoebe took that as her cue to wash dishes, and Joel pitched in to dry.

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