Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The (10 page)

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Authors: Krista Davis

Tags: #Murder, #Winston; Sophie (Fictitious Character), #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #General, #Dwellings

BOOK: Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The
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“Nina! Why would he do that? You’ve been watching too many horror movies.”
“It’s all coming back to me—why we broke up. He can be a mean, vindictive person. I think he’s trying to punish me for dumping him all those years ago. Is it okay if I go over to Mordecai’s with you? I want to search that house from top to bottom.”
I held out the box with the quiche and the daiquiri ingredients. “As long as you give me a hand.” I didn’t think Nina would find Kurt hiding in a closet at Mordecai’s, but she needed something to keep her busy, and she would probably feel better if she weren’t alone.
An hour before the guests were to arrive, the quiche was baking in Mordecai’s oven, and Nina was on the third floor, looking through closets.
When I heard footsteps, I thought Nina had given up on her search, but it was Natasha who discovered me in the butler’s pantry, whipping up strawberry daiquiris in the blender. She shrugged off her coat. “What do you think you’re doing? Are you baking?”
I explained about Mordecai’s last request.
Her mouth flapped open angrily, but then a laughing fit overcame her. “That’s what he left you? A job?” She cackled with glee. “I couldn’t for the life of me understand why he left you something and not me.
I’m
the one who invited him to my home.
I’m
the one who tried to befriend him. I even threw my mother at him, for pity’s sake.”
Fists on her hips, Natasha continued, “If she’d only listened to me, this house would belong to her today. Not to some yappy little fur ball.”
She inspected the assortment of foods that were ready to be served. “Not the most creative menu, Sophie. You should have asked me for suggestions. I mean, really, no one has served quiche in years.”
“Fine. Think of it as a cheese tart.”
“Well, that’s different. But blondies?”
“Mordecai requested this menu.”
“
Hmmph
. You’d think he would have asked my advice or asked me to throw his little party. Everyone knows I’m better at these things than you are.” She inhaled sharply. “Unless I’m a guest, of course. That would explain everything.”
I ignored her slight but pointed out a little too gleefully that all the invitees had already been notified.
When the doorbell rang, Nina yelled, “I’ll get it!” and clomped down the stairs. She appeared in the kitchen a moment later, carrying long florist’s boxes.
Natasha eyed her with suspicion. “What were you doing upstairs?”
“Just having a look around.” Nina flipped the boxes open. “These are gorgeous.” She inhaled the fragrance. “Nothing else comes close to the scent of lilacs. No wonder Mordecai wanted them. Who knew he was such a romantic?”
Natasha ignored the flowers and was checking the names on the bequest packages. “I know almost all these people. Why would he leave them something, and not me? Kurt Finkel? Well, well. I wonder what a person had to do to be in Mordecai’s good graces. I bet they never invited him to brunch.” Her tone, already bitter, changed to furious when she added, “I can’t wait until Kurt gets here. I have a few choice words for him for failing to show this morning.”
I was walking into the living room, carrying a vase of heavenly lilacs, and stopped short when she said that. “He was supposed to meet you? Did you call his cell phone?”
She followed me to the living room, holding a large bottle of bourbon. “Of course. All I ever get is his voice mail. But he’s a contractor, after all, and they’re notoriously unreliable. He missed two weeks when he renovated Iris’s kitchen. It’s so aggravating. You’d think they would understand that everyone is waiting for them, but noooo.”
I breathed a little easier on hearing that he had missed engagements before. Maybe this was normal, or almost normal, behavior for Kurt.
Natasha held up the bourbon bottle. “This was full yesterday.”
I placed the lilacs on the mantel, wondering why she was telling me about the bourbon. “So?”
“Did you drink it?”
I laughed. “If I had consumed that much bourbon, I would still be flat on my back.”
“Not many people had keys to Mordecai’s house last night, but someone emptied it.” Natasha eyed me with suspicion, but I ignored her and returned to the kitchen.
I slid the quiche and the baked Brie out of the oven, and everything was ready. The packages of bequests waited in the butler’s pantry, the food was on the table, except for the quiche and the Brie, which were cooling, and Mordecai’s living room smelled of lilacs.
Nolan DuPont, Camille’s husband, was first to arrive. The owner of an outrageously expensive antiques store in Old Town, Nolan generally sported an obnoxiously superior attitude. Tall and fastidious about his appearance, he carried himself with the same self-assured poise as Natasha. He’d always been friendly to me, but I’d seen him intimidate people just through his bearing.
I showed Nolan into the living room.
“Camille informs me that I’m to furnish this room.” He surveyed it with distaste. “Basically a box, isn’t it? Good molding at the ceiling, but otherwise, it’s architectural milk toast.”
“The fireplace is attractive.”
“
Mmm
. At least the room has a focal point.” His gaze drifted down to the golden andirons, and I suspected he was sizing them up for sale.
The door knocker sounded as I set the quiche on the table. I hustled to the front door and found a bearded man waiting on the porch. Ted Wilcox was walking up the stairs behind him.
The bearded one smiled easily and said, “Hi, Mike Osmanski. I was told to be here?”
“Mike?” Ted craned his neck and took a hard look at him. “Ted. Ted Wilcox. I never would have recognized you behind that thicket on your chin.”
The two of them shook hands and hugged. I showed them in and, from the greetings when they saw Nolan, I gathered they all knew each other.
Leaving them to catch up, I poured strawberry daiquiris and served them while we waited for the others to arrive.
Nolan wrinkled his nose at the drink with the umbrella in it. “Perhaps I could have a scotch on the rocks?”
“I’m sorry, Nolan,” I said. “There isn’t anything else. Mordecai specified no substitutions.”
“
Aw
, Nolan, don’t be such a stuffed shirt. Have a pink drink.” Ted sipped his daiquiri. “It’s not bad. Like a fruit slush with rum.”
Mike sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”
“Parisian hooker’s perfume.” Nolan said it with a straight face, but the other two laughed heartily.
“Lilacs.” I pointed to the vases. “Per Mordecai’s instructions.”
I wouldn’t have thought it possible for Nolan to be more rigid, but I thought he stiffened.
“Please, help yourselves. We’re waiting for two more.”
When the knocker sounded, I was certain Kurt had finally turned up. I ripped the door open, ready to lash out at him for having worried us, but Posey waited on the porch.
“I believe I’m expected?”
Before I could ask her in, she stepped inside, saw Ted in the living room doorway, and let out a shriek that could wake the dead.
I skedaddled out of their way, hoped they would manage to behave, and checked the time. Where was Kurt? With each passing minute I became more convinced that he’d been dead when I saw him in the window seat. For no good reason, I returned to the family room and opened the window seat again. He hadn’t magically reappeared. I sucked in a deep breath. Maybe he
was
alive. I went back to the kitchen and asked Natasha for his cell phone number.
She gave it to me, and peered into the living room. “Nolan.
Hmmph
. Who’s the guy in the black turtleneck?”
“Mike Osmanski.”
“Don’t know him. I suppose I should introduce myself.”
I held the phone to my ear and shot out my other arm to stop her. “Later, please. This is about them.”
Her mouth twisted, but she stepped back. “When do they find out what Mordecai left them?”
“As soon as Kurt gets here.” I tried to keep my tone casual, but at that moment an annoying recorded voice on the telephone said,
This mailbox is full
. I groaned and clicked the phone closed. “Full mailbox.”
“That’s contractors for you. You never know when they’ll show up. It’s like they’re oblivious to the schedules of the rest of the world.”
I checked the time again. Mordecai hadn’t said anything about all the recipients being present simultaneously, so I would just have to give Kurt his bequest when he finally arrived. If he ever did.
I carried the packages into the living room. Mike and Posey had settled on the sofa, and Ted took a chair, but Nolan stood by the fireplace as though he was anxious to leave.
“We’re missing Kurt. . . .”
“Kurt?” Mike’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “There’s a guy I never wanted to see again. Just like him to be late.”
“I suppose we should go ahead with the bequests.” Each package bore a tag with a name. I handed them out and retreated to the butler’s pantry.
One minute later someone called my name. I rushed back into the living room. Each one of them held a bottle of wine.
Posey bent forward, the wrapping from her package spread on the floor. She looked up at me and asked, “Is this some kind of joke?”
Nolan snorted. “That old curmudgeon. It’s a wild-goose chase, don’t you see that? From the looks of this place, he didn’t have anything of value left anyway.”
Mike rubbed his face. “I drove down here from Pennsylvania for this?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “the boxes were already wrapped and labeled. I’m afraid I don’t know what they contained.”
Simultaneously, all four of them held out a key and a piece of a jigsaw puzzle. I looked closer. The jigsaw pieces could have been from the same puzzle, but all of the keys fit different types of locks. I was as surprised as they were. “Surely they must hold some significance for you.”
“They do, indeed.” Nolan shoved his key into his pocket. “They tell me that Mordecai suffered from some sort of dementia and was a sick old man.”
I doubted that. Mordecai hadn’t just stuck any old thing in their packages.
Mike rested against the sofa back. “ ’ Fraid not, Nolan. This was far too well organized. It’s not the work of a sick brain, it’s the work of the clever old professor. He always loved games. Were there any instructions, Sophie?”
“They were only about the food and flowers. There was nothing about the contents of the packages, if that’s what you mean.”
Ted snorted. “Are you saying that no one knows what these lead to? Some untold fortune could go unnoticed for decades if we don’t find it?”
Mike chuckled. “You think the keys all lead to the same thing? Not a different thing for each of us?”
“What about the sherry?” said Posey. “Maybe it’s valuable.”
“Amontillado? Hardly. Not even twenty dollars a bottle.” Nolan seized the strawberry daiquiri he’d ignored and drank it in one long swig. “I have been volunteered to redecorate this ode to bad taste. I can assure you, though, that I don’t intend to waste another minute on this nonsense. Interesting seeing you all again.” He nodded curtly and departed.
The second the door shut, Mike said, “Still the same arrogant cur. Well, I don’t mind admitting that I got divorced last year—nearly wiped me out. My car’s on its last legs, and I’ve got a kid in college. If Mordecai left me anything of value, I’d sure like to find it.”
“Divorced? What ever happened to that old girlfriend of yours? What was her name? Hot Lips?” Posey grinned at him.
“We lost touch. I’ve tried finding her through the Internet, but no luck so far. To be honest, I was hoping she might be here since she was Mrs. Artemus’s niece.”
“We could help you find her.” Ted stood, tossed his key, and caught it. “Hey, I’ve got a guest room. I’m sure my wife wouldn’t mind if you stayed with us awhile. We can work together. Whatever we find, we split.”
“Sounds good to me.” Mike wolfed a piece of quiche.

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