The Diva Serves High Tea (14 page)

Dear Sophie,

I hope you can help me. My husband hates green tea but I heard it helps people lose weight. He likes regular tea okay. What is the difference between green tea and black tea?

—Mrs. Tubby in Green Acres Valley, New York

Dear Mrs. Tubby,

Green tea is fresh tea while black tea has been fermented. Because it has not been processed much, green tea is loaded with antioxidants. Some people feel it may stave off food cravings, thus helping them lose weight.

—Sophie

I flicked on the outdoor lights. “You're awfully jumpy, Nina. It's only Alex.”

I opened the door, and he stumbled inside. He fell into a
chair and slouched as though he couldn't hold himself erect any longer.

The man who had such perfect military posture, the one who was rarely flustered and never wore wrinkled clothes or had a five o'clock shadow, the seemingly imperturbable, unflappable Alex that I knew, had descended into a quivering mess.

“Alex, are you okay, man?” Mars observed him, clearly shocked by his appearance.

I rushed to the pot of hot cider that sat on the stove, poured him a mug, and didn't object when Nina added a hefty dose of rum.

Alex held the top of his head with both hands and muttered, “What have I done?”

I handed him the cider, fearful for him.

All eyes were on Alex. He drained half the mug before saying, “This is all my fault.”

I tensed, slightly confused because I was certain Alex was far too sensible and kind to have murdered Elise.

He set the mug on the table and sank back in the chair as though he had used his last ounce of energy. “I called Elise's husband, Rosey.” Alex snorted. “Turns out she abducted Kevin—”

“Rosey?” All four of us said it at the same time.

“Yeah, like Rosey Grier, the football star. I know, it's an unusual name for a guy, but he's used to it.”

I tried to sound casual. “He lives in Charlotte?”

Alex nodded. “Apparently he was supposed to get Kevin for visitation, but Elise never showed. Rosey has been looking for her all weekend. He had no idea she brought Kevin up here or that she intended to leave him with me.” Alex reached for my hand. “You tried to warn me. I bought into everything she said. That they wanted to get Kevin away from the ugly divorce and the squabbling for a while. That they didn't want him to be scarred by all the hostility. I've known them for so long that I never questioned what she was telling me.”

“Alex, are you sure this Rosey isn't in the area?” asked Mars.

“Did you phone his landline or his cell?” asked Bernie.

Alex appeared to come out of his stupor a bit. He sat up and studied our faces. “No, no, no. You think Rosey could have murdered Elise?” He shook his head. “Not a chance. In the first place, that would be totally out of character for him. In the second place, no matter how awful Elise might have acted, Rosey would never have killed her. He loves Kevin too much to do that to him. Rosey is on his way here right now to pick up Kevin.”

Nina's mouth twitched as though she was trying not to blurt what she thought. “And yet divorcing spouses do often kill with disregard for their children. Sometimes the kids even find the corpse of the murdered parent. Do you know how many times my husband has been called to testify about cases like that?”

Alex gazed at her and muttered, “I always forget that your husband is a forensic pathologist.” He waved his hand through the air like he was erasing invisible words. “No. There's no way Rosey would do anything like that.”

“Chances are pretty good that Rosey didn't know Robert,” Bernie observed.

“Robert Johnson? What's he got to do with this?”

Nina explained Robert's connection to Rosie.

I waited patiently while Alex read my copy of the bizarre notes Francie and Velma had found. “Why didn't you tell me about this?” he asked. “Clearly it's not the same Rosie. It's spelled differently, and I just talked to my Rosey, so he's definitely alive.”

“There is one tiny connection, though.” They all looked at me. “Elise lived in Charlotte, and that's where Robert resided before he moved here.”

Alex seemed to be recuperating. “I'm not sure that's relevant, unless you're implying that they both knew someone named Rosie who died. What are the odds that they would both know the same person named Rosie and someone who would want to kill both of them because of her?”

“Alex, I hope you won't be upset with me for asking you this.” Nina smiled at him.

I cringed, imagining the worst.

“It was quite apparent that Elise was chasing you—”

“That's just not true,” he protested. “Did Sophie tell you that?”

“Really?” Nina said. “She conned you into thinking that it was okay with her almost-ex-husband for Kevin to live with you. And you don't think she could have been conniving enough to ask that because she wanted
you
?”

Alex's expression was so funny that Nina and I giggled at him.

Alex held up his palms to Mars and Bernie, as though he hoped they would back him up.

“Women!” Mars said, shrugging.

“And Sophie didn't have to tell me, by the way,” Nina continued. “I saw Elise with my own eyes at the charity tea. You bought right into her game. You even purchased that sapphire necklace for her. So back to my question—is it possible that Elise might have been chasing someone else as well?”

“I wouldn't know,” Alex's tone conveyed his dismissive opinion. “I can't imagine that was the case.”

“Not so fast!” I pondered how to put it, but went for the simple truth. “The night she arrived in town, Elise left Kevin alone in the hotel room while she went out.”

“That's nonsense!” Alex shook his head. “I already told you that she wasn't with me that night.”

“I have it on very good authority that she went out. I hardly think Kevin would have been wandering in the lobby if Elise had been with him.”

Nina's eyes sparkled with excitement. “That's it! If she wasn't with you, Alex, then where did she go?”

Dear Sophie,

My doctor has taken me off coffee because of the caffeine. I really miss my morning fix. Does tea contain caffeine?

—Coffee Addict in Coffeeville, Alabama

Dear Coffee Addict,

Tea does contain caffeine. The amount varies with each type of tea, but generally, it contains about one-third of the caffeine in a similar amount of coffee. For a caffeine-free diet, drink herbal tea or a coffee substitute.

—Sophie

After a sleepless night, I gave up and stumbled down the stairs for coffee. It was still dark outside when I opened the door for Daisy. She sniffed the air before going out, as if she couldn't believe we had risen so early, and she wasn't sure she wanted to start the day.

I was running water into the kettle when Wolf tapped on my kitchen door. He opened it a crack. “I saw your light on. Is this a bad time?”

I tightened the belt on my bathrobe. Naturally, I was wearing the fuzzy lavender one that made me look like a chubby purple bear. “Not at all. Come on in. Coffee?”

“That would be great. I got two hours' sleep last night. I'll be running on caffeine all day.”

He probably hadn't had a decent meal, either. “How about crispy hash browns, eggs sunny-side up, and bacon?”

“Oh, Soph. I don't want to put you to any trouble.”

“Not to worry. I'm making them all the easy way.”

I ground coffee beans, pulled out the French press, and spooned them into it.

“Can I help?”

“Sure. Why don't you get down some mugs and set the table?” I preheated the oven, draped bacon over a rack in a pan, and slid it inside.

“So what was this pressing information about Elise?”

I switched on the panini press to heat it up and set a pan over medium-low heat on the stove.

Wolf stood across the island from me. I looked him in the eyes. “The last thing Elise said before she died was
Rosie
.”

He simply nodded. “Figures. Thanks, Sophie. You may be called to testify.”

“Nina heard her, too.”

“Good to know.”

I paused for a minute and studied him. He'd taken the news about Rosie as though he'd expected it. “Does that mean you have a suspect?”

“Let's just say we have someone of interest.”

I laughed at him, cracked eggs into the pan, and covered them with a tight lid. “That's the new cop lingo for ‘we're not ready to arrest him yet,' right?”

Wolf poured the coffee, adding sugar and cream to mine, just the way I liked it. He hadn't forgotten.

“More or less,” he said.

“Can you tell me who it is?”

Wolf looked at me as though I had asked a stupid question.

“Oh! Testify—someone named Rosie. Her husband! It was her husband, Rosey!”

Wolf only raised an eyebrow.

“But . . . why would he murder Robert?” I asked.

Wolf set the table and brought two plates to the island to be filled with food.

Hmm. He hadn't responded. I tried my question a different way. “Surely you don't think there's a connection between Robert's death and Elise's?”

Using my cookie spatula, I slid the eggs onto the plates, added hash browns, nicely crisp from the panini press, and slices of bacon that smelled so heavenly I wanted to eat them all.

I delivered the plates to the table. “You didn't answer me,” I said.

“You know I can't talk about cases.”

“Neither can Alex. It's infuriating that you guys know information that you can't share.”

“Soph, you don't really need to know. This is one time you won't feel obligated to go prowling around.”

I bit into a slice of salty bacon. “I have a natural curiosity. And I come by it legitimately. I think there's a snooper gene in my family.” My big fuzzy robe had become too hot, but I couldn't just shed it with Wolf there.

“Then Nina must be related to you, too.” Wolf grinned before gulping coffee. I rose to make more.

We heard a little commotion at the door before Francie and Velma burst into the kitchen.

Francie could scarcely contain herself. “There's been another murder—a woman from out of town! We think the killer mistook her for Natasha.”

Velma unfolded a local newspaper. “Look at her picture. Tall, thin, dark-haired. Isn't this the woman your boyfriend is dating?”

“If you're talking about Elise Donovan, we already have a person of interest and it has nothing to do with Natasha,” said Wolf.

Francie gasped, evidently not having noticed Wolf in the banquette behind her. She looked from him to me and frowned as she took in my fluffy bathrobe. “I hope we're not . . . intruding . . .”

“Of course not. Could I make you some eggs?” I said.

“Yes, please,” said Velma. “I'm ravenous. When Francie heard about the second murder, I came straight here. I haven't even had my morning coffee!”

I felt shabby in my bathrobe. I hadn't even brushed my hair yet! Meanwhile, Velma's coif was hairdresser perfect, and she even wore makeup.

Francie gazed at Wolf again. “You know, I'm modern enough not to hold anything against you two. I suppose we should keep this quiet?”

“Oh, please!” I cracked more eggs and revved up the panini press again. “If it were romantic, don't you think I'd be wearing a more becoming bathrobe?”

Francie appeared skeptical, but in a very loud voice, Velma said, “Honey, I sure hope so. That is
not
a man-catching outfit. Though I must say that I admire you young women for bravely wearing what's comfortable instead of squeezing yourselves into girdles like our generation did. There wasn't a day in the first twenty years of my married life that I didn't have that awful girdle on, even to serve breakfast.”

“Isn't that the truth?” said Francie. “I love the new freedom to wear whatever dreadful thing one likes.”

I brought their plates and coffee to the table. “Do I dare leave the two of you alone with poor Wolf?”

Velma salted her eggs. “Please do, sweetheart, we have to pry some information out of him.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.” I walked toward the stairs but heard Velma ask, “Was that sarcasm?”

Upstairs, I quickly pulled on jeans that stretched every which way thanks to a touch of spandex, and a scoop-neck purple top with three-quarter length sleeves. Pearl earrings that dangled made me look just a tad more put together. I swept my hair up into a loose twist and fastened it with a big clip.

When I reappeared in the kitchen, Francie and Velma had the nerve to applaud.

“I had no idea Wolf was married or that you two used to be an item,” Velma said, waggling her forefinger at me.

“He just caught me by surprise, all right, ladies? There's nothing inappropriate going on.”

“In fact, I have some news that might make you feel better since you were at The Parlour for the auction,” Wolf said. “Martha's getting the all clear to reopen this morning. They didn't find any problems at her place.”

Francie dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “Wonderful! Sophie, can you come to The Parlour this afternoon? We need to fill it with people so it will look full. Martha's afraid people won't patronize it anymore because of what happened to Robert. She gives etiquette classes to children and their parents have been canceling by the dozen!”

“Sure. My family lawyer group has a free day today. I'd be happy to help.”

“How about you, Wolf?” asked Francie.

Very politely, he said, “Sorry. I'm afraid I'm busy.”

“Francie! You know he has to make an arrest,” Velma sounded eager. “I'd like to be a ladybug on his shoulder, hearing all the details. Are you going to grill your suspect behind two-way glass like they do on TV?”

“I would guess that it won't be nearly as exciting as anything on TV. Soph, I hate to eat and run—”

“You go right ahead, Wolf. You
get
that awful criminal!” Francie smiled sweetly.

“Thanks for breakfast.” Wolf let himself out.

I refilled everyone's coffee and settled into my banquette, holding my warm mug in both hands.

“Is he gone?” asked Velma.

Francie rose to peer out the bay window, where Old Town was coming to life. “Yep. I see him out on the walk. Looks like it's going to be a beautiful fall day.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Forget about the weather.” Velma turned toward me. “Wolf is wrong.”