The Diva Runs Out Of Thyme Part 17

"And he managed to leave the hotel to bring back the French fries," I added.

"Sophie, you're talking nonsense. Hannah has been so upset with you. You're not very good at hiding your dislike of him. He's going to be family; you might as well accept him." Mom shot me a displeased look.

My eyes met Dad's but before I could say anything, Hannah and Craig joined us.

Mom deftly changed the subject to Daisy and Mochie and how well they'd adapted to each other.

While Dad opened a bottle of white wine, I set the table in the kitchen. Hannah would be happy to see the French country tablecloth and napkins she'd given me for my birthday. They coordinated perfectly with the amber and red jars of votive candles I placed in the middle of the table.

The others chatted amiably while I finished cooking and kept a wary eye on Craig. A doctor would know how to remove blood from his clothes and would certainly be smart enough to wash them right away.

I tossed crisp salad with the simple vinaigrette and divided it among salad plates. On top of the greens I arranged a few red onion rings in a circle. I sliced a juicy blood orange into thin wheels and centered one on each plate over the onions. Even Natasha would have admired the colorful combination.

I cut the hot tenderloins into rounds half an inch thick and placed them, overlapping one another, on the middle of an oval serving platter. A bouquet of onion and sage floated from the rice when I removed the lid. I fluffed the savory rice around the edge of the platter and spooned cherry sauce over the meat. The remaining sauce went into a bowl, to which I added a ladle.

The wind howled outside but the fire crackled, the kitchen smelled like rosemary, and the candles provided a soft glow for our cozy winter dinner. We devoured the remaining pecan pies and decadently fudgy brownies for dessert and used the last of the whipped cream to top steaming Kahlua-laced coffee.

When we lingered at the table sipping our rich decaf coffee, Bernie vanished to the foyer and returned bundled in a loden green overcoat. "I'm going out for a bit. Have you got a spare key, Sophie? I don't want to wake anyone when I come back."

I handed him the key that used to belong to Mars. "Are you going to look for June?"

"I thought it might be a good idea."

He let himself out through the front door. From the kitchen window over the sink, I watched him saunter away and saw Nina walking a dog across the street. Pulling on a down jacket, I whistled for Daisy. Her leash securely attached, we trotted over to Nina.

I slowed as we approached since I didn't want to alarm the other dog. Not that I needed to worry. The golden retriever wagged his tail and pulled at his leash, eager to greet Daisy.

Nina laughed when he dragged her toward us. "Daisy, meet Duke."

Daisy held her head high, in reserved hound fas.h.i.+on, when Duke snuffled her jowls, but the golden's enthusiasm soon won Daisy over and her tail wagged, too.

"I'm fostering him because no one has adopted him yet. Must be because he's a mature dog and not a puppy. I can't bear to think what could happen to him if he doesn't find a home," said Nina. "He has lovely manners. Know anyone who would adore him and have the time to give him the attention he deserves?"

I promised to think about it.

We strolled under the streetlights, the night bitter enough to discourage most casual walkers. Anyone out tonight had a good reason for it.

"Duke and I just walked Francie home. She's a gas. I think my monster-in-law was horrified by her," said Nina with glee.

"Did she calm down about the colonel?"

"Not at all. That man is going to pay for not being interested in her."

I told Nina about the colonel's granddaughter. "You don't think . . . Francie couldn't be the killer."

Nina's laugh echoed down the empty street. "Are we talking about the same wiry little woman who lives next door to you? She couldn't throw a man in a Dumpster."

"She could if she had help."

"You mean that story about following the colonel might be a bunch of baloney that she made up for our benefit?"

"What if they operated as a team and that's why she went ballistic over his dinner date with June?"

"She loves him so much that she agreed to help him kill Simon to avenge his granddaughter? Why would he poison Mars? Or kill Otis?" Nina sounded doubtful.

No matter whom I considered, it always came back to the same thing. Lots of people held grudges against Simon, but when Otis and Mars were factored in, nothing made sense.

Nina gripped my sleeve. "Quick!" She opened the gate to the colonel's service alley.

The dogs ran in, eager to sniff MacArthur's territory. Nina and I followed.

She closed the gate behind us and we peered over the top.

A figure in a dark coat ambled up our street.

"Not Francie again," I groaned.

"I don't think so. Not this time."

Apparently my unbridled suspiciousness was infectious. Even Nina had begun to overreact.

"It's not illegal to stroll. I think you're losing . . ." I stopped mid-sentence. The person on the other side of the street had slowed to study the houses. Not uncommon in Old Town, except in frigid weather. An icy finger ran down my spine when he observed my house. The light in the kitchen glowed, backlighting my parents and Hannah as they sat at the table in front of the bay window.

"I have to warn them." I reached for the gate latch.

Nina held her arm out to stop me. "There's a second person."

The one observing my family made no effort to hide. But another figure darted along the sidewalk among shadows where the streetlights didn't reach. I suspected Francie immediately. But a quick look at her house revealed someone pa.s.sing behind closed curtains. This time Francie was in the clear.

The person watching my house turned toward us, ostensibly to observe Nina's house. Nina and I gasped at the same time.

NINETEEN.

From "THE GOOD LIFE": Dear Sophie,

My boyfriend says there's nothing that compares with sleeping on a feather bed. Is that a mattress filled with feathers? Or is he confused and sleeping on a comforter?

-Featherless in Ferrum

Dear Featherless,

A feather bed is similar to a down comforter, but you sleep on top of a feather bed. It goes over the top of your mattress. Some people put them under their fitted sheets but I use mine on top because I like the way it fluffs up around me. Either way, be sure to place it inside a duvet cover that can be removed to be washed. I have to agree with your boyfriend-there's nothing quite like snuggling into a lofty feather bed on a cold night.

When you shop for one, be sure you don't feel any nasty quills that could jut out. It should be lightweight but never thin. Ideally, it should loft up like a cloud.

-Sophie

"Where's the other guy?" whispered Nina.

I'd lost track of him, too. "We should tell her she's being followed."

"What if it's Mars?"

I hesitated. What if Mars thought she was the killer? What if he suspected her of having an affair? "What if it's not Mars?"

Natasha ambled to the end of the block and stopped again.

"This is creepy," said Nina. "It's like she's casing the neighborhood for burglary."

I still couldn't locate the second person. Where had he gone? Natasha abruptly changed direction and headed back-toward us. I opened the gate and let Daisy out first. If the mysterious stalker prowled nearby, Daisy would surely pick up his scent and growl. Nina followed me through the gate and the two of us met Natasha on the sidewalk in the middle of our block.

She might believe I poisoned Mars, but I had to tell her the truth in case she was in danger. "Natasha," I whispered, "someone's following you."

"Probably a fan. They're so cute. It happens to me all the time."

"Do your fans stick to the shadows so they won't be seen?" I asked.

"Sophie, haven't you had enough drama? Do you mean to scare me? I can't imagine why you'd make up such a thing."

"She's telling you the truth," protested Nina.

Natasha pulled her coat tight around her. "Then where is he now? I don't see anyone out here but you two."

"Exactly what are you doing here?" Nina didn't ask, she demanded. "It's a little cold for an evening walk."

Natasha released a sigh. "If you must know, I've been having trouble sleeping. I guess the murders and the attempt on Mars's life have taken a toll on me. I thought a brisk walk might help me calm down and sleep."

The news that she was being followed probably didn't do much to calm her nerves. "Maybe we should walk you back to the hotel," I said.

Natasha turned on her sweet TV persona. "Don't you worry your little head about me. I'll be fine." With a quick wave of a gloved hand, she strode away in a big hurry.

"Did you buy it?" asked Nina.

"Not a word."

"Me, either. I'm going to call the police about that other guy. The least they can do is drive through the neighborhood a few times."

"June is going to visit Mars tomorrow morning. Natasha will be out at an important appointment."

"We should follow her."

Exactly what I was thinking. "Eight thirty in the morning early enough?"

"Have coffee ready."

The bright lights of an oncoming vehicle lit the street. I swiveled around but still didn't see the person who'd been following Natasha. I could only hope our presence discouraged him and that he wasn't tailing Natasha now.

We watched as the oncoming car pulled over to the curb and parked and the colonel stepped out and walked around the car to open the pa.s.senger door like a gentleman. I felt a weight fall off me when June hopped out, safe and sound.

She waved at us. "Hi, girls."

The colonel escorted her to the front door of my house. They kept their voices too low for me to make out what they were saying, but there was no mistaking the good-night kiss they shared.

Nina elbowed me like we were little kids spying on a big sister. "Isn't that sweet?" she whispered. She turned and punched me in the shoulder. "Why didn't we introduce him to my monster-in-law? She'd have forgotten all about me."

"Did she figure out that you didn't cook dinner?"

"Francie distracted her. I don't think she gave it any thought. Hmm. Do we know any other single men their age?"

Grinning at the thought of matchmaking for her demanding mother-in-law, I said good night and headed home, pa.s.sing the colonel as he crossed the street to his house. Despite the cold, he was humming.

By the time I reached the kitchen, June was entertaining everyone with tales from her date. "He's so refined. We ate in an exotic Moroccan restaurant-with our fingers! You should have seen the belly dancer." She lifted her arms and waved them around as she glided across the floor.

While June changed out of her pretty dress, Hannah helped me put out spiced nuts, nachos, zesty homemade salsa, crackers, and a heavenly soft goat cheese with Italian herbs. I licked a dab that clung to my finger and was tempted to scoop up more of the tangy mixture to lick. Dad mixed a batch of his famous whiskey sours and poured a Scotch for Craig.