Diva Wraps It Up, The (19 page)

Dear Natasha,

I’m throwing a Christmas tea for my visiting mother-in-law. She seems to think we should give each guest a favor. I’m at a total loss. A gift for each guest seems like overkill.

Nothing Is Ever Enough in Blitzen, Oregon

Dear Nothing Is Ever Enough,

You must have favors. Make spiced sugared almonds or jalapeno nut brittle. Put them in pint-sized canning jars. Adhere festive labels and tie circles of holiday-themed cloth over the tops.

Natasha

It had been years since I’d heard anyone speak quite so properly on the phone. I identified myself and said it was nice to hear from her.

“Would you do me the favor of coming to tea this afternoon around three?”

I assured her that I would be delighted. But what little I knew of Edith led me to believe that she wasn’t simply being sociable. Something must be up.

Mars joined me on the sidewalk. “If I were a little kid, I’d be begging my mom for those trains. Did you see how cool they were?”

I rolled my eyes. “Did Gwen ever make a pass at you?”

“Not like Elvin made it sound.”

“So she did!”

“Don’t go imagining anything. Gwen had a habit of cozying up to people. She liked to hear that she looked good.”

“Cozying up? What exactly does that mean?”

“She’s just a little bit more forward than you are. More like Natasha.”

“Natasha comes on to men like a Mack truck!”

Mars laughed. “She’s not that bad. Gwen didn’t mean anything. It was just her way. She liked attention from men. Why are you surprised? She liked attention from women, too. Didn’t you notice that she wanted to have the best house, the best cookies, the best party, the best clothes, that kind of thing? You never noticed that she was always trying to trump the women around her?”

I bet he had never noticed it, either. That observation probably came directly from Natasha’s complaints about Gwen. He was right, of course. I just hadn’t ever given it much thought. Gwen reminded me of Natasha in that way. Except that Natasha was irritating because she always thought she was right and had to correct everyone else. Gwen had never done that. At least not that I knew of. “Maybe that’s the problem between Gwen and Sugar. Maybe Gwen competed with her own daughter?”

“Not a reason to kill her, is it?”

We walked toward my house. “Probably not. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Sophie! Wait. What can I do to help?”

I thought for a minute. “Find out where Baxter was during the cookie swap and what time he got home.”

Mars pretended to pout. “Isn’t there something more important that I can do?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and faced him. “Remember the
broken
ladder that caused Baxter to fall from his roof? Maybe Gwen tried to kill
him
first.” I ticked off my reasons on my fingers. “Baxter had a wife who was spending huge amounts of money even though they were broke. You admitted that she was overly friendly to men, and Baxter told me he thought she was having an affair. Gwen didn’t come home the night before I found her. Either she was with her paramour, or she was already dead. I think it’s important to know where everyone was, and I’m sorry to say that the situation doesn’t look good for Baxter.”

“How do you do that?” Mars’s brow furrowed.

I shrugged. “You just have to pay attention to people.”

“Sophie!” Nina yelled at me from her front door. She hustled out to the sidewalk. “You won’t believe this. Baxter told the cops about falling off the roof. They’re looking for that ladder, but they can’t find it. Wolf wants to talk to you.”

Mars shot me an amused look. “Just can’t quite keep away from your Wolf, can you?”

“Why, Mars,” teased Nina, “if I didn’t know better”—she pretended to cough—“I would think you were jealous.”

Mars groaned. “Why would Wolf want to see Sophie if he wasn’t still interested in her?”

Nina batted her eyelashes at him. “Because Sophie is the only one who got a good look at the ladder. I saw it, but I wasn’t paying attention.”

I looked at Mars. “And whose fault is that?”

“I had nothing to do with Nina’s inattention,” he quipped. He drew a deep breath of air. “Okay. The next time you think someone has sawed a ladder in hopes of killing her husband, I promise I’ll go look at it with you.”

I ignored his sarcasm. “Is Wolf in the alley?”

Nina nodded. “You can cut through my yard.”

Mars tagged along with Daisy.

Nina grabbed my arm. “Did you get an invitation to tea at Edith’s house?”

“I did.”

Nina opened the gate that led to the alley. “I’m almost afraid to go. Think it’s some kind of trap or something?”

Wolf spotted me and walked over before I could answer. “Looks like you’re the only one who got a good look at the ladder.”

“It was the old wooden kind. I’m not an expert, but the second rung looked to me as though it had been sawed through on one end. It didn’t splinter there like wood normally does.”

Wolf frowned at me. “How do you know what wood looks like when it’s sawed as opposed to broken?”

Mars snorted. “Haven’t you figured out by now that Sophie observes all kinds of weird things that the rest of us don’t notice?”

I shot him a look. Hadn’t we just had this very discussion? But Mars smiled at me, evidently pleased with himself.

Wolf cocked his head. “Did you happen to notice what they did with the ladder after the fall?”

“Sorry. Nina and I went home. Doesn’t Baxter know?”

“He seems to think it belonged to the neighbors. Gwen must have put it away. Will you be around to identify it when we find it?”

“Just call my cell phone, and I’ll come right over.”

Wolf thanked me, and I turned to head home. Why hadn’t Alex called yet? I punched his number into my phone.

“Sophie!” he exclaimed. “I forgot all about lunch with you today. I’m sorry, something came up.”

It sounded like he was already in a restaurant. And I could hear a woman in the background—one who sounded suspiciously like Sugar. I just bet something came up. “No problem. I thought I should touch base.”

“Thanks for understanding. I’ll call you later. Okay?”

Understanding?
He sure had that wrong. I ended the call.

“Anyone for lunch?” I asked. Nina, Mars, and Daisy came with me.

“Shouldn’t you check on Natasha?” I asked Mars as he shrugged off his jacket in my kitchen.

“After lunch. The food is better here. And you two are more fun anyway. Nat will drone on endlessly about Gwen putting those awful pictures of her on the Internet.”

I smacked my own forehead. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? “I’ll whip up the lunch if you two will pull up the pages where Gwen posted the offending photos of Natasha.”

While they looked for the pages on their phones, bacon sizzled in a pan. I pulled out my panini maker, the world’s easiest way to make grilled cheese sandwiches. I washed spinach leaves, spun them dry, and dropped them in mounds on three white plates. I topped them with warm black-eyed peas and added a dab of cranberry sauce to each plate before drizzling it with a vinaigrette made of sweet balsamic vinegar, olive oil, honey, and a bit of the liquid from the cranberry sauce.

I didn’t bother asking them what they wanted to drink. Reindeer juice was fast and easy, nonalcoholic, and both of them loved it. I poured sparkling apple cider into a pitcher and added cranberry juice. An apple slice garnished each tall glass. I poured the reindeer juice into them and carried them to the table along with the salads.

After setting them on the table, I assembled the sandwiches, first spreading creamy butter on both sides of each slice of bread. Extra sharp cheddar cheese and crumbled bacon went between two slices, and then I grilled them in the panini maker.

Meanwhile, Nina had pulled up Gwen’s Facebook page, and Mars had her website on his phone.

“What time were they posted?” I asked.

They said, “Ohhh,” at the same time.

“Facebook is at six forty p.m.”

“Website is at six forty-five p.m.”

“So we know for sure that Gwen was still alive around seven in the evening,” I mused. “It would be interesting to know where Baxter, Sugar, and Elvin were at that time. I wonder if any of them have alibis.”

“What time did Luis get shocked?” asked Nina. “Wasn’t it Baxter who called the ambulance?”

I thought back. “What time was that? Around eight o’clock?”

“But we don’t know for sure that’s when she was murdered,” said Mars. “It could have been during the night or sometime the next day.”

I slid the hot cheese sandwiches onto plates and served them while I grilled one more. “Do either of you really think Gwen was having an affair and was with her lover?”

Nina snorted. “Not a chance. No woman would ever allude to such a thing in a Christmas letter if she were really involved with another man. Not even in jest. It would hit too close to home. A husband who might be suspicious would flip. My husband would not find it in the least bit amusing.”

Mars ran an uneasy hand through his hair. “I’m not so sure. Gwen could be very flirtatious. Some poor guy might have fallen for her advances. Maybe he killed her by accident and tried to do the right thing by bringing her body home. The Babineauxs don’t have a garage. That would explain why she was in our garage.”

“Really?” Nina put down her sandwich. “You really think that wrapping her like a gift was doing the right thing?”

Mars waved his hand. “No, of course not. I meant he might have killed her someplace else but instead of dumping her in the river or something, he brought her back here so her family would find her.”

“Eww.” But I conceded the merits of what he was saying. “I didn’t see blood in the garage. Where was she killed?”

We all exchanged looks for a long silent moment.

“So we need to know where Gwen went after the cookie swap.” I bit into my sandwich. The rich salty bacon meshed with the tangy cheese in my mouth. No wonder they were among Mars’s and Nina’s favorites.

In light of our invitation to tea at Edith’s house, Nina and I skipped dessert. Mars groused about Natasha’s unorthodox Christmas cookies. I packed him a bag of cookies from the swap to take with him.

“Should we dress for this?” asked Nina. “Do you suppose she expects us in hats and white gloves?”

“I don’t think Edith is quite that out of tune with the times. But she cares about appearances, so maybe we should gussy up a little bit.”

At a quarter of two, Nina met me on the sidewalk. I recognized the dark purple walking coat she had left at Horace’s party. We walked over to Edith’s house, speculating about Gwen’s death. A couple of police officers still focused on something in the alley when we walked by.

Edith’s housekeeper, Mabel, answered the door. “Please come in.” She whispered, “I thought you might be one of her guests. In all the time I’ve worked here, she’s never had company. Not a soul!”

Mabel took our coats. Nina wore an azure dress that skimmed her figure nicely. Subtle folds fell from the shoulders before crisscrossing at the waist.

I had opted for a shawl-collared dress in emerald green.

Mabel showed us into the library, where Edith greeted us, not exactly with warmth but with the graciousness of a proper hostess.

Much to my surprise, Officer Wong was there as well. She flashed me a questioning look when she said hello.

Edith perched on a settee in front of a coffee table bearing a silver tray. A silver teapot and matching sugar bowl and creamer were all heavily chased with flowers. Next to the tray sat a small stack of dessert plates with silver rims.

Wong eyed the lemon squares and Napoleons arranged on a platter. Beside it was a flat pink box about two inches high. A glitzy orange ribbon with a double bow lay next to it.

Edith poured tea for each of us while Mabel served the pastries. I felt like we were in the company of royalty.

When Mabel left the room, Edith said, “You must wonder why I called you here.” She sat up straight but appeared uncomfortable, as though she was telling us something that pained her. “I no longer believe that Horace is trying to harm me.”

“That must be a relief!” I smiled at her, glad she had realized her folly.

“I’m afraid it’s no comfort at all because it means someone else is after us. When Horace fell from the balcony, I had the locks changed on the doors to his office building. I received numerous complaints about that decision, some quite rude, but I did so out of caution. I couldn’t have anyone falling or injured.” She paused and clenched her free fist. “I know all too well how dangerous these old buildings can be. The railing has now been repaired, and the house thoroughly inspected. It has been declared to be safe. However, during the time it was closed to employees, I did a bit of snooping in Horace’s office.

I felt Nina’s eyes on me.
Brown-Eyed Girl!
I’d almost forgotten about her in the commotion of Gwen’s death. I held my breath.

“This box lay on Horace’s desk.” Edith lifted the box and opened it to show us the contents. “It contained peanut brittle. As you can see, the better part of the contents have been consumed.” She returned the box to the table and gazed at each of us in turn. “Horace has a sweet tooth. There is almost no candy he won’t eat. Given the odd goings-on in our house, I took it upon myself to have the peanut brittle tested. A small piece contains the equivalent of two of Horace’s doses of warfarin, which is a blood thinner that can kill you.”

Dear Sophie,

I just attended my first cookie swap. It was loads of fun, but now I have to store eight dozen cookies. Help!

Cookie Monster in Silver Bell, Arizona

Dear Cookie Monster,

Store moist cookies separately from dry cookies. The important thing is that they be in airtight containers in the refrigerator. If you don’t plan to eat them in the next week or so, store them in the freezer.

Sophie

“Warfarin?” asked Nina. “Isn’t that what they put in rat poison?”

Liza! She bought rat poison the day we were shopping for wreaths and pine roping.

“It’s an odd medicine,” said Edith. “In small doses it keeps you alive. Eat more and it kills you like vermin. The warfarin in the peanut brittle accounts for the problem the doctors discovered when Horace fell from the balcony,” Edith explained. “He might have died from an overdose had he not fallen and been brought to the hospital.”

None of us said a word. I was having trouble reconciling everything Edith said with what we knew. Someone had murdered Gwen. Had the same person tried to murder Horace? Was there some connection between the two events or were they totally unrelated? And why did peanut brittle sound familiar? Where had I heard about peanut brittle recently? Had it been Liza?

Wong spoke up first. “Have you reported this to the police?”

Edith rose and handed Wong an envelope. “These are the results of the tests I requested. I trust you will know how to proceed.”

“You said your medicine was moved to the shelf where Horace’s medicine was stored,” said Wong. “Would you know if warfarin was missing from his bottle?”

“Yes. Or reasonably close at any rate. I found the receipt for the last refill, computed the number of pills he should have taken, and then counted those that remained. He is missing nearly two weeks’ supply.”

I stared at the box. Gwen and Natasha were the only two people I knew who would have given someone candy in a pink box for Christmas. “Fingerprints,” I breathed. Edith had handled the box, probably numerous times. She had probably ruined any fingerprints.

Wong knew exactly what I meant. Very politely, she said, “Mabel, would you bring me a fresh food storage bag?”

Edith’s housekeeper must have been listening to everything from another room. She appeared in a moment with the requested bag.

Turning the plastic bag over her wrist like an inside-out mitten, Wong picked up the box and the bow, and slid the bag over them.

Edith spoke calmly. “How thoughtless of me. I hope I have not ruined evidence.”

Nina blurted. “Are you kidding? You don’t need fingerprints. It had to be Natasha or Gwen! A quick look in their homes will tell you who this stuff belongs to. Did either of them have a beef with Horace?”

Gwen! Of course. It was Gwen. She had made peanut brittle.

Edith raised her eyebrows. “How can you know it was Gwen or Natasha?”

Nina explained about their Christmas colors.

“I’ve never heard of such a moronic thing,” said Edith. “Christmas colors are red and green, and everyone knows it.” She eyed the box in Wong’s hand. “Foolish, too. If I planned to kill someone, I hardly think I would use such distinctive colors to package the poisonous apple, so to speak.”

“Unless you wanted to shift the attention to someone else,” observed Nina. “In which case, you might intentionally use a very obvious color, like pink.”

Natasha had a stack of pink boxes in her workroom. I couldn’t help wondering if Gwen had pinched some to throw suspicion on Natasha. Was that the reason she copied Natasha’s color scheme?

With shaking hands, Edith poured herself another cup of tea and drank it rapidly.

“Edith,” Wong said gently, “is there anyone who might want to murder Horace?”

Nina’s head turned toward me fast. I knew she was still thinking about Brown-Eyed Girl, but so far Edith had given no indication that she knew anything about her.

For a long moment, I feared Edith would scream at us and throw us out of her house. But Edith leaned back against the sofa as though she was drained. “Unless Horace was up to some sort of business shenanigans that I know nothing about, I can’t imagine that anyone would harbor such hatred toward him.” Her gaze fell to the Oriental carpet on the floor. “Except perhaps for me. I . . . I have never forgiven him for the death of our son.” She inhaled deeply and released a long breath. “But killing him would not bring my little boy back. There would be no sense in that.”

Wong shot me a quizzical look. I would have to fill her in on the tragedies of Edith’s life.

But I now knew two things for sure. Edith hadn’t lost her senses. She knew right from wrong. She closed Horace’s real estate building in an abominable manner, but for the best of reasons. How would any of us react to a spouse who’d fallen from a broken balcony, especially after losing a child in a similar incident? It wasn’t mean or stubborn or unreasonable of her to have locked people out of the building until she knew it was safe for them to enter. She just hadn’t handled it well. And the sleuthing she had done with his medicine wouldn’t have occurred to someone who had gone senile. Edith might be bitter and caustic, but she was still sharp as a tack.

And I knew Gwen was the one who had tried to kill Horace. “What about you?” I asked. “Is there any reason Gwen would have come into your home to move your items around?”

“Of course not!” Edith spoke with indignation. “I keep to myself. I don’t butt into other people’s affairs.”

It would have been easy for Gwen to slip out her back gate, cross the alley, and sneak into Edith’s back door. Unfortunately, I could imagine Natasha doing that, too. She would have changed the location of a mirror without giving it any thought. I bit back a smile. In my mind I could hear Natasha defending herself—
It was in the wrong spot!

But there was no doubt about the peanut brittle. “It was Gwen.”

They all stared at me. “Natasha would never make anything as ordinary as peanut brittle. She would make macadamia brittle with chipotle and shallots, or some other weird combination that she thinks is haute cuisine. And there’s one other thing. The night that Patty arrived, she had dinner at the Babineauxs’ house. Gwen had gone missing by then. Patty said they ate peanut brittle that Gwen had made.”

Edith gasped. “Why would Gwen want to hurt Horace? Or me, for that matter?”

Wong jumped to her feet. “I’ll get this down to the lab right away and see if we can get any prints off it. In the meantime, Mrs. Scroggins, I recommend that you take great care. Don’t open your door to anyone. I’ll make sure we keep an eye on your street. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, I want you to call 911 right away.”

Something was bothering me. Patty had said the kids had found a pink box of peanut brittle hidden behind pasta and they’d used most of the contents to refill an orange box. Why the two colors? Unless . . . they were Gwen’s own code. She could safely eat from the orange box but knew that the pink boxes contained the poison!

“Wait, Wong. Shouldn’t we go to the Babineauxs’ first? Patty said there was another box, a gift for Luis and Liza, that contained peanut brittle, and they used the contents to refill the box they had emptied. If memory serves, she said the box for Luis and Liza was pink.”

Edith blurted, “No! What if the children eat it?”

Wong started for the door. “Don’t panic. We’ll check on their peanut brittle. I’m sure Gwen wouldn’t have harmed the children.”

“You don’t understand. Gwen had a hidden stash and the kids were raiding it and refilling it from tainted boxes.”

Edith rose and pointed. “Use the back door, it’s faster.” Wong, Nina, and I were out the door in a flash. No one bothered to stop for coats, we simply ran. Right past Wolf and a gaggle of police officers. We rushed up the back stairs to Gwen’s kitchen.

Baxter opened the door. “What’s going on?”

“The peanut brittle,” Wong wheezed. “Where is it?”

Baxter’s brow wrinkled. He pointed at the cluttered island. “Right there, somewhere.”

I spotted the corner of an orange box under a jumble of cupcake boxes, a loaf of bread, and something wrapped in aluminum foil. I reached for it but stopped myself in the nick of time. “I don’t want to mess up fingerprints.”

Wolf had followed us into the kitchen. He handed Wong gloves. “What’s going on?”

“Where’s the other box?” I asked Baxter. “The one for Liza and Luis?”

Baxter opened a pantry door. “Behind the pasta.”

Wong searched the shelf. “I don’t see it. Sophie, you have a look.”

I searched the entire pantry. “It’s gone.”