“And he’s not divorced. Either she ran off or she’s buried in his basement.”
“And you want me to go out with him? What a great friend.”
“He can’t really be a killer; he wouldn’t still be on the police force.”
“Who would know better how to get away with murder than a homicide detective?” I asked.
“He’s such a nice guy. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.”
So much for my love life. Simon had been murdered, Wolf might be a killer, and that left Humphrey, who had as much sex appeal as vanilla pudding.
Nina sped past the turn to our street.
“Where are you going?”
“Don’t you think we should go to the hospital to warn Mars?”
“He’s probably at the hotel by now.” I couldn’t believe I had to tell Mars about Natasha’s connection to Otis Pulchinski. He would think I meant to put Natasha in a bad light to win him back. Still, he needed to know to protect himself.
Nina slowed and backtracked a few blocks to the hotel where the Stupendous Stuffing Shakedown had been scheduled to take place. She parked in front of the ballroom lobby. I stepped out of the car and leaned against it to steady my knees. I hadn’t expected such a physical reaction.
“C’mon!” Nina already held the hotel door open.
I joined her, my pulse pounding from the memories.
She paused in the ballroom lobby. “Where’s the door to the service corridor?”
“Nina, I don’t think . . .”
“Is that it?” She forged ahead and peeked behind a door marked “Employees Only.” She snapped her fingers. “Quick, before someone catches us.”
Nina walked along the hallway ahead of me. “I want to see how Natasha did it. Is this the door to the conference room where she killed Simon?”
It swung open as she put out a hand to push against it. Nina squealed and jumped back.
Andrew greeted us in surprise. “Sophie! Nina! Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
I’d read a million times that the killer goes back to visit the scene of the crime. So, it seemed, did the suspects.
“Guess you’re trying to figure out this stinking mess, too. You came through the main door the day Simon was killed, right, Sophie?” he asked.
I nodded and followed Andrew and Nina into the room where Simon died.
“I think Natasha bashed him over the head”—Nina acted it out—“and left by the back door where we came in. Then she ran around to the front and waited for Sophie to find Simon.”
Andrew grimaced. “That back corridor leads into other conference rooms, too. She could have cut through one of those.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to defend Natasha, but I felt obligated to point out the flaw in their reasoning. “Anyone else could have done the same thing. Natasha could have entered and left through the front door to the room, while the killer lurked in the service corridor, waiting for his chance to be alone with Simon.”
Andrew squinted at me in disbelief. “It had to be Natasha. Who else would have poisoned Mars?”
I didn’t have an answer to that. “Why would Natasha poison him? They’re not married; she wouldn’t gain anything.”
“No? You don’t think he’s changed his will? You don’t have to marry someone to inherit.”
“Natasha has her column and her TV show. It’s only local but she’s making a decent living.”
“When the police came to our house to question Vicki and me again, they wanted to know where we were when that PI was killed. That’s obviously crucial. I hated Simon with a passion but when the killer offed the PI, I was in class to get my real estate license and Vicki was in her office with clients. Natasha’s the only one without an alibi. She must be the one who murdered the dead PI.”
A shudder ran through me. “Andrew, I found Otis dead. I found Simon’s corpse and I cooked the soup. Do you think I’m the killer?”
A hush fell over us until Andrew blurted, “You? That would ruin my whole theory.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” insisted Nina. “Natasha could still be the killer and Sophie just happened along every time.”
Even I didn’t buy that. It seemed too unlikely. “The important thing is to protect Mars. He has to be careful.”
“I’ve tried to warn him about Natasha but he won’t listen. Vicki and I are taking turns staying with him.”
If I knew Mars, that wouldn’t last very long. He wouldn’t be keen on being babysat by his brother and sister-in-law. “What’s the room number? While you two snoop down here, I’ll have a word with him.”
I took the elevator to the fourth floor and knocked gently on the door.
Vicki opened it. Relief swept away the worried look on her face. “Sophie. Oh, thank goodness. We’re expecting that vile Detective Kenner.”
The stress of the past few days showed in the bags under her eyes. I reached for her hand. Her fingers felt icy.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” she said. “I think the police suspect Andrew of poisoning Mars. He would never do that.”
“Of course not. The Winston brothers always stick together.” I was about as enthusiastic as Vicki about seeing Kenner, though. I’d have to make this quick. “I came up to see how Mars is doing.”
“Hi, Soph!” he called from another room. “C’mon in.”
All things considered, Mars looked better than Vicki. Healthy color flushed his cheeks as he crossed to the sofa. He wore a cream-colored crewneck sweater and faded green trousers. If I hadn’t known about the poisoning, I never would have guessed he’d been ill. He propped his feet on a coffee table and lounged comfortably on the sofa of what appeared to be a two-room suite.
“Nice digs.”
“Natasha pulled some strings. Local celebrity and all that. How’s Mom doing?”
“She’s okay. We’ll all be better once this nightmare is behind us.” I perched on the sofa. “Mars, there’s something you need to know.”
His jaw tightened, an involuntary movement that he made when expecting bad news.
“Someone murdered a private investigator the day before Simon was killed. The police think there’s a connection.”
“I read about it in the paper.”
I swallowed hard. “Natasha had business dealings with the dead PI. She hired him to do something for her.”
Mars rubbed his hand across his mouth. “Are you absolutely sure? How do you know that?”
“I saw a check she wrote for his services.”
“What would she need a PI for?” Mars asked.
“I was hoping you’d know the answer to that. Who did Natasha want Otis to check out?”
The color faded from his cheeks.
“Was it me?” I asked. “Did she hire Otis to follow me?”
Mars blinked at me. “Why would she do that?”
“The day he was murdered, Otis had my picture and name on the dash of his truck.”
“Sophie, that’s awful. I had no idea.” He sat up and scooted toward me. “You should know that Natasha lawyered up the night Simon died.”
FIFTEEN
From “THE GOOD LIFE”:
Dear Sophie,
I’m supposed to bring a pie to my in-laws’ home for a holiday meal. I think I can master the pumpkin filling, but the dough scares me to death. They turn their noses up at premade pie dough so that’s out of the question. As the newest daughter-in-law, I want to please them, but I’m afraid this will be a disaster.
—Pie Novice in Pearisburg
Dear Pie Novice,
Your first holiday feast with new in-laws isn’t the time to try your hand at pie dough. A graham cracker crust is just as tasty, much faster, and virtually goof-proof. To dress it up, pipe whipped cream around the edge. It will hide any uneven spots of crust and look gorgeous, too.
—Sophie
“She’s been advised not to say anything, not one thing, to Wolf or Kenner,” Mars said. “You need to do the same thing to protect yourself. They can twist the most innocent statement.”
“I’ve called a lawyer but I haven’t heard from him yet.”
“Mike Doyle?”
“How did you know?”
“That’s who’s representing Nat. He was at our party the night of the fire. Good grief, it’s been an awful week.”
Vicki pulled a BlackBerry from her pocket. “I have a text message from Andrew. Kenner is on his way up to interview Mars again.” She put the BlackBerry on the table and massaged her temples.
“Chill, Vicki.” If Mars felt any fear of Kenner, he didn’t show it.
“What about you?” I asked. “Are you talking to the police?”
“And take a chance on implicating Nat? No way.”
I pecked Mars on the cheek, said, “Be careful,” and hurried to the door.
Vicki threw her arms around me and held me close.
“Get some sleep,” I said. “Everything will work out. It’s only a matter of time until they find Simon’s killer and then they’ll leave us all alone.”
She smiled weakly. “I hope so. I pray Andrew can keep his mouth shut for once instead of spouting off about how much he hated Simon.”
Unwilling to risk a hostile run-in with Kenner, I took the stairs down to the ballroom level. Even though I knew Mars and Andrew well, Craig’s observation about the Winston brothers haunted me. Could Mars and Andrew have joined forces to kill Simon?
Nina waited for me in the ballroom lobby, barely suppressing her eagerness. “Andrew and I talked to the housekeeping staff. After the cops took down the yellow police tape, one of the housekeepers found a key card on the floor that the police missed. She turned it over to the cops and says they were very excited.”
“Who did it belong to?”
“She didn’t know. She doesn’t use the hotel computers for her job.”
“A lot of people crowded in that room when Simon died. Still, it could be a lead. Think Wolf will tell us about it if we ask?”
Nina appraised me. “Maybe if you flirt with him.”
I wasn’t going that route. But maybe I should reconsider. Flirting worked pretty well for Nina.
The sound of approaching footsteps sent me for the door in an effort to avoid Kenner but Nina lingered.
“Sophie,” she said, “look who it is. Hi!”
Dread welled in my stomach but I turned anyway.
Simon’s driver, Clyde, strode toward Nina.
“Didn’t you work for Simon?” she asked.
His eyes drifted toward me as I joined them.
“Hello, Sophie. Simon was more than a boss.” Clyde mashed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I’d only worked for him a little over a year but he was great. I traveled the world with him, first class all the way. He treated me like family. There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for him.”
“The police must be keeping you apprised. What’s the latest on his killer?” I asked.
He snorted. “You’re a suspect. Don’t worry, I’m inclined to think it was Natasha. She’d taken private meetings with Simon before the competition.”
Aside from the implication that she might have been trying to sway his vote in the contest, it put her allegation that I had an unfair advantage in a whole new light.
Nina squinted at him. “What are you doing here?”
His eyebrows shot up and he smiled cynically. “I suppose I ought to ask you that question.” He inspected her head to toe, stopping to take in the huge diamond on her finger, just like Mrs. Pulchinski had.
“We came to visit someone,” said Nina in an irritated voice.
“If this is a contest, then I think I have you beat. I’m staying here.”
His mild amusement only served to further aggravate Nina. I thought I’d better intercede.
“You’re a lot like Simon, aren’t you?”
“I consider that a compliment of the highest order. Simon was a great guy, a good friend.” He looked down at the key card in his hand. “This has been very hard for me. I’m waiting for the police to release his belongings and the body so I can take him to England to be buried. We’d been living in London, you know. He loved it there.”
In spite of his little game with Nina, I felt terrible for him. He’d lost a dear friend and his job and had the unenviable task of seeing to all the funeral details.
I choked out, “I’m very sorry, Clyde.”
He nodded at us and walked away briskly.
Nina stuck out the tip of her tongue like she had a bad taste in her mouth. “What an obnoxious guy. I don’t like him one bit.”
She muttered about Clyde all the way home. When we parked in front of her house, I invited Nina in for a late lunch.
“Thanks, but I’d better get back to pretending I’m a perfect southern domestic goddess like Natasha.”
Poor Nina. “What’s for dinner?”
“Glad you asked—Veal Piccata with Angel Hair Pasta. Alfredo’s is delivering it to your house. Call me when it gets there.” She dug in her purse.