I left the crowd to their speculation and turned to leave, but before I’d taken two steps, a hand gently touched my elbow.
“How are you, Sophie?” The muted lighting didn’t do anything kind to Kenner’s sharp features.
It was a simple question—the same one that every polite person asked but didn’t really want answered, yet there was something about the way he looked at me that creeped me out.
I was about to respond when a person in a large, unwieldy suit and a gas mask appeared on Bonnie’s front stoop. “Is that a Hazardous Materials Unit combing the house?”
TWELVE
From
“Ask Natasha”
:
Dear Natasha,
I love the holidays, but my townhouse doesn’t have a basement, attic, or garage. Where do I store all my decorations?
—Kitty in Ragland, Alabama
Dear Kitty,
Make your own storage boxes and hide them in plain sight! Wrap boxes and lids in fabric or paper that coordinate with your decor. Store your holiday decorations inside and slide onto a shelf until next year.
—Natasha
Kenner squirmed, like he didn’t want to confirm anything. “Are you experiencing any upper respiratory problems?”
“No.” I said it cautiously, taking a long breath.
“No coughing, wheezing, difficulty swallowing, or inhaling?”
“What’s going on, Kenner?”
“Don’t worry, I feel okay so far, too.”
“So far?!”
Was he kidding?
“If my health is at risk, I think I have a right to know what you’ve discovered.”
He chewed his lip. “Her upper respiratory tract swelled shut.”
“That’s why the EMTs gave up on CPR so fast.”
“At first blush, they thought the swelling was from an allergy, but now they think she inhaled some kind of chemical.”
“She died from some kind of weird chemical leak in her home?”
“That’s what they’re trying to rule out.”
I swallowed as a test. Was my throat sore? “Do you feel anything? What about the EMTs?”
“So far everyone is fine. It’s just that ... you were the first one on the scene.”
He left the implication hanging, but I knew what he was getting at. If there was toxic air in the house, I would have inhaled more than any of the responders.
“What do they think it is? Should I be worried?”
“I don’t know much yet, but I’ll keep you apprised.”
So that was why he stopped by the house last night to see how I felt. He really wanted to know if I was having any adverse reactions. “Thanks, Kenner. C’mon, Daisy, we’d better be getting back.”
He reached down to pet her, but she snarled. Kenner snatched his hand away.
“I’m so sorry. She must be agitated because of all the people and other dogs.” I didn’t really think that, though. She’d been a perfect lady up until Kenner tried to pet her. Daisy just plain didn’t like the guy.
He kept his eyes on her as though he didn’t trust her. “If you have any trouble breathing, go straight to the emergency room. Okay?”
Daisy and I walked away. I sucked in a deep breath. Everything still worked. No burning sensation or trouble inhaling.
Whew!
I thought back to finding Bonnie on the floor. The house had smelled of pine, which I assumed came from Christmas decorations or some kind of pine-scented air infuser. The only other smell I’d noticed was bleach—not exactly an uncommon household odor.
We walked home, Daisy prancing happily in the cold weather, and me breathing erratically, making sure everything was functioning.
When someone called my name, I paused at the service gate to my house.
Natasha again
.
“Sophie! Wait up.”
Wearing robin’s egg blue leggings that accentuated her long, slender legs, Natasha strode toward me with a young girl in tow.
“Did you hear about Bonnie Scarborough?” asked Natasha. The girl with her looked on in awkward boredom.
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you know what happened? Car accident?”
“They don’t know the cause yet.” I smiled at the girl. “It’s cold out here. Come on in.”
A fire snapped and crackled in my kitchen fireplace, and the warmth was a welcome relief. The scent of cheddar cheese baking hung in the air. Hannah and Mom relaxed at the kitchen table.
Mochie leapt from his position, paraded by Natasha holding his tail high, and hissed at her.
“A drive-by hissing,” giggled Hannah.
Natasha drew back. “What’s wrong with him? He usually ignores me.”
“He’s put out because someone dropped off a couple of kittens. Sorry.” I tried to pick him up, but he raced under the table, then bounded back onto the chair and resumed his mission of guarding the kitchen from the interlopers.
“He’s a cat, they’re cats—why wouldn’t they like each other?” Natasha sounded puzzled.
“It’s a territorial thing. How would you feel if another woman moved into your house?”
Natasha stiffened at the thought. “Don’t be silly. Surely you’re not comparing me to an animal.”
I let it go. Natasha wouldn’t appreciate cats or dogs until she finally loved one. Besides, if I really had a mind to compare her to an animal, it wouldn’t be to a sweet feline or canine.
“They’re absolutely adorable,” said Mom. “It’s the most peculiar thing, the way they showed up. I think they’re purebred Ragdolls.”
“Ragdolls?” Natasha looked at Mom quizzically.
“A lovely breed of cat. They’re gorgeous and known for their loving and easygoing personalities.”
“Can I see them?” asked the girl with Natasha.
Natasha introduced the girl with her as Vegas.
My mother recoiled at the name but recovered quickly.
“Vegas is my cousin—second cousin, we think,” said Natasha. “She and her father are spending the holidays with us. I was hoping Jen might be around because I believe darling Vegas is getting a little tired of boring adults.”
Vegas made a show of sighing and turning her eyes toward the ceiling. Her cute face suggested she was around Jen’s age, but I thought I spied a spark of mischief in those big eyes. She stood nearly as tall as me, which wasn’t saying much, and when she handed me her jacket, I saw that she wore the latest teen trend, which displayed her bare stomach.
Mom took her to the family room to meet Jen, who was watching a movie with my dad and the kittens. Mochie perched on a chair by the fireplace, near the passage that led to the family room, ready to pounce should a kitten dare show its face.
I hung all the coats in the bathroom so the dusting of snow could melt onto tile, and when I returned, Shawna sat in the other chair by the fire, her teeth chattering.
I spooned my favorite gourmet hot chocolate powder into a large pot, added a little water, and stirred it with a whisk to dissolve it. I poured milk on top and set the pot on the stove to warm. While Natasha chattered with Hannah and Mom, I fetched a soft throw from the family room, where Jen and Vegas each clutched an adorable Ragdoll kitten. The kittens nestled against them, amazingly content to be held.
Daisy followed me back to the kitchen. I draped the throw over Shawna’s shoulders, and fed Daisy a dog cookie for being such a good girl to the kittens.
I returned to my pot of hot chocolate, and the others finally noticed Shawna’s distress.
Natasha blurted, “When did Bonnie die? Not on Christmas Day, I hope?”
I filled Natasha in on the details, trying to be as considerate as possible of Shawna, who had begun to rock back and forth ever so slightly.
Natasha patted Shawna’s arm. “I didn’t realize you were so close to Bonnie. I’m sorry, honey.”
I brought Shawna steaming cocoa in a mug with a Santa on it, hoping it would help her warm up.
She clutched it with both hands. “I don’t understand why Beau won’t take my calls. I walked over to his apartment but he’s not there.”
“Where are Laci and George?” I asked. Shawna could use comfort from her sister right about now.
Mom’s mouth twitched. “I talked George into taking Laci shopping again. The poor girl is still so upset about everything. I thought he should try to distract her a bit.”
As I poured hot chocolate into Christmas mugs for everyone, Natasha sidled over to me. “No cocoa for me, thanks. It makes me bloat.” She leaned toward me and whispered, “Shawna’s taking this awfully hard.”
I’d seen Natasha play the drama queen when someone she barely knew had died. I shot her an exasperated look and whispered back, “Beau was ugly to her.”
“Oh! Well, that’s understandable if he just lost his mother.” Natasha smiled gently in Shawna’s direction. “I’m sure Beau didn’t mean anything he said.”
A jingle played and Shawna hurriedly withdrew a phone from her pocket. The disappointment in her voice was obvious when she reported, “It’s just Tyler.” Still, she stood up and walked outside to speak with him privately.
The second the door shut, Hannah asked, “Bonnie wasn’t, uh, murdered, was she?”
Natasha’s eyes widened and she gasped.
“It’s not a dumb question.” Mom sipped her cocoa. “Bonnie upset a lot of people over the last two days. Almost like she didn’t care whom she hurt.”
Natasha sat down at the table and leaned toward Mom and Hannah. “Since we’re among friends—I couldn’t
stand
that woman. She was a cheat and a liar. She would smile in your face, pretty as could be, and stab you in the back at the same time. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if she finally crossed the wrong person.”
I settled into the chair next to the fire that Shawna had vacated. Natasha alienated a lot of people who worked with her. Her loyal viewers thought she was marvelous, but she’d ticked me off plenty of times with her superior I-am-always-right attitude. She had a habit of plowing ahead, oblivious to everyone else’s wishes. “Everyone I know loved Bonnie. She was always very nice to me.”
Natasha glanced through the door window at Shawna, who didn’t seem to mind the cold. “Bonnie wanted to be me.”
I bit my upper lip to keep from laughing. Would my mother and sister, who adored Natasha, finally see her true colors?
“She found out I was doing a series of shows on organizing and wanted me to feature her. When I refused, she had the nerve to contact
my
videographer about shooting organizing videos to put online. Rumor has it that she lined up someone else with an audience to help her. Woe be to that person! Bonnie would have climbed on her back to get where she wanted to be and then push her under. Trust me.”
I didn’t feel quite so much like laughing anymore. Surely I hadn’t been so wrong about Bonnie, but too much of Natasha’s rumor rang true. I should have given more thought to Bonnie’s motivation for wanting to make the videos with me, but I hadn’t had any reason to be suspicious of her.
Shawna burst back inside. Snow covered the throw on her shoulders. She whipped it off, paying no attention to the watery mess that landed on the floor. Her malaise had vanished. She stood in front of the fire and rubbed her hands together. “Man, but it’s cold out! Tyler is coming over to pick me up, and we’re going to find Beau. I’m sure he’s at a complete loss. There will be so much to do—he’ll need me. I’ll show him that I’m good enough for him.”
Very gently, Mom said, “Go easy on him, Shawna. Remember, he lost his mom.”
“Oh, sure, Inga!” She flashed a happy smile at Mom. “But he’ll have to pick out a casket, find a burial plot, write an obituary, notify relatives—all things I can do for him.”
I understood Mom’s concern. Shawna looked all too pleased at the prospect of such dreaded and sad tasks.
“Tyler will be here any minute. Do you have a bathroom on this floor, Sophie? I must look a mess.”
I walked Shawna to the foyer and pointed out the powder room, neatly tucked under the stairs.
When I returned to the kitchen, Natasha had changed the subject to herself, as usual. “Didn’t you adore the pink peacocks I used? George’s neighbor, Ginger Chadwick, headed up the committee. She wanted so badly to build the decor around a Dickens Christmas theme, but that’s been done to death. Pink and turquoise are the new red and green, you know. They’re so much fresher, don’t you think?” She gazed around my kitchen, at the fresh pine wreaths hanging from red ribbons in the picture window, the festive fir garland that ran along the tops of the cabinets, the three nutcrackers nestled in a corner on the kitchen counter, and the needlepoint pillows of birds in snow on the chairs flanking the fireplace.
“You really ought to choose a theme to bring everything together, Sophie.” Turning to my mother and Hannah, Natasha added, “I did a show on this very topic. Pine, berries, apples, and angels are so passé. Imagine how much fun it would be to bring turquoise Christmas decor into this kitchen.”
The picture of Mars’s Aunt Fay that hung near the fireplace swung to a slant. There were those, namely Mars’s mother, June, who thought her sister’s spirit resided in my kitchen. We hadn’t let Natasha in on that little detail, but her own mother, an ardent believer in the paranormal, had announced that she felt a ghost in my kitchen.
Natasha eyed the picture of Fay. “It seems like that happens every time I’m here. You really ought to secure it better.”
I had some choice words for Natasha given her criticism of my holiday decor, but the door knocker sounded. I hurried to the front door, Daisy loping along, and opened it to a young man whom I had seen at Bonnie’s party the day before.
“I’m here to pick up Shawna?”
Close to six feet tall, he wore his plain brown hair in a shaggy style and his ready smile reminded me of someone. Certainly not as polished as Beau, but he had a comfortable casual charm.
I invited him in and showed him to the kitchen. Daisy sniffed him cautiously from behind.
Natasha sprang from her chair. “Tyler! I didn’t know Shawna was talking about you.” She planted a kiss on his cheek but Tyler cringed as though embarrassed by it.