Diva 04 _ Diva Cooks a Goose, The (21 page)

“Not that it’s any of your business, but it was an antique with musical instruments inlaid in wood.”

I felt like the air had been knocked out of my lungs. Shawna had regifted Natasha’s gift! “You have to tell Kenner.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

Uh-oh.
She didn’t know yet. Would she confess to the police if she knew the music box was the instrument of death? “Bonnie died from inhaling poisonous gas that was in the music box. Shawna has been arrested.”

Natasha stiffened, and I could see her going pale under her perfect makeup. She lifted a trembling hand and braced herself on the door frame. “Ginger!”

“What?”

Natasha gulped air, and for a moment, I thought she might collapse. “Ginger Chadwick gave it to me. I thought it was an apology for the spat we had over decorating the community center. She was determined to use an Olde English Dickens theme. She must have meant to kill
me
!”

I blinked at her. “Let me get this straight. Ginger Chadwick gave you the music box. You regifted it to Shawna, and Shawna regifted it to Bonnie.”

“I guess so.”

Anyone along the line could have rigged it with the gas. And who knew where Ginger got it? What if Natasha was right, and Bonnie was never the target?

“You have to tell Kenner. I’m no cop, but I think this puts the situation in a completely different light.” My head spinning with the implications, I started down the stairs, but Natasha caught my sleeve.

“Ginger actually tried to kill me?!” Her mouth dropped open and she gulped air. “Why didn’t I see it? She was so angry that they picked me to decorate the square. Just like Bonnie, Ginger wanted to be me.”

Too bad Natasha had such a poor self-image. “You don’t know that.”

She clapped a hand to her chest and scanned the street. “What if she’s still after me? I can’t stand out here. Who knows where Ginger might lurk?” She shut the door, and I hurried down the street in blowing snow. Even though I’d wanted to pooh-pooh Natasha’s immediate conclusion that Ginger intended to murder her, I was a little bit creeped out and couldn’t help glancing around for a snow-frosted killer.

During my absence, Vegas and Jen had erected a small snowman, complete with twig arms and carrot nose. I recognized Jen’s muffler around his neck.

The perfect symbol considering that an innocent snowman might have led to the very information we needed to spring Shawna. I praised their project and dashed into the house with them right behind me. Since they were so full of energy, I asked them to put our wet duds in the bathroom, and I sped to my study to phone George.

I spilled Natasha’s story, and he promised to call me back after he phoned Kenner. At least I didn’t have to do that.

What a nightmare. It didn’t really get Shawna off the hook, though. The poison could have been added at any time. Had one of these women hated another so much that she had to eliminate her? Ginger was certainly unpleasant and generally disgruntled, but would she really want to kill Natasha over Christmas decorations? Or had something else gone on between them?

I found it hard to imagine that Natasha would have any reason to murder Shawna, unless she thought Shawna had designs on Mars—but that was silly. Shawna only had eyes for Beau.

Oy
. My head spun. I needed a drink to warm up from standing out in the cold, too. I ventured toward the kitchen. The girls had started a fire in the fireplace and turned on the Christmas lights. They kneeled on the seat in the bay window with the kittens, looking out at their snowman and the neighbors’ festive lights.

“Have you tired of hot chocolate yet?” I asked.

“No!” they chimed.

“Natasha won’t make hot chocolate,” said Vegas. “She says it’s too fattening.”

That sounded like Natasha. There were simply times when one deserved to indulge and the holidays certainly qualified.

I stirred milk into the pot, finding it hard to concentrate. Although I had my doubts about Shawna being clever enough to come up with the idea of gassing Bonnie, somehow the situation had seemed sort of simple. Natasha’s new information had expanded the field of suspects and, even worse, the potential field of intended victims.

I poured the hot chocolate into three mugs decorated with snowmen, sprinkled minimarshmallows on top, and garnished each one with a candy cane.

When I handed them to the girls, Vegas said, “Wow. I don’t know why Natasha pretends that you’re not a domestic goddess like she is.”

I bit back a grin. “Thanks, Vegas. Natasha and I have different styles.” I resisted the urge to add—
and Natasha thinks her way is the only way
.

I settled into a chair by the crackling fire, and tried to lure Mochie onto my lap. He paced angrily, hissing at Daisy, who did nothing to deserve his ire. Otherwise, my warm kitchen in semidarkness evoked all the wonder of the holidays. Snow fell outside, but the neighbors’ Christmas lights sparkled across the street. The girls, perhaps exhausted from their snowman building, had fallen silent.

My eyelids grew heavy, and I thought about setting up a movie for the girls to watch so I could sneak a nap.

But a strobing light flickered through the bay window and Vegas screamed, “Daddy!”

TWENTY-THREE

I jumped up, spilling hot chocolate on my sleeve and pant leg. “What’s wrong?” I looked out the window and saw a police car, but no one else.

Too late. Vegas had run to the foyer.

“What did you see?” I shouted, running to the foyer. “Your dad isn’t out there.”

Vegas turned toward me for all of a second. “I have to be sure he’s okay. He’s all I have left.” She tore out the door. Jen raced after Vegas, and Daisy loped along in the street. I slammed the door behind me and dashed outside, grateful that there wasn’t much traffic due to the snow. A police car was parked at the curb in front of Natasha’s house. Teal Christmas lights still glowed along the handrail leading up stairs to the door. I still stood at the bottom, catching my breath, when the door opened and Vegas, Jen, and Daisy disappeared inside. I could hear Natasha yell, “What is that dog doing in my house?”

Kenner stood at the door, and I guessed he was confused about whether to enter. As far as I could tell, Natasha had chased after the girls and Daisy.

The girls would be fine, but I didn’t want Natasha to be unkind to Daisy. I rushed up the stairs, panting, passed Kenner, and paused in the foyer, trying to hear where they’d all gone.

It wasn’t hard to figure out. Natasha shouted, “Have you lost your minds? You’re tracking snow all over my hardwood floors!” I peeked in the room to my right.

My ex-husband, Mars, rubbed Daisy’s ears, apparently unconcerned about Natasha’s ire. Vegas clung to a younger man with a military haircut, who seemed extremely uncomfortable, and Jen looked on, cringing.

Still ranting, Natasha stormed toward me, fussing about the melting ice on the floor. She didn’t get far, though. Kenner blocked the doorway to the foyer.

He flashed his badge, which I thought unnecessary, but given Natasha’s state of mind, maybe he thought it would lend an official tone to his visit.

“I’d like to have a word with you,” he said to Natasha.

“I have to get a mop,” she growled.

“What’s going on?” asked Mars.

Kenner ignored him. “Is there someplace we could speak privately?”

“
Excuuuse
me! I have to mop the floor.” Natasha brushed past Kenner, and his face turned the shade of a candied apple. His nostrils flared and he waited, as frozen and motionless as the snowman the girls built.

“Won’t you have a seat?” asked Mars, ever the diplomatic political consultant.

Natasha swept back into the room. “The dog is not allowed in my living room.”

I thought Kenner might explode.

Cleaning is not my favorite thing. In fact, it’s pretty much at the bottom of the list, but there are times when you have to do what’s right. “Let me do that for you,” I said gently, taking the mop.

Natasha held fast, and for one long, painful moment, we all stared at her in silence.

“Is there someplace we could speak privately?” Kenner asked again. It sounded like he was gritting his teeth when he spoke.

Natasha let loose of the mop. “What on earth for? Mars, get that dog out of my living room.”

I swished the mop a bit to satisfy Natasha.

“Ma’am, I am here on official police business. You don’t seem to understand that.” The words pelted from Kenner’s mouth.

Natasha flashed me an annoyed must-I-do-everything-myself look, seized the mop, and asked Kenner testily, “What do you want?”

“Did you give Shawna Lane a gift recently?”

“Yes.”

“What was the nature of the gift?”

Natasha continued mopping and glared at me. “It was a music box that Ginger Chadwick gave me, evidently intending to kill me.”

“Natasha!” cautioned Mars.

“Excuse me, I have to wring out the mop.” She left the room and returned shortly. “Mars, what is it about ‘the dog is not allowed in my living room’ that you’re finding so difficult to comprehend?” She mopped her way to Daisy’s feet.

Kenner turned to me, eyes wide, cheeks gaunt, complexion purple. He swung back toward Natasha and barked, “Sit down!”

Natasha plunked onto the sofa next to Mars, and Jen scrambled in my direction. I placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Are you saying that this Ginger Chadwick intended to kill you?” asked Kenner.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Oh, good heavens, Natasha,” grumbled Mars.

“Has she made threats?” asked Kenner.

“I thought policemen were supposed to be bright. Isn’t it obvious? I did not plant anything in the music box, and I hardly think Shawna has the IQ to pull it off. Ergo, it must have been Ginger.”

Jen turned her face up to me and whispered, “The Ginger who lives next door to me tried to kill Natasha?”

As much as I hated to miss the rest of Kenner’s interview, the time had come for Jen and Vegas to leave. I borrowed a leash from Mars and coaxed the girls to come home with Daisy and me.

Vegas bit her top lip, looking like she might burst into tears. “You’ll still be here in the morning, won’t you, Daddy?”

Her father’s face wrinkled with pain and worry. “You bet! You have fun now.”

“Wait!” Natasha called out.

I thought Kenner’s face might explode from high blood pressure when Natasha disappeared to the kitchen. She returned with a pizza packed in a robin’s egg blue pizza box with NATASHA printed across it. “It’s shiitake mushroom and venison burger with rosemary and Asiago cheese. Enjoy it, girls!”

Curious about what Kenner would do next, I wished I could stay, but the fire still blazed in my kitchen, and we had to get back. None of us had even worn our coats. We rushed through the blowing snow, relieved to reach the warmth of my foyer.

We hadn’t been gone long. Still, I was relieved that the fire had dwindled substantially in the kitchen fireplace. I threw another log on and sent the girls up to my closet to find dry clothes to wear. They sprang up the stairs gossiping about Natasha and murder, with Alice and Jasper racing ahead of them and Mochie stalking the kittens from behind.

I set the table with a bright red and white tablecloth, and washed crisp Romaine lettuce for a salad. The tiredness I’d felt earlier had vanished, probably from the cold snow, or the scene between Kenner and Natasha. I chopped crunchy pecans to throw in the salad, along with apples and celery, and whisked together a vinaigrette with apple cider vinegar.

I was cutting the pizza when the girls pranced into the kitchen decked out in evening clothes. They’d hit Vegas’s new makeup kit and my closet, and somewhere, they’d even found two boas that they threw around with pomp. Jen turned on funky Christmas music and the two of them paraded like they were models on a runway with all the enthusiasm of “almost thirteen-year-olds.”

After dinner, they pulled out the sofa in the family room, fetched fresh sheets and down comforters, and settled in to watch movies. They changed into jammies but still wore their boas and flicked them around.

I ought to have gone up to bed, but some sense of duty compelled me to curl up under a throw in a big chair with my feet propped up on a hassock.