Diva Runs Out Of Thyme

“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.