Diva Runs Out Of Thyme

“They’re sold out. We tried to get a last-minute ticket but couldn’t.” June turned to me. “Are you sure you don’t want to go, dear?”

“I can go anytime. I’d rather you had fun. What did the colonel say about Simon?”

“He never came right out and admitted he went to the hotel. However, he confirmed that the lovely young woman who lost her leg is his granddaughter. A terrible tragedy. She taught mountain climbing in the summer and skiing in the winter. Very athletic. It looked like she would win the contest on Simon’s show.”

Dad fidgeted in his chair. “They’d rigged some sort of contraption over a dramatic gully that the contestants had to cross. A rope snapped when she was on it; somehow her leg tangled in the rope and it cut off the blood supply. They couldn’t save it.”

“The colonel blames this on Simon?” asked Mars.

“He thinks the show was rigged,” said June. “The problem is that the rope disappeared so there’s no evidence. Simon claimed the remaining contestants burned the ropes in a cleansing ritual that night. The colonel has been doing research to try to prove that Simon’s crew staged his granddaughter’s accident.”

“That’s horrible.” I cringed at the thought. “She could have died. Losing her leg was bad enough.”

“Simon was always ruthless. He left chaos and death behind him everywhere. No honor or decency or regard for human life. Money drove everything he did.” Bernie couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice.

I finally posed a question that had been nagging me. “Do you think he asked me out to irritate Mars?”

“Could be.” Mars laughed. “But I wouldn’t have killed him over you, honey.”

“So what happened with Natasha today?” I asked Mars.

“You won’t believe this. She went to a soup kitchen.”

“To contact someone.” I’d tried so hard to believe Natasha couldn’t have killed Simon. Had she hired someone to kill him? Had she hired Otis to find a paid assassin for her?

“It looked like they knew her. She put on an apron and dished out dinner. I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Maybe she spotted you and drove there on purpose to throw you off,” suggested Dad.

“Or maybe she works at the soup kitchen every week when she disappears. But why keep it a secret?” Mars gazed at us like we had answers.

“She’s looking for her father,” Mom said quietly. “You were so young, Sophie, I don’t think you understood the impact on Natasha. She was only seven when he left. Her mother couldn’t afford the mortgage on their pretty house over on Elm Street and she couldn’t sell it without his signature. The bank foreclosed and her mother filed for bankruptcy. I’m certain Natasha felt it was her fault he abandoned them; children so often do.”

“But that happened over thirty years ago,” I protested.

“Don’t you understand? His leaving was the driving force in her life. That’s why she strives, to this day, to be so perfect. It’s also the reason she always competed with you.”

“Oh, please.” My mom, the shrink.

“You weren’t competitive by nature, but you had everything she didn’t. A dad and siblings and a nice house. And you gave her a run for her money. You were both good at the same things. You didn’t mean to but you made her reach a little higher, work a little harder, and when she kept one-upping you, it turned out you had a competitive streak in you after all.”

“That explains a lot,” Mars teased, “but I’m with Sophie. Hard to believe she’s still searching for him after all these years. And why would she think she’d find him at a soup kitchen? He could be a multimillionaire.”

“I imagine her mother painted a fairly dim picture of him,” said Mom. “She was probably brought up to believe that he was a ne’er-do-well.”

“Why do you think he left?” asked Mars.

“Berrysville is a small town, You can imagine the rampant gossip. Some people thought he had another life somewhere else. Others think he died and no one knew who he was. I think he felt too much pressure.”

“I’d have run away from that pushy woman, too.” Dad made a face like he’d sucked on a lemon. “Natasha’s mother wouldn’t be easy to live with.”

The phone rang, interrupting our conversation. I scurried to answer it.

The coordinator of the Stupendous Stuffing Shakedown asked if I could participate in the contest on Monday. Simon’s TV network decided to go forward with it after all. I checked my work schedule to be sure I could fit it in. I assured her I would be there and hoped the others would be able to compete as well. Before hanging up, she said, “And as a precaution, we’re providing all the ingredients this time. All you have to do is show up and make stuffing.”

Mars was leaving when I returned. Mom closed the door behind him and said, “Why can’t we ever manage to get him over here at the same time as Wolf?”

“Surely you don’t think Mars is the killer?” I asked.

“Goodness, no. But I want to shake up Mars a little bit. He would have to be pheromonally challenged not to feel the attraction Wolf has for you.”

Not anymore. “Mom, Wolf is watching me because I’m a murder suspect.”