Diva Runs Out Of Thyme

“Yes, I was snooping. Somebody’s stalking her, somebody poisoned me, and she hired Otis for heaven knows what reason.” He paused and said in a hushed voice, “I was afraid Nat might be having an affair.”

“And you think this picture confirms that?” I asked.

Mars paced. “What else can I think? Fairly incriminating evidence, wouldn’t you say?”

“So she has this picture. It’s not like he’s nude or anything.” Nina craned her neck. “Where was this taken? It looks like the Jefferson Memorial.”

I examined it again. The round structure behind him didn’t leave much doubt about the location. “Pretty recent, too. He’s dressed for fall weather.”

Mars punched his fist into an open hand. “What do I do? Do I confront her? Do I leave her?” He paused and held the back of a chair. “Do I pretend nothing ever happened and just go on?”

I flipped the picture over, but the back side was plain white photographic stock. “Could Natasha have taken this picture?”

Nina and I bent over it.

“I don’t see any reflections.” Nina’s mouth twisted doubtfully. “There’s nothing incriminating about it. Mars, this picture alone isn’t evidence of an affair.”

“You two are a gas,” Nina continued. “How many other men would go to their ex-wives when they suspect their girlfriends of cheating?”

Mars sighed. “We’re divorced, Nina, not archenemies.”

“What’s in the package?” asked Nina.

“Don’t protest, Sophie, you need this,” said Mars as he slid the package toward me. “I got one for Nat, too.”

I unwrapped the brown paper to find a Taser.

“They’re not easy to buy, but a client of mine came through for me. It’s like a stun gun. It won’t kill an adult, but it’ll incapacitate one long enough for you to get away.”

Nina chirped up. “I want one, too. I’ll pay for it. Can you get me one?”

I didn’t like guns, but I’d decided long ago that I should carry mace in my car since I regularly came home late at night after events. This was another step in the direction of a gun.

“Sure. I think my source can procure one more. I want you to carry it with you, Sophie. Your folks will be going home soon and you’ll be here all by yourself. I don’t know what we’re up against, but strange things are happening around you and Nat. I knew neither of you would carry a gun. This is the best alternative I could come up with.”

As if on cue, the front door opened and a cold draft floated through the kitchen. Judging from the lively chatter, the theatergoers were returning and had enjoyed their evening.

Mars snatched the picture from the table and hid it in his jacket. “Don’t tell Mom. She already hates Nat.”

I glanced toward the foyer to be sure June wasn’t in earshot. “Natasha’s pushing to put her in a home.”

Mars couldn’t have looked more miserable. “She keeps telling me Mom can’t live alone anymore. That she’ll burn her own house down if I don’t have her put away.”

“I don’t suppose she could move in with you and Nat?” I asked, only half teasing.

He blanched. “I couldn’t take the two of them in the same house. Don’t you think there’ve been enough murders? C’mon, Nina. I’ll walk you out to be sure Humphrey doesn’t jump you.”

Mars paused to peck June on the cheek before leaving with Nina.

While the theatergoers changed clothes, I poured red wine and spices into a pot for a grog to warm them. On a baking sheet, I placed slices of Italian peasant bread and slid them into the oven to broil for a quick black bean bruschetta. Suspecting that June would like chocolate chip cookies, I prepared a tray of them from my freezer stash.

Bernie came home in time to share our midnight snack by the blazing fire in the kitchen. While the others discussed the play, I thought about Bernie and his stepfather and Mrs. Pulchinski, and eyed him surreptitiously. He was listening to the conversation, his expression as animated as if he’d been there. At one point he turned his blue eyes on me, and caught me watching him, but instead of shying away, he flashed me a dazzling smile.

I wanted to believe that someone with such easygoing charm couldn’t possibly kill anyone. That wasn’t true, of course. But by the time we turned in, I’d decided I didn’t need to worry. If Bernie intended to murder one of us, he’d had plenty of opportunities already.

I woke to the thundering of the door knocker. Daisy whined and pawed at me and Mochie stood on the edge of my bed, alert. Whoever was banging the thing must have been trying to wake us for some time. I glanced at the clock—two thirty in the morning. I didn’t bother with a robe and ran down the stairs in my single-girl flannel pajamas. The person outside tried again.

Bernie emerged from the den, yawning, and wearing only sweatpants. I could hear murmuring behind me and glanced back to see that the caller had awakened everyone. My parents, Craig, Hannah, and June watched from the second-floor landing. I unlocked the door and flung it open, afraid the killer had struck again and someone needed help.