Diva Runs Out Of Thyme

Within half an hour, everyone scattered for the afternoon. I invented an excuse to stay home because I needed a little time to think through my scheme to reveal the killer and bring Nina up to speed on my plan.

I packed my black burglar-chic outfit, shoes and all, in a duffle bag. With all the commotion, I’d forgotten to give Wolf the poison vial. I withdrew it from my pocket and studied it. The rounded ends or gemstones might have yielded good fingerprints if I hadn’t inadvertently messed them up. No one could have worn gloves on Thanksgiving without being noticed. No wonder the killer wanted it back so desperately.

I debated letting Wolf in on my plan to identify the murderer but decided against it. He’d say it wasn’t accepted police procedure and would surely throw a monkey wrench into my plans. Tonight had to be the night. Everyone else would be accounted for at the restaurant. An opportunity like this wouldn’t come along again.

Using masking tape, I attached the plastic bag containing the poison vial to the underside of a drawer in my nightstand. It wasn’t the most original hiding place, but it wouldn’t be discovered by snoopy Craig right away, either.

Carrying the duffle bag, I dashed through the rain across the street to Nina’s. After filling her in about the colonel, I laid out my proposition for the evening. Naturally, she jumped at the opportunity to help.

After much gnashing of teeth that she didn’t have a widow’s walk on top of her house from which she could spy, we decided her best vantage point would be the dormer window in her attic. From there, she could observe anyone entering through my front door or the kitchen door. Only the sunroom entrance would be out of her field of vision. It was a chance we had to take.

I jogged home, adrenaline coursing through my veins already. I had never been a risk taker, but I didn’t feel this was too dangerous. Besides, I would have Mars’s Taser with me.

One key factor remained to be set up. I needed a spy at the restaurant. Mom or Dad were the obvious choices, but they’d be worried to death the whole time. But there was one other person who shared our parents’ spying genes with me. Hannah. Could she be trusted not to say anything to Craig? If he was the killer and she revealed our plans, I’d be putting myself in danger. On the other hand, I needed a spy whom I could trust. And the one thing I knew for sure was that Hannah wasn’t the killer.

As soon as she came home, I corralled her in my bedroom, claiming I needed help with my hair. I closed the door and whispered in case nosy Craig was outside listening. “There is something you can do to help me but you have to promise me you won’t say anything to Craig. Not a word.”

Hannah grinned and held out her pinkie. I hooked mine into hers and squeezed just like we did when we were kids. “I think Mochie found what the killer has been looking for. It’s a small vial that Nina and I think could have contained the poison used on Mars.” I pulled the drawer out of the nightstand and showed it to her.

She ripped the baggie off the drawer and held it up to examine it. “Looks handmade. Indian or African, maybe?”

“When you go out to dinner tonight, I’m going to make an excuse and stay behind. Nina will be outside watching the doors and I’ll be hiding in the living room.”

“Cool. What do you want me to do?”

“I need you to call me and tell me who doesn’t show for dinner. That way Nina and I will know in advance who the killer is and who to expect.”

“I’m in. We’ll communicate through cell phones?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Better give me yours now for a minute so I can set it on vibrate and it won’t ring.”

I handed my cell to her. “And not a word to Craig?”

“I pinkie swore, didn’t I?” She laughed.

While she fixed my phone, I hunted for an outfit sexy enough to please my mom. I’d forgotten about the white hand-knitted sweater she’d made. It crossed over in the front, creating a deep V-neck. I pulled it on and Hannah gave me a thumbs-up. Then I put hot curlers in my hair and sat down next to her on my bed.

“So you realize that you’ve been dressing like a coed from the sixties, don’t you?” I asked.

Fortunately she laughed.

“You mean my new demure look? Craig says only single pearls for earrings unless we’re going to a gala. He hates short skirts, so they’re out. And he loves these old-fashioned sweater sets.”

“I like the sweater sets, too. But I’m worried about you changing yourself so much to please him.”

“So I can’t wear fuchsia or dangly earrings anymore. If it makes him happy, I’m willing to do it. But you can wear anything you want. C’mon, I’ll do your makeup.” Despite my misgivings, I let Hannah smudge my eyes with smoky eyeliner.

“Too bad only the killer will see you looking so good.” She giggled. Her words sent a little tremor through me. I didn’t want to be foolhardy. But Nina would have my back.

Mom yelped with glee when I emerged from my bedroom. “Mars will have to come to his senses when he sees you tonight.”