Diva 04 _ Diva Cooks a Goose, The (9 page)

“I think they should be Alice and Jasper,” said Jen.

Mom smiled at her only grandchild. “Those are charming names, sweetheart.”

George flashed Mom a look. “Don’t get excited, they’re from her favorite movie and they’re vampires.”

“Vampires! I never let my children watch movies about vampires.”

Hannah laughed aloud. “So sad but true. We had to sneak to see them.”

We were all chuckling when the knocker on my front door sounded. I rose and opened it to Shawna, whose face was stained from tears.

I showed her into the dining room.

“What’s wrong, honey?” asked Marnie. “Did something else happen?”

“Since I knew Beau was at the restaurant, I walked by his apartment and let myself in.”

“Shawna! You didn’t!” It was Laci who scolded her sister. Marnie didn’t seem at all disturbed by Shawna’s behavior and waited to hear more.

“I have a key, Laci. It’s not like I was breaking in.”

“Then why bother doing it? You were up to no good and you know it.” Laci shook a finger at Jen. “Don’t ever do that. It’s wrong. Do you understand?”

“In November, I accidentally found an engagement ring in Beau’s sock drawer.”

Marnie looked so sad for her daughter that I thought she might start crying.

“And now it’s gone.”

EIGHT

“Gone?” said Marnie. “Did you search thoroughly?”

“Mom!” protested Laci. “You two are the worst examples for Jen!”

It was my mom who weighed in with a less agitated voice. “He could have had it with him today. Maybe he meant to pop the big question, but his mother’s announcement got in the way.”

“Do you really think so?” Color returned to Shawna’s complexion.
“Aaugh.”
She moaned and clapped her hands to her face. “I shouldn’t have run out. I bet he was going to propose right after Bonnie’s announcement. What a fool I was.” She took a seat, reached for the potatoes, and heaped them on her plate. “That’s a relief. I’m meeting him later today. I bet he’ll propose then! It won’t be the same as if he’d proposed at the party, but the important thing is to get that ring on my finger so we can plan a June wedding.”

Marnie’s spirits didn’t appear to improve, and I had a feeling she wasn’t buying that explanation. I had doubts, too. Somehow, I didn’t think Shawna found the ring accidentally in the first place. She and Marnie didn’t seem to have any qualms about snooping. I couldn’t point fingers, though, since I came from a family of snoopers.

“Wonderful.” Mom winked at Shawna. “As I recall, Laci and George wanted to buy a few Christmas gifts to make up for the ones that were stolen. I thought Grandpa and Jen might walk Daisy while the rest of us get groceries. Then we can have a cozy dinner here tonight.”

“Fine by me, but I have a meeting at six.” Under the circumstances, I didn’t think I should reveal that it was with Bonnie.

“I need to do a little shopping, too. I’d like to go to the mall with the kids,” said Marnie. “You don’t mind if I skip the grocery expedition, do you?”

No one said anything in response, so I guessed that Mom and Hannah were stuck with the grocery run. Hannah would be less than thrilled about
that
.

Five o’clock rolled around before I knew it, and truth be told, I was delighted to stroll with Dad, Jen, and Daisy, at least for the first leg of their walk. We’d left the mysterious kittens safely confined to an upstairs bedroom, so we wouldn’t have to worry about Mochie. He seemed much more relaxed when he was the king of the kitchen again, but I knew he would soon discover that the kittens hadn’t gone far.

Dainty bits of snow drifted in the air as we walked. The wind had ceased entirely, but the temperature was dropping, making more snow likely. The crisp air stung my face, but I was too busy exclaiming over bright Christmas lights with Dad and Jen to care.

The ancient brick sidewalks and historic houses of Old Town simmered with a magical quality. Candles burned in nearly every window, especially in the high dormer windows in attic rooms. Tiny white lights sparkled in trees and on bushes, and snow dusted pines and evergreens that graced front doors, as though Mother Nature had added to the festivity.

I was sorry to have to leave my family and miss the boats on the Potomac that had been strung with Christmas lights, but I dutifully peeled off and headed east toward Bonnie’s house.

I had walked only one block when I spied a strikingly familiar figure. Wrapped in a leather bomber jacket, with a muffler around his neck, and wearing a bulky Elmer Fudd-type hat, George’s neighbor, Forrest Chadwick, stood outside an empty storefront.

“Well, hello!” I said. “What are you doing in Old Town?”

Forrest blinked a couple of times. I thought perhaps he didn’t recognize me away from George’s house. “Sophie Winston? George’s sister. We ate Christmas dinner together yesterday.”

“Of course! I’m sorry. I was deep in thought—elsewhere. You know?”

I understood completely.

He glanced up and down the street. “Pretty quiet out tonight.”

“I guess people are still celebrating the holidays—and it
is
cold out.”

He didn’t reply, and a horrible, awkward moment passed. I finally blurted out, “Any word on the Christmas-gift thief?”

“They’re still looking for him, them ... whoever. I don’t think they have the first clue, but that doesn’t stop Ginger from calling the police every couple of hours to pester them.” He forced a smile. “I’d better not hold you up. It’s freezing out here.”

I said good-bye and continued on my way, but when I reached the end of the block, I glanced back. Forrest hadn’t moved on. He still stood in front of the building where I’d first seen him. I wondered if he was waiting for someone.

I walked on—another two blocks to Bonnie’s house. One of the older homes like mine, it sported a historic plaque by the door. I could have picked it out simply by virtue of the holiday decor. Bonnie had been in candy mode with her Christmas decorations this year. Like her sugarplum decor at the party, she’d attached ribbon candies to the wreaths on her doors and windows. I wondered if they wouldn’t disintegrate in the wet weather. Could they be made of plastic?

Faux candles flickered in each window in true Old Town- style. I rang the bell and waited. The scent of wood burning in a fireplace drifted to me, and I longed to head home to my own cozy fireplace. A bit impatient, I rang the bell again and leaned sideways to peer inside her front window. Artfully swagged drapes prohibited me from seeing inside.

I stepped back and looked up at her house. Maybe with the party and the brouhaha over Phil and Shawna, she’d forgotten our appointment? Or maybe I was now persona non grata because my family had marched out of her party? I hadn’t thought about it from her perspective, but we’d left a lot of embarrassingly empty seats.

I sighed and the mist from my breath drifted like a little cloud in the cold air.

Surely Bonnie separated business from her private life. Besides, even if she was angry with me or my family for making a scene, wouldn’t she come to the door and tell me that she no longer had any interest in working with me? Everything I knew about her indicated that she was as sweet as the candy she used in her decorations. I couldn’t imagine her snubbing me.

As I looked up toward the second floor of her house, I saw smoke coming from a chimney. A good clue that she was home. I rang her doorbell again, though I felt a bit guilty for ringing it a third time. She still didn’t answer.

Although I was sorely tempted to give up and go home, I thought about the fact that she lived alone like I did—well, when Phil wasn’t there with her—and that she might need help. I stood on her stoop and debated.

Caution won out and I tried the handle on the front door. It didn’t budge. I checked around the side of her house to see if there was an alley that would provide access to the rear. I found a cute cranberry red gate, higher than I was tall, with an arched top and a pineapple, the symbol of hospitality, carved into the wood. The gate swung open easily, and in moments, I stood in her fenced backyard, where someone had converted what had most likely been a screened porch into a cozy room with paned windows all around, making it look like a cottage.

A fire blazed in a corner fireplace and wrapping paper was strewn across the coffee table and the floor. She must be home. I leaned closer to the glass for a better look, and rapped on it, in case she was close by and could hear.

As I scanned the room, I spotted a shoe—beige with a pointed toe and three-inch heel—lying on its side on the brick floor. I squinted and used my sleeve to wipe condensation from my breath off the little square of window. Surely that couldn’t be her foot in the shoe. A piece of red and white wrapping paper had fallen, partially covering the shoe. The angle of the coffee table prevented me from seeing more. I squinted again and decided there was definitely a foot in the shoe.

I whipped out my cell phone and called 911. When I hung up, I decided I couldn’t wait for them. Even a minute or two might make a difference if Bonnie was sick or bleeding. I tried the handle of the back door, but it was locked. Taking a cue from the Christmas-gift thief, I found a cast concrete kitten and smashed it into a glass panel in the door. The sound reverberated through the small garden. Careful to avoid the shards of glass that wrapped around the hole like teeth in a shark’s mouth, I inserted my arm and felt for a latch.
Oh no!
Smart Bonnie installed a lock that required a key on both sides. “Bonnie!” I called. “Can you hear me?”

No answer.

I backed up and kicked the lower part of the door with the bottom of my foot.
Ouch!
That didn’t work. Poor Bonnie. Panic rose in me. I had to get inside—now!

I gazed around the garden, heaved a large terra cotta pot out of the snow, and slung it at a window. Much better. It left a gaping hole and spidery lines crackled through the tempered glass. I hurried the breaking glass along by knocking the edges with the concrete kitten. With one last tap, the remaining glass rushed to the floor in bits. The windowpanes proved to be ornamental and gave easily when I yanked them.

I was able to step inside, glass crunching under my feet, freezing air gushing in through the huge opening. The faint smell of bleach mingled with pine and the smoky scent of fire. I rushed toward the shoe I’d seen, and found Bonnie sprawled on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table.

I shoved the coffee table aside and kneeled by her head. Tapping her cheeks gently, I called her name, but she didn’t revive. Surely she couldn’t be dead? There was no blood, no sign of a wound.

My throat contracted with fear as I reached for her wrist. She still wore the winter white outfit she’d worn to her party earlier. Her makeup was perfect. She looked like she ought to sit up and start talking.

I couldn’t find a pulse. I felt her neck, hoping I was just being clumsy, and that she was alive. The doorbell rang, and I jumped at the sound. My heart beating like crazy, I ran through the adjoining kitchen in search of the front door. Fortunately, Bonnie’s house wasn’t very large. I twisted the deadbolt and threw the door open to emergency medical technicians. Thanking them for coming, I led the way to Bonnie.

They moved the coffee table for better access, revealing a music box and a fancy ribbon with a felt snowman attached to it, as well as a jewelry-sized box and a little Christmas gift-wrap bag that it must have come in. I picked them up to get them out of the EMTs way.

Old, probably an antique, the large music box was made of inlaid woods and featured string instruments. I’d never seen one quite like it. Judging from the size of the white box on the sofa, the music box must have been a gift she’d opened while waiting for me to arrive. If I wasn’t mistaken about the wrapping—a gift from Shawna.

The small white box contained a pearl brooch in the shape of a flower. The tag on the bag read, “Can’t wait for another romantic evening with you.”

Ouch. That had to be from Phil
.

“Is she diabetic?” one of the EMTs asked.

I had no idea. I rushed to the kitchen, where the acrid smell of bleach hung in the air, proving Bonnie’s prowess as an immaculate housekeeper. Her refrigerator was spotless. I moved aside a bowl of what appeared to be ambrosia, judging from the mandarin orange slices. Bonnie stocked a fairly amazing assortment of cheeses, a boxed angel food cake, a store-bought roast chicken, a container of cornbread stuffing, and several cans of refrigerator biscuit dough. I checked the door of the fridge but didn’t see any insulin among her condiments.