The Diva Serves Forbidden Fruit

I have a little bag of coins left over from travels abroad. Some of them are really pretty. What can I do with them?

Leaving a small space between the coins, glue them to a simple plastic hairband. Take a twisted gold wire and snake it between the coins in a serpentine. Now you have a gorgeous one-of-a-kind hairband!

Natasha

Natasha should have told her mother about Griselda Smith months ago when Natasha located her half-sister, Charlene. Wanda would have learned the truth in bits and pieces and had time to digest it all. I shouldn’t criticize Natasha, I was equally good at putting off uncomfortable news. But now it was too late to ease Wanda into the truth.

The only bright side to the whole thing was that Griselda and her daughter, Charlene, were about as nice as anyone could be.

There was nothing I could do about it now. Wanda was here. I exchanged a look with Nina. “Her tent is this way, Wanda.”

“Everybody at the diner sends their best,” said Wanda. “Your mom and dad were positively envious when I told them I was coming up for a visit. They said you’re so busy that you never invite them, so I told them that I wasn’t invited at all. I was just going to come on up here and surprise my baby girl.”

There were going to be a lot of surprises. I stopped her. “Are my parents on their way, too?”

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart. You dad is in a golf tournament, so this isn’t a good time for them.” She looked from side to side at the tents as we walked. “I’m so impressed with the clever things everyone has made. Did you see the tent where that woman turns everything into gold? What was that guy’s name? Midas!”

“That’s Greer. She has some remarkable things.”

And then it happened. Wanda Smith saw Griselda Smith’s tent. It beckoned her like a fish to water.

“Oh my!” Wanda said. “We have to stop here.”

It was like watching a car accident in slow motion. Every fiber of my being wanted to prevent what was going to happen but it was already on a collision course.

“Hi!” Griselda reached out her hand to Wanda. “I’m Griselda Smith. What can I help you with today?”

Wanda took the outstretched hand and shook it. “Wanda Smith. You have such beautiful things.” She gasped. “And herbs! The last time I was here, I like to never have found any horse chestnut. This time I came prepared. Where’s your store in case I need anything?”

“Isn’t that funny? We have the same last name,” said Griselda.

I mashed my eyes shut, waiting for the worst.

But Wanda chuckled. “One of my husband’s two million relatives!”

Griselda continued, “I haven’t got a store yet, but I’m planning to open one as soon as I can find the right location. Rents run high in Old Town.”

“Do you have a card or phone number where I can reach you? I don’t know that I’ll need you this trip, but I would feel so much better if I knew where I can buy the herbs I need when I come to visit my daughter.”

My heart thundered in my ears. I could see the tension in Nina’s face when she glanced my way. Any minute now one of them was bound to say something that tied Griselda to Natasha and the world might just blow up. Their world anyway.

Griselda jotted her name and phone number on a slip of paper and handed it to Wanda.

I realized I had been holding my breath and exhaled. Maybe, just maybe, the confrontation wouldn’t happen at this moment.

But then Natasha swung into the tent saying, “Griselda, I just heard about a wonderful space for your store—” A moment of awkward silence followed. “Mom! What are you doing here?”

Wanda grinned and opened her arms wide for a hug. “Surprise!”

The two of them embraced and I could see Griselda looking at Wanda with a totally different expression. “You’re Wanda?” she asked.

My job here was done. I could so easily have grabbed Nina and backed out, could have said goodbye, and been on my way. But I was riveted to the spot.

Natasha gave me a wide-eyed frantic look.

“Why don’t the two of you go grab a cup of coffee,” I suggested. “Maybe Charlene can watch your tent?”

Griselda folded her arms over her chest. “You haven’t told her about us. Wanda doesn’t know, does she?”

Wanda glanced at Griselda. “Know what?”

“I cannot believe that you haven’t told your mother.” Griselda looked Wanda straight in the eyes and said, “There’s a reason we have the same last name. We married the same man.”

Wanda’s gaze flew from Griselda to Natasha. She turned around to me. “I know you’ll tell me the truth, Sophie.”

It wasn’t my place to tell her everything that had happened. How Natasha was looking for her father and had found Charlene, her half-sister through DNA testing. And that led to Griselda, her mom, who was so much like Wanda that we had all been astonished. I simply nodded my head, leaving the long story to Natasha and Griselda.

Without another word, I tugged at Nina and left Wanda to tell her story of life with Natasha’s father. I walked over to Big Daddy’s bakery, bought a box full of croissants, cupcakes, and cookies, and then stopped by to pick up four mocha lattes. Natasha wouldn’t touch any of it, but that was her problem. Nina and I carried it all back to Natasha’s tent.

Charlene had joined the group by then. I handed her the goodies, kissed Wanda on the cheek, and left them to sort out their life stories, which would undoubtedly end where they always did—where was Amos, the man who had married Wanda and Griselda, fathered their daughters, and left them all without so much as a fare-thee-well?

Mars phoned Nina to say he was heading back to my house. He located us among the tents and the two of them walked home.

I thought about Wanda and Griselda through the rest of the day. As things wound down, I headed for the grocery store to pick up items for dinner. I had pork tenderloin in mind because it cooked fast and was always delicious. Small red potatoes to roast in the oven, and a bundle of fresh green baby spinach as the basis for a salad. I stood quietly for a moment, thinking about a quick dessert, when the gossipy voices of two ladies nearby infiltrated my thoughts.

“I can tell you one thing, if I were Nina Reid Norwood, I would be quaking in my boots. She’s the next one. What do you suppose they did on that tour?”

“I don’t think it had anything to do with their trip. Unless, of course, it was Whitney’s son. What’s his name? Hutt! Who would name their child Hutt?”

“I understand it’s a family name.”

“Pity. It’s not what you’d call melodious.”

“Sounds like Hun, as in Attila the Hun.”

They giggled. “Maybe it’s the right name for him after all. Do you think he would murder someone?”

“All I know is that he was in my daughter’s class in school and she was terrified of him. He was the original bully. Don’t they usually outgrow that kind of behavior?”

The two women moved on, still chatting, but I had heard enough to make me wonder.

I stared blindly at the perfectly stacked boxes of berries. And suddenly I knew exactly what Bernie and Mars would love—a berry trifle. I added raspberries and blueberries to my cart and grabbed a bag of gingersnap cookies and some heavy cream.

As I walked home, I thought about the travel agent’s son, Hutt. He had two things against him. Most importantly, he had been on the trip, which meant he knew the other travelers and had the opportunity to spy on them or at least learn about them. He also had access to their addresses through his mother and her computer.

But we were missing a motive. I could only think that he had been blackmailing them. But then why kill them? Wasn’t it more profitable to keep the money rolling in? As far as I knew, he hadn’t had any other connection to them. I would have to ask Nina. Maybe he volunteered somewhere and knew them through some organization.

Mars and Nina were lounging in the kitchen when I came home. Mars opened the door for me and took the heavy grocery bags out of my hands.

Mochie mewed and rubbed my ankles. Daisy and Muppet pranced, eagerly awaiting a petting session. I indulged them all.

Nina handed me a glass of wine. “To what do I owe this reception?” I asked.

But before anyone answered, the door opened and Bernie bounded into the kitchen. The dogs and Mochie started their excited fuss all over again. Nina handed him a glass of wine, too.

While sipping the delicious wine, I unpacked the groceries and we all fell to tasks for dinner. Mars and Nina helped Bernie cut the potatoes and I started the pork tenderloin. While the pork cooked, I turned my attention to slicing onions and chopping pecans for the salad, I told them all about the encounter between Wanda and Griselda.

“Hah!” Bernie chuckled. “I wouldn’t want to be eating dinner with them tonight.”

I had to agree. “The tension must be awful. They share a lot of interests, so I suspect they might end up being friends, but that will take some time.”

Our timing was pretty good. I washed the berries for the trifle and spread them on paper towels to dry. I beat the cream so it would be ready, and whisked together cider vinegar, olive oil, and honey to dress the salad.

I took out a French farmhouse-style tablecloth in spring shades of blue, yellow, and green and set the table with Royal Worcester Evesham plates adorned with fruits and vegetables.

The potatoes came out of the oven, crispy on the outsides.

In minutes, Mochie and the dogs were fed, and we sat down to eat. The topic of conversation turned to the murders immediately.

Mars grumbled a little when he had to stop eating Bernie’s crispy potatoes to retrieve a pen and a pad of paper.

“Before you start making your lists,” I said, “I wanted to ask Nina about Hutt, the travel agent’s son. Did you know him before you went on your trip?”

“I expect I had seen him around town. But he doesn’t volunteer at the animal shelter or anything,” she said, cutting into a juicy piece of pork.

“Then there’s no reason for him to have tried to break into your house?” asked Mars.

“Of course not. There’s no good reason for anyone to break in,” insisted Nina.

“No cash on hand? No artwork or other valuables?” asked Bernie.

“Well, when you put it that way, maybe. But why choose my house? Natasha has all kinds of fancy stuff,” said Nina. “And for that matter, you live in a mansion. If I were a thief, I would pick your house on the assumption that someone very wealthy lived there.”

I chuckled. “The most valuable thing Mars owns is an autographed baseball.”

“Not true,” said Mars. “I have acquired a genuine helmet autographed by Joe Namath that happens to be worth five times what the baseball would fetch.”

“Well, if you’re counting that kind of thing, my husband—” Nina paused, holding her fork in the air. “Oh my gosh. How could I have forgotten? My husband has a little coin collection. As those things go, I don’t think it’s very impressive, but he does have a few gold coins that I suppose are worth stealing.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Bernie. “I have an interest in numismatics myself. I’ve lived and traveled in so many countries that I started picking up interesting coins. As you say about your husband’s collection, it wouldn’t impress a major collector. We should get together sometime. I’d be interested in seeing what he has.”

“Does anyone know if Lark, Dulci, or their husbands collected coins?” I asked.

None of them knew.

“Was anything in particular a topic of conversation during your tour?” Mars stopped eating and gazed at her inquisitively. “Perhaps Lark said something about her silver and then you told her about the painting in your living room?”

“Which painting?” Nina frowned.

“Whichever one is valuable,” Bernie said patiently.

“We like them, but none of them are museum worthy if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“You didn’t talk about anything like cash or heirloom jewelry or your husband’s coin collection?” I asked.

Nina didn’t reply right away. “There was jewelry on display at the Palacio Nacional. I think that’s what it was called. It’s considered the Versailles of Portugal. The guide told us that they had loaned some pieces to a museum in Holland for an exhibition of crown jewels. Some clever person or persons managed to get by all the alarms, break the case, and steal millions of dollars of crown jewels, not just from Portugal. They’ve never found the missing jewelry or the culprit!”

“Was Hutt there?” I asked.

“I can’t say that I took roll call, but I think he was,” Nina said. “My husband and Dr. Chryssos even went on that tour. It’s very impressive.”

“Put Hutt on your list of suspects, Mars,” said Bernie. “Maybe he was inspired.”

“It would explain why Lark and Dulci let him into their homes,” I said. “But if he was after their jewelry, why not try to enter the homes when no one was home? That way he wouldn’t have had to murder anyone.” Bernie had thrown some raw sliced apples into the salad. I speared one and savored the tart sweetness.

“He would have had to break in, which might be complicated. Or he was smart enough to do it in the dark of night so he wouldn’t be seen,” Nina suggested. She gasped. “Lark talked about her father being some kind of fancy jeweler in New York. She said something like ‘he had a salon in his apartment where he met with super-wealthy clients to design one-of-a-kind pieces for them.’”

“Bennett mentioned that to me today, too. And Paisley and Frank were arguing about a family heirloom that her father made. It has gone missing. Paisley thinks Frank took it. Wolf thinks Paisley is lying to Frank and that she hid it from him,” I said.

“Now we’ve got something!” Mars excitedly scribbled on his list. “Did Dulci have some kind of family heirloom that might have been valuable?”

Once again, no one knew. We all looked at Nina waiting to hear if she had heirlooms worth stealing. “I do have some jewelry that my grandmother left me, but nothing worth killing for. I would be sad if it were stolen, but it’s more sentimental than valuable. If I tried to sell the pieces, I don’t think they would add up to much.”

“All right then, Sophie, you check out Dulci’s jewelry situation,” said Mars.

“She was just murdered!” Nina objected. “She can hardly go to Emery and ask snoopy questions about his wife’s jewelry.”

“She’ll think of a way,” he said, flashing me a smile. “I’m sure Emery would like to find her killer. He’ll understand if you tell him that’s why you’re asking him questions.”

Mars was probably right. Emery hadn’t balked a bit this morning. It might seem uncaring, but it was so important to find the link between the victims. Emery would understand that.

“Then there’s Humphrey.” Mars wrote his name on the list.

“I think you can strike him. The only motive he could possibly have had to kill Lark was that she turned him down when he proposed. Why on earth would he have come to my house in the middle of the night or murdered Dulci? No way.”

“I have to agree with Nina,” I said. “Trying to eliminate Humphrey would only be a colossal waste of time.”

“Doesn’t Dulci’s death also eliminate Frank and Bennett as suspects?” asked Bernie. “If the theory is that they were after Lark’s money, then why bother to kill Dulci?”

“It feels like someone has pulled the rug out from under us,” said Mars. “Maybe we should go over the incidents. Is it possible that none of them are connected?”

“Aside from the obvious fact that all three women were on the same trip to Portugal, there is one thing that stands out in my mind—the ladders. It’s so obvious that neither Lark nor Dulci was outside predawn in high heels climbing a ladder. That had to be staged.”

“The killer thought he could fool the authorities into thinking their deaths were accidents? It sounds like we’re dealing with someone who isn’t terribly bright,” said Bernie.

“Or he didn’t think it through,” said Nina. “Maybe he didn’t plan to kill anyone. He saw Humphrey leave Lark’s house, assumed in the dark that it was Lark, broke in—” She stopped abruptly.

“The theory is she let him or her in,” I said, pointing out the loophole.

* * *

I cleared the dishes from the table and assembled our berry trifles. Nina poured a generous amount of raspberry liqueur into the dishes while I was working. In each individual trifle dish, I placed crunchy gingersnap cookies, followed by a good dollop of berries, then whipped cream, and repeated the process, ending with whipped cream on top of each one. I poured tea for me and decaf coffee for Bernie. Nina and Mars stayed with the wine.

The conversation abated when we tried the trifle. It was the perfect combination of flavors and textures. We had just finished when we heard a loud boom and felt the earth shake.