The Diva Serves Forbidden Fruit

Can I paint an old piano?

Music Lover in Nashville, Tennessee

Dear Music Lover,

No. I can’t imagine why you would want to. I don’t recommend it.

I was stunned. Chills ran through me. “Do you think Lark knew that?”

“Possibly. If she was traveling the world to pass off stolen jewelry, I imagine she would have known the word for gold in a whole bunch of languages,” said Nina. “Or he could have told her.”

She might be right about that. “Motive. What was his motive?”

“The crown jewels,” Nina said, sounding exasperated with me.

“She didn’t tell anyone she had them. Even Paisley found out by accident. Why would she tell him?”

“Maybe they got cozy. They were spending a lot of time together. Maybe she felt she could confide in him.”

“What about Dulci? No,” I murmured. “It has to be a coincidence.”

“We think you should wrap up your date.”

I grinned. “Oh, that’s just so cute. But I’m not thirteen.”

“I wouldn’t be so sassy if I were you. He could be dangerous, Sophie. We’ll follow you home from a discreet distance.”

“I appreciate your offer, but we’re going to his house for dessert.”

“No!” she hissed. “Tell him something came up and you have to go home.”

I debated. Maybe he would understand. Once Wolf caught the real killer, I could tell him the story of finding out his name meant gold during our date and we would have a good laugh about it. Part of me wanted to go back to my date and see his house. But now Nina had planted a seed of doubt in my mind.

The door opened slightly. “Any ladies in here?” asked Mars.

“Not a one,” Nina assured him.

He barged inside. “Your eye looks awful.”

I knew it did. And the harsh light of the bathroom didn’t help. “Thank you so much,” I said in mock graciousness.

“What’s taking so long? Go out there and end your date. Tell him Francie fell and it’s an emergency.”

“I was just about to do that.” I put on lipstick, which really didn’t help my appearance, and floated by the two of them, out into the bar. I walked through it toward our table, but the hostess caught up to me.

“Sophie!” she trilled. “Dr. Chryssos said to tell you he stepped outside.”

“Thank you,” I said, turning left to the front door. I walked out, still arguing with myself about whether I was overreacting about Peter’s name meaning gold. The streetlights and the charming lanterns outside The Laughing Hound offered enough light to see the sidewalks and street clearly. But there was no sign of Peter. Had he grown weary of waiting or thought I was ditching him? I looked up and down the block but didn’t see him.

And then I heard a grunt and the sound of scuffling. “Peter?” I walked cautiously in that direction. A small unlit alley ran to the right. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized that two men were tussling. The larger man appeared to have the upper hand.

“Help!” I screamed. “Stop that! Someone call the police!”

The larger man looked around and I realized that my dark dress must have helped me blend with the night. But my big mouth had given me away. He dropped the other man and sped at me.

“Help!” I screamed.

He slugged me so hard in the face that I fell to the ground. The sound of his footsteps fading into the night as he ran away was like heavenly music.

I scrambled to my knees and crawled over to the other person who lay far too still. I rolled him over on his back. Even in the darkness, I recognized the face of Dr. Peter Chryssos. His eyes were open but unseeing. I tapped his cheeks gently, but he didn’t come around.

I pulled my phone from my clutch and turned it back on. My shaking fingers fumbled, hitting the wrong things. I couldn’t waste time. I didn’t want to leave him, but I had to summon help. I jumped to my feet and ran back to the restaurant. I flung open the door and shouted to the hostess, Bernie, Mars, and Nina, “Call 911! Call 911!”

I ran back out and flew down the street to the tiny alley. I placed my phone on the ground, the light from it glaring garishly in the dark. “Peter,” I said softly, waiting for him to groan. “Peter!” His eyes were still open, but he wasn’t blinking. I slid my fingers onto his neck, silently praying for a pulse. As sirens wailed in the distance and the clamor of voices behind me grew, I realized that Peter was gone.