The Diva Goes Overboard

Am I a bad mother if I make “dinner boards” instead of cooking?

Not at all! Your little ones will probably love eating food they can pick up with their fingers. Just be sure there are plenty of veggie and fruit options.

Sophie

“Well done, Orson!” said Bernie.

Nina had already entered the hidden room and was gazing at the photos of the five women. “Eww. Please don’t tell me Orson was some kind of sicko.”

Mars peered over her shoulder. “Definitely odd, but it could be worse. At least they’re not nude.”

“This is why he left you the store? Do you think he wanted you to clean up his bizarre stalker room so his family wouldn’t know?” asked Nina.

“Those pictures came as a surprise to me, too. Maybe you’re right, Nina.” I removed Orson’s letter from the desk. “But he left me this. It’s long, so I suggest we start eating.”

We exited the hidden room, and I took care to close the doors behind us. We settled at the table.

Mars frowned. “Appetizers?”

“It’s a dinner board, silly.” Nina speared a piece of chicken and sliced a baguette. “They’re all the latest. You get to choose what you feel like eating.”

Mars wrinkled his nose. “It’s like a picnic, except you have to make your own sandwiches.”

“Sort of,” I said. “You love rotisserie chicken and I know you like avocado spread on sandwiches.”

Mars relented. “I think I like it better when my food is preassembled and arrives on one plate.”

“You’re turning into an old grouch!” I laughed. I pointed at Bernie, who had already helped himself and was carefully layering salami and roasted red peppers on a baguette. “Loosen up, Mars. Bernie is into it.”

Mars grumbled under his breath.

While they ate, I read Orson’s letter to them. When I finished, they had stopped eating and all three of them stared at me.

“Does Wolf know about this?” asked Mars.

“I saw him earlier today and gave him the letter to read. Unfortunately, the autopsy indicates that Orson was poisoned. He had a neurotoxin in his system.”

“A neurotoxin?” asked Bernie. “Where would one get something like that?”

“I looked it up. All kinds of things. Chemicals, solvents, pesticides, radiation, even some snake venom and plants.”

Nina nibbled on a grape. “Poor Orson. What a horrible way to go. I do love the secret room, though. How cool is that?”

“Do you think the women in the photos had reason to murder Orson?” asked Mars, making himself a second chicken sandwich.

“I have no idea. I stopped in to talk with Bonnie Shergold today and brought up Orson’s name to see her reaction. She spoke fondly of him. She didn’t flinch or act creeped out at all. The only other ones I know by name are Joan Jankowski and Riley Hooper. Did any of you recognize the other two?”

Bernie nodded. “Doreen Donahue and Cheryl Mancini.”

“You know a lot of women,” said Mars.

Bernie shot him a look. “I know who they are, but that doesn’t mean I know much about them.”

“Would any of them kill Orson?” asked Nina.

Bernie shrugged.

“What about Wanda? Have you told her about the letter?” Mars sipped his blackberry spritzer.

“She was broken up and tired. I didn’t mention anything about the letter. But she rushed Natasha out of the room and told me privately that she thinks Orson was murdered.”

“The letter said you have to swear us to secrecy,” said Nina.

“Consider yourself sworn. I’m trusting you not to blab about this to anyone.”

Bernie and Mars nodded agreeably.

“Nina?” I asked.

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of talking about this. Orson went to lengths to get this message to you. He obviously gave it a lot of thought and it weighed heavily on him. He deserves to have us figure out what happened to him.”

I picked up a black olive and savored the briny flavor. “We’re all in then.”

At that moment, in the quiet of the cavernous store, something rattled.

“Do you hear that?” Mars whispered.

“Sounds like keys,” Nina hissed.

The display in the nearest window blocked us from view of passersby, but I could see that twilight had fallen on Old Town.

Bernie and I rose from our seats quietly. We were to the far side of the door and couldn’t see it.

Bernie held out his palm in front of me. He crouched and inched forward. I did the same and waddled behind him.

The person jiggled the door handle as if he was frustrated and hoped it would give. But the man who had changed the locks for me had done a good job. Everything held tight.

Bernie and I scooted closer to the door just in time to see him smash his nose against the glass door, distorting his face.

Nina, who had snuck around behind us, screamed as if she had seen a ghost.

At the sound of her voice, the shady outline of a person in a baggy coat fled, reminiscent of old horror movies.

“Did you see who it was?” asked Mars.

I didn’t realize he was behind me and let out an involuntary squeal. “I didn’t hear you sneak up on us.”

Bernie stood up and stretched. “I couldn’t make out much. But it was definitely a man. Good thing you had the locks changed, Sophie.”

“Who would have a key?” asked Nina.

I stretched as well. “Employees, for sure. Could be anyone who worked here in the last twenty or more years.”

Mars scowled. “Or a thief who read about Orson’s death in the newspaper.”

“Are you saying that to scare me?” I asked.

“Yeah, a little bit. You need to be careful when you’re in here alone. Don’t thieves go to the homes of people who died and break in during the funeral services?”

“That’s horrible! I can’t imagine anyone being so despicable.”

“Well, they are.” Mars smiled at me fondly. “You always expect the best of people, Sophie. Meanwhile, they’re scheming with no regard for others.”

“Who would come to a store at night?” asked Nina. “That was intentional. Someone must want something that’s in here.”

She had a point. Why not come during the day when it would likely be open? And if it were an employee, what would he have left inside the store that would be so important now, days later? He could have phoned me and told me he had left something in the store.

We all glanced around.

“It’s impossible to know what he might have wanted.” Mars studied a painting. “You’d have to have an expert tell you if anything was particularly valuable. It could be anything we would think of as just another painting or bust.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe I should have someone come in to have a look around. “So where do we start on finding Orson’s murderer?”

We settled at the table again. “I’m no expert,” said Bernie, “but perhaps we should speak to the rest of the women on the corkboard. If Orson was poisoned at the party, we can probably eliminate the women who weren’t in attendance.”

“Good point. Especially because we know for certain that Orson’s family members were present, as was Karl.” Following Mars’s lead, I made myself an open-faced sandwich with a halved baguette, some of the pesto, and sliced chicken. “Did any of you notice Jordan St. James or Myra Chatsworth there?”

“There were so any people in attendance,” said Nina, “it could have been anyone. Myra was definitely there. I remember being surprised because, well, who would want to go to their ex-husband’s engagement party?”

“How well do you know her?” I asked.

“Myra? At the time of the divorce, rumor had it that she was seeing someone else. I understand their home was beautifully furnished, mostly with antiques from the store. We should pay her a visit if only to see the inside of the house.”

Mars found a pad and pen at the checkout desk and made a list of Orson’s suspects and the five women whose photos were on the wall. We divided them up among us and the topic of conversation soon turned to our lives and lighter themes.

On Sunday morning, Nina phoned Myra and asked if she and I might drop by Myra’s house. She was surprised, but readily agreed to see us at ten.

I pulled on a peach dress with a loose skirt and roomy pockets. Cool, casual, and comfortable. Most importantly, acceptable to someone like Myra.

I left Daisy at home in the cool kitchen with Mochie because the temperature would be getting very hot soon and I didn’t know how Myra felt about dogs. I had a feeling she wasn’t keen on them. Otherwise, Orson might have left Rosebud to her.

Nina and I met on the sidewalk.

“Can we stop for lattes and croissants?” she asked. “I’m famished.”

“Sure. I haven’t eaten breakfast yet, either.”

On the way toward King Street, we saw Wanda and Griselda standing on the sidewalk. As we drew closer, it appeared they were looking at the lock on the door to their store.

“Wanda! What happened?”

“Someone broke in during the night. Can you believe this?”

“I can! Orson’s store was broken into the night before.” But there was no gaping hole in the glass. “Did they pick the lock?”

“That’s what we’re thinking,” said Griselda. “I’m certain I locked it.”

Nina gasped. “Someone is definitely looking for something! Wanda, did Orson give you anything valuable? Something priceless?”

Wanda tapped her hand. “My engagement ring.” She still wore it.

I couldn’t blame her. I would keep wearing it, too, in her circumstances. “But no one would expect to find that in the store.”

“Whoever it was took merchandise,” said Griselda. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have known about it.”

“What kind of merchandise?” My mind went straight to the CBD products they sold.

“Various things. We haven’t had time to do an inventory yet. I did notice that our narcissus for cough and cold is wiped out. We were just wondering how easy it is to pick a lock. That’s the only way someone could have gotten in.”

“Do you have a back door?” I asked.

Wanda and Griselda looked at each other, their eyes wide.

“We’d better check that,” said Griselda.

“You go,” said Wanda. “I’ll wait here for Wong. I hope she’s working today.”

Griselda pointed at a camera. “We think we might have caught our burglar on video.”

“I hope so!” I doubted there was any connection between the break-ins. The merchandise was very different, and the modus operandi wasn’t the same. But you never knew. “Keep me posted on this? It’s unlikely, but it could be the same person who broke into Orson’s store.”

Nina and I hurried to a favorite café where we could enjoy breakfast outside in the shade of umbrellas. I ordered a mocha latte and a chocolate croissant and carried them out to a table. We weren’t the only ones who were enjoying the summer weather. At the table next to us, two women were talking over their lattes.

When Nina joined me, I placed a finger across my lips in a signal to not speak so we could listen.

“You didn’t hear?” asked the honey blonde in oversized sunglasses. “Jordan just sank to the bottom of the pool of eligible men.”

“Did they get back together? I can’t say I’m surprised. I thought there was still a spark between Jordan and Stella. And she’s so nice. I wouldn’t have gone out with him anyway until I was certain they wouldn’t reconcile.”

“You’d have been too late. The minute he moved out of the house, women descended upon him like bees to nectar. There was simply no shame. Rumor has it that Joan Jankowski is his favorite, but we’ll see if he has any interest in her now that Stella has inherited some money.”