“Oh, please.” My mom, the shrink.
“You weren’t competitive by nature, but you had everything she didn’t. A dad and siblings and a nice house. And you gave her a run for her money. You were both good at the same things. You didn’t mean to but you made her reach a little higher, work a little harder, and when she kept one-upping you, it turned out you had a competitive streak in you after all.”
“That explains a lot,” Mars teased, “but I’m with Sophie. Hard to believe she’s still searching for him after all these years. And why would she think she’d find him at a soup kitchen? He could be a multimillionaire.”
“I imagine her mother painted a fairly dim picture of him,” said Mom. “She was probably brought up to believe that he was a ne’er-do-well.”
“Why do you think he left?” asked Mars.
“Berrysville is a small town, You can imagine the rampant gossip. Some people thought he had another life somewhere else. Others think he died and no one knew who he was. I think he felt too much pressure.”
“I’d have run away from that pushy woman, too.” Dad made a face like he’d sucked on a lemon. “Natasha’s mother wouldn’t be easy to live with.”
The phone rang, interrupting our conversation. I scurried to answer it.
The coordinator of the Stupendous Stuffing Shakedown asked if I could participate in the contest on Monday. Simon’s TV network decided to go forward with it after all. I checked my work schedule to be sure I could fit it in. I assured her I would be there and hoped the others would be able to compete as well. Before hanging up, she said, “And as a precaution, we’re providing all the ingredients this time. All you have to do is show up and make stuffing.”
Mars was leaving when I returned. Mom closed the door behind him and said, “Why can’t we ever manage to get him over here at the same time as Wolf?”
“Surely you don’t think Mars is the killer?” I asked.
“Goodness, no. But I want to shake up Mars a little bit. He would have to be pheromonally challenged not to feel the attraction Wolf has for you.”
Not anymore. “Mom, Wolf is watching me because I’m a murder suspect.”
“Think what you like. Wolf looks at you like you’re an ice cream sundae with extra chocolate on top.”
I shot my dad a pleading look. “Didn’t you hear the way Mars talked about Natasha? We’re not getting back together, Mom.”
“She’s right, Inga. Mars is very concerned about Natasha.”
The corners of Mom’s mouth pulled back in disapproval. “In that case, you’d better start dressing sexier for that Wolf of yours. And it wouldn’t hurt you to use eyeliner and brighter lipstick.”
I adored having my family around, but when the door shut behind them and quiet reigned in my home, I felt tension ebb away. The play and dinner would keep my parents, Hannah, Craig, and June out until eleven or so. Bernie left when they did but was somewhat hazy about his plans. I couldn’t help wondering if he had a date with the widow Pulchinski.
Before indulging myself in a long bath, I hit the den to catch up on my column. Questions poured in from readers. Coswell wrote me suggesting I set up a website to handle some of the overflow. The response to my column delighted me. Excited as I was about the prospect of a web page, it would have to wait a couple of days until my family went home.
I put the column out of my mind as I left the den. I needed to think about the murders. The killer had to be stopped before another one of us fell victim to him. Wolf was probably a great detective, but I knew everyone so much better than he did. I had to be overlooking something, some tiny clue to the identity of the killer. As though she knew what I had in mind, Daisy trotted upstairs. Mochie followed us.
I ran water in the tub and poured in vanilla-scented bubble bath. Mochie perched on the edge, fascinated by the growing foam that disappeared when he touched it. While the tub filled, I undressed and tossed a bathrobe on the vanity in case someone returned unexpectedly. I sank into the warm water and focused on the murders.
I figured I could eliminate my parents, sister, and June from my list of suspects. Wolf and Humphrey also seemed unlikely candidates. Wolf might have killed his wife but so far I hadn’t heard about a connection between him and the victims. Humphrey seemed too wan to undertake a murder spree. He could have hired Otis to trail me and he could have killed Simon after he asked me out, but I was neither vain enough nor stupid enough to believe anyone, even smitten Humphrey, would take such drastic action on my account. I was no femme fatale.
Bernie didn’t appear to have a motive, unless he was involved with Mrs. Pulchinski somehow. Since he’d been living abroad, he came in low on my list of suspects. But the timing of Bernie’s visit seemed a bit more than coincidental and I still couldn’t shake the image of him in the restaurant with Mrs. Pulchinski. Nor could I dismiss the fact that he’d been at Natasha’s house the night of the fire and present when Simon died.
The colonel, on the other hand, had both the motivation and the opportunity to kill Simon. I hadn’t connected him to Otis yet, but he’d been very interested in Otis’s death at Thanksgiving dinner. And Francie had been the one who reported a Peeping Tom. Could the two of them be in cahoots?
Mars and Andrew both hated Simon. Both had been present in the hotel when Simon was murdered. Either of them might have known or worked with Otis. Mars had warned me about Simon on the day he was murdered. Had Mars hired Otis to follow me? That didn’t make sense. The Mars I knew could become furious, but he ranted and paced. He would never kill anyone. Would he clean up after his brother if Andrew committed murder? He might. And while I couldn’t see Vicki being irrational enough to kill Simon because of the way he’d treated Andrew, I supposed that was a possibility.
And that brought me to Natasha. She hired Otis for something and met privately with Simon. She was prone to drama but she’d displayed uncharacteristic nervousness on Thanksgiving, especially when she discovered Wolf would be joining us. Had she lost her tight self-control and let Simon have it? Either she killed Simon or she knew something.
Had I omitted anyone? Craig. The outsider. The one least likely to have a connection to any of us. Yet he spied and eavesdropped, and even more suspicious, he returned to the scene of the crime. Hannah would be furious if she knew what I thought of Craig.
My relaxing bath had been anything but. The killer and the person who tried to poison Mars was clearly one of us. I closed my eyes and tried to unwind, but Daisy alarmed me by barking and running down the stairs. For a moment I thought Bernie might have come home, but Daisy stopped barking and I decided she’d probably heard Francie knocking around the backyard again.
When the phone rang, I lay in the bath and debated whether or not to answer. My indecision lasted longer than the caller’s patience and the ringing ceased.
And began again. I still didn’t bother to get up. But when it rang a third time, I feared the worst, stepped out of the tub, and wrapped a towel around me. The phone stopped ringing before I could answer. I was on the verge of checking the caller ID when it jangled again and I finally picked it up.