Free Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The by Krista Davis Page B

the doorbell rang, Nina yelled, “I’ll get it!” and clomped down the stairs. She appeared in the kitchen a moment later, carrying long florist’s boxes.
    Natasha eyed her with suspicion. “What were you doing upstairs?”
    “Just having a look around.” Nina flipped the boxes open. “These are gorgeous.” She inhaled the fragrance. “Nothing else comes close to the scent of lilacs. No wonder Mordecai wanted them. Who knew he was such a romantic?”
    Natasha ignored the flowers and was checking the names on the bequest packages. “I know almost all these people. Why would he leave them something, and not me? Kurt Finkel? Well, well. I wonder what a person had to do to be in Mordecai’s good graces. I bet they never invited him to brunch.” Her tone, already bitter, changed to furious when she added, “I can’t wait until Kurt gets here. I have a few choice words for him for failing to show this morning.”
    I was walking into the living room, carrying a vase of heavenly lilacs, and stopped short when she said that. “He was supposed to meet you? Did you call his cell phone?”
    She followed me to the living room, holding a large bottle of bourbon. “Of course. All I ever get is his voice mail. But he’s a contractor, after all, and they’re notoriously unreliable. He missed two weeks when he renovated Iris’s kitchen. It’s so aggravating. You’d think they would understand that everyone is waiting for them, but noooo.”
    I breathed a little easier on hearing that he had missed engagements before. Maybe this was normal, or almost normal, behavior for Kurt.
    Natasha held up the bourbon bottle. “This was full yesterday.”
    I placed the lilacs on the mantel, wondering why she was telling me about the bourbon. “So?”
    “Did you drink it?”
    I laughed. “If I had consumed that much bourbon, I would still be flat on my back.”
    “Not many people had keys to Mordecai’s house last night, but someone emptied it.” Natasha eyed me with suspicion, but I ignored her and returned to the kitchen.
    I slid the quiche and the baked Brie out of the oven, and everything was ready. The packages of bequests waited in the butler’s pantry, the food was on the table, except for the quiche and the Brie, which were cooling, and Mordecai’s living room smelled of lilacs.
    Nolan DuPont, Camille’s husband, was first to arrive. The owner of an outrageously expensive antiques store in Old Town, Nolan generally sported an obnoxiously superior attitude. Tall and fastidious about his appearance, he carried himself with the same self-assured poise as Natasha. He’d always been friendly to me, but I’d seen him intimidate people just through his bearing.
    I showed Nolan into the living room.
    “Camille informs me that I’m to furnish this room.” He surveyed it with distaste. “Basically a box, isn’t it? Good molding at the ceiling, but otherwise, it’s architectural milk toast.”
    “The fireplace is attractive.”
    “ Mmm . At least the room has a focal point.” His gaze drifted down to the golden andirons, and I suspected he was sizing them up for sale.
    The door knocker sounded as I set the quiche on the table. I hustled to the front door and found a bearded man waiting on the porch. Ted Wilcox was walking up the stairs behind him.
    The bearded one smiled easily and said, “Hi, Mike Osmanski. I was told to be here?”
    “Mike?” Ted craned his neck and took a hard look at him. “Ted. Ted Wilcox. I never would have recognized you behind that thicket on your chin.”
    The two of them shook hands and hugged. I showed them in and, from the greetings when they saw Nolan, I gathered they all knew each other.
    Leaving them to catch up, I poured strawberry daiquiris and served them while we waited for the others to arrive.
    Nolan wrinkled his nose at the drink with the umbrella in it. “Perhaps I could have a scotch on the rocks?”
    “I’m sorry, Nolan,” I said. “There isn’t anything else. Mordecai