Free The Diva Frosts a Cupcake by Krista Davis Page B

special. “Humphrey, I think it’s the smile. There’s something boyish and captivating about it.” I watched as Nick turned his charm on a woman who was old enough to be his grandmother. She giggled at something he said and swiped a hand through the air in his direction.
    Humphrey grimaced at me like a jack-o’-lantern.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “That was my boyish smile.”
    “Don’t do that! You’ll frighten women away.”
    He slumped. Unfortunately for Humphrey, Nick was still in my line of sight. “Maybe it’s not the smile. Nick carries himself as though he expects everyone to like him. There’s a comfortable assuredness about him.” Of course, it didn’t hurt that his features came together in a remarkably appealing way.
    Humphrey frowned. “How do I do that?” He turned his head slightly, raised his chin, and posed with his hands held waist high, palms down.
    “Now you look conceited and like you’re trying to keep people away from you. Just relax and be yourself.”
    “Being myself hasn’t worked. I think I’d be better off trying to be someone else for a while.”
    I pulled him into a big hug. “I don’t know why you think that. It’s obvious that Myra likes you just the way you are.”
    “Eh, Myra.” He spoke her name like he was talking about broccoli.
    I made a few phone calls to friends, asking them if they would help post flyers about Buddy. Half an hour later, Spenser, Mars, Bernie, Francie, Humphrey, Nick, and a host of our Old Town friends met to pick up flyers. Humphrey had drawn a grid of Old Town. He assigned each person an area, and we all dispersed with flyers in hand. Humphrey had thoughtfully given elderly Francie the route back to the block where we lived. I drew the area behind Market Square, along North Pitt Street and North St. Asaph Street.
    Word about Muffin had spread quickly through Old Town. As I popped into stores, asking them to post the flyer, everyone inquired about Muffin and about my eye, which, from the comments, must have become considerably more pronounced.
    Daisy and I dragged home, exhausted. Mochie, who had slept all day, met us at the door, full of energy.
    I set his new hammock on the tile floor in the sunroom. He circled it, examining it from all sides before he jumped into it. But when I set out a fresh bowl of kitty salmon, he readily abandoned the hammock for his dinner.
    I curled up on the loveseat in the sunroom for a nap, but no sooner had I dozed off than someone slammed the knocker on my front door. I dragged myself to the door and opened it to find Detective Kenner.
    His usual disapproving expression turned to a mix of wonder and horror at the sight of me. “What happened to you?”
    “Don’t worry. I have witnesses. It had nothing to do with Muffin’s death.” Once my nemesis, he no longer frightened me. I held out my arms and he readily hugged me. I invited him in, but Daisy growled at him.
    “Why doesn’t your dog like me?”
    “They say dogs are good judges of character.”
    A hint of a grin emerged, softening the hollows under his cheekbones.
    “Could I offer you some tea or coffee?”
    “No, thanks. Busy day. Tell me what happened at Sugar Baby.”
    He sat down at my kitchen table. Daisy sat next to me, her gaze never wavering from Kenner. I ran through the details for him.
    “Can you be any more precise about the times when Humphrey or Renee left Market Square?”
    “I wasn’t watching them or a clock. All I can tell you is that she was alive when we delivered the desk.”
    “Thanks. Does Francie still live next door?”
    “Absolutely.”
    I walked him to the front door.
    “I don’t see much of you anymore,” he said.
    “Trying to keep my nose clean and stay out of trouble.”
    He nodded. “Try harder.”
    I closed the door behind him and gave up on napping. A peek into the fridge revealed a beautiful flank steak that I’d forgotten about. If I knew Nina, she would order takeout for dinner or just eat four cupcakes