Free Diva 01 _ Diva Runs Out of Thyme, The by Krista Davis

under the chin. “I bet you wouldn’t even be afraid of Natasha.”

    I brought Bernie towels and linens and he took to Mars’s old den as though he planned to stay awhile.

    Mochie and Daisy followed me to my second-floor bedroom and curled up on the bed, albeit on opposite ends.

    On Thanksgiving morning, I slept later than I should have for a person with a house full of guests. Neither Daisy nor Mochie was in the bedroom when I woke. I showered in a rush and pulled on a pumpkin-colored sleeveless turtleneck, beige trousers, and a sweater embroidered with fall leaves. The kitchen would be hot today with both ovens going. I figured I could shed the leafy sweater to keep cool.

    I found my guests in the sunroom, which had heated nicely in spite of the crisp weather. The brick floor warmed my feet.

    Daisy stretched out next to Bernie, whose bare calves jutted out from under a flannel bathrobe. Daisy didn’t bother to get up but her tail flapped on the floor when she saw me. I bent to tickle her tummy.

    Mom was relaxing with a mug of coffee, her feet on a footstool. “There’s a ham and asparagus frittata keeping warm in the oven, sleepyhead. Bernie’s been regaling us with tales of his mother’s many marriages.”

    Hannah blushed and I wondered if that was an intentional jab by Mom. Craig would be Hannah’s third husband, but if I recalled correctly, Bernie’s mom had made the trip down the aisle seven or eight times.

    I headed to the kitchen for coffee but paused when I heard voices. One voice, actually.

    June was talking in the kitchen. I paused for a moment, wondering who wasn’t in the sunroom.

    “I couldn’t agree more,” she said. “You made the right decision. And I love what they did with the kitchen.”

    I peeked in. June sat by the fire, knitting. Only Mochie kept her company.

    “Good morning.” Had she been speaking to the kitten? I slid the frittata out of the oven and offered June a piece.

    “I’ve eaten, thanks. It was quite good. And your mother was so cute pretending Hannah cooked it.” She giggled. “Your sister doesn’t share your culinary skills.”

    Food had never been one of Hannah’s interests. “She has very impressive computer abilities, though. It’s a good thing she’s honest because she’d make a heck of a hacker.”

    “I was just telling Faye how glad I am that you own the house. It’s so cozy and inviting.”

    Faye? Faye was dead.

    I glanced up at the photo of Faye over the fireplace. It hung straight. No odd drafts today.

    June reached out to stroke Mochie.

    Maybe I’d heard her wrong. “Could I get you some more coffee?”

    “No, dear. I’m fine as I am. Just having a lovely chat.”

    “With the kitten?” I held my breath, hoping I’d misunderstood about Faye.

    “With my sister. She adores Mochie. Faye always had a cat and she’s so pleased that there’s a little one in residence now.”

    Was June losing her mind? Suddenly I had new appreciation for Natasha’s need to protect her mattress. Maybe June wasn’t well.

    Dad joined us from the foyer. I hadn’t seen him so worried since my brother, at the age of sixteen, bought a motorcycle from a friend for fifty dollars. He waved the newspaper at me. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

    Dad slid his reading glasses on and opened the paper. “According to reliable police sources, the person of interest in the slaying of Simon Greer is also a person of interest in the murder of Otis Pulchinski, a private investigator killed one day earlier.” He lowered his glasses and took a deep breath while fixing his eyes on me.

    “I didn’t want to worry you.”

    “Good job, Sophie. I’m worried now.”

    “It’s all coincidence. Being in the wrong places at the wrong times. If I hadn’t beat her there by seconds, Natasha would have found Simon’s body.”

    “Honey, you need a lawyer. Simon was a rich and influential man. They’re going to be under a lot of pressure to find his