Diva Runs Out Of Thyme

“No.” Did he mean Humphrey? I thought he’d misconstrued Humphrey’s words on Thanksgiving when he walked in on us in the kitchen. “Humphrey appears to be suffering from delusions stemming from a childhood crush, but it’s nothing.”

Wolf raised his chin. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss him. Anyone else? What about Bernie?”

What did he mean about dismissing Humphrey? “Bernie is an old friend. He was Mars’s best man at our wedding.”

Wolf stared into the fireplace, deep in thought. “That’s right. Can’t forget about Mars. What did you do after the stuffing contest?”

Clearly, romantic thoughts had not been the source of his questions about my love life. “You should know. I was driven down to the police station to relinquish my clothes.”

“And after that?”

“You were here Thanksgiving Day. Maybe you didn’t notice all the food? I was home all night cooking and baking.”

“You didn’t go out for dinner, to get take-out, make a quick grocery run?”

His line of questioning annoyed me, mostly because I didn’t understand what he was getting at. “You have my car, remember?”

He loosened his tie. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

“I’d like to know why you’re asking these odd questions.”

“Thanks for your time.” He headed for the front door and let himself out.

So much for Mom’s theory that he was sweet on me. And then it hit me. He was trying to figure out who might have buried the turkey in Natasha’s yard. It could have been me or someone who liked me enough to do an important favor for me. After all, as far as I knew, I was the only one who remembered seeing the bloody turkey trophy. He thought I’d planted it.

The kitchen door opened behind me and Andrew stuck his head in. “Where’s Mars?”

I didn’t have to lie. “I don’t know.”

“His car’s outside, he must be here somewhere.”

“He left the car here, but I don’t know where he went.”

“Shoot!” Andrew came in and shut the door. “How about Mom? Is she here?”

“She’s entertaining the colonel in the living room.”

“I think I’ll join them.”

I placed my hand against his chest to stop him. “There might be a little romance brewing. You wouldn’t want to spoil that.”

“At her age? You’re kidding me, right?”

“How about a piece of cake?” Maybe that would distract him.

“Sure.” He plopped into a fireside chair. “Did Vicki tell you I’m going to become a private investigator? Yeah. I’ve been watching Wolf, it’s not that hard. Andrew Winston, detective. Sounds pretty cool. I’ve been following Mars. He doesn’t know, so don’t tell him. You know, to protect him in case the killer goes after him again.”

I handed him a plate of cake and said, “Definitely cool.” Mars obviously knew that Andrew was tailing him. I couldn’t help wondering what Vicki really thought about Andrew’s latest career plan.

“I’m way ahead of the game. I’ve got this murder all figured out, well almost, and Wolf is still working on it. And he has people helping him.”

Pouring his coffee could wait. I perched on the other chair, anxious to hear Andrew’s theory. “Spill it.”

“It’s elementary, my dear Watson. The killer talked Francie into making that scene outside so everyone would leave the table and he could poison Mars’s soup. But, you ask, why would he want to kill Mars? He didn’t. He meant to kill me because I knew too much.”

I had a feeling Andrew intended to drag out his story for his own amusement so I rose and fetched his coffee after all.

“You know how they say the killer always revisits the scene of the crime? On Thanksgiving morning I went over to the hotel looking for Mom. She’d left Natasha’s house in a snit the night before and all. But in my new profession as a private detective, I stopped to check out the Washington Room where Simon was killed. There was yellow tape up but that never applies to those of us in the profession. And who did I see there? Craig, surreptitiously looking for something.”

I hadn’t expected to hear Craig named as a suspect. I thought for sure Andrew would point a finger at Natasha. “Have you told Wolf?”

He beamed with pride. “Give away my secrets? No way. I’ll reveal the killer when I’m ready. I’m so good at this. I can’t believe it’s taken me this many years to figure out that detective work is what I was meant to do.”

“Are you absolutely sure it was Craig?”

“Not a doubt in my mind. He wore running shoes and a big sweatshirt from Georgetown U.”

That cinched it for me. Craig left here to run and clearly ran over to the hotel for some reason. But there were major holes in Andrew’s theory. “Why did Craig kill Simon?”

“Because . . .” Andrew raised his index finger. “. . . I haven’t figured out that part yet.”

A major omission. “If Craig meant to kill you, and Mars was never a target, then why are you following Mars?”

“In case I’m wrong.”

Sounded like he had as much confidence in his theory as I did. Still, Craig’s behavior disturbed me. He washed the clothes he wore when Simon was killed and he went back to the scene of the crime the next morning.