Read Online Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The by Krista Davis - Free Book Online
Authors: Krista Davis
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Murder, Dwellings, Winston; Sophie (Fictitious Character)
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staff drifted in and gave me reports about the previous day. All in all, it was going pretty well.
But midmorning, angry voices floated to me. I hustled in the direction of the sound, and found a short woman with curly black hair making a fuss at Finkel Kitchen and Bath. She wore a low-cut sweater that seemed designed to show off cleavage, and revealed so much that her bust reminded me of old movie stars who wore bras that propped their breasts up like shelves. I wondered if they would hold a cup of coffee, but then her menacing tone jolted me back to reality. “Where is he?”
A freckled redhead, wearing a Finkel Kitchen and Bath T-shirt, stammered, “He left yesterday afternoon, and I haven’t seen him since.”
“I’ll bet you haven’t. He’s old enough to be your father. Doesn’t that just gross you out?”
The redhead, who couldn’t have been more than nineteen, seemed puzzled. “No. I always assumed my boss would be older than me.”
The irate woman was at a loss for one moment, but then her expression changed to one that was pure evil, and she said in a low, level tone, “Don’t you pretend to be stupid. Do you think you’re the first pretty girl he ever hired for other purposes?” And then she hissed, “Where is my husband?”
SEVEN
From “Ask Natasha” :
Dear Natasha,
My husband watched your show about building ponds and now he thinks that would be a great summer project. I really don’t want a muddy ditch in my backyard, nor do I relish the idea of a mosquito factory. A proper pond looks complicated. Wouldn’t you suggest hiring a professional?
—Landlubber in Landover Hills
Dear Landlubber,
A backyard pond is an easy homeowner project. Let hubby at it! Be sure he locates the pond near an electrical outlet so you can install lights and enjoy your new water feature at night.
—Natasha
In some ways, it wasn’t really my problem, except that I wanted to calm or remove this woman before she made a bigger stink. On the other hand, there was my overwhelming fear that the husband in question was Kurt. I smiled at her, offered to help, and coaxed her away from the booth.
“What can I do for you?” I asked as sweetly as I could.
She ran nervous fingers through her hair. “My husband never came home last night.” The muscles in her neck pulled taut. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother a stranger about it. It’s not the first time this has happened. I thought I might find him here with his latest bimbette.”
I thought I knew the answer, but I had to ask. “Who is your husband?” I held my breath.
“Kurt Finkel, head rat fink of Finkel Kitchen and Bath.” She heaved a huge sigh and clutched her throat with one hand. “This is the last time. I’ve said that before, but this really is the last time he’s going to do this to me.” Her voice trembled. “I just can’t take any more nights of uncertainty. He doesn’t care about me. If he did, he wouldn’t put me through this. I’ve had enough.”
“I’m very sorry. If it’s any consolation, I saw him yesterday evening.” What else could I say? I certainly didn’t think it was my place to tell her he’d had a drink with his old flame last night, or that I thought I saw his corpse. After all, I didn’t know what had happened to him. But my conscience hammered at me. Maybe I should spill the beans. But what if the guy really was just playing a prank on us all? “Was he prone to . . .”
In a low growl, she uttered, “What did he do?”
The pressure to tell his wife the whole truth weighed on me like an elephant. “He was”—I cleared my throat—“ is going to remodel a kitchen for Natasha’s TV show. She’s renovating a house for the statewide Home and Garden Tour.”
“Natasha?” she squealed. “ The Natasha?”
I nodded.
“Natasha called him once before. That mutton head better not mess it up this time.”
Too late for that. I swallowed hard before I continued. “I was at the house
But midmorning, angry voices floated to me. I hustled in the direction of the sound, and found a short woman with curly black hair making a fuss at Finkel Kitchen and Bath. She wore a low-cut sweater that seemed designed to show off cleavage, and revealed so much that her bust reminded me of old movie stars who wore bras that propped their breasts up like shelves. I wondered if they would hold a cup of coffee, but then her menacing tone jolted me back to reality. “Where is he?”
A freckled redhead, wearing a Finkel Kitchen and Bath T-shirt, stammered, “He left yesterday afternoon, and I haven’t seen him since.”
“I’ll bet you haven’t. He’s old enough to be your father. Doesn’t that just gross you out?”
The redhead, who couldn’t have been more than nineteen, seemed puzzled. “No. I always assumed my boss would be older than me.”
The irate woman was at a loss for one moment, but then her expression changed to one that was pure evil, and she said in a low, level tone, “Don’t you pretend to be stupid. Do you think you’re the first pretty girl he ever hired for other purposes?” And then she hissed, “Where is my husband?”
SEVEN
From “Ask Natasha” :
Dear Natasha,
My husband watched your show about building ponds and now he thinks that would be a great summer project. I really don’t want a muddy ditch in my backyard, nor do I relish the idea of a mosquito factory. A proper pond looks complicated. Wouldn’t you suggest hiring a professional?
—Landlubber in Landover Hills
Dear Landlubber,
A backyard pond is an easy homeowner project. Let hubby at it! Be sure he locates the pond near an electrical outlet so you can install lights and enjoy your new water feature at night.
—Natasha
In some ways, it wasn’t really my problem, except that I wanted to calm or remove this woman before she made a bigger stink. On the other hand, there was my overwhelming fear that the husband in question was Kurt. I smiled at her, offered to help, and coaxed her away from the booth.
“What can I do for you?” I asked as sweetly as I could.
She ran nervous fingers through her hair. “My husband never came home last night.” The muscles in her neck pulled taut. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother a stranger about it. It’s not the first time this has happened. I thought I might find him here with his latest bimbette.”
I thought I knew the answer, but I had to ask. “Who is your husband?” I held my breath.
“Kurt Finkel, head rat fink of Finkel Kitchen and Bath.” She heaved a huge sigh and clutched her throat with one hand. “This is the last time. I’ve said that before, but this really is the last time he’s going to do this to me.” Her voice trembled. “I just can’t take any more nights of uncertainty. He doesn’t care about me. If he did, he wouldn’t put me through this. I’ve had enough.”
“I’m very sorry. If it’s any consolation, I saw him yesterday evening.” What else could I say? I certainly didn’t think it was my place to tell her he’d had a drink with his old flame last night, or that I thought I saw his corpse. After all, I didn’t know what had happened to him. But my conscience hammered at me. Maybe I should spill the beans. But what if the guy really was just playing a prank on us all? “Was he prone to . . .”
In a low growl, she uttered, “What did he do?”
The pressure to tell his wife the whole truth weighed on me like an elephant. “He was”—I cleared my throat—“ is going to remodel a kitchen for Natasha’s TV show. She’s renovating a house for the statewide Home and Garden Tour.”
“Natasha?” she squealed. “ The Natasha?”
I nodded.
“Natasha called him once before. That mutton head better not mess it up this time.”
Too late for that. I swallowed hard before I continued. “I was at the house
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