Read Online Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The by Krista Davis - Free Book Online Page A

in question this morning to clean up, and . . . well, I thought I saw him inside a window seat.” Something told me not to mention that I thought he was dead, so I added lamely, “With a head injury.”
    She recoiled. “What!?”
    “Wait, it gets even stranger. I called the police, and when the cop arrived, he wasn’t there anymore.”
    Her mouth dropped open. “Who are you? And why would you say such a thing? That’s just sick. Sick!” Tilting her head, she glared at me as she backed away and left.
    I could understand her reaction. What had happened to Kurt last night? I asked the young redhead to let me know when Kurt showed up. Then, since my cell phone didn’t work in the convention hall, I took the escalator up to the hotel entrance and called Nina to tell her what had happened.
    Afraid of what she might say, I asked, “Any news from Kurt?”
    “No.”
    “Did you know that he’s married?”
    “Of course. His wife’s name is Earl, and she’s out of town, visiting her mother.”
    “Did you say Earl or Pearl?”
    “Earl, like Earline.” Nina drawled the name in her North Carolina accent.
    “Nina, he didn’t go home last night, and Earl turned up at the home show looking for him.”
    “ Eww. He must have shacked up with someone else. Poor Earl.”
    “I gather he’s had some affairs.”
    “ Ugh . He used to be such a great guy. What happened to him? After the way he acted toward me last night, I guess he flops into bed with anything that has a pulse these days.”
    I hoped she was right, and that he’d found someone else when Nina spurned him. “You’re not worried anymore about that fall he took?”
    “You’re the one who said dead people don’t get up and walk away.”
    I was the one who said that, so why was I upset that he hadn’t shown up anywhere? It was still early, though. If he’d taken a hotel room to shack up with some floozy, he wouldn’t have to check out until eleven, and he could ask for an extension. “Do me a favor and look for his car. I’m curious about whether he ever moved it.”
    I hung up and tried to put Kurt Finkel out of my mind. He might be the best kitchen designer in the area, but I was beginning to think he was also the biggest Lothario.
    And maybe he wasn’t the only one who was cheating on his spouse. As I began to descend on the escalator, I caught a glimpse of Camille DuPont stepping out of the elevator that went up to the hotel rooms. She strode with her usual self-assurance, head held high, but she also gave a furtive little glance around, and adjusted the collar of her jacket.
    No sooner had I returned to the convention hall than I was snagged by an apologetic Ted Wilcox about a leak in the exhibit that he had installed. Strawberry blond with a sprinkling of freckles, Ted was the owner of Leisure Landscapes. He lacked the paunch that often came with middle age, probably because he spent a good chunk of time outdoors, building and planting.
    His exhibit, called Ted’s Backyard Escape, was adorable.
    Essentially a one-room A-frame building, the peaked roof was built of rustic caramel-colored beams that supported large panels of glass. The bottom featured French doors on all sides that could be opened to let in summer breezes and night air. The few parts that weren’t glass were covered with quaint fish-scale shingles of a vivid blue hue. Ted had surrounded the building with purple and pink azaleas, except for the entrance, which was accessed by a walkway over a shallow pond.
    Gauzy white curtains danced at the French doors as if set up for a photo shoot. He’d outfitted the interior with shabby chic whitewashed furniture, a fluffy bed that begged to be napped upon, airy blue linens, a cozy wood-burning stove, and sparkling lights that glittered along the roof windows and in the filmy curtains.
    It would be an adorable getaway on a large estate, I supposed, but I didn’t know many people inclined to build an extra bedroom detached from the house. It