Read Online The Diva Digs up the Dirt by Krista Davis - Free Book Online
Authors: Krista Davis
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about half an inch thick. Wet the newspapers thoroughly. Cover with mulch. You may have to repeat this for a few years to kill all the weeds.
—Sophie
I grabbed hold, and the object yielded slightly under the pressure of my grip. Clearing soil away, I kept pulling until the ground relinquished it. Clumps of dirt clung to a strap. I brushed it off. In spite of the dirt, I recognized the fob with a soil-encrusted logo. There was simply no question—I had dug up a woman’s purse.
My heart pounded as I opened it. The bag was an expensive brand, made of good leather that lasted for years. In contrast to the outside, the interior was surprisingly clean. I reached in and removed a wallet. The plastic-encased driver’s license inside left no doubt about the owner. “Anne Fleishman,” I whispered. Wolf’s wife.
A shiver shook through me. I closed my eyes and winced, wishing I could turn back time so that I would never have found it.
The implications flicked through my head like a kaleidoscope. No matter how the facts twisted and turned, the presence of Wolf’s wife’s handbag buried in the dirt had to mean she was dead. I couldn’t think of a single innocent reason to bury her purse in the garden. My hands trembled. They held evidence that pointed to Wolf as Anne’s killer.
I placed the bag on the grass, jumped up, tore off my gardening gloves, and threw them on the ground. I knew what I had to do. I knew
exactly
what I
should
do. But I didn’t want to. Daisy bounding along next to me, I ran to my car for the cell phone I’d left inside it. My fingers shook so hard I had trouble pressing the digits to call Nina. “I’m at Wolf’s house, and I have a problem.”
“Need a mediator for a lovers’ spat?”
My voice broke. “A
big
problem.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I walked back to the purse, wishing it would have vanished. If it had been a snake, it wouldn’t have frightened me more. In a way, it was a snake. If I did what I should—if I turned it in to the police—that purse would bite Wolf. Just because I had never known Anne, and I loved Wolf didn’t mean I should hide evidence to protect him.
Did it?
I paced the contours of Wolf’s backyard, fretting.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there was a very good reason for burying the purse in the garden. I’d been in shock and hadn’t taken the time to think it through. I sucked in a deep breath. I needed iced tea to cool off. I could go buy some. But I couldn’t take the purse with me. I would contaminate it. Could they get fingerprints off a purse? Offleather? Of course they could. They could take them off almost any surface. But Wolf’s fingerprints wouldn’t mean anything, after all, he’d been married to Anne. Husbands touched their wives’ purses, didn’t they? I felt certain Mars had held my bags for me, or handed them to me, or looked for keys in them.
But he had never buried one in the yard.
Why did her driver’s license and wallet have to be in it? If they hadn’t been in the purse, the bag would be almost meaningless. No one would know for certain to whom it belonged. But her IDs changed everything. If she was alive, she’d surely have taken them with her wherever she went. Wouldn’t she?
I collapsed to the grass, far from the horrible handbag. Daisy licked my face, and in spite of the oppressive heat, I buried my face in her fur.
And that was how Nina found me.
She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Soph? You okay?”
“No.”
She extended her hand and helped me stand. I led her to the handbag. “It belongs to Wolf’s wife. Her driver’s license is inside.”
Nina’s eyes widened and horror spread over her face. The two of us stood over the handbag, looking down at it like it was a bomb.
It was!
It was a nightmare wrapped up in good leather.
“You opened it?”
“Of course.”
“Do it again.”
I pulled the gardening gloves on, reached inside the bag, withdrew the wallet, and held it out to her.
Nina
—Sophie
I grabbed hold, and the object yielded slightly under the pressure of my grip. Clearing soil away, I kept pulling until the ground relinquished it. Clumps of dirt clung to a strap. I brushed it off. In spite of the dirt, I recognized the fob with a soil-encrusted logo. There was simply no question—I had dug up a woman’s purse.
My heart pounded as I opened it. The bag was an expensive brand, made of good leather that lasted for years. In contrast to the outside, the interior was surprisingly clean. I reached in and removed a wallet. The plastic-encased driver’s license inside left no doubt about the owner. “Anne Fleishman,” I whispered. Wolf’s wife.
A shiver shook through me. I closed my eyes and winced, wishing I could turn back time so that I would never have found it.
The implications flicked through my head like a kaleidoscope. No matter how the facts twisted and turned, the presence of Wolf’s wife’s handbag buried in the dirt had to mean she was dead. I couldn’t think of a single innocent reason to bury her purse in the garden. My hands trembled. They held evidence that pointed to Wolf as Anne’s killer.
I placed the bag on the grass, jumped up, tore off my gardening gloves, and threw them on the ground. I knew what I had to do. I knew
exactly
what I
should
do. But I didn’t want to. Daisy bounding along next to me, I ran to my car for the cell phone I’d left inside it. My fingers shook so hard I had trouble pressing the digits to call Nina. “I’m at Wolf’s house, and I have a problem.”
“Need a mediator for a lovers’ spat?”
My voice broke. “A
big
problem.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I walked back to the purse, wishing it would have vanished. If it had been a snake, it wouldn’t have frightened me more. In a way, it was a snake. If I did what I should—if I turned it in to the police—that purse would bite Wolf. Just because I had never known Anne, and I loved Wolf didn’t mean I should hide evidence to protect him.
Did it?
I paced the contours of Wolf’s backyard, fretting.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there was a very good reason for burying the purse in the garden. I’d been in shock and hadn’t taken the time to think it through. I sucked in a deep breath. I needed iced tea to cool off. I could go buy some. But I couldn’t take the purse with me. I would contaminate it. Could they get fingerprints off a purse? Offleather? Of course they could. They could take them off almost any surface. But Wolf’s fingerprints wouldn’t mean anything, after all, he’d been married to Anne. Husbands touched their wives’ purses, didn’t they? I felt certain Mars had held my bags for me, or handed them to me, or looked for keys in them.
But he had never buried one in the yard.
Why did her driver’s license and wallet have to be in it? If they hadn’t been in the purse, the bag would be almost meaningless. No one would know for certain to whom it belonged. But her IDs changed everything. If she was alive, she’d surely have taken them with her wherever she went. Wouldn’t she?
I collapsed to the grass, far from the horrible handbag. Daisy licked my face, and in spite of the oppressive heat, I buried my face in her fur.
And that was how Nina found me.
She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Soph? You okay?”
“No.”
She extended her hand and helped me stand. I led her to the handbag. “It belongs to Wolf’s wife. Her driver’s license is inside.”
Nina’s eyes widened and horror spread over her face. The two of us stood over the handbag, looking down at it like it was a bomb.
It was!
It was a nightmare wrapped up in good leather.
“You opened it?”
“Of course.”
“Do it again.”
I pulled the gardening gloves on, reached inside the bag, withdrew the wallet, and held it out to her.
Nina
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