Diva 03 _ Diva Paints the Town, The by Krista Davis

windows of Mordecai’s house, afraid I would see someone peering out at me. Chills ran through me and spurred me to race home and call 911.
    When I hung up, I phoned Nina. She might be hysterical and say the wrong thing to the police, but she had to know that Kurt was dead and that the cops were on their way. Despite the early hour, I got her answering machine. I nearly left a message, but then I wondered if it would look bad. Besides, wasn’t this the kind of news best delivered in person?
    I hung up and took a deep breath to calm myself and fetched a down jacket in case I had to wait outside. I had no intention of going into the house without a police escort. Willing myself to be calm, I locked my door, crossed the street, and was waiting in front of Mordecai’s porch when a squad car pulled up.
    I expected to see Wolf, but a woman stepped out of the car and regarded me icily. “You again. You call about finding a dead person?” Her name tag identified her as Tara Borsos. She tossed a long, dyed-blond ponytail over her shoulder, and sized me up with eyes ringed with so much makeup that a raccoon would have been ashamed. Despite the fact that she wore a wool uniform, she appeared to be a size zero, which made me want to suck my stomach in.
    “Just inside. Follow me.”
    I hurried up the steps and opened the door.
    She seemed to be taking in everything. “The door wasn’t locked?”
    “It was this morning when I arrived—at least I think it was—but when I found Kurt’s body, I left in a hurry.”
    She followed me into Mordecai’s family room and stopped cold. “Whoa. What happened in here?”
    “An old man lived here, and he died a few days ago. We haven’t had a chance to do much cleaning up yet.”
    She sniffed the air. “He died a few days ago? Didn’t you say he was dead the night before last when I caught you in his backyard? How did you know he was dead then if you just found him this morning?”
    I understood her confusion. “No, no, no. The owner, who died a few days ago, is at the funeral home.”
    “So there are two dead men?”
    “Technically—yes.”
    “A lot of dying going on in this house. And you knew both of them?”
    “I knew my neighbor, but I only met the second dead man, Kurt Finkel, yesterday.” Why did I sound like such a goofball? “He’s in there.” I pointed at the window seat.
    “This box?” She lifted the cover.
    I averted my eyes. Poor Kurt. Did he have children? His family would be crushed. Except for his attack on Nina, he’d come across as a nice guy.
    When I glanced back, Tara was studying me. “Do you see him now?”
    What kind of moronic question was that? I peered into the box. It was empty.

SIX

    From “ THE GOOD LIFE” :
    Dear Sophie,
     

    I love fabrics with patterns but I’m scared to death to combine them. I want to make pillows for my sofa but I don’t know where to start.
     
—Bewildered in Bee Ridge
     
    Dear Bewildered,
     
    Choose fabrics with a color in common. If using a periwinkle blue, for instance, be sure it’s in all the patterns. But vary the kinds of patterns. Mix a floral with a plaid and a polka dot. And vary the sizes, too. If you use a fabric with tiny bees embroidered on it, combine it with a medium plaid and a large floral.
     
—Sophie
    “That can’t be. He was in the window seat. Really he was. There must be . . .” I’d intended to say “blood,” but the box didn’t even show a pink smear.
    Tara pulled out a pen and notepad. “You know, we don’t take kindly to this kind of prank. Your name?”
    “Sophie Winston.”
    She snapped her notebook shut. “That explains everything. You have quite the reputation. I’m going to file a report on this incident, and I’m giving you an official warning. The police department does not tolerate false reports. You’re going to end up in big trouble inventing dead bodies. Am I clear?”
    “But, Kurt looked so—dead.” Tara continued to lecture and warn me, but I tuned her