PRAISE FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING SERIES
“The Domestic Diva series is always worth reading . . . Ms. Davis just keeps getting better.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Davis . . . again combines food and felonies in this tasty whodunit, which keeps the reader fascinated until the killer is iced.”
—Richmond Times-Dispatch
“The quirky characters are well developed, the story line is as crisp as a fall apple, and the twists and turns are as tight as a corkscrew.”
—AnnArbor.com
“Davis finely blends mystery and comedy, keeping The Diva Haunts the House entertaining and alluring.”
—SeattlePI.com
“Raucous humor, affectionate characters, and delectable recipes highlight this unpredictable mystery that entertains during any season.”
—Kings River Life Magazine
“Reader alert: Tasty descriptions may spark intense cupcake cravings.”
—The Washington Post
“[A] fun romp through the world of chocolate.”
—Lesa’s Book Critiques
“[A] delightful series . . . The Diva Steals a Chocolate Kiss is full of murder, secret identities, poison, missing persons, and chocolate treats.”
—Open Book Society
“Loaded with atmosphere and charm.”
—Library Journal
“Davis plates up another delectable whodunit, complete with recipes. Indeed, her novels are every bit as good as Diane Mott Davidson’s Goldy Schulz mysteries.”
—Shine
“A mouthwatering mix of murder, mirth, and mayhem.”
—Mary Jane Maffini, author of The Busy Woman’s Guide to Murder
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Krista Davis
Domestic Diva Mysteries
THE DIVA RUNS OUT OF THYME
THE DIVA TAKES THE CAKE
THE DIVA PAINTS THE TOWN
THE DIVA COOKS A GOOSE
THE DIVA HAUNTS THE HOUSE
THE DIVA DIGS UP THE DIRT
THE DIVA FROSTS A CUPCAKE
THE DIVA WRAPS IT UP
THE DIVA STEALS A CHOCOLATE KISS
THE DIVA SERVES HIGH TEA
Paws & Claws Mysteries
MURDER, SHE BARKED
THE GHOST AND MRS. MEWER
MURDER MOST HOWL
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
THE DIVA SERVES HIGH TEA
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2016 by Cristina Ryplansky.
Excerpt from Mission Impawsible by Krista Davis copyright © 2016 by Cristina Ryplansky.
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME design are trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
For more information, visit penguin.com.
eBook ISBN: 9780698406148
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / June 2016
Cover illustration by Teresa Fasolino.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.
Version_1
To Sandra Harding,
with appreciation and affection.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Readers often ask me if I do research for my books. Of course I do! I learn fascinating things with every book I write. As the theme of this book is tea, I did quite a bit of reading online and off about tea. It has a long history with some fascinating stories. I found The Harney & Sons Guide to Tea by Michael Harney, master tea blender, to be most helpful. Given to me as a gift some years ago because I am a self-confessed tea addict, it has a treasured spot on my bookshelf. I highly recommend it for anyone who would like to learn more about tea. As always, any errors are my own.
While I discussed the concept of this book with Sandra Harding, it was edited by my new editor, Julie Mianecki. I am so grateful to both of them for their help. My agent, Jessica Faust, has been my rock this past year. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without her.
Thanks also go to Jody Schwoerer, who gave me the idea for a specific scene. No spoilers here, but thank you, Jody!
As always, I have to thank my mother, and my friends Betsy Strickland, Susan Erba, and Amy Wheeler for their support. They make me laugh, keep me grounded, and cheer me on.
CONTENTS
PRAISE FOR THE DOMESTIC DIVA SERIES
BERKLEY PRIME CRIME TITLES BY KRISTA DAVIS
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
SOPHIE’S FRIENDS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
RECIPES
SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM Mission Impawsible
Sophie’s Friends
Natasha, a domestic diva with a local TV show
Mars Winston, Sophie’s ex-husband, now Natasha’s significant other
Nina Reid Norwood, Sophie’s best friend
Bernie, restaurant manager and best man at Sophie and Mars’s wedding
Francie Vanderhoosen, Sophie’s neighbor
Velma Klontz, Francie’s friend
Robert Johnson, Velma’s widowed brother-in-law
Martha Carter, owner of The Parlour
Callie Evans, works at The Parlour
Alex Germ
an, is dating Sophie
Elise Donovan, Alex’s old friend
Hunter Landon
CHAPTER ONE
Dear Natasha,
My new boyfriend’s mother loves to garden. She keeps offering me cups of home grown comfrey tea, but I’m a little nervous about drinking tea made from some weed. Do you think her herbal teas are safe to drink?
—Uneasy in Tea Kettle Corner, Maine
Dear Uneasy,
Many herbal teas, like chamomile, have been safely consumed for centuries. However, comfrey tea is not one of them. It sounds like she wants you to find a new boyfriend.
—Natasha
At three in the morning, the world was simultaneously peaceful and a little bit spooky. No cars rumbled by on my street. No warm yellow glow shone in the windows of my neighbors’ homes. Of course, it didn’t help that Natasha had awakened me from a deep sleep by texting the word Intruder!
Who sends a message like that? I had phoned her to ask if she called 911, but she didn’t answer. She didn’t respond to my return text, either.
My ex-husband, Mars, who now happened to be Natasha’s significant other, was out of town at a political event. I had known Natasha since we were kids in tiny Berrysville, Virginia. We competed at everything except the beauty pageants she loved so much. Familiar with her predilection for drama, I hadn’t hurried over. I slid my feet into sandals and threw on a fluffy white bathrobe, attached a leash to my hound mix, Daisy, and crossed the street at a leisurely pace in the warm fall night.
Nevertheless, I shrieked when a cat streaked out of the shadows and across the sidewalk right in front of us. Daisy barked once at the inconsiderate cat.
Natasha’s front door was locked. I rapped on it and called, “Natasha!” I banged the knocker, which sounded unbelievably loud in the night. No response at all. I was beginning to get worried. Why wasn’t she answering the door? I tried the handle again but the door was definitely locked.
“Let’s go around back,” I said to Daisy.
I opened the gate to the passage that ran along the side of the house. In Old Town Alexandria, Virginia, the historic homes were situated close together, often with only a narrow service passage between buildings. Daisy led the way in the darkness.
We hurried up the stairs to the deck, where I pounded on the kitchen door. “Natasha?”
Still nothing. There were no lights on in the house, either.
Daisy pulled on her leash.
“Not now, Daisy.” Why hadn’t I brought the key to Natasha’s house? I considered smashing a window. Should I go home and look for the key or break the glass to save time?
Daisy yelped, startling me. She tugged toward the side of the deck.
I heard a soft whoosh. Following Daisy’s lead, I tiptoed over to the railing and looked down just in time to see a person dressed in black and wearing a hood close the sliding glass door and sneak around the side of the house.
“Hey! Stop!”
I scrambled down the stairs but he or she had already vanished. I stopped short of following him or her into the dark passage along the side of the house. That seemed incredibly stupid. The intruder could be lurking there. Besides, Natasha might be hurt and need help.
“C’mon, Daisy,” I whispered. We ran to the basement door. I slid it open. Where were the light switches? “Natasha?” I yelled.
Walking cautiously, and looking around in case another intruder remained behind, I made my way to the back of the room, where stairs led to the main floor. I found a panel of light switches, flicked them all on, and the room blazed. I took a quick look to be sure no one hid behind the bar before racing upstairs, calling Natasha’s name. I turned on the lights in the foyer and the stairwell. Nothing seemed out of place. “Natasha!”
I wasn’t sure where to start. She had probably been asleep when the intruder came in. I rushed up the stairs, hoping Daisy, who wasn’t much of a watchdog, would alert me if she smelled someone lurking in the house. At the top of the stairs, I turned right, toward Natasha and Mars’s bedroom, flicking on overhead lights as I went. “Natasha!”
In the master bedroom, decorated in shades of gray from the walls to the bedding, it was clear that her bed had been slept in. But she was nowhere to be seen. “Natasha!”
Daisy pulled me toward the bathroom door. I grabbed the doorknob and twisted, but it didn’t budge. It was locked tight. I knocked, which seemed somewhat silly under the circumstances. “Natasha? Are you in there? It’s Sophie.”
Nothing. No response. Not a sound in the house.
I jiggled the doorknob, which accomplished nothing. I backed up a step and banged my shoulder into the door. Oww. It looked a lot easier in the movies.
The thud of the doorknocker boomed through the house. When I was dashing down the stairs, I heard, “Natasha? It’s Officer Wong.”
Thank heaven! I recognized Wong’s voice, so I unlocked the door and threw it open.
Wong enjoyed surprising people who expected an Asian officer. Her surname was the last vestige of marrying the wrong man, but she hadn’t bothered to change it. Wong wasn’t much taller than my five feet. Her uniform strained against her ample curves. She was African American, and wore her hair short in the back but let a sassy curl fall over her forehead. “Sophie! I didn’t expect to see you. Everything okay?”
“I think Natasha is locked in the bathroom upstairs. But she’s not responding when I call her name.”
“We had a report of an intruder.”
I nodded. “Someone was in the house. I saw him leave.”
“Him?”
“Or her. I don’t know. Someone dressed in black.”
Wong frowned. “Wait here.”
“What about Natasha?”
“Stay right where you are. We don’t know if there’s someone else in the house.”
Wong had proven herself logical and reliable in the past. I followed her instructions and waited by the front door with Daisy. I could hear her moving through the rooms on the main floor and the basement, checking them out.
Wong made her way back to the foyer. “I don’t see anything unusual. How’d you get in?”
“Through the basement.”
Wong started up the stairs.
I hated waiting by the door. I guessed I could be in the way if I followed her and she found someone hiding in the house. Still, I couldn’t help feeling time might be of the essence. What if the intruder had hurt Natasha and locked her in the bathroom? I ran up the stairs as quietly as I could, but Daisy’s paws hit the stairs like thunder.
I tried the doorknob to the bathroom again. It was still locked. Who put a key lock on a bathroom door? “Natasha! Natasha!”
Wong walked up beside me. “What part of stay right where you are wasn’t clear to you?”
“What if she’s bleeding or unconscious?” I jiggled the knob in frustration.
Wong looked around, opened the drawers of a dressing table, and withdrew something.
“What are you doing?”
“Stand aside, Sophie.”
She took two hairpins, pried one open and bent the other at a slight angle. She inserted them in the lock and opened the door in a matter of seconds.
Natasha sprawled on the floor, facedown.
CHAPTER TWO
Dear Sophie,
I am engaged and have been shopping for my good china. My fiancé grossed me out by telling me that bone china actually has bones in it. Is that true? I think he’s pulling my leg because he wants cheaper china.
—Uncertain in Boneville, Georgia
Dear Uncertain,
I’m afraid your fiancé is correct. Bone ash is part of the composition used to make the very fine, delicate plates and cups that are bone china.
—Sophie
“Natasha!” I knelt beside her and gently moved her disheveled hair f
or a better look at her face.
I could hear Wong requesting an ambulance.
I leaned close and said in her ear, “Natasha, are you okay?”
She didn’t respond.
Seizing her wrist, I felt for a pulse. No problem. It was strong and steady. That was a relief!
Natasha had been a thorn in my side for so long that I was shocked to realize how overjoyed I was to feel her pulse. I tapped her cheek gently. “Natasha,” I sang.
She moaned and stirred. Her legs jerked slightly.
“It’s Sophie and Wong. You’re going to be all right. An ambulance is on the way.”
She turned her head enough to see me. One eye opened wide and in her valiant effort to sit up, she twisted and smashed me in the nose with her elbow. “Sophie, help me.” She struggled to get to her feet.
Doors opened and closed in the house. I assumed Wong was searching to be sure no one was hiding.
“Maybe you should wait for the emergency medical technicians, Natasha.”
“No! Are you going to help me or not?” She fingered her elbow, wincing.
I rubbed my aching nose, stood up, and held my arms out to her.
Like an awkward colt, she found her legs and struggled to stand. “They can’t see me this way.”
“Oh, come on. They’ve seen much worse. Now sit down and rest until they check you out.”
“Hair brush, mirror, concealer, foundation, blush, mascara, eyeliner, and lipstick,” rattled Natasha.
I studied her. Was she delusional?
“Now! Hand them to me. What are you waiting for?”
A siren wailed not too far away.
“Hurry! There’s no time.”
I peered at her pupils to see if they were different sizes. I’d read somewhere that was the sign of a concussion.
Wong strode into the room. “Looks like you’re feeling better. What happened?”
Natasha, who I had to admit looked every bit as beautiful without any makeup, said, “I heard someone in the house. I tiptoed to the top of the stairs and saw him on the main floor. He was huge. Very tall. I ran back to the bedroom, texted Sophie and called 911. I could hear the footsteps coming upstairs. And then the phone rang. Who calls at this hour? I thought he was in the guest room. I didn’t answer because he would have known I was in the house. You can’t imagine how scared I was. I turned to find a weapon, just anything big and heavy to use to defend myself. I hadn’t taken two steps when he slammed me over the head with something. I stumbled to the bathroom as fast as I could, locked the door, and I guess I passed out.”