Diva 04 _ Diva Cooks a Goose, The by Krista Davis Page A

Year’s Eve to look forward to. There are plenty of days of fun ahead of us.”
    I thought Laci felt a little bit better when we shuffled off to bed, but it was very likely that the liqueur in her drink had simply tired her.

    On the morning of December twenty-seventh, I woke to my parents whispering.
    “We have to wake her. It’s the police, for pity’s sake. Sophie was sort of a witness or something, wasn’t she?”
    “Maybe we could ask him to come back later.”
    They tiptoed out, but I could hear their muffled conversation in the kitchen.
    I groaned and sat up, rubbing my eyes. That stupid Kenner. Did he think he’d get breakfast if he dropped by in the morning to ask how I was feeling again?
    I flung on a ginormous red bathrobe made of fleece and tromped into the kitchen. “Where is he?”
    Mom pointed. “In the living room.”
    The hardwood floors were cold on my bare feet, but I marched into my living room, prepared to tell Kenner off. Except he wasn’t there. A fair-haired cop in uniform sat on my sofa next to the Christmas tree, playing I-got-your-nose with Daisy, whose tail wagged joyfully.
    “I’m so sorry to get you up,” he said. “It’s just that we have a problem.”
    Jen, adorable in my Christmas cat print nightshirt that hung on her little frame, ran in, a kitten in each hand, and leaned against me. “Sophie didn’t do it!”
    At that moment, Hannah staggered in and came to a stop beside us. She’d borrowed an old blue bathrobe that had seen better days. Her hair clumped up on one side of her head where she’d undoubtedly slept on it, and the makeup she hadn’t removed the night before clung to the skin under her eyes in unfortunate black crescents.
    “Wha’s going on?” Hannah yawned and sputtered like a horse. Her expression changed to horror. “Zack!” She left faster than I’d known she could move, and we could hear her dashing up the stairs.
    Zack grinned. A hopeful sign, I thought.
    “I’m so sorry to interrupt your holiday, but as I said, we have a crisis on our hands.”
    I swallowed hard. What could he want with me? Did he think I’d stolen the Christmas gifts?
    “I believe you’ve already heard the sad news of Bonnie Scarborough’s death.”
    My heart pounded. Did he think I had something to do with her demise?
    “You may be familiar with the Auld Lang Syne Auction that Bonnie ran every year. It has something of a reputation and lots of people look forward to it. Well”—he shifted uncomfortably—“it’s only two days away but now, we don’t have Bonnie to run the show. We’d rather not cancel it at this point because we can’t retract the advertising, and so many people have already donated items to be auctioned. It would be a logistical nightmare to store it all or try to return everything.”
    Uh-oh . I might not be fully awake, but I knew where this was going.
    Mom floated over to Zack and offered him steaming coffee in a bright red mug that featured a Christmas tree. She sat next to him on the sofa. The scent of nutmeg floated to me.
    “Thank you.” He sipped the coffee. “This is so much better than the swill they have at the station. So, Sophie, we were hoping you might find it in your heart to step in and help us.”
    “Us?” asked Mom.
    “Several law enforcement agencies participate. But we’re not on the organizing end. Bonnie did all that. I’m in charge of Fairfax County’s involvement.”
    I was mulling it over when Hannah flounced back into the living room. Dressed in a cerise shirt with one too many buttons unbuttoned to show cleavage, and a pair of my jeans that I couldn’t fit into, she looked like a casual bombshell. Her hair hung loose and long, and her makeup concealed every hint of exhaustion.
    Zack nearly spilled his coffee.
    “We would love to help,” purred Hannah. “The whole family will pitch in!”
    Mom oh-so-subtly tapped her wedding ring. “Will your wife be helping, too, Zack?”
    “Uh, no. I’m divorced.”
    I