The Diva Digs up the Dirt Read Online Free PDF Page A

Duck decoys and statuettes of hunting dogs dotted the shelves between books.
    Tan leather furniture looked to be soft and cushy from years of use. Outside the window, next to a mini meadow of daisies, Audie wrapped an arm around Cricket.
    “Soph?” Nina’s voice held a tinge of impatience.
    “Sorry. I was admiring your garden.”
    Roscoe sipped from his tall glass of iced tea. “That was my Olive’s pride and joy. She lived for that garden and itstill shows. People tease about having a green thumb—I swear that woman has green fingers and toes. She never did meet a plant that wouldn’t grow for her. Now ladies, not a one of you sees it? You know, they say the best place to hide something is right out in the open.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    Dear Natasha,
    I would love to have a gazebo, but my funds don’t stretch that far. What can I do as a focal point in the middle of my garden?
    —Hostess in Willow Springs, Missouri
    Dear Hostess,
    Build an outdoor floor out of treated lumber. It should be large enough to accommodate an umbrella table and chairs. Paint a rug on the floor, and make some bright cushions for the chairs. Place a potted spiral topiary on each corner. Voilà! An elegant outdoor space!
    —Natasha
    “Roscoe!” Francie spoke his name softly. “It’s the Havell. The mallard Havell!” She shuffled closer to the bookshelf and focused on a print of ducks in a simple gold frame about three feet wide and two feet tall. Two male ducks with the hallmark emerald green heads of mallards andtwo plain female mallards were depicted in a marsh-type setting. At the very bottom, the words
Mallard Duck
were printed in a scroll font.
    I looked over at Nina, who shrugged.
    “Does Olive know about this?” Francie’s tone had become harsh and accusatory.
    Roscoe laughed heartily and placed a hefty arm around Francie’s tiny shoulders. “You’re a good friend, Francie. You bet Olive knows about it. After the divorce, she bought herself a new house, and I bought myself four ducks.”
    Francie snorted her disapproval.
    “Roscoe.” The voice was low and clear. Not demanding or insistent. Simply there.
    I turned and found Violet in the room with us. I hadn’t heard her enter, and calling his name was the first time I’d ever heard her speak. She stood by the door, her mouth set in an angry slash of a line, her dark eyes blazing with a fury that I hadn’t heard in her voice. Hair the color of coffee grounds was pulled back into a tight bun.
    Roscoe nodded. “Excuse me, folks. Y’all go on out and help yourself to our finger-lickin’ chicken.”
    When Roscoe headed for the door, Francie spoke up. “You’re not going to leave the mallards unguarded with all these people roaming around, are you?”
    Roscoe gazed fondly at his print. “It’s a little bit big to stick in a purse or under a coat. Good to see you, Francie. Don’t be a stranger.” He walked by me and paused for a nanosecond. “I’d like to talk with you privately. How about lunch day after tomorrow at noon?”
    He didn’t wait for an answer and walked out the door in a rush. Violet flicked a disapproving look over me and Nina before turning and following him.
    His failure to wait for my response didn’t bother me. He probably needed to set up another event.
    “Was it just me, or did that woman remind you of Mrs. Danvers?” asked Nina.
    I smiled at her apt reference to the dour and sinister housekeeper in
Rebecca
. Just like Mrs. Danvers, Violetlurked about, casting her critical gaze on people. With one glance she reduced them to insecure children about to be scolded.
    “That’s just Violet. She’s been with Roscoe for ages.” Francie took a close look at the print again and sighed. “You can bet
I
wouldn’t leave something like that out for anyone to take.”
    “At the risk of seeming supremely stupid, what’s the big deal about the mallard print?” I asked.
    Francie clucked at me. “I suppose you don’t know, either?” she asked