The Diva Spices It Up (A Domestic Diva Mystery Book 13) by Krista Davis

Author:Krista Davis [Davis, Krista]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2020-04-27T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Dear Natasha,

Are there herbs that can bring me luck? I’ve hit a rough patch and need some good luck.

Sad Sack in Nowhere, Colorado

Dear Sad Sack,

Mint, poppy seeds, and cinnamon not only are good for your health but will bring luck your way!

Natasha

Idid not care for the way Natasha emphasized that I had to find Charlene’s killer. “Griselda Smith of Tacoma Park.”

“Who’s that?” she asked.

I shrugged. “He had written that name on a pad in the kitchen.”

“You were snooping?” She sounded aghast.

“It was right out in the open. It might be an aunt.”

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s find Griselda.”

“Now?”

“Before he harms her, too!”

There wasn’t a good reason not to check out Griselda. We stopped by my house and Googled her. As soon as I saw the web page for her business, I wanted to shield Natasha from it, but it was too late.

In a deadpan voice, Natasha said, “She could be my mother.”

Griselda’s website was all about herbs and stones and how they could bring a person health, wealth, and luck. Even the photo of Griselda was eerily reminiscent of Natasha’s mom.

I jotted down the address, and we headed for my garage. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Sophie, there are few things that I have wanted more.” Natasha slid into the passenger seat. “Let’s go.”

We left Old Town behind and headed north to Tacoma Park. Before long we arrived at a funky store called Strawberry Moon. Someone had painted the building in a rainbow of colors.

“It’s making me dizzy,” Natasha muttered. “She may be worse than my mom.”

We stepped out of the car, and Natasha double-checked the address. “I know it’s not wrong, but a girl can hope.”

“It appears that your dad was attracted to free-spirited women.”

Natasha groaned. “Thank you for putting it so kindly.”

I hung back and let Natasha enter the store first. She grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. If the exterior was colorful, the interior was overwhelming. Like walking into a kaleidoscope. Gauzy, breezy clothes in bright colors hung on racks. Kites in the shapes of fish, birds, and bugs dangled from the ceiling. Bottles of herbs lined shelves behind a long counter.

A middle-aged woman wearing her hair in a long braid looked up. “May I—” She stopped speaking and whispered, “Who are you?”

“Natasha Smith. You’ve probably seen me on TV. I have a show—”

The woman with the braid opened a door and shouted, “Griselda! There’s someone you need to see out here.”

“Lonnie, I am not working today. How many times do I have to tell you that?” The woman who spoke was medium height with white hair that stood straight up from her head. It was at least three inches long. I wondered how much gel she had to use to get it to do that. She had styled it so that it looked tousled and unkempt. “Who are you?”

Natasha repeated her name and the information about her TV show. “Are you Griselda Smith?”

The white-haired woman looked fearful.

“I believe you may have been married to my father,” said Natasha.

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