Beauty Secrets Cozy Mystery Boxed Set 1

by Stephanie Damore

  Aria’s kitchen contained the usual rabbit fare—that is, nothing I would eat—along with a note, saying she was teaching a morning class but would be back around noon. Aria’s classes were packed because she was a yoga goddess. Seriously, she could bend and twist her body into positions that weren’t natural. And she didn’t mind showing off her mad skills.

  Breakfast was almost a wash until I spotted the double-fudge cake that Mrs. J. had dropped off the day before. Had I known that’s what she’d baked, I might have changed my mind and come out to chat for a bit. The cake was that good, famous in these parts. I wondered, on more than one occasion, what she put into it to make it so rich, but I eventually decided I didn’t care, and simply devoured it. In fact, Mrs. J. made the cake for my engagement party. Looking back, it would’ve been more satisfying to date the cake than my ex-fiancé.

  The cake had sat untouched on Aria’s counter. How she’d resisted the temptation was beyond me. I pulled the plastic wrap off and helped myself to a double-wide slice. It was pure heaven. My lips tingled from the sugar and I felt giddy. I hate to say it, but I inhaled that cake. I would’ve licked the plate too had I not scraped every smudge of frosting off with my fork. It wasn’t long before a second slice was calling me, and I knew I needed to get out of the house before I caved in.

  With my hair in a ponytail and Aria’s workout clothes on my back, I locked up the house and headed out toward Marion’s. It had been too many days since I worked out, and a run would give me a chance to work off some of my cake guilt. Well, that, and I wanted to retrieve the pickup and my Beauty Bible. I prayed the police hadn’t confiscated either for evidence. I didn’t think they would, but what did I know? My knowledge of police protocol was limited to network television.

  I set off at a fast-paced walk, just enough to warm up my muscles. It wasn’t long before I kicked the pace up to a jog, and my breathing fell into its usual rhythm: inhale two paces, exhale two paces, repeat. I never ran without music. The process was painful enough with my jams urging me on but, today, my thoughts proved to be distracting enough. I thought about Marion and wondered how she was holding up. I should have called first instead of showing up unannounced. I was already halfway there, though, and wasn’t about to pull out my cell phone mid-run. Chances were, she wasn’t even home. I wouldn’t blame her either. For all I knew, the house was a crime scene and she wasn’t even allowed to enter. I prayed that I was wrong because, if that was the case, who knew when I’d get my Beauty Bible back. At least I should be able to pick up my little truck. Although, given the choice, I’d rather have my binder back any day.

  Turned out, someone was home. Rounding onto Palmetto Court, I slowed my pace at the sight of a black car in the Siebolds’ driveway. I had the fleeting thought that maybe Detective Brandle was there paying a visit, until I saw that the car was a Rolls Royce. No chance the detective made that kind of bank. Approaching the house, I saw that I was right. It wasn’t Detective Brandle at all, rather, the mysterious man from yesterday. He stood on the front porch, dressed much the same as the day before, with a black suit and coordinating gray dress shirt and silver tie. Yesterday had not been a fluke. The man had style. He also seemed to be amused. It took me a minute to understand why, until Marion came into view. She was zigzagging across the front yard, almost in a run, picking up what looked like sticks. The man shook his head in an exasperated gesture when he spotted me. Marion turned to see who he was looking at and saw me walking up the driveway.

  “Ziva, so glad you stopped by,” she said when I reached her. “I’ve been thinking about you all night. I was just telling Eric we had to get your truck back over to you, and I wanted to check and see how you were doing. How are you feeling?” Marion said all of this while continuing her mission to rid the yard of every twig she could find. Her face had a fresh peachy glow to it that I knew was part perspiration part Just Kissed tinted moisturizing cream.

  I wanted to tell her I’d feel better if she’d stand still for a minute. My neck was sore from following her around the yard but, because I knew that wasn’t going to happen, I said, “I’m all right. How about you?”

  Marion didn’t answer or stop moving. Instead, she said, “Oh, where are my manners? Ziva, this is Roger’s business partner, Eric Pérez.” So, the mystery man has a name. It suited him.

  Eric walked over to greet me. “Nice to meet you,” he said, extending his hand. Eric’s words were reflected in his eyes, and I could tell he was being sincere. It took me a moment to find my manners. After all, how could this man be Roger’s business partner? Eric looked far too young to be a seasoned investment banker. That explained the mature vibe I got from him. “Are you sure you’re okay? I wanted to ask yesterday, but you left before I had a chance,” he said.

  “Yeah, I’m okay, really.” I resisted the urge to rub my neck. The bruises hadn’t gotten any worse, and my darker skin tone hid them well. Eric and I continued to watch Marion. I didn’t know what she was going to do when she picked up all the sticks, but doubted she planned to sit down.

  I took advantage of Marion being occupied to ask Eric what happened yesterday. I hadn’t heard any details, and I was curious.

  “No one told you?” he asked.

  I shook my head no. “I’ve tuned out the world the last twenty-four hours,” I explained.

  “Roger was murdered. Someone stabbed him right in the heart.” Eric pointed to his chest.

  I was speechless.

  “I know, and it gets worse. The police said he probably knew the guy,” he replied.

  “What? Why? Why would they say that?” I asked.

  “Because nothing was stolen or broken. So, it doesn’t sound like a robbery, or like Roger saw it coming,” Eric supplied.

  “I can’t even imagine…” I hugged myself and tried to focus on the fact that I was safe. I didn’t want to acknowledge what could’ve happened. Seemed like I got off light with the choke hold. Yet another reason why Roger’s murder was probably personal and not random. The killer hadn’t wanted anything to do with me, not really. That’s what I was hoping for anyway.

  Marion tossed the sticks into a pile by the porch and then went about picking up pinecones. In no time, her hands were full. I watched in amazement. I whispered to Eric, “Has she been like this all morning?”

  “She hasn’t stopped for a second. I wanted her to take a break, but she won’t. The landscapers won’t know what to when they get here tomorrow,” he said.

  “Eric, what was the name of that cleaning company? The one Detective Brandle said handled messes like this? He never called with the number,” Marion hollered across the yard. It took me a second to realize the mess she was referring to wasn’t her overpopulation of pinecones, but rather the blood stains, and who only knew what else, that was inside the house.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll check with him and schedule an appointment,” replied Eric.

  “Good, good. That’s one less thing I have to do. See if they can come this afternoon. I should be back from the dry cleaner by one,” Marion said.

  “She’s having Roger’s suit dry cleaned,” Eric explained. I must have looked confused. “For the funeral,” he added. I doubted Roger cared if he was buried in a clean suit or not, but I kept my mouth shut on the matter.

  “Have you heard from the detective?” I asked Eric.

  “No, I’ve left him a message though. I’m hoping he’ll call back soon,” he said.

  Marion interrupted us. “Actually, make it three. After the dry cleaner’s, I’m running to the bank and then the attorney’s office, and hopefully over to the funeral home.” Marion carried on and on. Sooner or later, she was going to crash with the weight of reality; but, until then, she wasn’t slowing down.

  “Marion, it’s Sunday. The bank and attorney’s offices are closed,” Eric replied, but I don’t think she heard him.

  “What about the alarm company? What time are they coming over? I want to upgrade the system as soon as possible,” she continu
ed.

  “Not until tomorrow morning. Is that okay? Do you want me to stay tonight?” Eric asked.

  “Good heavens, no. I’ll be fine.” Marion started adding pine needles to the pile. This could take a while, seeing how the perimeter of the yard was lined with pine trees. With her head to the ground, she added, “Ziva, you left your binder here. It’s inside on the kitchen table. Eric, go inside and get it for her.”

  I could’ve gone and gotten it, but Eric was already to the door and made his way in and out in a matter of minutes, with my binder in hand. “Here you go.” “Detective Brandle said it was in the clear zone, so it’s free to be moved.”

  “Sweet. You have no idea how important this binder is to me. I really need to back it up somehow,” I said.

  “You don’t keep electronic files?” Eric asked.

  “Not of everything,” I said.

  “Do you want help with that?” he asked.

  “How so?” I didn’t see how he could digitalize my Beauty Bible.

  “I have a scanner that reads documents and exports them as computer files. Bring your binder by the office next week, and I can help you with it,” he said.

  “Really? Does it just turn them into PDFs?” I wasn’t sure how helpful that would be.

  “No, you can do all sorts of things—create client profiles, generate invoices, even email receipts. We use it all the time at the office,” he said.

  “Oh yeah, for sure then. I’m definitely interested.”

  “Great. Just give the office a call and my secretary will set something up.”

  “Awesome, thanks.”

  “What do you need help with?” Marion asked, joining us on the porch.

  “Oh nothing, just talking business.” Marion didn’t even listen to my response. I had no idea what she was thinking at that moment, but it wasn’t about me or Eric. She was zoned out.

  “Marion, are you okay?” Eric asked.

  “Me? Oh yes, fine, fine. Now what was I just going to do? Oh, that’s right, get freshened up to head into town. If you two don’t mind, I’ve got a million things to do.” Marion turned and walked away from us. Eric and I both looked at each other, and I shrugged my shoulders. Whatever Eric might have been planning on saying to Marion, he didn’t. Instead, he told her to call him if she needed anything. Marion didn’t even acknowledge him. If fact, she didn’t even wait for us to get to our cars before heading inside and shutting the door. Maybe exhaustion had finally set in, or maybe she needed a moment to herself. Whatever the reason, she clearly wanted us to leave, and who were we to argue? It was fine by me. I had my truck and my Bible, and I was ready to continue my day. As much as I wished my ten-minute jog had cut it, I knew I still had a run to finish up, and I knew the perfect spot.

  I changed my mind about running as soon as I reached the marina. It was usually cooler by the water, but not today. There wasn’t an ocean breeze to be felt. Puerto Rican genes or not, the sun had turned brutal, and suffering from heat stroke wouldn’t do me any good. I couldn’t justify abandoning my workout efforts entirely, though, not when I was already dressed for it and knew how much my body needed it. Aria was always going on about my body being a temple and all that. I rolled my eyes at the thought, but it stuck with me nevertheless. If her voice was going to be rolling around in my head, I might as well put it to good use, which is why I headed down to the waterfront to get in some yoga. I didn’t have a mat in the car, but I knew there was a beach towel tossed in the cab somewhere. I kicked off my shoes and socks, and walked barefoot through the grass—towel in hand—toward the water’s edge. A large-leaf palm tree provided the ample shade I needed.

  There’s a reason workout DVDs are filmed at the beach: the setting is perfect. The beauty of the water and the charm of the marina always put me in the right state of mind. Waves lapped up and retreated in a perfect rhythm, and I found myself breathing with the steady cadence. Here, it was easy to block out the ringing of my cell phone nearby and the memories of yesterday. Mind relaxed, I stretched out my body and focused my breaths with each movement. Inhale, reach up. Exhale, stretch out. Eyes closed, I held each pose as a couple waves rushed on shore, before moving onto the next.

  My workout was going so well, until I opened my eyes and spotted a guy I had dubbed the shirtless hottie, wearing only cargo shorts and a red bandana, working on a boat nearby. I swear, the man never wore a shirt. Not that I’m complaining. It’s just, it does make it a bit of challenge to be all Zen-like when you have a guy like that in your field of vision.

  I watched as the shirtless hottie bent down and then regain his height, taking a swig off a can of Coke. I licked my parched lips, noting my own thirst in that moment. My arms stopped mid-stretch, as if someone had paused my workout DVD. The hottie’s southern summer tan and lean body frame had caught my attention on more than one occasion. I could’ve admired him for hours. Something about him just oozed boy-next-door charm. Good looking, hardworking, you know the type. I wanted him to be my neighbor.

  It took some serious self-control, but I managed to stop thinking about the hottie long enough to get in five more minutes of my workout. By the time my cell phone rang, I was ready to call it good. I walked over to my bag to see who was calling. I hoped it was Detective Brandle with some good news. Something along the lines of “Guess what? We caught the killer. Your nightmare is over!” would be nice. But it wasn’t him. It was Maggie, the manager at my parents’ condo. Her name sent a jolt down to my toes. I knew exactly why she was calling, without even answering. I had scheduled a beauty demo at the condo clubhouse weeks before, and had completely forgotten about it. Sweet sugar. It’s not like I could cancel it now, even if I was totally unprepared. Clients drop like flies if they even suspect you’re unreliable, and I knew Justine would be right there to scoop them up. I couldn’t have that. I answered the phone and confirmed that everything was all set for this afternoon, and then immediately called Aria. It was after noon. Her yoga class would be over, and I could sure use her help.

  4

  “Just line up the bags on the counter top, and then I’ll add a catalog and order form to each one,” I said.

  Aria had been more than willing to come over and give me a hand. My apartment, a two-bedroom loft above an antiques shop, wasn’t too far from the studio where she taught. I had about thirty bags lined up along the counter, filled with mini-bottles of hand lotion and bubble bath, and a trial-sized lipstick and nail polish. I really hoped that was enough. I forgot to ask Maggie how many people she was expecting.

  “Here, take these from me.” I handed Aria a bag of M&Ms I’d been hoarding. “Hide them.” At the rate I was popping the chocolate candies into my mouth, I was either going to gain five pounds or end up sick, both of which wouldn’t be good.

  “Chill out, girlie. It’s going to be all good,” Aria said.

  “I know, I know. I just wish I hadn’t forgotten about it. I hate not being prepared. Not that I couldn’t use the distraction.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I guess. It’s just so surreal. I know I haven’t even begun processing it yet, but what am I going to do? This takes the expression ‘wrong place, wrong time’ to a whole new level.”

  “Do you even know what happened?”

  “Stabbed. In the heart, no less.”

  “That’s horrific. It would explain the blood.” Aria had seen the dried blood on me first-hand yesterday.

  “Yeah, and it also makes you think that Roger knew the murderer. At least, well enough to get close to attack like that,” I said, recalling what Eric had said.

  “You mean he was caught off guard?”

  “Yeah, like he didn’t expect it, I guess.”

  “You know, some people are already pointing the finger at Marion.”

  “Now you sound like Mrs. J. That’s just the sort of thing she would say.”

  “She’s not the only one saying it. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true.”

  “Marion? Co
me on. I don’t buy it. Plus, she clearly wasn’t the one to put me in a choke hold.”

  “She might not have done it herself but, with money like hers, she could afford to hire someone. Clearly, you didn’t know Roger.”

  “Like you did?” Aria gave me a look to suggest otherwise. “All right, spill it. What do you know?”

  Aria stopped what she was doing and joined me at the table. This had to be good if it required her full attention. “So, get this. Last year, at their neighborhood Christmas party, I was chatting up the neighbors when I ran into Roger and asked if he needed help with anything. They had wait staff and all, but I was just being nice. I don’t know what Roger thought I meant, but next thing I knew, he was all touchy feely, flirting with me, refilling my champagne glass and trying to trap me under the mistletoe. At one point, he asked me what my plans were for New Year’s Eve. He even offered a private sailing lesson on his boat. Something about his ‘big mast’ or whatever. I about gagged.”

  “He did not!”

  “I swear he did, and it gets worse. He caught me completely unaware in the hallway when I was putting my coat on … and kissed me full on the mouth. I was shocked and bolted out of there without telling him off like I should’ve.”

  “Where was Marion?”

  “She was right there! It was so embarrassing. Everyone saw it, and my non-reaction. They gossiped about it for months. I’m convinced Mrs. J. still thinks I slept with him.”

  I laughed off Aria’s comment, but she was probably right. “How come you never told me about this?”