Soap on a Rope

by Barbara Silkstone

  The officer smiled at the Dingler ladies and then turned to me. “Ready, Olive?”

  I hugged Lizzy and approached Grams but she was in the process of balancing a hot cup on a saucer. “See you tomorrow.” She pointedly addressed me, excluding Kal.

  Lizzy walked us to the door.

  “Lock this tight. Windows, too!” I said.

  She squinted her eyes until they were two amber slits. “You’re thinking Grams and I are in danger? I’ll have Dave spend the night.”

  “How are you fixed for hairspray?” Neither one of us could bring ourselves to use pepper spray—too cruel.

  “I’ve got a can by each door. We’ll be fine.” WonderDog trotted to her side ready to protect her.

  Kal and I were silent walking to his police car. He held the passenger door open, pressed my head with his hand, and pushed me into the seat.

  “Am I under arrest?”

  He reddened. “Sorry about that. Force of habit.”

  I snorted. Despite the pine-scented tree that dangled from the mirror, the car smelled of criminals.

  “What do you think?” He said, turning on the engine. “About Dingler?”

  I was really in a spot. I should tell him what I knew or guessed. But a secret is a secret. A pledge is a pledge.

  “Too strange for me to have a reliable opinion yet. Do you have the rope with you?”

  “I’m taking it over to the county lab for analysis. Chandelier dangling from a soapy rope isn’t something that comes up in any criminology classes.”

  We drove in silence to Sandy Shores Towers. There were times when things became too comfortable between Kal and me. It was nice to have him stop in occasionally to talk crime solving, but I wasn’t looking for a relationship. My life revolved around Nonna’s Cold Cream shop—affairs of the heart could wait.

  Kal pulled into the parking lot under the building. He shut off the motor. After an awkward silence peppered with deep breaths and intense stares at the moonlit Gulf waters, Kal spoke. “Can we continue this conversation upstairs?”

  If there was a conversation in play I wasn’t hearing it but I welcomed the chance to pick his brains… and that was the only reason to spend more time with him.

  “Puff’s probably worried by now.” I pushed on the handle eager to escape the vibe he sent out.

  Stepping quickly around the car Kal opened my door. I held my noggin with both hands protecting it from any further head grabbing.

  He laughed and raised his hands in the universal gesture of surrender.

  We hurried up the steps and down the walkway to my condo. Was it only this morning that I leaped into Lizzy’s VW bursting with anticipation over meeting Sophia Napoli?

  I fumbled through my purse for the key, slipped it in the lock, and opened the door.

  Kal moved past me, his flashlight dancing over the foyer and then into the kitchen on the right and the living room on the left.

  His Miami Vice entrance into my darkened condo grated on me. I would have mocked him but I’d had a prowler once. Better annoyed, then mugged.

  I clicked on the lights.

  Curled in a ball on the sofa, Puff stretched and yawned. She jumped down, trotted to me, and surrounded my legs with love and fuzz. I bent to pet her, rubbing under her chin—a favorite spot.

  “Take a seat in the kitchen. I’ll put on coffee.”

  Once I’d filled our mugs and set out the cream, I sat across from Kal wondering what rules he was going to lay down and which ones I would ignore.

  He held Puff against his chest. As a reward she shed her trademark white fur on his black Starfish Cove Police shirt. If this case dragged on I’d gift him with a box of lint rollers.

  He locked eyes with me. “Don’t try to solve Nelson’s death on your own. It makes no sense so I can’t say if it’s murder. However if it is, the method screams maniac. Lizzy and Grams and even Pam may be in jeopardy. For their sakes tell me what you know.”

  He had me trapped! I chewed on my lip.

  Kal’s eyes lasered me. He didn’t relent even when Puff climbed up his chest her claws tugging his polo shirt. I could swear she was trying to distract him but he wasn’t going for it.

  “I pinky-promised Lizzy and Grams…” It was Grams’ term for a binding promise.

  “So is there some dark Dingler secret?”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  The Silverfish Gazette came out whenever news, coupons, or events like our Cold Cream Shop Open House demanded it. My souvenir issue with the photo of Lizzy and me lay on the desk in my little home office. The headline above the fold proclaimed Murder at the Marina with the ad challenging the Masked Dangler on the flip side.

  Returning to the kitchen I placed the newspaper on the table so the challenge lay face up.

  Kal glanced at it. “Does this publicity stunt have something to do with Nelson Dingler’s death?”

  “I’d offer you another cup but I really need to get to sleep.” I dodged his question.

  He pushed the newspaper aside, stood, and handed me Puff. There was still coffee in his cup but he ignored it—maybe because a cat hair floated on top.

  We walked to the door. The mewing kitten wiggled in my arms trying to reach Kal. He stroked her head, offered me a terse good night, and left.

  I gave him a clue without breaking my promise. It was up to him to figure it out.

  Chapter 9

  Puff purred in my ear and then head-butted my cheek. I opened one eye. The early morning sun was melting the night sky. The comforting sound of the waves lapping on the shore accompanied by the cries of the gulls announced all was right with the world—aside from Nelson Dingler resting on a pullout slab in the M.E.’s refrigerator.

  The phone jangled Lizzy’s ringtone. “I just took Grams to get her car. She left it parked on the street in front of my father’s office. I’ll be in the shop by nine.”

  Great. A nonagenarian parallel-parked an ancient aircraft carrier-sized car. My ego whispered ouch. Grams’ Edsel was the last one off the production line back in 1960—the vehicle flopped because it was so huge—exactly why Grams treasured it.

  “How are you? How’s Grams?”

  “As well as can be expected. She’s headed to the Starfish Gazette hole-in-the-wall office to pull up the invoice for that ad. I begged her not to chase after any killers without us.”

  “Definitely! We’ll go with her to track down the challenger after we close the shop. She’s too old to go it alone.”

  “Don’t use the ‘o’ word around her. Being called old gets Grams steamed up. Finding the person who murdered my father has put a spring in her step. She’s determined to get the guy.” Lizzy paused. “You didn’t tell Kal about the Dangler?”

  “Not a word.” Just a clue.

  “Grams screeched the tires and squealed off in her Edsel. It won’t take her long to come up with something about that ad. She has me believing whoever placed it wanted to draw the Dangler out to kill him.”

  “I hope it’s as simple as that.”

  “We have reinforcements coming in. My sister Pam will be in town this afternoon.”

  Puff stared at me sending a telepathic message—I’m hungry.

  “I have a starving cat sending me on a guilt trip. See you at the shop.” I rolled out of bed with a kitty at my feet.

  While Puff gobbled down a can of chicken paté, I fired up the coffeemaker. A few minutes later I sat on the balcony sipping while staring at the blue-gray waters of the Gulf of Mexico. The barely perceptible voices of shell seekers walking along the beach competed with squawking gulls disturbing my peace as I ruminated about the case.

  A gull swooped in and landed on the rail. He tilted his head inspecting my coffee cup. No cookies. No crackers. No chunks of bread. Lifting his beak in what looked like a snub, he left me a splat, flapped his wings, and flew off.

  This was not going to be a good day.

  I pulled on black jersey slacks and a matching top. My black ballet flats we
ren’t the best for standing on my feet all day but I slipped them on without much thought. Might need the magician’s ad—I stuffed the Silverfish Gazette in my tote.

  Puff lounged on the sofa waiting for her goodbye kiss. I touched my lips to her forehead loving the baby-like smell of her soft fur. She licked my hand and we parted for the day.

  Lizzy was already at the shop when I got there. She wore a zippered black jumpsuit with a simple locket on a gold chain. Her curls were swept back in a barrette. A believable smile graced her face. She’d overcome the initial shock.

  Gathering plastic balls of lip gloss Lizzy placed them one by one in a wicker display basket. Getting back into our shop routine would be good for both of us.

  I leaned on the counter opposite her. “You okay?”

  “It’s all going to work out. We’ll find my father’s killer and he can rest in peace. I had a long talk with myself last night. I have to accept I never won his approval but perhaps he’ll learn some lessons about unconditional love in the afterlife.”

  She chuckled softly. “I had a dream he was standing at an old-fashioned blackboard writing I will be kind to my daughters over and over again, while a nun whapped him on the butt with a ruler.”

  “Sounds like a terrific dream to me.”

  After nesting the last few ball-shaped lip gloss containers into a pink wicker basket, she reached under the counter and pulled out a tablet. The top page had numbered paragraphs on it. She studied it for a few seconds then pushed it to me. “Look at this.”

  It was written in a delicate hand.

  “Ivy mentioned leaving a note, she failed to mention it was three pages long.” I said as I picked up the tablet and began to read aloud.

  “Dear Olive and Lizzy,

  Thank you for letting me shop-sit. It’s been so much fun. I hope you don’t mind but I jotted down a few suggestions as I once worked at the cosmetic counter at Macy’s in Manhattan—until they fired me but it wasn’t my fault. Remind me to tell you about the lady with the rash. Anyway, I have years of valuable experience and since you girls are new to the business I can be an asset.”

  “Have a seat,” Lizzy said. “I don’t like the sound of that years of experience—or the rash.”

  I hooked my foot around the leg of a stool and slid it into place. Comparing the cosmetic counter at Macy’s with Nonna’s Cold Cream Shop was like equating a freight train with a bicycle. I continued to read aloud.

  “Here are a few ideas that popped into my mind while I was meeting your darling customers. I’m having a few of them over for tea on Saturday. You’re welcome to come. I can’t wait to get cooking on these improvements—don’t take offense but you gals need my help.”

  “Are you offended?” I asked Lizzy.

  “Not yet but you’re only on the first page.” A smile played around the corners of her mouth.

  “Number one. We need tons more free samples. I’d given away all that you had by lunchtime. People were so excited. They filled up their purses and beach bags. The big cosmetic companies give away lots of samples. That’s how you hook ladies on your cream.”

  “Geez Louise!” I laid the tablet on the counter and wrung my face with my hands. “I don’t even want to look. There were four cartons of samples in the back yesterday morning. We just spent two weeks of after-shop hours filling those tiny jars! Ivy gave them away in one day! One half day!”

  “This one might have some merit.” Lizzy picked up Ivy’s instructions and read on.

  “Number two. Have your customers return their empty jars for a dollar discount off a new jar of cream. I’m sure you’re paying more than that for those fancy glass jars. We can sterilize them in your home dishwasher.”

  “Why do I find that yucky?” I scrunched my nose. “We’d be faced with a hefty fine from the health department.”

  “Seeing how you loathe colognes, you’re going to love this one,” Lizzy continued.

  “How about a designer perfume? You could call it Olive & Lizzy’s Garden. I can help you with that. I have a renowned sense of smell.”

  I laid my head on the counter and covered it with my hands. Despite my position I was unable to muffle the giggles.

  “Myron?” Lizzy said. It was a rhetorical question.

  I lifted my head just enough to nod. “Ivy’s sense of smell is more like a sinus condition. She’s nuts about Myron and he smells like an old taxi cab.”

  I stopped laughing long enough to ask, “Do you get the feeling she’s messing with our minds? What scares me most is her frequent use of the we word.”

  Lizzy gulped back a chuckle and read more this time mimicking Ivy’s tissue paper voice.

  “I got an idea from a nice young man who bought up our entire supply of lavender soap. He wanted it for wedding shower favors. Isn’t that sweet? Let’s think of making goodie bags for special events. Don’t you love that idea?”

  Lizzy put her hand on her chest as if enamored with the idea of goodie bags.

  “I’m happy she sold them instead of giving them away. There were two boxes of twenty-four bars each in the back.” I slid off the stool. “I need to stand to get the blood flowing to my brain.”

  “Listen to this,” Lizzy said. “She’s redesigning our packaging now.” She lowered her voice as she read. “I think we should change the color of our packaging from pink to something more eye-catching like orange. Pink is too sissy which brings me to my next suggestion.”

  I groaned.

  Lizzy waved her hand in a flourish toward the shop entrance. “We need a blinking sign at the road. Maybe in the shape of a cold cream jar but with an arrow pointing to the parking lot. The shop is hard to see if you’re speeding down Starfish Boulevard.”

  “The speed limit is thirty-five miles per hour,” I said.

  “Later, two gents in business suits stopped in. They sniffed around but didn’t stay long. I tried to chat them up but they weren’t the talkative type.”

  I raised my eyebrows at Lizzy. She wiggled hers and returned to reading, this time making her voice sound husky.

  “We need a line of beauty creams for men. This place is too feminine. Maybe we can pipe in musk? Consider serving beer besides tea. We could pour it in nice chilled mugs. Guys like that.”

  I laughed so hard tears dribbled down my cheeks. “Hand me that last page. I need to do the reading. You’re hamming it up and making it twice as funny.”

  Lizzy handed it over.

  I blotted my eyes and cleared my throat. Unable to stop myself, I read in my own version of Ivy’s voice.

  “It couldn’t hurt to add two small tables by the windows. I measured. They’d fit. Ladies might like to have tea and cookies while they shop. Seated by the window customers would get a lovely view of the boulevard. I called the city to see what kind of permit you’d have to get. You need a food and beverage license. They’re expensive but you can make up for it in sales.”

  “Oh no! Now the city thinks we want a café license!” I returned to reading aloud, feeling invisible fingers tighten around my throat. “You are almost out of cold cream. I rummaged in the backroom but couldn’t find any more jars. Afraid I missed a couple of customers when I was back there. Didn’t hear them come in but—sorry about this—they seem to have taken your standing mirrors from the counter. Tell me what they cost. I’ll reimburse you.”

  I glanced at the counters. The three expensive, magnifying mirrors were missing. Lizzy shrugged as I went back to reading.

  “I called Myron right way. He came by and stood security at the door. Sorry but he scared off a few customers pretending to have a gun in his jacket pocket. One lady asked if he was Michael Corleone! Myron is so adorable.”

  I slammed the tablet on the counter and hugged myself. “Why hadn’t we thought about selling beer in chilled mugs? It’s such an obvious tie-in or with every jar of cold cream you get a free beer.”

  Lizzy chuckled. “How about including spicy chicken wings? There’s space for a deep fryer near the back
door.”

  It took a long time for us to stop laughing.

  “We’ve created a monster. Extracting Ivy from our business is going to be more painful than a do-it-yourself root canal.”

  I wiped the tears from my eyes as the bell over the door announced a visitor.

  Chapter 10

  “Poshookly!”

  Jaimie Toast sashayed into the shop looking pretty, healthy, and almost sober.

  Cancelling her divorce from Chip Toast continued to work wonders for the Loud Mouth of the South. Always attractive in a pushy way Chip’s recent inheritance allowed Jaimie to frequent the best spas and most exclusive products. Our tolerance for her sarcasm and Nonna’s cold cream always drew her back to our little circle.

  I imagined the music from Pretty Woman setting her pace as she strode from the door to the counter. She dropped her designer bag on the glass with a clunk and grabbed Lizzy’s hand.

  “Never fear! Jaimie’s here.” Releasing Lizzy, she reached in her bag and pulled out a silver flask. “How about a screwdriver? Takes the edge off.”

  I hadn’t seen her since she returned from four weeks at The Golden Aches Spa somewhere out west. She appeared ten pounds trimmer, her complexion radiant, and her hair silky. Too bad they weren’t able to solve her snarkiness, which kicked in the moment she opened her bee-stung lips.

  “Sorry to hear about old popurcusew!” She patted Lizzy’s hand. “Driving over here I tried to think of some words of consolation but all I could conjure was—sure hope the frolog left you something in his will. If he left you his yacht I think I have a buyer for it!” She cocked her head. “Because you’re a friend I’ll only charge a ten-percent brokerage fee.”

  Lizzy pulled her hand from Jaimie’s grip. “Poshookly! How can you think of money when my father is barely cold?”

  Jaimie narrowed her eyes and her face turned crimson. “Poshookly is my word. I don’t ever want to hear you saying it again. Got that?” She rolled her eyes back into her head searching. “I’ll give you your own word—you can say crumb cakes! I’ll give you that for free, but no poshookly!”