“You do have a good sense about people, right?” Sadie whispered to the canine contortionist. “I’m counting on you for this one, Coco. It’s awfully strange that Nevada Foster – or whatever her name is – seems to have appeared out of nowhere, financial backing or not.”
A light snore was the only response Sadie received. For now, it would have to be enough.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Fill me in,” Amber said as Sadie walked in the door to Flair. “What have you gotten yourself wrapped up in this time?” Her arm swirled in energetic circles as she cleaned the store’s glass display counter. A spray bottle of blue liquid stood nearby.
“Good morning to you, too,” Sadie laughed, familiar with her assistant’s morning fervor. “How many cups today?”
“Only three,” Amber said before looking up and smiling. “OK, maybe five. But only one with a double shot. You know I can’t resist the coffee at Jay’s Java Joint. And, yes, before you ask, I only made decaf in the back.”
“Good news for sure,” Sadie said. “I think I’ll grab a cup.” She paused to deliver Coco to the velvet pillow on the front counter. With all the attention she received from customers, it wasn’t a stretch to figure out why it was the Yorkie’s favorite daytime location.
“Cute shoes!” Amber called out as Sadie stepped into the back office and poured a mug of decaf.
“Thank you. I dare say I agree,” Sadie said as she emerged from the back. “Cutest little store in Carmel. It’s pet-friendly, too, which Coco loved. They carry a great line of jewelry that I didn’t have time to peruse. I must go back this weekend. Speaking of which…”
Amber laughed. “Let me guess. Your new star has a repeat performance lined up.” She gave Coco a pat on the head. Sadie could swear she saw Coco lift her chin upwards in a display of pride.
“Two, actually.” Sadie lifted one hand to indicate “two” with her fingers. Gold bangles clattered against each other as she did. She’d added them just before she left the penthouse to brighten what was for her an uncharacteristically plain outfit: blue jeans and a solid black sweater. “I wish you could make it to one of the shows. Coco has such a fabulous stage presence!”
“I’m sure she does.”
“Meanwhile, what’s new here? Anything going on?” Sadie was pleased with the shop’s appearance. She could always count on Amber to keep it neat and tidy.
“Nothing unusual,” Amber said. “We have some UPS deliveries coming in this afternoon. The earrings from Ecuador, for one.”
“Ooh, the ones with the exotic birds?”
“Yep. And a fill-in order of cardigans — several sizes and colors that were sold out. Oh, Mrs. Jennings left you a note about getting one in lavender.”
Sadie nodded. “Yes, I saw that yesterday when I popped in. She’ll have to settle for deep purple or just pick another color.”
“Matteo left you samples of a new truffle.”
“Yes, delicious!” Sadie exclaimed. “Thank goodness he left four of them. I took some home with me.”
“Well, actually, he left six…” Amber grinned.
“All the more reason for me to go next door and pick up some more! The sooner the better, I think.” Sadie popped back into the office and pulled several bills from her wallet. Passing Amber on the way out, she promised to bring back an assortment to share with customers during the day.
* * *
Matteo Tremiato looked up from behind the counter at Cioccolato and grinned when Sadie entered. “I knew it wouldn’t take you long to come over. You like the new truffle?”
“Have you ever made a truffle I didn’t like?” Sadie walked straight to the display case and looked over the selection. It varied from day to day, depending on what new treats Matteo concocted. Today’s options met her approval: Raspberry Cream, Cocoa Mint, Peanut Butter Crunch, Lemon Tart, and his new masterpiece, Mango-Pineapple-Pecan. “I’ll take two of each, but give me four of that new one.”
“One dozen truffles coming up,” Matteo said. He pulled a gift box from under the counter, inserted a waxed paper liner, and filled it with the requested assortment. “Half price, as always,” he said.
Sadie smiled. This was a perfectly acceptable arrangement, as far as she was concerned. She received chocolate at a discount, and her boutique customers took Matteo’s business card when they tried samples. She had an endless chocolate supply, her customers were thrilled, and Matteo gained new fans. It was a win-win-win.
“How’s the little celebrity doing?” Matteo asked as he rang up the order and handed Sadie her box of chocolates.
“Ah, you know already.” Sadie grinned.
Matteo nodded. “Amber told me, plus I read about it in the morning paper.”
“Oh!” Sadie squealed. “How exciting! Front page?”
“No,” Matteo said, holding back a laugh. “A small blurb, several pages in. And it was mostly about that awful murder. But there was a brief mention of a dog adding some levity to the otherwise tragic situation.”
“Yes, that was Coco’s stage debut,” Sadie said.
“I take it this wasn’t planned.” Matteo smiled as he handed Sadie her change.
“No,” Sadie said. “Coco just happened to escape the dressing room where she was supposed to wait for me, and she got loose on stage. Actually, she stowed away in a picnic basket that was a prop for one scene.”
“And now she’s part of the show?”
“Yes!” Sadie exclaimed. “Isn’t that fabulous? She has two more shows this coming weekend, Friday and Saturday. So we’ll go back down to Monterey on Thursday.”
“Let me guess,” Matteo said. “A day early, so that you can poke around for information about that murder?”
“How did you know, Matteo?” Sadie laughed. Her reputation for sleuthing was well established. Matteo was especially aware of this, since Sadie had recently helped solve a crime at his family’s winery.
Returning to Flair, Sadie gave Amber the box of truffles to offer customers at the front counter, patted Coco on the head, and went back to her office. She sat at her desk and booted up the computer. A thought about Nevada Foster’s information – or lack of information, more precisely – kept nagging her. It just didn’t make sense that she hadn’t been able to dig up any background on the girl the night before.
Nevada Foster
N. Foster
Neva Foster
Neva da Foster
No matter how she spelled the actress’ name, nothing came up. She drummed her fingers on the desk from her pinky to index finger. This galloping sound used to drive her late husband, Morris, to distraction. It was like a horse charging around the room. She could alter the percussive pattern, and sometimes it sounded like a snare drum cadence. That one had especially annoyed Morris. He claimed the rhythm lingered in his mind the way a mention of familiar lyrics might get a song stuck in someone’s head.
She decided to research people associated with the production but who didn’t actually appear on stage. Like Sid. He had a sizeable, though not especially impressive, list of credits to his name. These easily surfaced during Google and Bing searches. Mitchell Morgan’s name also brought up plenty of results. As a media professional, he’d managed to splash his presence all over the internet.
Sadie bookmarked pages for both the director and the publicist and moved on. Curious to find background information on the mysterious Nevada Foster, it made sense to turn to the person who had pushed to include her in the show to begin with.
The list of Ernie Palmer’s business endeavors stretched several paragraphs on his Wikipedia page. Many, though not all, were theatre ventures, usually musical productions of medium size, neither Broadway-scale nor small town shows. He’d backed a profitable short run of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers in San Antonio, a staging of The King and I in Chicago, a month-long production of Pippin in Atlanta, and a flop of an original play in Miami, which had closed after the second night.
Ernie Palmer’s name and accomplishment
s were well known. Newspapers and local talk shows often mentioned his numerous financial projects. He drew criticism from time to time for being somewhat of a braggart, though he’d had his fair share of business losses, as well as successes. But Sadie was less interested in his professional affairs than she was in his personal history. From what she’d observed, he seemed as concerned with Nevada personally as he was with the potential profit from production. Pushing for her to get the lead role, for example – was that really just a question of making money from the show? And his disapproval of her over-imbibing at the cast get-together – was he merely concerned for her reputation?
An online bio for Ernie showed him born in the Bronx to parents of modest means. He’d been an only child. Raised in New York for most of his childhood, the family moved to Chicago during his teen years. He finished high school there and enrolled in business classes at a community college. He’d been married briefly once to someone named Margaret Retsof, but divorced quickly. Both parents were deceased.
Sadie thought this over. No siblings, no spouse, no children, no living parents. It sounded lonely at first glance, though it wasn’t unlike Sadie’s own history, aside from the fact she was widowed. She’d gone on to run an established fashion boutique, as well as side forays into amateur detective escapades. Ernie had gone on to start small business endeavors, eventually moving on to larger projects, mostly investments, nothing personal.
So why the special interest in Nevada Foster? Sadie reminded herself not to read too much into every detail she discovered. Perhaps Nevada was simply a means to an end: money, Ernie’s favorite thing.
Amber was in the process of signing for a UPS delivery when Sadie returned to the front of the store. Sadie smiled, knowing this would take a few minutes. Handsome and single, at least according to the absence of a ring on his left hand, the young driver always brought out Amber’s flirtatious side. He responded to Amber by flirting back, though of course he had to excuse himself – reluctantly, it seemed – to return to his regular route.
“No date yet?” Sadie asked after the driver left.
“I’m working on it. I don’t want to seem too eager.”
“You could just ask him out, you know,” Sadie suggested. “It’s not like it used to be when I was your age.”
“Sadie, knowing you, I doubt you would have hesitated.” Amber laughed. “You don’t follow the crowd. And I mean that in a good way.” She reached for a box cutter.
“You’re right,” Sadie admitted. “I remember startling my first husband when I suggested we go to the movies. But it wasn’t considered proper for a girl to be so forward then. No one cares now as long as someone gets the ball rolling.”
“I’ll think about it.” Amber slit open the box and lifted out a flat stack of brightly colored T-shirts. “Ah, these are great. I remember when we found this designer at the last trade show.” She held one up, a long-sleeved cornflower blue selection. On the front was an old-fashioned seed packet design, accented with rhinestones and glitter. “These will complement that new line of jeans we got in last week.”
“And the jewelry from Bali that we have on order,” Sadie added.
“Yes!” Amber replied. “I think I see a new front window arrangement on the horizon.”
“Excellent idea,” Sadie agreed. “I always love your displays. I’m sure that’s part of the reason we see new customers all the time.”
“The constant supply of chocolate doesn’t hurt, either,” Amber said.
“Of course not,” Sadie laughed. “Shopping and chocolate, two of the finer things in life!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sadie followed the newspaper and television reports over the next few days, dividing her time between tending the store and getting updates on Brynn Baker’s murder. According to the media, there were no new leads. She stayed in touch with Roxy, but the only extra information she learned was that several cast members had been called in for questioning. No one else had been arrested or even named a suspect. Most went in willingly, though apparently Alex had put up a fuss, calling the session a pointless hassle, saying he needed to stay focused on the play. Even Penelope had been interrogated, though Sadie doubted the police heard much of the gossip the girl shared with Freda
This lack of new information made her eager to get back to Monterey to see what she could dig up. By Thursday morning, she knew she had to return to the scene of the crime, so to speak, to move her own investigation forward.
“Time to pack,” Sadie said out loud as she folded up the Thursday morning newspaper and set it aside. Coco, who was curled up on the living room couch, head resting comfortably on her plush red lobster, stretched her limbs, yawned and relaxed back into her cushy position. She regarded Sadie with casual disinterest. It wasn’t her job to pack, after all.
“I’ll start with my suitcase. Remind me to leave room for things I might buy. We should clean out your tote bag, too. Might as well start fresh for this trip.”
Sadie could have sworn she saw Coco frown as she stood and headed to her closet. The phrases “clean out” and “tote bag” weren’t Coco’s favorites. The Yorkie’s habit of burying items in the bottom of the bag and hiding things in the interior pockets was, to the little dog, important. The mess in the tote wasn’t all Coco’s fault, of course. Sadie’s own habit of stashing trinkets in the bag also added to the clutter. It was a good thing the tote was large and roomy, with plenty of pockets, and that Coco was tiny. It seemed there was always space for something else, just as there would be in a bottomless pit or black hole.
She selected several outfits from her wardrobe and arranged them in her suitcase, folded in a special way she had learned over the years to avoid wrinkles. Since she’d need to be backstage with Coco, and Roxy preferred only dark clothing, that’s mostly what she packed. But there was no sense in looking disheveled, even if the lights would be low. She hung one nicer outfit in a wardrobe bag, something shimmery and silver that she could wear for the cast party. In a small jewelry case, she tucked a set of dangling star earrings – what could be more appropriate!
Sadie set her luggage by the front door and started in on the tote bag. Coco began to groom her paws with fixed concentration. Out came a show program, several flyers with Coco’s photo, post cards of Monterey Bay, a hotel brochure, business cards from boutiques she’d visited, a spare charger for the tablet she carried when traveling, a roll of breath mints, wadded up scraps of paper with Coco’s practice pawtographs, and a phone.
A phone?
She hadn’t left her phone in the tote bag. In fact, she’d been using it all week, including the night before when she sent texts to both Roxy and Amber. She always set it down on a desk, table, or counter, when finished – never put it back in the bag. This wasn’t the model of phone she owned, and it wasn’t enclosed in her own stylish case.
She dropped the phone on the couch in shock, rather the way she dropped the annual property tax bill for her penthouse. Could this be Russell’s phone? Panic washed over her. She had touched it; her fingerprints were on it. Wipe them off, she thought, but quickly stopped herself. What if the killer’s prints were on there, too? Then she’d be destroying evidence.
“Oh, Coco. This is not good. This is not good at all!”
Coco let out an apologetic or defensive whine – most likely both. Sadie knew her tone of voice matched the one she’d used the time Coco had played with – that is, borrowed and buried – a diamond bracelet that had fallen off a lady’s wrist at a charity event and landed on the floor beside the tote bag. Sadie had gone so far as to use the dreaded words, “Coco, no!” as she’d held up the sparkling piece of jewelry in dismay after she’d gotten home that evening. The bracelet’s owner had been distraught when she’d realized it was missing at the gala. At the time, it hadn’t occurred to Sadie to check her purse. It turned out that it was easier to explain what happened the next day than it would have been the night the bracelet went missing. The woman was so grateful to have her
bracelet returned that she laughed and offered to buy Sadie a cup of coffee.
Frantic, Sadie began to pace back and forth. How was she going to explain this to Detective Higgins? He had yet to show one ounce of a sense of humor. She’d be facing a grim reprimand. Even worse, this situation would finger her as a suspect, wouldn’t it? She’d certainly suspect herself, if she didn’t already know she was innocent. How plausible was it going to sound to Higgins that Coco was behind this? Was Coco behind it? Maybe someone else dropped the phone into her bag to throw the police off. She got as close as she could to the device without touching it again and studied its screen. There was a familiar smear, something she recognized from the many times Coco had licked her phone when she happened to leave it lying too close to the Yorkie’s level.
“I hope you didn’t lick off all the fingerprints!” Sadie’s thoughts careened in ridiculous directions. Coco wasn’t the type of dog to wish anyone harm. She’d never shown any signs of aggression. She wasn’t big enough or strong enough to push someone off a catwalk. And she couldn’t have sent a text to Brynn; she didn’t have opposable thumbs!
Calm down, Sadie told herself. These are crazy thoughts.
She was overreacting. This was just one piece of evidence in the murder case. But it’s the most important one!
Sadie stared at the phone again. Maybe it was someone else’s phone. Maybe she should check the text history to be sure. The police hadn’t released the contents of the text someone had sent to Brynn, allegedly from Russell’s phone, and Russell himself hadn’t spilled that information to the bartender during the conversation Sadie overheard at the bar when he said he’d lost his phone.
The urge to read the texts won out over Sadie’s practical thought of slipping the phone in a plastic bag and not touching it again until she turned it over to Higgins. A quick look at the most recent text confirmed the phone was Russell’s. The text was to Brynn, and read, “Meet me tonight at the usual place,” with a heart emoji after the period. Sadie dropped the phone again.
A Sadie Kramer Flair Mystery 02 - A Flair For Drama Page 10
