Franki Amato Mysteries Box Set

by Traci Andrighetti

  Veronica stopped typing. "She must have had some impressive financial backing."

  "She did. From her father, Liam Jones. He's a doctor, and she was his only child. So he could afford to back her."

  "Rumor has it that he's been hard to locate," I said. "Have you spoken to him since her death?"

  Adam leaned back and crossed his leg over his knee. "No, but I've been trying to reach him. He's works for Doctors Without Borders, so he's often out of contact. Last I heard he was in Syria."

  "What about her mother?" I asked.

  "She died when Ivanna was a teenager."

  "I see." I paused for a moment. "I'm sure the police told you the details of Ivanna's death."

  He clenched his jaw and nodded.

  I looked him straight in the eyes. "Do you know of anyone who might have done this to her?"

  "She didn't have any enemies that I know of." He rubbed his days-old beard. "She was a nice person, and she kept to herself."

  "Forgive me for prying," I began, "but was everything okay between the two of you?"

  His eyes flashed with anger. "Of course it was," he snapped. "We argued about business from time to time, but that's hardly unusual."

  Intrigued by his defensive reaction, I pressed on. "Where were you last Friday night?"

  Adam gripped the arms of his chair. "Wait a second," he said rising to his feet. "Do you think I killed Ivanna?"

  "We don't think anything," Veronica soothed. "We're just being thorough."

  His face relaxed. "Sorry about that," he said, sitting down. "As you can imagine, I've been under a lot of stress."

  "Of course," I said. But I was now convinced there had been tension between him and Ivanna. The question was, had it been enough to lead to murder?

  "I was here at the lab until midnight on Friday," he explained, "working on the formula for a green lip gloss called Midori Melon."

  I licked my lips and told myself that this was not the time to ask for a trial run. "Which shade was Ivanna found holding?"

  "That was a pink lip gloss we'd been working on." He began bouncing his right leg. "I can't imagine why she had it with her."

  I glanced at his bobbing knee and wondered what had brought on the apparent case of nerves. "What was that shade called?"

  "No idea. I just know that it was going to be part of our drink line. But we were having trouble producing the right shade."

  Veronica scratched her temple. "How could you mix a specific shade without knowing the drink you wanted to model it after?"

  He leaned forward in his chair. "Ivanna was an artist. And like most creative types, she didn't always do things in a way that made sense. Sometimes she would come to me with a color in mind, and then she would wait until I had created just the right shade to announce the flavor."

  As he spoke, I tried to think of a brand of liquor that was pink. All I could come up with was a cheap wine I'd found (and may or may not have sampled) in my parents' liquor cabinet when I was thirteen called Boone's Farm Tickle Pink, and I seriously hoped that Ivanna hadn't planned on making a lip gloss version of that. "Could we take a quick look around the lab?"

  His eyes widened. "Sure. But there's not much of interest in there."

  "That's fine," Veronica said. "We just want to see how the business works."

  Adam rose to his feet and opened a door to the right of the desk. "After you."

  I entered the lab followed by Veronica. Like the lobby, it was something of a letdown. I thought there would be test tubes, beakers, and maybe even a Bunsen Burner, but instead it was just a kitchen, and a very small one at that. On the left side of the room, there was a sink with cabinets and a small counter on one side and a stove on the other. Next to the stove was a small table with two chairs. And there was still no sign of any testers. "Where do you keep your supplies?"

  "In here," he said, opening the wooden cabinet above the counter.

  I scanned the contents. Although I was certainly no scientist, I recognized the ingredients from my years of experience as a grocery store makeup buyer (for myself, that is): lanolin, beeswax, hydrogenated soy glycerides, and assorted bottles of coloring and natural flavors. "There's not much here."

  "It doesn't take much to make lip gloss," he said, closing the cabinet door. "You can do it with as little as Vaseline and some powdered or cream blush."

  "Or eye shadow or lipstick," Veronica added with a nod.

  "Neat," I said, feigning interest. I couldn't be bothered to make myself a sandwich, much less a tube of freaking lip gloss. "What do you keep in the cabinet below?"

  He opened the door. "Just kitchen utensils."

  "What does that door lead to?" Veronica asked, pointing to the back wall.

  Adam walked to the door and opened it. "Ivanna's office and the bathroom. You can look around, if you like."

  I followed Veronica into the room, which was decorated with an adorable pink couch and a glass desk with a red leather chair. Now this is more like it, I thought.

  "The police took Ivanna's computer and her filing cabinets," he said. "So the furniture is all that's left."

  "That's too bad," I said, although I'd anticipated as much. I began walking around her office, surveying the scene.

  "They also cleaned out her place upstairs."

  Veronica turned to Adam. "She lived upstairs?"

  He nodded. "She owned this whole building."

  "That explains why her business address was listed as her personal address on the police report," Veronica said.

  I walked over to the shelving behind Ivanna's desk. There was nothing but a few books and some knickknacks. "Did the police have a key, or did they have the fire department 'spread the door?'"

  "Pardon?"

  "Sorry." I smiled. "That's police jargon for removing a door without damaging the frame."

  "Oh," he slipped his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. "They used her key. Apparently, she'd left it in her car."

  "You don't have access to a spare, do you?" I asked.

  "I don't know of anyone who does."

  I looked around Ivanna's office once more. "One last question, did Ivanna ever talk to you about a pink diamond?"

  He rubbed the back of his neck. "Never. Why?"

  "Just curious," I said. "Would it be all right if we contacted you with any follow-up questions?"

  "Sure," he replied.

  I wasn't positive, but I thought I'd seen a look of disappointment in his eyes.

  Adam pulled his billfold from his back pocket and extracted a business card. "Call my cell. I'm not sure how much longer Lickalicious will be open."

  "Thanks." I took the card. "We'll be in touch."

  Veronica and I walked outside into the spring sunshine.

  "That was disappointing," I said.

  "How so?" Veronica asked, making a hard left toward the boutique.

  "Well," I began, close at her heels, "Adam didn't tell us much, and it looks like the police beat us to any evidence."

  "Maybe. But you are making progress in the case."

  "I suppose." I sighed. "The décor left a lot to be desired too."

  She laughed. "You're just upset that they didn't have any free samples."

  "Maybe," I said. "I was kind of looking forward to a reunion with Baileys Irish Cream Brown. It's been a long time."

  Veronica stopped in front of Fleurty Girl. "Mind if I pop in for a sec?"

  I looked at my phone. It was only ten o'clock, which meant that I could kiss my gumbo goodbye. "Nah, we're ahead of schedule. I'm going to stay out here and call Ruth."

  "K," she said as she dashed through the doors.

  I dialed Ruth's number and started pacing up and down the sidewalk. After several rings, I heard someone pick up.

  "Hello?" a matronly voice replied.

  "Ruth Walker?"

  "Yes. Who's this?"

  "I'm Franki Amato. I've been hired to investigate the Ivanna Jones murder."

  "Well thank goodness you called," sh
e said in an its-about-time tone.

  I stopped in my tracks. "I just got your number from Dr. Adam Geyer. Did he already tell you I'd be calling?"

  "No, but I've been waiting for someone besides the police to get involved in this case."

  "How come?"

  "Because there were some suspicious goings on at Lickalicious Lips between Ivanna and Dr. Geyer right before she was found murdered, and the detective I spoke to doesn't seem too concerned about it."

  I spotted a group of oncoming tourists and moved to stand beside the mannequin. "Can you tell me about it?"

  "Not on the phone. But I will say that it has something to do with that coral-pink lip gloss Ivanna was found with at the plantation house."

  My breath caught in my throat. "Did you say coral pink?"

  "Mm-hm. It's a shade Ivanna wanted Dr. Geyer to make before she died."

  "Yes." And it was Evangeline Lacour's favorite color too, I thought. "Any chance we could meet today?"

  "Do you know Napoleon House on Chartres Street?"

  "No, but I'll find it."

  "Can you be there in an hour?"

  "See you at eleven thirty." I closed the call.

  A million questions were running through my mind, but there was one thing I was certain of. If Ruth knew the shade of pink that Ivanna wanted Adam to produce, then he must have known it too. What I didn't know was why he would lie about it. I mean, I was certain that the lip gloss had something to do with the case, but I hadn't really thought too much about the color. Now I had good reason to believe that Ivanna was trying to match the shade of pink near and dear to Evangeline Lacour's heart. But was it the oleander flowers or her dress that Ivanna was trying to match? And why would she want to match the shade of one of these items for her drink line instead of the liquor itself?

  I leaned the back of my head against the facade of Fleurty Girl. The deeper I got into this case, the less I understood what was going on.

  9

  When Veronica and I entered Napoleon House an hour later, I was immediately struck by its old-world charm. The music of Beethoven filled the air, and the main room had a high, wood-beamed ceiling with a hanging light that looked like Thomas Edison had designed it for his newly invented light bulb. There were quaint arched doorways set in distressed plastered walls covered with oil paintings and drawings of various historical figures. Overall, the place had a real colonial vibe—apart from the odor of meatballs and marinara sauce coming from the kitchen.

  While we waited for the hostess, my eyes were drawn to a white bust of Napoleon sitting unimperially atop the cash register in the center of the hand-carved wooden bar. He seemed to be looking down his nose at the patrons, as though disgusted that his likeness wasn't somewhere more befitting of an emperor. "Why is this place called Napoleon House, anyway?"

  "Because this used to be a house, and the original owner invited Napoleon to live here during his exile," Veronica replied, scanning the clientele. "But he wasn't able to escape from the island of Saint Helena."

  "Why would he even want to?" I loved New Orleans and all, but if I had to be exiled, I'd root for the beach over the swamp or the banks of the Mississippi any damn day.

  Ignoring my question, Veronica nodded toward a fifty-something female sitting alone in the corner. "Do you think that's her?"

  "Let's go find out."

  As we weaved our way through the rustic tables and chairs, the woman's head snapped up from her menu. Her tight, graying brown bun didn't move a millimeter, but the chains on either side of her black horn-rimmed reading glasses swung back and forth like jump ropes. "I'm glad you two showed up."

  "Of course," I said as Veronica and I sat down. Ruth's familiarity was becoming a little off-putting, to put it mildly.

  "I got here a little early, so I ordered us some appetizers and waters." She removed her glasses and let them hang from the chain around her long neck. "They make a good gumbo, and if you're in the mood for a cocktail, this place is famous for its Pimm's cup."

  I uttered a silent thank you to the gumbo gods but looked with longing at the bottles lining the bar. "We don't drink on the clock."

  "Personally, I never touch the stuff," she said as a waiter arrived with our waters and what looked like an iced tea garnished with cucumber for Ruth.

  I had to question why a woman who didn't drink would ask Veronica and me to meet her at one of the most famous bars in America, not to mention work in a place that produced liquor-flavored lip gloss.

  "But given what I've been through at Lickalicious Lips," Ruth continued, "I thought a nip of Pimm's would do me good." She took the glass from the waiter and lifted it in a salute. "It's made from herbs, you know."

  Question answered, I thought.

  The waiter pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. "You all ready to order?"

  "Oh, we don't have time to eat," Veronica announced to my utter shock and disappointment. She glanced in my direction. "I just remembered that I have to meet a client at a restaurant near the office at twelve fifteen."

  I narrowed my eyes. Veronica never forgot an appointment, especially when it came to business. I was starting to get annoyed with her secrecy—and with the fact that it was the second time that day I'd had to give up gumbo. And now meatballs too.

  Ruth waved her hand at the waiter. "I'm good with the appetizers." Then she tapped her glass with a neatly trimmed nail. "But I'll be needing another one of these."

  He shoved the pad and pen into his apron, took our menus, and stalked away.

  Veronica turned to Ruth. "What can you tell us about the relationship between Ivanna and Adam?"

  She pressed her thin lips into an even thinner line. "Well, to start with, they were having an affair."

  Veronica and I exchanged a look.

  I was surprised Adam had neglected to mention that not-so-insignificant detail. "Are you sure about that?"

  "I'd say so, after catching them in the act on the table in the lab."

  What was up with sex on the table? I thought, my mind flashing regrettably to my parents.

  "Plus, some mornings when I got to work early, I'd see him slinking down the stairs from her apartment." She gave us a knowing look. "In the same clothes he'd worn the day before."

  I nodded. It sounded like the walk of shame—not that I had any personal experience with that or anything. "Was he in love with her?"

  Ruth sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. "I'm not sure the man knows what love is. But he worshipped the ground she walked on. He used to follow her around like a puppy dog, until they started fighting, that is."

  Veronica leaned forward. "Did you ever witness any of their arguments?"

  She snorted and reached for her drink. "They were hard to miss. In the two weeks before she died they fought every day."

  "Did the fights ever become physical?" Veronica pressed.

  "Not that I saw. But it wouldn't surprise me if they had."

  "What did they fight about?" I asked.

  Ruth sucked down half of her Pimm's cup. "Adam had a taste for gin. He'd been coming into work hung over more and more often, and she confronted him every time. The day before she died, she told him to sober up or get out."

  I thought about Adam's disheveled appearance. I'd attributed it to grief, but now that Ruth mentioned it, he could have had a hangover.

  "Did he stop drinking?" Veronica asked.

  "Nope." She tossed back the rest of her drink and raised her glass to the waiter, signaling the second round.

  All Ruth's imbibing was making me thirsty, so I took an unsatisfying sip of my water. "Do you think Ivanna would've fired him?"

  She laughed. "That and have him blacklisted too. She made it clear that he was replaceable. And Ivanna was tough. You messed with her business, and she let everyone who mattered know about it. She would've ruined him in the cosmetics industry, and he knew that."

  "What can you tell us about the coral-pink lip gloss?" I asked, toying with my table knife.

 
; "Well, I don't know what Ivanna was doing with it at the plantation, if that's what you mean. But I wasn't surprised to hear she had it with her."

  I looked up. "Why not?"

  The age lines around Ruth's mouth deepened. "There was something weird going on with that lip gloss. I know Ivanna was mad that Adam couldn't get the color right, but it was like she was obsessed with it or something." She stared off into the distance and then shook her head. "All I can tell you was that there was a tension between the two of them over that lip gloss, and it was so thick you could have cut it with a knife."

  I dropped the offending utensil. "Do you believe he could have killed her?"

  Ruth smirked. "I think all humans are capable of murder, don't you?"

  "I don't know," I said with a shrug. "There's a big difference between being capable and actually carrying it out."

  "Maybe." She stirred her ice cubes with her straw, searching for one last sip. "But given Adam's recent downward spiral, I wouldn't put it past him."

  The waiter returned with Ruth's drink.

  "It's getting late," Veronica said. "Is there anything else you can tell us?"

  "Yes." She grabbed the Pimm's cup from the waiter's hand. "Keep an eye on Adam Geyer. He's involved in this somehow. You mark my words."

  "We'll do that." Veronica rose to her feet. "We really appreciate the information, Ruth."

  "And the appetizers we didn't get to have," I said as I stood up and cast a hungry, hateful look in Veronica's direction.

  "You let me know if you need anything else," Ruth said before she set to work draining her second drink.

  "There is one more thing," I said. "Did Ivanna ever mention a pink diamond?"

  Ruth stopped in mid sip. "I can't say she ever did."

  As I followed Veronica to the exit, I thought about how Ruth had described Ivanna as obsessed with the lip gloss. Why was this particular shade so important to her? And what about Adam? Was his so-called worship of Ivanna an obsession? If so, then her criticism could have been a catalyst for violence. Of course, this was all supposition. But Adam's lies and omissions were raising lots of red flags where his innocence was concerned.