The Corpse Wore Cashmere

by Sylvia Rochester

  “I’m surprised you didn’t, as fast as you drive. Shouldn’t you be opening the Purple Pickle?”

  “In a minute. Give me a chance to grab some coffee and see what’s on the agenda for today.”

  “Making money,” Susan said with a grin as she turned on the lights. “I’ll let you do the honor while I check the mail.” They walked to the office at the back of the store from where she could look out over the boutique through a glass partition.

  “By the way, I love your outfit,” A. K. said. “Did you ever think about modeling? You’re a beautiful woman, tall and slender, just the look they like.”

  “Life on the runway is a short-lived career. There’s longevity in what I’m doing.”

  “Just a thought,” A. K. said, glancing out over the shop. “Don’t imagine we’ll have near the customers we had yesterday. I gotta say though, the opening was a hoot.” A. K. opened a cabinet and made the coffee.

  “It was fun, wasn’t it? Oh, I ran into Jack at Tillie’s this morning.”

  “I know. He called me on the way to his apartment. You know you can’t keep anything from us. I didn’t think you’d mind if I told him what you said about seeing Lorraine’s face, considering he already knew about your—uh, what do you call it anyway—a gift?”

  “Sometimes it seems more of a curse. No, Jack understands more than anyone, but I don’t want it blabbed to just anyone.”

  A. K. tsked. “As if I’d ever do that.”

  The front door opened. Debbie, Sheila, and Melanie made their way to the office.

  “Ah, the smell of coffee,” Debbie said. The employees filled their mugs. “I heard on the radio they discovered more remains.” She screwed up her face as if tasting something vile. “This time, they only found a torso.”

  Susan grimaced, realizing a monster had chopped Lorraine’s body into pieces.

  “Did they give any details?” A. K. asked.

  “Just that it was a female.”

  For several seconds, no one said anything. The only sound was the gurgling of the coffee pot.

  “I know almost everyone in Palmetto and can’t imagine anyone capable of committing such a fiendish crime,” Melanie said.

  “I hope you’re right,” Susan said.

  Everyone migrated to the coffee pot and refilled their mugs. Susan couldn’t help but notice that Melanie’s hand trembled as she took a sip. Melanie, more than anyone, knew the pain of losing a loved one at the hands of a criminal. Her husband, Terrance Olivier, had been Wesley’s partner. The two had been in pursuit of a suspect. When Terrance opened the door to a trailer, a meth lab exploded, killing him instantly. Terrance’s body had shielded Wesley from serious injury.

  How did one ever get over something like that? While Susan’s nightmares speculated terrible things, Melanie’s were real. The blast had turned her handsome husband into a hideous-looking monster. The skin was burned from his face, his chest and arms ripped by shards of glass. And if Wesley had opened the door instead of Terrance, well, she…she didn’t want to think about that.

  “Last night, you said you were going to see Myrtle. How did it go?” A. K. asked Susan.

  “Terrible. The two sisters might have had their differences, but Myrtle was thrilled to have Lorraine home. I’m sorry their reunion came to such a horrible end…that they will never know a future together. Today’s discovery will only make it worse.”

  Again, the room fell silent.

  “Okay, there’s nothing we can do except to stand by Myrtle and pray for her. We have to have faith that the law will catch whoever is responsible. In the meantime, try not to dwell on the morbid details. We have the boutique and the costume shop to run, and I’m counting on each of you to do your best.” Susan eyed her employees, who nodded that they understood.

  While the employees rinsed out their cups, Susan opened the mail. “Ah, this looks good. Deb, think you could round up some of your model friends again? The women’s auxiliary at the hospital would love to have us put on a fashion show at their luncheon next week.”

  “Sure. A fashion show is great exposure, especially for those models interested in a career in the fashion industry.”

  “I can’t pay them anything,” Susan said, “but I’ll let them have an outfit of their choice at my cost. Melanie, I’d like for you to accompany the models.”

  “Me? Maybe Debbie or Sheila would be better qualified. I’ve never done anything like that.”

  “All you have to do is chaperon the models and write up sales.”

  “Guess I could handle that.”

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll let the committee chairman know we’ll be glad to participate.”

  “I’d like to bring up something,” A. K. said. “Now that we’re operating two shops, we’re stretched a little thin. Maybe we should consider hiring extra help, even if it’s part time.”

  “I’ve been thinking along those lines,” Susan said. “Melanie, talk with the models at the luncheon and see if any of them might be interested. Debbie and Sheila, I know I can count on you to send me some reliable prospects to interview. I’ll place an ad, but word of mouth works well in a small town.” Susan glanced at her watch. “Okay, it’s time to open.”

  “Who’s working with me today?” A. K. asked heading for the door.

  “Me,” Sheila said, hustling to catch up with her.

  As Melanie and Debbie greeted a handful of customers entering the boutique, Susan gazed out the front windows of the shop. A line of dark vehicles passed heading toward Hammond, among them, the coroner’s van. She took a deep breath, knowing the butchered body of Lorraine was on the way to the morgue. Several squad cars, including Wesley’s Crown Victoria, and a dually hauling a trailer and large boat brought up the rear. Undoubtedly, the chief had ceased the dragging operation.

  “Wesley, you’ve got your work cut out for you,” she mumbled.

  Susan returned to her office and closed the door. “Yes, in addition to seeing things, I talk to myself,” she said in a low voice. “Maybe I am crazy.” She had promised A. K. that she wouldn’t get involved, but if she could help with the investigation, shouldn’t she?

  Picking up a stack of invoices, she shook all thoughts of Lorraine and the investigation from her head. She had a business to run. That entailed checking the statements to see that the amounts charged were the same as those quoted on newly ordered merchandise. She had just finished reconciling the figures when her brother, Edward, tapped on her office door.

  “Got a minute?” he asked.

  She opened the door and greeted him with a big hug. “I can’t believe you’re here. I was beginning to believe you only appeared at funerals or when someone was seriously ill.” She tugged at his arm. “Get in here, and let me have a look at you.”

  He wore a charcoal, pinstriped suit with a blue dress shirt. His tie with swirls of blue in every shade possible tied everything together. Edward cut a handsome figure with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and dimples. At a little over six feet, his stocky built was proportioned just right—broad shoulders tapering to a flat stomach and average waist. All that, and he was still single.

  “I didn’t think it possible, but I do believe you got better looking.” She continued to scrutinize him. “Hmm, wait a minute. I’m sure you didn’t come here just to see me. If you’re looking for A. K., she’s next door, but I have to warn you. She’s pretty well set her sights on another fellow. We’re co-owners now. The Purple Pickle was her idea, and she runs that end of the business.”

  “You must be doing well if you’re expanding.”

  “I’m not complaining. What about you? Is everything okay with your job?”

  “It couldn’t be better. I had business in New Orleans, so I thought I’d swing by on my way back to Lafayette. I’ll still want to say hello to A. K. before I leave.”

  Edward always had a happy disposition, but today his smile would give the Cheshire cat competition.

  “Okay, I know you, Edward. What’s up?” />
  He held up his hands. “Nothing, sis, I…uh, just missed you.”

  That convinced Susan that Edward was holding back something. Worst thing he could do was not level with her. That only fueled her imagination. Before she could pursue him further, he made a hasty exit.

  Glancing at his watch, he said, “I let the time get away from me. I have an appointment in Lafayette in an hour. Looks like I’m going to be a little late. Sure hope there isn’t a wreck over the basin.” He gave her a peck on the cheek and headed out of the office.

  “Will I see you soon?”

  “I’ll call you,” he shouted over his shoulder.

  Susan hoped he didn’t get stuck in traffic. The span across the Atchafalaya Basin was notorious for wrecks. If you were unlucky enough to be there when an accident happened, you could plan on hours before you could proceed. There was nowhere to go, and no way to turn around.

  She still had the feeling that Edward was hiding something. Maybe her mother knew what he was up to. It would be nice if she could summon up a vision and see what he was hiding, but fat chance of that happening.

  Chapter 3

  Lorraine’s funeral and the hospital’s auxiliary luncheon fell on the same day. Somehow, that didn’t seem right, but Lorraine hadn’t exactly been a mainstay of the community. In addition to that, Myrtle had informed the funeral director that the ceremony was to be closed to the public, with attendance by invitation only. Including Myrtle, the preacher, and herself, Susan counted a total of eight mourners. There was not even a police escort for the handful of cars that followed the hearse to the nearby cemetery.

  The Thigpen family marker was a tall, marble structure with urns on either side. Bouquets of red and white carnations filled the two stone vases. Lorraine’s plot was next to her mother and father, whose names were carved into the marble headstone. A thought kept running through Susan’s mind—the prodigal daughter had finally come home.

  The minister motioned for everyone to come closer. Myrtle’s friends huddled around her for support, and Susan eased closer. Myrtle reached out to Susan, who hugged her. That said more than any comforting words.

  The service was short, mainly a reading of scriptures. Myrtle had undoubtedly not volunteered much information about her estranged sister, so there was no eulogy. Afterwards, Susan asked if Myrtle had a way home. Myrtle said her friends were going to drive her, that they had prepared a few refreshments. She asked Susan to join them, but Susan declined, saying she’d visit with her later.

  “No one deserves to die like that,” Myrtle said. “I want whoever is responsible to be brought to justice.”

  “We all do, and Wesley will work hard to find the monster.”

  By the time Susan returned to the boutique, the fashion show at the luncheon had ended, and Melanie was waiting for her. She had with her two models who were interested in working part time, both seniors at the local college.

  “They’ve filled out applications,” Melanie said, handing Susan the papers, “and would like to be interviewed.”

  “Hi, I’m Isabel Martin.” A thin blonde with short hair and hazel eyes reached for Susan’s hand. “I’ve completed most of my courses and am free on Monday, Wednesday and Saturday.”

  The other girl, equally attractive with dark brown hair and chocolate eyes, met Susan’s gaze. “I’m Nadine Smith. Our schedules are the same, so I’m free on those days, too.”

  Nadine was soft spoken and seemed somewhat shy, while Isabel appeared every bit the extrovert. Different personalities for different customers, Susan thought.

  “I told them you have two shops, the Bawdy Boutique and the Purple Pickle,” Melanie said. “I wasn’t sure where you’d want them to work.”

  “We’re going to need extra help in both shops.” Susan scanned the top application. “Melanie, while I interview Isabel, why don’t you show Nadine around the shop?”

  “I vote to hire them,” Debbie shouted.

  Susan grinned.

  After meeting with both girls, Susan was ready to hire them on the spot, but since she was in a partnership with A. K., it was only right her partner had a say. She called A. K., explained the situation, and had Melanie take the applications and prospects over to interview with A. K.

  Debbie was waiting on a customer, but gave a thumbs-up to the girls as they left. On the way out, Nadine held the door open for a customer.

  Susan stepped forward to greet her. “Mrs. Hightower, how are you?”

  “Please, call me Zelda.”

  As always, the mayor’s wife was dressed to the nines. From the cut of the lapel to the length of the skirt, the silk suit was perfectly tailored, and Susan recognized the designer, having seen his line in the latest fashion magazine. Zelda sashayed toward Susan and extended a limp hand.

  What does she expect? That I should kiss her ring? Think again. “You look stunning,” Susan said, clasping Zelda’s hand.

  She couldn’t decide if the smile that crossed Zelda’s face was a thank-you or an of-course-I-do response. Either way, she seemed pleased.

  “What can I do for you?” Susan asked.

  Zelda looked around the store. Debbie and a customer were several feet away and too far to hear anything. Nevertheless, Zelda stepped closer and lowered her voice. “I’d like to look at your lingerie department.”

  Uh-oh, either something was wrong in the bedroom or Zelda was on the prowl. The latter seemed highly unlikely. Whatever the reason, A. K. would have a field day with this.

  “What exactly did you have in mind?” Susan asked in her best matter-of-fact voice, not wanting to appear curious.

  “Something sheer and enticing, but elegant.”

  “Long or short?”

  “Maybe a long negligee with a sheer chemise underneath.”

  “I have just the thing.”

  Zelda’s eyes widened when Susan pulled a black negligee from the rack and draped it across a counter. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Lifting a chemise from another location, she said, “This is just the thing to go with it.”

  “Oh, yes,” Zelda said, running her fingers over the luxurious material. “You know, as we age, we really need a little something extra to keep our man happy.”

  Susan noted Zelda didn’t say husband. Then she silently reprimanded herself for thinking the worst. She knew nothing about the Hightowers’ private life. Nevertheless, the corners of her mouth curled into an impish smile. A. K. had to be rubbing off on her.

  As soon as Zelda left with her purchases, the office phone rang.

  “The girls are on their way back to see you,” A. K. said. “Hire them.”

  “Glad we agree.” Susan looked up to see them entering the boutique. “They’re here. I’ll talk with you later. Oh, and let Sheila know.”

  Susan motioned the new recruits to come to the office. “A. K. and I would love to have you work with us.”

  They giggled and hugged one another, obviously overjoyed at landing the jobs. Susan worked out a schedule, and they signed the necessary tax and insurance forms.

  “Okay, let’s share the good news,” Susan said, escorting them into the shop. “Ladies, meet our new employees,” she said to Melanie and Debbie. “They’ll start tomorrow.”

  Welcomes and high fives were exchanged. On the way out, Nadine stopped to thank Melanie for giving them the opportunity to apply.

  “Hold down the fort,” Susan said to Melanie and Debbie. “I’m going next door to give A. K. a hand restocking the shelves. She not only reordered what we sold, she added several new costumes. If she keeps that up, we won’t have room to turn around.”

  Crossing the parking lot, Susan gazed at the highway. She’d have loved to see Wesley’s Crown Victoria drive up, but she’d settle for a phone call. When Wesley worked a case, everything else seemed to get shuffled to the back burner, her included. Maybe he kept his distance on purpose, afraid she’d want more information than he was willing or able to divulge, even though she had assured him that wasn’t the case.
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  Before entering the Purple Pickle, Susan gave another look down the empty highway and grunted. Who was she kidding? She did want to know everything, and her curiosity was getting the best of her.

  “Glad you’re here,” A. K. said when Susan entered the costume shop. “Sheila and I could use some help. I can’t wait to put the new girls to work.”

  Sheila waved and continued waiting on a customer.

  “This is a mess,” Susan said, looking at boxes scattered everywhere and packing material strewn about the floor. “Sorry, but I can’t work in chaos. How about I carry the empty cartons to the dumpster while you stack the unopened boxes?”

  Before long, the store looked presentable.

  “Come here,” A. K. said. “I want to run something by you. Ever since we decided to open the Purple Pickle, I decided to see what other venues were out there where we could showcase our costumes. Why should we rely solely on walk-in traffic? Since our grand opening was such a success, we should do just as well offsite. I had one particular festival in mind, but they were booked and couldn’t accommodate us. But low and behold, a vendor cancelled. The manager called to say a slot has opened up. What do you think of this?” She handed Susan a page from the printer.

  Susan read the caption, The Pirates’ Reef Casino and Hotel presents its Annual Pirates’ Festival. A smile crossed her face as she scanned the rest of the sheet. “Looks like fun. What all would it involve? Where would we set up?”

  “If you’re in agreement, I’ll call and get the details.”

  “Hmm, Biloxi. That’s about an hour-and forty-minute drive. You couldn’t find anything closer?”

  “That’s how long it takes you to get there.” A. K. imitated the sound of an engine revving. “I can cut off about twenty minutes.”

  “And wipe out all our profit on a speeding ticket? I don’t think so.” Susan studied the advertisement. “Find out if the hotel will work with us. We’ll each need a room and a place in the hotel to set up the costumes.”

  “Okay. If things work out, we’re going to have to rent a van. We can’t possibly haul everything in our cars.”