How to Frame a Fashionista

by Debra Sennefelder

  Kelly studied Serena. Seated there, she didn’t look like the person who terrorized Bishop’s and all of Seventh Avenue. With her swollen, red eyes and frail-looking body, she looked incapable of yielding so much power that the legends of the design world buckled if she was unhappy with their new lines. No, she looked more like a scared mother of two children.

  And it was that new perception of Serena that had Kelly relenting and breaking her firm decision to not get involved. So much for minding her own business.

  “I’m not a detective, but if I can help, I will.” Kelly watched Serena’s reaction and the relieved smile on her face, and her shifting made Kelly brace for an unprecedented hug.

  Instead, Serena stood and set her glass on the coffee table. “Wonderful to hear. I’m going upstairs to get some sleep. You can show yourself out.” She turned and headed for the staircase in the hall.

  “Of course, I can. Good night, Serena,” Kelly called out as her former boss disappeared.

  When Kelly got around to telling the story of how her visit ended, Serena’s dismissal and lack of gratitude would surprise people because they didn’t know the woman as well as Kelly had. She wasn’t surprised by Serena. Only by herself. She was a sap for a sob story. But seriously, how could she let herself be dragged into Serena’s drama?

  Now, that was a question she’d be asking herself all night.

  She stood and let herself out. Inside her Jeep, she sent off a quick text to Ariel asking her to research Serena’s claim that she does indeed have two daughters.

  She might have been a sap, but she wasn’t a fool. If she was going to stick her neck out, she wanted to make sure she had good cause to do so.

  Chapter 11

  Kelly took a detour on her drive home after she got a call from her cousin, Frankie Blake. He invited her over to his condo for recipe testing. When she heard what he’d just baked, there was no way she could say no.

  A night-owl off-season, Frankie swooped her inside and plated up a dish of piping hot apple cobbler topped with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream. He’d just finished filming the recipe for his YouTube channel.

  Kelly knew she shouldn’t indulge after her delicious dinner with Marvin, complete with chocolate mousse. Still, the aroma of baked apples and cinnamon had her throwing caution, and possibly her size four jeans, to the wind.

  “Holy bananas. This is so good,” she said with a mouthful of the cobbler. Apparently, she was throwing her manners to the wind too. But, hey, Frankie was family.

  The eldest of Ralph’s two children, Frankie, chose not to follow in his father’s footsteps—pursuing real estate domination on Long Island. Instead, his passion for food had taken him to Paris to study and then to cook for some of the most renowned restaurants there and in New York before landing back in Lucky Cove. Even though he’d landed jobs others would kill for, he wasn’t happy. He wanted something of his own, along with a simpler lifestyle. Much to his father’s dismay, he opened Frankie’s Clam Shack. Not exactly the over-priced cuisine he’d cooked before, but he’d received rave reviews in newspapers across the island.

  * * * *

  “I’ll be uploading the recipe video next week. Here’s your tea.” He set the mug on the peninsula’s countertop, pushing a pile of papers to the side. He normally didn’t have clutter. He was one of those rare individuals that sorted his mail over a recycling bin. His neat freak genes came from his mother. Kelly remembered how her aunt would spaz out at the sight of water marks on glasses. Heaven forbid there was ever a pile of papers like there was now on the countertop. Kelly could hear her aunt freaking out.

  “What’s with the mess?” She dunked her tea bag before setting it on the edge of the plate.

  “Results from my DNA test.” Frankie dropped a chamomile tea bag into his mug and then filled it to the brim with hot water.

  “Huh. Ariel is doing one of those tests, too. Maybe I should do one.”

  “You should. I did one where I not only learn about where I came from, but also health information. It’s very in depth.”

  Kelly shrugged. “I’ll think about it. Back to your videos. How many do you have up so far?” She scooped up another bite of the cobbler. She needed to take some of this home for a snack tomorrow.

  “Ten. I’ll need a lot more. I’m hoping to get enough subscribers to start earning some ad revenue. Every little bit helps.” Frankie carried his bowl around the peninsula. Barefoot, he wore his usual distressed jeans and thermal top. He settled on a stool next to Kelly.

  During the winter season, he worked at local restaurants and as a private chef to pay the bills because his establishment was slow without summer tourists. The condo was a gift from his father, but he had to pay the HOA fees. The word gift was debatable.

  When Frankie walked away from his chef career in New York City, his father asked him to work at the real estate company for a few months. He said it would be a trial, to see if Frankie liked developing properties. He’d thrown in the condo to sweeten the deal. In need of a place to live, Frankie took the offer and worked for his father just long enough to satisfy the requirements to get the condo. He may not have had the heart for real estate, but he knew how to work a deal.

  “You’ll get there. Before you know it, you’ll have thousands of subscribers all making your recipes. This is to-die-for.” Kelly scooped up another bite.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. There’s plenty, so you can take some home with you.”

  Kelly smiled. She loved her cousin. Well, most of the time. He had a way of letting his imagination run off with him. Like the time he had gone along with a séance in her boutique. If Kelly was ever asked for advice about running a boutique, top on her list would be never have a séance in your shop. It really wasn’t good for business.

  Frankie sipped his tea. “See, I knew you’d be happy. Kinda like I know something is bothering you. What’s going on?”

  She sighed. He could always read her like a book. They’d been raised more like siblings than cousins, and he knew how her mind worked. Sometimes it was a good thing, other times not so much.

  “It’s Serena. And it’s a long story.”

  “Like usual?” He grinned and nudged her with his shoulder.

  “Haha. I was just at her rental.”

  “What? Why? Oh, come on, Kell. You know she’s bad news.”

  “I know. I know. I went there to check on her. To see if she was okay. You should have seen her. She had eaten pizza and drunk too much wine. I think she’d even cried.”

  “Sounds like she had a moment of being human.”

  “I know. It freaked me out. Then she asked me to help her clear her name.” Kelly took a long drink of her tea and braced herself for Frankie’s reaction.

  “Which you agreed to do.” See, Frankie knew her too well.

  “How could I refuse? She’s worried about her two daughters. I’m sure her arrest has already made the news. I’ve just been too busy to check online.”

  “It has. I saw it on TV earlier. Look, she’s not your responsibility. Remember how she treated you when you worked at Bishop’s?” Frankie’s fork clanked in the bowl as he scraped up the rest of his cobbler.

  Kelly let out a breath. “I do. It’s still burned into my brain. So why do I feel obligated to help her?”

  “Because you’re a sucker for a sob story.” Frankie popped up from the stool and dashed around the peninsula. He scooped out another helping of the cobbler from the glass baking dish. He gestured to Kelly’s bowl, but she declined. She envied her cousin’s lean, muscled frame. He could eat the whole cobbler and not gain one ounce, while she probably gained three pounds between dinner with Marvin and dessert with Frankie.

  How was that fair?

  “Am not.” Kelly pouted.

  “You need to be careful.”

  “I know. Trust me, I don’t intend
to get arrested again.”

  “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about you and Mark.” Frankie covered the baking dish and then refilled his mug.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Sticking your nose in the investigation might cause a problem between you two since you’ll be going up against his sister.” Frankie looked concerned.

  Kelly’s heart sank. She hadn’t thought about the effect her inquiring about Tawny’s murder would have on her relationship with Mark. Could her cousin be right? Would Mark object to her asking some questions, helping Serena out? No, of course, he wouldn’t. He’d understand what she was doing wasn’t in any way a result of her not respecting his sister and her job. She would only help. Helping wasn’t a bad thing, so it shouldn’t be a problem. No problem at all.

  * * * *

  The next morning, sunlight streamed into Kelly’s apartment, promising a beautiful day. She guzzled down a bottle of water first thing to counteract all the food she’d eaten the night before. Today she’d watch every bite that went into her mouth. Dressed in a black A-line dress that hid her puffiness, she swept her hair up into a sleek twist. She slipped on a pair of nude pumps and filled her water bottle before heading downstairs.

  In her small entryway, she stopped in her tracks when she found a leak. The past few days had been warm. Warmth meant all the snow on the roof was melting right into her home. Maybe she should have taken Marvin up on his offer last night. She’d have a check by the afternoon and Buck on the roof ASAP.

  No, she had to go and be a responsible adult.

  She returned to her apartment to fetch a bucket from the kitchen. After placing it beneath the leak, she got a text from Ariel. She was an early riser who started work at the crack of dawn.

  She confirmed Serena’s story about having two children living up in Vermont.

  Serena had been married to business consultant Arnold Parkerson. Arnold preferred keeping a low profile and avoided all spotlight. They had twin daughters, Chloe and Rachel. The girls were two years old when Serena divorced her husband. Arnold got full custody of the children and returned to his hometown.

  It looked like Serena had told the truth.

  Now she felt better about helping her. The truth was, the faster Serena was gone, the better it was for Kelly.

  Back out in the hallway, she set the bucket under the new leak and then inspected the other buckets. They were only half filled so she’d check them after lunch.

  She headed down the stairs, dreading more leaks. She opened the stairwell door and then made the turn into the staff room. She pushed opened the swinging door, and when she entered the room, her mouth gaped open.

  It wasn’t the discovery of new drips that shocked her. It was the fact someone had ransacked the room.

  “What the heck?”

  Kelly backed out and hurried to the photo studio. The tripod was knocked over, all of the cabinet drawers, where she kept her photography accessories, were opened. Their contents were scattered on the floor. Her digital camera was still on the table, which seemed odd, seeing as it was an expensive investment for her. Why wouldn’t a burglar take it?

  She returned to the staff room and did a closer inspection. The desk drawers were pulled out. The closet where she stored office supplies was opened, and its items were scattered on the floor. She looked at the kitchenette. All of the cupboard doors and drawers were open, and their contents were tossed all over the floor.

  The place was a mess. Someone was looking for something. But what?

  She pivoted and dashed out of the room. Her next stop was the accessory department. She came to a halt at the sight of the mess. All the displays were knocked over. Handbags and shoes were scattered all over the floor.

  She shook her head. She must have been sleeping unusually soundly because she hadn’t heard anything. Her quick look around didn’t alert her to anything being taken. The six Coach bags, two Kate Spades, and one Dooney and Bourke were still there. Surely, they would have been taken since they were expensive.

  Kelly pulled her phone out of her pocket, and she dialed 9-1-1. It was becoming a habit. One she wanted to break.

  She was telling the dispatcher what she’d found when Pepper entered the room and gasped.

  “What happened? The staff room is a mess.” Pepper walked to Kelly. “The back door was open. Are you okay?”

  Kelly ended the call. “I am. I came downstairs, and this is what I found. It looks like the staff room and photo studio were also searched.”

  “Searched? Oh, my goodness. What on earth for?”

  Drip.

  “Good grief. Could this day get any worse?” The moment she asked the question, she regretted it. Tempting fate was never a good idea.

  “Over there.” Pepper pointed. “In the corner. The leaks are coming in all areas. Those horrid ice dams. I’ll get a bucket. And I’ll call Clive. He’ll arrange for a locksmith to come over and fix the door.” She turned and hurried out of the room.

  “And more buckets, please. There’s a new leak upstairs,” Kelly said as she took another look around before heading to the staff room. “Wait! Maybe we should stay out of the staff room until the police arrive.”

  When she reached the room, Pepper was already on the landline talking to her husband. She gave him a recap of what happened and then a list of things to do. Locksmith, home center, and Doug’s to pick up donuts. The last action item on the to-do list perked up Kelly a bit. She could go for a donut.

  She saw the Lucky Cove Weekly on the table. The front-page story was Tawny’s murder. It wasn’t a shocker considering it was the biggest news story in town. The byline wasn’t a surprise, either. Ella wrote the story.

  Kelly lifted the paper up and scanned the article. Two quotes caught her eye. One from Liza and one from Breena. There was also a scathing description of Serena. If Kelly hadn’t known the woman better, she would have felt bad for her.

  “Clive will drop off more buckets, and he’ll get Burton to fix the door. You have an appointment this morning at the bank. Go on. Breena will be here soon, and we’ll clean up.”

  Kelly looked up from the newspaper. “Are you sure?”

  “I am. We need the loan.” Pepper walked to the kitchen counter and prepared a pot of coffee. “Interesting article, huh?”

  “I hope Serena doesn’t see it.” Kelly set the newspaper down, and that’s when a loud frantic knock at the front door startled them both.

  Pepper glanced at her watch. “We’re late opening. The front of the boutique wasn’t trashed. So maybe we close off the accessory department until we clean it up?”

  “I don’t think we’ll be opening at all today. We have to wait for the police to arrive before we can clean up. And then we have to take a full inventory. It doesn’t look like anything has been stolen but we need to make sure.” Kelly’s shoulders sagged. “Great. As if dealing with trying to get a bank loan isn’t enough, I might have to deal with an insurance claim.”

  “Take a deep breath. And find out who’s at the door and make them stop. Go.” She shooed Kelly out of the room.

  Kelly did as she was told and scooted out of the room. She was both annoyed and elated she had a customer banging down the door to get in, even though the boutique was in no shape for customers. Whoever it was, she’d have to send the person away. As she passed through the main sales area, everything looked good, so maybe she could close off the accessories department and open the rest of the boutique. She hated losing sales.

  Kelly’s annoyance ratcheted up when the person on the other side of the door came into view. Not a potential customer.

  Serena.

  Kelly guessed she saw the newspaper. She unlocked the door and opened it but didn’t get out of the way fast enough. Serena barreled in at full speed and waving the newspaper, confirming Kelly’s suspicions.

  “Can
you believe this? Who is this…this…” She unfolded the paper and looked at the front page. “Ella Marshall? I’ll sue this rag and make sure this hack doesn’t get another word printed ever again. Not even on some lame blog.”

  “Serena, calm down. Considering the past few days and last night, you might be over-reacting,” Kelly said.

  “What are you talking about?” Serena propped a hand on her hip. Kelly admired how good she looked, considering she nearly polished off a bottle of wine last night. Her makeup was flawlessly applied, her eyes were bright, with no sign of bloodshot or puffiness.

  “This article makes me sound like I’m responsible for Tawny’s death. I’m not! I’m innocent!” Serena swatted the newspaper. “You know, it was probably Jason who killed her. I bet he finally realized what a fraud she was, and the only way of getting out of the marriage without costing him a fortune was to kill her.”

  “What are you saying? Tawny wasn’t a fraud.”

  “Ha! Dear child, she most certainly was. Before she married Jason, she was a spinning instructor, and overnight she became a fitness guru? Seriously?” She propped a hand on her hip. The belt at the waist of her cashmere coat was expertly tied and slightly off-center for a chic look. A plum silk blouse peeked out from the coat’s neckline.

  “What’s going on here?” Pepper had come up behind Kelly.

  “Who’s this?” Serena asked.

  “I’m Pepper Donovan. You must be Serena Dawson.” Pepper’s voice was tight with displeasure. Kelly recognized the tone all too well.

  Serena didn’t look the least bit interested in Pepper. Her attention snapped back to Kelly.

  “What are you going to do about this?” she asked, shoving the newspaper into Kelly’s hands. “How are you going to prove Jason killed her?”

  “You?” Pepper’s lips pursed, and she leveled the “Pepper glare” on Kelly.