Beauty Expos Are Murder

by Libby Klein

  “It doesn’t take three hours to find out someone’s not coming.”

  One of her cousins came over to us and asked Shayla if she could take over. People were streaming into her booth to buy miracle creams now that the plastic surgery tent was closed.

  “Look, my booth is finally busy like it should have been from the start. I need to make the most of this.” She started to walk away, then paused. “Lance Rubin was my biggest competition, but that doesn’t mean I killed him. Okay? I’ve heard whispers that he stole that whole UV light mask ‘discovery’ from Dr. Shawn Hammerstein in Los Angeles. And I’m convinced he stole the research on my new line of age-reversal skin care. He’s been accused of corporate espionage before. I almost pulled out of the Expo when I saw he was the keynote. You don’t have to believe me. Ask around.”

  CHAPTER 25

  My gut said Shayla was lying about not barreling into me earlier, and my nose agreed with my gut. When I sniffed her hair she didn’t smell like her usual rosy-scented self. She smelled like Irish Spring. Someone like Shayla Rose doesn’t use Irish Spring unless she has something to hide.

  I did a lap around the room and chatted up a few of the skin-care companies. No one had heard the gossip that Dr. Rubin had stolen his UV mask from Dr. Hammerstein except the last booth I spoke to, and I had a sick feeling that by then, I may have been the one who’d started the rumor.

  I turned the final corner and passed the Max Level Plant Protein booth next to ours. Part of their display was a life-size poster on a metal frame of a bodybuilder from his head to his oiled-up thighs. From the thigh down, he appeared to be wearing an orange corduroy skirt and purple Crocs.

  “Hi, Agnes.” The poster twitched on my way past.

  Gia handed me a latte when I got behind the counter. “Taste this.”

  I took a sip. “That’s interesting. It reminds me of cereal.”

  “We ran out of almond milk and Justin at the Sunshine Smoothies bar gave me some oat beverage to try.”

  “Oat beverage. So fancy. I wonder if you could add orange and raspberry syrup and call it a Fruity Pebbles Latte. Hey! That could be the fruitaccino!”

  Gia laughed. “I like it.”

  Sierra sidled up in between us. “So, what’s the deal with that lady with the messed-up face?”

  “I think she’s spying on us.”

  Gia kept his eyes forward. “She is not good at it.”

  Sierra pulled the folded-up Fraudster sticker from her shorts under her multicolored, woven skirt. “Do you think she’s the one who plastered these all over the room?”

  The bodybuilder poster moved a couple of steps closer to us, and one of the Protein guys yelled, “Hey! You can’t do that.”

  Agnes Pfeister-Pinze darted from behind the stand and zigzagged down the aisle, her Crocs squeaking with every step.

  Sierra scratched her head. “Never mind. I think I would have noticed her.”

  “What would you think if I told you someone killed Dr. Rubin? Would you believe it could be her?”

  Gia and Sierra both watched Agnes run into the security guard, knock him back a couple of inches, and pivot to go out the other way. Gia shook his head. “She does not have it in her.”

  Sierra shoved the bumper sticker back in her pocket. “I feel like she’d have been caught by now.”

  They were both right. There was something very pitiful about the woman.

  Two ladies came by pushing toddlers in umbrella strollers. They threw the familiar Paleo Diva sample cups in our trash. “Alright, let’s see what you got.”

  Sierra stepped up and described our selections and the women each bought a piece of pistachio rose shortbread.

  One of them held up her shortbread. “Are you sure this is Paleo?”

  I nodded. “It really is.”

  “This is amazing.”

  I grinned. “That’s what I was going for.”

  One of the women looked at the other while they chewed. “She can keep her coupon.”

  Her friend nodded her agreement. “Can I get a dozen of these to go?”

  When they had moved on to Shayla’s booth Sierra made an observation. “I think that Paleo Diva chick is saying stuff about you.”

  “Yeah, I got that.”

  “You know, she was here earlier. When you both stepped away.”

  I turned to Gia. “When did you step away?”

  He put his hand on my back. “S’not important. What did she want?”

  “To buy stuff. She bought one of everything and asked if I had any bacon cookies left.”

  Interesting. “Did she say anything else?”

  “Just that my skirt smelled like cow.”

  I sniffed. “Yeah, li’l bit.”

  “See, there’s Daddy.” Alex clacked down the aisle toward our booth with Henry and Karla lagging behind looking miserable. Alex gave a finger wave. “Hello, Daddy.”

  Gia clenched his jaw. The kiss from earlier this morning came to the front of my mind and heat rose to my face.

  Henry rushed around the women and into our booth to hug my legs. “Hey, Sweets. Whatchu been doin’?”

  Henry’s expression was made more exasperated by how giant his eyes looked behind his glasses. He groaned. “Shopping for hours.”

  I admit that I wanted to laugh. Just a little. He was so dramatic. All I could do was rub his back to try to comfort him.

  Alex did a spin for Gia. “See. We got matching mother-and-son sweaters. Don’t we look darling?”

  Gia remained silent.

  Henry pulled the collar of the pink-and-white argyle sweater away from his neck and stretched his face to the side. “It’s itchy.”

  I saw a look pass between Karla and Gia. A look that said, I can’t stand much more of this.

  Gia sighed. “What are you doing here, Alex?”

  Alex waved her hands. “I need some moisturizer. You don’t stay this beautiful without a little maintenance.” She looked my way. “Karla knows what I mean.” Then she put her hand out. “Okay, Henry, come back to Mommy.”

  Henry turned those big eyes on Gia. “Daddy, I don’t want to. Can’t I stay with you and Poppy?”

  Gia tousled Henry’s hair. “Oh, Piccolo.”

  Alex barked, “Now, Henry!”

  We were all stunned, including Sierra, whose eyes were as big as Henry’s. I felt myself flinch and instinctively shifted Henry behind me to shield him.

  Gia threw down the rag he’d been using to clean the frothing wand. “No. Non parlargli in quel modo!”

  Karla jumped.

  Alex narrowed her eyes. “If you aren’t nice to me, I’m reporting it to Momma.”

  Gia did not back down. “I do not care what you tell Momma. My life will not be ruled by the family!”

  Alex slammed her hand on the counter, then spun around and stormed out.

  Karla slapped Gia on the shoulder. “Idiota! There are ears everywhere!” She turned and followed behind Alex.

  I looked at Gia. “What did you say to her?”

  “I said she was not to speak to my son that way.”

  “Well, she forgot to take him with her.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Henry had been somewhat abandoned at the Expo, so I took him around the hall to see the booths and the makeup demonstration.

  “Why do ladies put all that stuff on their face?”

  “It makes them look pretty.”

  He scrunched his nose up. “She looks like a raccoon.”

  “Uh . . . yeah. Kinda.” The makeup artist had used a very heavy hand with the eyeliner.

  He looked at my face. “You’re pretty without makeup.”

  I smiled. “Oh honey, I’m wearing so much more than you realize.”

  I took him over to the Sunshine booth and we bought a smoothie and a protein shake. We went outside to drink them on the deck, and Henry took my hand in his. I had to bat my eyes to keep from tearing up and ruining that makeup he didn’t think I was wearing.

  “Do I hav
e to do more shopping for itchy sweaters?”

  I knew what he was asking me and I wished I had a better answer. “Maybe Daddy can think of a way for this to be easier for you.”

  He pulled at the neckline of his sweater. “And less pink.”

  I stifled another giggle and put my arm around him. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Shadows shifted under the deck, and I could see through the slats that someone was lurking right below us. “Come on. Let’s go inside and check on things.”

  Gia gave Henry a lesson in pulling espresso and I let him wait on customers. He had so much fun that an hour later, when Karla called to say that she was on her way to pick him up, he had a meltdown. I had to take him outside to sit him on my lap and rub his back until he fell asleep.

  Gia watched me through the window, the look on his face a mixture of pleasure and pain.

  When Karla arrived that was my cue to go. “I have to start making the food for tomorrow’s afternoon tea. But I’ll stop by in the morning to see how you’re doing.”

  Henry gave me a long hug goodbye while Gia watched us with pain etched in the crinkles around his eyes. “Bring me a scone.”

  I laughed. “You got it.”

  I knew something was up when Karla wanted to walk with me to the exit. “You have something to say to me?”

  “You need to watch your back. Alex has been hanging around Mia Famiglia and she’s a schemer. Momma may go along with her tricks because of family connections in Italy, but the rest of us see through her.”

  “So, everyone else would be on my side?”

  “I wouldn’t say that either. Just because you’re not Alex doesn’t mean you’re accepted.”

  Karla returned to the booth and I went down the ramp to cross Beach Drive. The crosswalk light turned green, and just as I was about to step off the curb, someone yanked my purse. I grabbed it with my other hand and threw an elbow toward my assailant.

  She squeaked like a mouse. “I’m sorry. I just want to talk to you.”

  “What the heck, Agnes! I thought you were trying to mug me.”

  She held her hand up to cover her face. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all day, but someone was always around.”

  “Well, what do you want?”

  “I’ve heard you asking questions and I’m here to warn you. You need to stay out of it.”

  “Stay out of what exactly?”

  “Lance Rubin deserved what he got. Don’t go nosing around where you don’t belong or more people will get hurt.”

  “Is this your idea of a confession?”

  She jerked away from me and her corkscrews bounced in every direction at once. “I didn’t do it. I wanted my day in court to expose him for the fraud he was. I wanted to see him suffer the way I’ve had to suffer with this face.”

  “Can’t you go somewhere and get that fixed?”

  “Not until I get justice.”

  The light turned green, so I crossed the street to get away from her.

  She called after me, “You’re trusting the wrong people!”

  * * *

  Aunt Ginny’s two-story, inflatable rabbit was starting to look like a war veteran. Benjamin Bunny was patched in four places, including a duct tape X over one eye. I tried telling her his days were numbered, but she refused to give up. She was currently on hold with the Cape May Police Department, where she had asked for a patrol officer to guard the house. I could just imagine the discussion they were having in the station.

  Joanne had every surface in my kitchen covered with petits fours dipped in pastel white chocolate. She had decorated them with piped flowers, polka dots, and swirls, and she was working on Easter eggs and ladybugs.

  “You’ve done a beautiful job.”

  She stopped decorating a pale-pink cake to glare at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just what I said. These are gorgeous. How come you don’t do cake decorating professionally?”

  She narrowed her eyes, trying to decide whether I was sincere or not, then went back to covering the little cakes with designs. “I did for a while. I was laid off when the bakery was sold to make room for condos.”

  Victory came into the kitchen and returned her cleaning supplies to the mudroom. “Fancey keitty has bed so verry expenseive. Eit cost more than some house ein my veillage.” She washed her hands and reached for a petit four.

  Joanne smacked her hand and Victory snatched it back. “Hey! I want teeny baby cake.”

  “Those are for afternoon tea.”

  Victory got herself a Dr Pepper and took a seat at the table to pout.

  I was just glad I hadn’t tried to take a petit four. Who knew Joanne was so protective with her desserts?

  Aunt Ginny slammed the phone down and threw herself onto the banquette in a fit of pique. “They won’t help. They said they can’t spare anyone right now.”

  “Well, Amber is on administrative leave, which I think is some kind of suspension, and Officers Birkwell and Consuelos are on duty at Convention Hall, so that’s probably true.”

  Aunt Ginny made a face and fished out a pack of green gummy bears from a pocket in her housedress. Figaro flew into the room when he heard the wrapper—I don’t know who trained him to recognize the sound of cellophane—and jumped on the table across from her to beg.

  I had set out my scone ingredients and was about to turn on the food processor to cut in my butter. “Aunt Ginny, why do you still have those?”

  “I went back this morning and bought them. The more I eat the more I seem to want. They cost a fortune too.”

  Figaro sniffed the gummy bears and swatted the packet to the floor.

  Joanne snickered and picked the packet up for Aunt Ginny. She examined it before handing it back. “I hear that CBD oil works wonders for anxiety.”

  Well, it’s made mine worse. I pulsed the KitchenAid and brought my scone dough together. We had twenty tables booked for tea tomorrow, and a head count of fifty-one. I did some math and figured I needed ten dozen scones to have enough for everyone to have two, plus a little extra for my “little extra” who was having a fit over Rabbitzilla.

  Victory slumped to the table fast asleep on a loaf of bread. The three of us looked to be sure she was still breathing. Figaro reared back and stood on his hind legs. He gave her a tentative pat on the head that she slept through.

  “At least she isn’t in a guest room this time.” I hit Pulse again, and Joanne moved her trays of petits fours away from the food processor.

  “I didn’t work on these all day to have you dust them in flour. I made your hot cross buns like you demanded—you’re welcome—and the chicken salad and egg salad are in the refrigerator. You really need to think about getting a sheet pan rack.”

  I mixed the currants into the scone dough and patted it into a disc. “Why don’t you find one you like and order it?”

  “Because I don’t work here. I freelance. Ordering is your job.”

  I sighed. All my kitchens had become hostile work environments.

  Figaro swiped the gummy bear packet to the floor again and Aunt Ginny shook her fist at him.

  Victory woke up like she hadn’t missed anything, picked the packet up and handed it to Aunt Ginny. “Why are bears green?”

  Aunt Ginny shrugged. “I think it’s for Easter.”

  Joanne and I made the briefest of eye contact but said nothing.

  Joanne removed her apron and grabbed her fanny pack from its peg. “I’m off. I’ll be back in the morning.” She gave me a dirty look. “Is that all right with you, Princess?”

  Why am I “princess”? I’m elbow deep in scone dough. “Have a good night.” Don’t forget to sanitize that nose ring.

  Victory went back to the boardinghouse for the night and Aunt Ginny was in her room with Figaro watching some show starring Dick Van Dyke, who she insisted looked like Royce, except Dick didn’t break into Shakespeare at random intervals.

  I spent the night baking. Joanne was right. We did
need a sheet pan rack. I had taken mine to the coffee shop when I’d started baking for La Dolce Vita months ago. Now I had twelve dozen scones, plus a dozen gluten-free scones, because who was I kidding? I was going to cheat on this keto diet and eat three of them before the tea was over tomorrow. Six loaves of chocolate bread plus all of Joanne’s cakes. There wasn’t a spare inch in my kitchen to make the cherry mascarpone filling for the chocolate sandwiches.

  My pocket buzzed and I pulled out my phone. Amber had sent me a text. Go 2 TC. Someone knows something.

  “TC? What does TC mean?”

  A second text came in. Brenda says bring cookies.

  Okay, TC means Teen Center in the Villas. I hadn’t been there since I dropped off twelve dozen cookies for their Christmas fundraiser. I checked the time; they’d be closing in an hour. “Maybe I should go there tomorrow.”

  Another text came in. Go Now!

  I looked around the kitchen, then pulled the lid off the cookie jar and yelled into it, “Amber! Do you have my house bugged?”

  I didn’t get a reply, but that didn’t mean no either. We’ll be talking about this, blondie.

  I grabbed a tray of aloha chocolate chip cookies that was meant for the Expo tomorrow. Two dozen less would have to be okay. I got my purse and my keys and headed down the hall, but before I could get out the front door Dale Parker stopped me.

  “Poppy, do you have another computer?”

  I looked into the library, where Rita was on the one at the desk. “No, I’m sorry. That’s the only one. Do you need something?”

  “I wanted to check Portia’s standings before tomorrow’s event and she’s been on that all day.”

  “Oh dear. Can you check from your cell phone?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t read the numbers on the screen. They’re too small.”

  I cleared my throat. “Hello, Rita.”

  “Hey, Poppy. How was the Expo today?”

  “It was good. Lots of people attended, that’s for sure. By any chance will you be finished on the computer soon?”

  Rita held up a finger. “I’m just about done. Five more minutes.”

  Dale Parker gave me a look. “She’s been saying that for hours.”

  I fetched Dale my iPad and logged it in to the guest setting I’d made for emergencies. Guests have a lot more Internet surfing emergencies than you could ever imagine. “Just put it back on the front desk when you’re finished.”