Beauty Expos Are Murder

by Libby Klein

  Eloise shot through the room, wide-eyed and nervous. “Everything’s fine. No need to stop what you’re doing. Convention Hall would like to thank all our vendors for their patronage this weekend, and in appreciation, we’re offering everyone ten-percent-off tickets for our next Expo, on security systems. Get your vouchers at the front office.”

  Shoppers went back to their browsing and sampling while vendors went back to their scalp massaging and eyebrow yanking. I caught sight of Shayla Rose trying to sneak out behind her own booth. “Hey! Not so fast.”

  I grabbed her arm and she frowned. “Let go of me! I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “You’re acting awful guilty for someone who has nothing to hide.”

  “I heard Agnes accuse me before they carted her out of here. She’s a nutjob. You can’t believe anything she says.” She wrenched out of my grip, which was much easier done than I’d like to admit, and ran behind Dr. Rubin’s tent, where there was a door exiting to the boardwalk.

  Her cousins, Leo and Jimmy, blocked my path, their arms across their chests and their faces set in scowls.

  “Tell Shayla that unless she talks to me, I’m going to the media with everything I know about a warehouse full of glow-in-the-dark wrinkle cream, people walking around with blue alien faces, and the disciplinary action because of a lack of FDA approval. I know the hosts of Wake Up South Jersey! You don’t want to push me.” I gave them my fiercest scowl.

  I stormed toward my booth and saw Sierra in the aisle, looking at me funny. Her eyes were as wide as they could get, and she was jabbing them to the side.

  “What in the world are you doing?”

  She jerked her head sideways and gritted her teeth. “Eds-fay.”

  “What?”

  “Miss McAllister?”

  I understood Sierra’s warning too late. Two men in black suits and earpieces were going through our booth. “Can I help you gentlemen?”

  They flashed badges so fast, for all I knew they were bought at Dellas 5 & 10. “Ma’am, we’re investigating a local cell of organized crime. Are you aware of any incidents you may want to divulge?”

  I could swear the planet slowed down to quarter speed on its axis. Even their words were coming out in slow motion. “Organized crime? No. I’m not aware of anything.”

  The men made eye contact and passed a silent nod to each other. One put his hand to his ear and whispered something into his shirt cuff. “This is not the time to withhold information, ma’am. You’ve recently been spotted with someone on the FBI watchlist.”

  Gia flashed in my mind, and I knew in that moment that if I knew anything, I would deny everything. This must be the fear Al Capone’s wife felt every day of her life. “Really? Who?”

  “We’re not at liberty to say.”

  “Then how would I know what you’re looking for?”

  “We’re just interested in anything you might have noticed or maybe overheard that might be unlawful.”

  “Well, I haven’t seen or heard anything unlawful.” Other than two potential murders and one possible Internal Affairs cover-up. Plus, Aunt Ginny’s getting high on CBD oil gummy bears. “What do you think this person has done?”

  They didn’t answer the question. “Where is the owner of La Dolce Vita at this time?”

  The air was getting thinner and my chest was feeling tight. “I haven’t seen him.”

  The men gave me hard looks. One of them passed me a business card with a phone number on it. “In case you overhear anything.”

  They left the booth, and Sierra sucked in a gulp of air. “What was that all about?”

  “I dunno, but don’t talk to them if I’m not around.” I tore up the card and threw it in the trash. When I looked up I caught Tim and Gigi watching me from across the room.

  Tim had his arms crossed in front of him with an impassive look on his face. He wouldn’t have come to help me even if I was the one being arrested. Gigi looped her arm in his and grinned triumphantly.

  Maybe the feds being here wasn’t an accident. Maybe someone called them with an anonymous tip. I couldn’t go to Gia with this. If the feds were talking to me, they were probably watching me, and they would follow me when I left.

  “Who was that?” Aunt Ginny hefted two shopping bags onto the counter. They bore the Rubinesque logo.

  “Nobody. What did you do?”

  “Got my free beauty creams.”

  “You wore them down.”

  “I won that free treatment fair and square.”

  I peeked in her bags. She must have had over five hundred dollars’ worth of product. I shook my head. What could I say? This was always the inevitable conclusion.

  “Can you drive me home? This is a lot to carry.”

  “I’ll lose my parking spot.”

  “I could stay here and help you wait on customers until the Expo is over.”

  “I’ll get my keys.”

  I took her bags and told Sierra I’d be back later. Aunt Ginny and I exited Convention Hall and ran into a group of people congregating on the boardwalk right outside. They were taking pictures of something down below that had created quite a stir. Aunt Ginny and I started down the ramp to the parking meters and the crowd grew quiet.

  One man yelled, “Hey, lady, is that your car?”

  That’s when I saw it. My poor little Toyota. My windshield and headlights were smashed and shattered, and all four tires were slashed. Anger rose up from my belly like a volcano about to erupt.

  The same man yelled, “I didn’t see nuthin’, but we called 9-1-1.”

  Aunt Ginny had a few choice words for whoever had done this.

  There was a bright-pink paper stuck under my windshield wiper, flapping against the hood. On the front of it was Agnes Pfeister-Pinze’s boycott-the-Expo notice. On the back someone had scrawled in black marker, “Mind your own business!”

  CHAPTER 44

  “Who did this?! When I find you, I will rip you in half! You won’t be able to swing that bat again because I’m going to shove it so far up your . . .”

  “Poppy!” Aunt Ginny cut me off, horrified. “Get ahold of yourself.” Through gritted teeth, she growled, “They’re filming us.” She raised her eyebrows at the crowd hanging over the boardwalk railing, all pointing cell phones in our direction.

  I tried to yoga breathe, but I felt like a bull who’d been branded one time too many. I called Sawyer and told her my car had been vandalized, and asked if she could come get Aunt Ginny and take her home for me.

  Aunt Ginny was posing in front of the car, wringing her hands and looking forlorn. “Oh my. I’m just a poor little old lady on a fixed income. Whoever will repair my car from this brutal attack? If only there were a Good Samaritan who could come to my rescue. You can donate funds to my Bitcoin account.”

  I snickered. “Okay, dial it back, Meryl Streep. Here comes the law.”

  The siren died to a pitiful whine as the police cruiser pulled over to my sad heap that was surely totaled, and Officer Consuelos got out of the vehicle. He took one look at me and threw his arms out to the side. “What did you do?!”

  “It was like this when I found it.” I filled him in on the little that I knew.

  Hands on hips, he shook his head. “You have to have the worst luck of anyone I’ve ever met, and I know a man who lives in a dumpster. Stay here while I question the witnesses.”

  Aunt Ginny had started taking questions from the onlookers. “Because she’s very smart and she figures out things people don’t want exposed . . . Her cleverness makes her a target . . . Probably by whoever killed the plastic surgeon . . .”

  “What are you doing? Don’t tell them that. They’ll post it all over the Internet.”

  A mom with two kids brought us each a bottle of water. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

  “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

  Sawyer ran up behind me and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I’m here. What can I do to help?”

  “Tak
e Aunt Ginny home, please.”

  Aunt Ginny hopped off the hood of the car. “What? I don’t want to go home. My programs aren’t even on for three more hours. I wanna stay here and watch.”

  Sawyer gave me a dry look. “How am I supposed to . . .”

  She stopped in midsentence. She was staring at something over my shoulder. I turned around to see what it was, and Officer Consuelos was standing a few feet away, holding a clipboard. He appeared to be midtear on a tablet of paper. His eyes bore into Sawyer’s, then flicked to me.

  He finished ripping the yellow top sheet off the police report and handed it to me. “You’ll need this for your insurance company.”

  “Thank you. What’d you find out?”

  “Convention Hall has no outside security cameras. No one will admit to having seen your car being smashed in broad daylight. But a couple of kids came forward to show me a video they made.” He pulled out his cell phone. “They’re looking at the ocean, and you can hear metal smashing and glass breaking as your car is vandalized behind them. There’s a large, white van behind your car, blocking the view across the street. As soon as the smashing stops, the van speeds off.”

  “Did you get a license plate or anything?”

  “Nothing. I’m not even sure the person vandalizing your car got in the van.” He looked at each one of us in turn. “Here comes your tow truck.”

  Sawyer remained oddly quiet while my car was hooked up. She kept to herself, off to the side. Aunt Ginny wanted to ride in the car while they towed it away, but the tow-truck driver said it was a liability and he wasn’t allowed to let her do that.

  She pouted all the way home about the loss of American freedoms until I suggested we order Chinese for dinner. Nothing brightens Aunt Ginny’s mood like moo shu pork and dumplings. Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door. I picked up my wallet and went to pay Hunan Palace, only to find Gia standing on my porch, and he did not look happy.

  “Why?! Why can you not call me when you are in trouble? Why do I have to find out through the rumor mill?”

  “Who’s the rumor mill?”

  “It is not important. What is important is that I am here for you and you do not trust me!”

  Aunt Ginny and Sawyer apparently felt that we needed to have a formal dinner in the dining room and started quietly setting out the good dishes within earshot.

  Gia took a step toward me. “What do I need to do? How do I prove myself to you?”

  Aunt Ginny muttered from the other room, “A divorce would be a good start.”

  Gia ran his hands through his hair and rattled off some complaints in Italian while pacing back and forth. “I do not like you always calling Sawyer when I could be there for you!”

  Oh heck no. “Well, I don’t like you keeping things from me. Not just a wife, but illegal activity that the feds are investigating! You want to know how to prove yourself to me? Start with being more honest! And I am a grown woman. I can call whoever I want.”

  Gia stood motionless, staring into my eyes. The heat was rolling off him like a sauna, but I didn’t give up my ground.

  “Hunan Palace. Forty-two thirty-five.” A Chinese delivery boy stood in the doorway, holding out a large. greasy paper bag.

  It’s hard to maintain the high ground in an argument when you have to stop to ask about fortune cookies while there’s a cat winding around your legs, purring. “Are you sure there’s no gluten in my Mongolian beef?”

  The delivery boy nodded. “Yes.”

  “I’m serious. I’m one disappointment away from throwing a fit.”

  He nodded again. “Yes.”

  Aunt Ginny sidled up behind me and took the bag. I handed him fifty and told him to keep the change.

  “Yes. Thank you very much.”

  I shut the door and turned back to Gia, who had calmed down enough to look amused. “Don’t smile at me. I’m really angry.”

  Gia came closer and took me in his arms. “You are right. I have not been able to trust in a very long time. I was so scared when I heard you were attacked. Will you forgive me?”

  A lot of my anger had fizzled out. I wanted to still be angry; anger was a lot safer than what I was currently feeling because I couldn’t do anything about that until Alex was out of the picture. “I wasn’t attacked. My car was attacked.”

  Gia pulled me against his chest and stroked my hair. “I was not there for you.”

  “About that dishonesty I mentioned earlier—”

  “What dishonesty? I have not been dishonest with you.”

  Aunt Ginny called us from the dining room. “Either come in here and have some dinner or kiss her already.”

  “Aunt Ginny!”

  Sawyer giggled.

  “You’re not helping.”

  Sawyer answered from the dining room. “Well, Figaro and his girlfriend are going to eat your egg roll if you don’t hurry up.”

  Gia looked like he thought kissing me was the way to go. I put my finger on his lips. “Are you divorced yet?”

  He frowned.

  “Then I’m eating my Mongolian beef.”

  We sat at the table and passed around the cartons. It was the first time I’d used china for Chinese food in my life and it felt wrong on many levels. I passed Gia the egg rolls. “I had a visit today from the feds. They were looking for you at the Expo.”

  Gia reared back and gave me an incredulous look. “Why would they look for me there?”

  “They said they were investigating organized crime.”

  “And you think I’m involved in that?”

  “You tell me. Why else would they be checking out La Dolce Vita?”

  “Bella, there are other reasons.”

  “I would love to hear them.”

  Before he could give me any, there was another knock on the door. I wanted to throw something. I was this close to getting some answers and I didn’t want anything to stop that. I looked at Aunt Ginny, silently begging her to answer it.

  Her priorities lay elsewhere. “What? I have an egg roll.”

  I can feel that fit getting closer. I got up and went to the door. Gia’s brother-in-law, Angelo, was standing on my porch again. The angry welt on his jaw had turned into an ugly bruise. I stared him down, willing him to challenge me.

  “Begging your pardon, ma’am. I was hoping now might be a good time to take a look at your network.” His eyes widened as he stared behind me. “Gia!”

  Gia came to the door, wiping his mouth on a napkin.

  Angelo blinked and tipped his head. “You are living dangerously, my friend.”

  Gia placed his hands on his hips. “And you need to stop listening to Teresa.”

  The men stared at each other for so long that I went and got the laptop. I figured I may as well give Angelo something to do to keep him from getting a bruise on the other side of his face.

  Angelo took the laptop and followed me to the dining-room table, where he set up.

  Gia gave me a questioning look, asking if I wanted to continue our conversation. I shook my head no and glanced at Angelo. No way was I going to talk about the feds’ visit with him there.

  “What is your password?”

  “Password.”

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “That’s it. It’s ‘password.’ ”

  Angelo gave me a droll look and typed it in while staring me down. “What is the problem you’ve been having?”

  Aunt Ginny passed Gia the chicken fried rice. “It’s too slow when I want to download free movies.”

  I shot Aunt Ginny a sassy look. “No, that’s not the problem. And you have to stop doing that.”

  “Why? Everyone else is doing it.”

  I told Angelo about the Fraudster website pop-ups. “I originally thought it was a fluke, but now I’m worried it’s a virus.”

  He typed for a solid two minutes. “Well, someone has accessed the Fraudster website in the past few days.”

  “I clicked on it a couple times to see what it was.”<
br />
  Aunt Ginny got up and got a plate for Angelo. “I may have clicked on it too. By accident.”

  Angelo took the plate and said thank you. “Do you think you’ve clicked on it about two hundred times?”

  “What? No. Good Lord. No way.”

  Aunt Ginny thought about it. “Maybe three.”

  Angelo did some more typing. “Someone has logged into the Fraudster website through the admin portal on this laptop. The website has programed malware in their ads to spread them to every computer across a network.”

  Sawyer scrunched up her nose. “Who here would be logging into Fraudster?”

  Angelo answered. “Whoever it was, they know all the site credentials and have made several updates in the past couple of days.”

  “Where else have people gone on the Internet this past week?” I asked.

  Angelo showed me how to search the browsing history. “Google, Tinder, Top Docs, Yelp, Catster, Sexy Costumes for Seniors.”

  Aunt Ginny turned a shade of salmon. “That could have been anybody.”

  “A Facebook group called Wives of Plastic Surgeons.”

  “Stop. Show me the last one.”

  Angelo clicked on the link and it went to a Facebook login page. The sign-in had not been saved by the previous user.

  Gia raised his eyebrows. “Who is the wife of a plastic surgeon?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, and the front doorknob jiggled. Both cats ran to the foyer to see if the newcomer had brought anything exciting.

  Rita opened the door, and she and Faelynn came through, holding restaurant leftover containers. Rita ambled toward the dining room. “Well, hello, everyone. You all look cozy in here.”

  I reached out and slapped the laptop shut. “We are. Did you all have a nice dinner?”

  Faelynn held up a black plastic box. “Wonderful. Best blue crabs I’ve ever had.”

  “Oh?” A knot grew in the pit of my stomach.

  Rita showed us the perky crab logo. “We went to Maxine’s. Over by the marina. Do you know it?”