Glossy Lips

by Barbara Silkstone

  He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. A few seconds later he exhaled. “I’m good. What else?”

  She stared into his eyes and then said, “This sad story will be in the St. Pete Times tomorrow. It’s better that you hear it from me. Newton Nott is dead.”

  “Peanut? Car accident or something? How is that story about you?”

  She sighed. “He was murdered and stuffed in the trunk of my car. I guess it could be called a car accident. It was an accident that I found him in my trunk.”

  You could have fried a flounder on Dave’s forehead as he turned bright red, and responded in an illogical manner. He skipped the body in the trunk implications and how it might have affected Lizzy emotionally. “You get that car back, but I don’t want you to drive it. You demand that jerk lawyer give you the title and registration. We’ll sell it and get you something less flashy.”

  Lizzy crossed her arms with a set to her jaw I hadn’t seen. “Olive’s going to get the impression you tell me what to do.” She tapped her foot. “We both know that’s not true. Now if you want to stay the night, drop the subject. I told you about our day because you would find out about it soon enough.” She put her hands on her hips and stepped away from him. “Don’t ever attempt to give me an order again.”

  Oh, oh! A lover’s quarrel! Puff had been alone for hours and I was certain she needed some cuddling. And I had laundry to sort. And the silverware needed an emergency polishing. And the drapes weren’t hanging straight. Had to leave for the condo immediately.

  “I’d best get going. I still have tons to do at Nonna’s. I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Call me when you are ready.” I was careful not to mention our new business venture. No sense in fanning the smoldering fire.

  Dave stomped out the back door, beer in hand. He sprawled in an Adirondack chair on the porch holding the bottle while WonderDog sat at his side, staring adoringly at him. I said my goodbyes through the screened back door. He grumbled a response. Not exactly Mr. Personality. My friend’s choice in men appeared worse than mine. I thought about Sterling Kelly. Make that much worse than mine.

  Once outside Lizzy walked me to my car, discomfort surrounding her like a dark cloud. She wanted my acceptance of Dave, and he blew it. There was something in my new business partner that made her seek my approval. I wondered why.

  Her guy friend had shown himself to be an embarrassment, much like the black paint on her jumpsuit sleeve. Did I come across as judgmental or was it just my New York credentials that impressed her? If she only knew how often I failed to amaze myself.

  “I’ll call Nonna’s lawyer and have him draw up a simple agreement between us,” I said. “We can sign it and then meet with the owner of the ice cream—I mean cold cream—shop.”

  We didn’t speak for long minutes. The surrealness of the day seemed to settle over both of us. Lizzy finally broke the silence. “Part of me feels shame at being happy about our new venture when poor Peanut suffered such a horrible end. He was a nice man.”

  She stepped in front of me blocking me from my car. “Do you think Sterling killed him?”

  Myron often asked me for my opinion on crimes; real or a figment of his imagination—I never knew. “I don’t know him or anyone in Starfish Cove well enough to form an opinion yet.”

  I watched the sun sink into the sea, turning the sky a flaming orange, and the clouds a matching shade with outlines of a deep blue. “You get the most beautiful sunsets.” I changed the subject.

  “We get sunsets, partner,” Lizzy quipped, smiling weakly. “I’d better pay attention to Dave before he goes into a funk. The slightest mention of Sterling and he comes out swinging. I’m not sure whether it’s jealousy or just plain macho-madness. They almost came to blows at Heather’s party. Dave was hankering for a fight. He couldn’t resist until I warned him that Sterling would sue him for damages and love every minute of it.”

  Before I could close the car door, Lizzy poked her head inside. “What do you think of Dave?”

  She caught me by surprise and I gave her a blank look.

  “Yeah…me too,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”

  Chapter 20

  Puff met me at the condo door, scrambling over my shoes and mewing to be picked up. I dropped my purse, scooped her into my arms, kicked off my shoes, and padded into the kitchen on bare feet.

  My shopping produced a selection of canned kitten food, all of which sounded yummy from a people perspective, but would a kitty like it? I opened a can of chicken pate and plopped two teaspoons in a small bowl next to Puff’s water dish. She gobbled it down purring contentedly.

  After washing my hands yet again to remove the lingering smell of vinegar, I put together a pre-made tuna fish salad sandwich on gluten-free bread and placed it on the kitchen table along with Nonna’s box of recipes, paper and a pen. I hoped fiddling with her lipstick instructions would divert my mind from the horrors of the day and allow me to get sleepy.

  I took out the file labeled LIPSTICK and proceeded to educate myself on the fine art of lip paint between bites of the sandwich and sips of water. Lip goodies seemed like the most fun cosmetic. I launched into the handwritten instructions, forcing the events of the day to the back of my mind.

  Nonna’s file contained sample sheets from a company selling pigments. The booklet displayed enticing jewel-like colors in tones of pinks, corals, reds, and even shades of teal. The samples even included opalescent gold and matte copper. Losing myself in the colors calmed my racing mind.

  Putting the lip balm in tiny pots was more doable than using molds. Having once snapped my favorite lipstick in two pieces, and then labored to meld the broken sections, I knew I didn’t have the nimble fingers needed to fuss with soft sticks of shea butter and lanolin.

  I envisioned a line of impatient customers waiting for Nonna’s cream while Lizzy and I twiddled with crumbling sticks of lip gloss. We would be better served to focus on building our inventory of cold cream. If only Nonna could be here to help me.

  An empty feeling filled the spot where I once felt my grandmother’s warmth. A vision of Peanut’s folded body intruded into my maudlin feelings. I closed the files.

  Puff rubbed on my ankles. I reached down and picked her up. “Dwelling on the bad won’t change a thing,” I said to her. “We must put one foot in front of the other and keep on walking.” I tickled her front paws.

  The clock read 8 p.m. but it felt like midnight. Had it only been this morning when I sprinkled Nonna into the Gulf of Mexico? What a marathon day!

  I washed my plate and Puff’s food bowl, and placed them on a towel to dry. The kitten watched my every movement. “Before I jump in the shower, Puff, let’s plug in the cell phone to charge.” I smacked my forehead. “Dang! I forgot about the photos!” Puff looked at me in that knowing way that kitties have. She appeared to understand exactly what I was talking about.

  Plopping down on the sofa, I pulled up the photos of Sterling’s driveway. A trail of scrape marks was clearly visible. Something—or somebody—had been dragged from the stone walkway nearest the house, along the crushed-shell drive, to the spot where Lizzy’s car was parked.

  I studied the pictures, enlarging them on my screen. In places, flat bottom shoe imprints showed faintly alongside the drag marks. If this was a Peanut track it was evidence to exonerate Lizzy. Over the course of the two days I’d come to know her, the only shoe styles she wore were wedge heels. Surely this was sufficient to eclipse the minor strike against her of his body in her trunk.

  Feeling a bit like Sherlock Holmes, I went into the guest bath and turned on the water. A bubble soak was just what I needed to unwind. I reached for an exotic looking bottle of rose bath fizz that sat on one of the shelves. The pastel liquid burbled under the tap, building a nice head of foam. Puff circled the edge of the tub, touched the bubbles, and came away with a tiny blob of froth on her nose.

  The running water stimulated my negative ions. Lizzy and I didn’t kill Peanut regardless of what a certa
in one-named police officer might suspect. So whodunit?

  What did I know so far?

  The medical examiner would have a hard time determining Peanut’s time of death since the poor guy had been trunk riding in the hot Florida sun. The only opportunity for his body to be hidden in Lizzy’s trunk was at Barracuda Manor.

  Obviously, Peanut was alive when he delivered the car to Sterling, which meant he was killed at Barracuda Manor. The killer, or at least the body dragger, wore shoes with flat bottoms.

  Hmmm. Not exactly equivalent to a video of the crime in progress. Did Sterling harbor a dark reason to murder his right-hand man? Did one of Sterling’s many enemies stumble into Peanut while on a revenge mission?

  I held my finger under the flowing water and let my mind wander. How did Peanut get back and forth from his house, wherever that was, to his boss? The more I pondered over the string of unconnected dots, the more making lipstick tubes seemed easier.

  As I shut off the tap, I heard the doorbell. How long had someone been ringing? Was Ivy the type of little old lady who kept evening hours and thought nothing of popping in on neighbors? I hoped not. I had promised to plan the memorial service, but surely she couldn’t be inquiring about that—not yet.

  I tiptoed to the door silently, on the chance that it was Jaimie. Having friends to avoid was a change from my narrow life up north. If my doorbell rang in New York City, it would either be Whining Willie or Myron Meyers. I looked in the peephole and was surprised to see Kal, the officer who didn’t like being called officer.

  No sense in pretending I wasn’t home. He probably saw my car in the parking lot and would wait until I surfaced. His timing was perfect—for him. He would get me when I was exhausted and couldn’t throw him a clever or misleading line if my life depended on it.

  Running my right hand over my wilted hair, I blotted my oily cheeks with the back of my left hand. With a medium-sized smile on my face, I opened the door. I hadn’t had a handsome man on my doorstep in so long my heart did a little drumbeat.

  Chapter 21

  “Can I have about thirty minutes of your time?” Kal asked, easing through the opening before I could say no. Puff attempted to wiggle past his shoe, but he bent and scooped her into one hand. “What have we here?” He tickled her under the chin. “Aren’t you a cutie?” The detective held the kitten against his black uniform T-shirt giving me a reason to smirk. He was going to regret it when he saw the fur she left in her wake.

  “I come bearing questions and warnings,” he said, flippantly. He was too casual, considering the circumstances. “I hope I’m not arriving at a bad time, but I find that I get the best results with surprise visits.”

  Did he feel he had to be sneaky to get me to tell the truth? I decided not to snap at him. “If you’d come two minutes later, I’d have been enjoying a bubble bath and not have answered the door. I’ll tell you everything I know, which isn’t much. I can’t wait to hear your warnings. You’ve aroused my curiosity.”

  I motioned him to the sofa where he settled in the center, allowing Puff to prance along the top of his leg. She scrambled up his shirt and settled on his shoulder. He seemed quite at home; perhaps it was part of his ‘good cop’ technique?

  Taking out a small black notebook, he recited a list of things I already knew about myself, including the details of my therapy practice, my mobster patient, and my unpaid parking ticket.

  He studied my face for a long minute. It didn’t take any special skills to see he was judging my trustworthiness. With the slightest of nods as if wordlessly agreeing with himself, he began to open up to me. “I’ve known Lizzy since high school. She always had a big heart but lousy judgment when it came to guys. Off the record, I feel sorry for her. She married into a nightmare. Sterling Kelly is a vicious tyrant with a lot of enemies. Bullies have a tendency to inspire revenge and sometimes the vengeance is misdirected.”

  “Is that what you think happened to Peanut?”

  Kal must have feelings for Lizzy. A slippery fish of a thought slithered into mind—could I be chatting with Peanut’s killer? He did have opportunity, but motive? I booted out the ugly idea.

  Kal closed his notebook. “Right now I’m treating Newton Nott’s murder as an act of revenge. Every detail screams payback up to and including the body being stuffed in the trunk of her car.” He stared at me, taking my measure—not those kinds of measures.

  “Since you and Lizzy have bonded and it appears you’ll be together during the coming days, for her sake I am going to rely on you to help me. If you blab, you’ll get us both hung out to dry.”

  I was a bit freaked by his willingness to include me in his investigation. Could he be setting me up?

  “You might want to close your mouth, it’s hanging open.” He leaned over as if to touch me. I dodged. He laughed.

  “You’re wondering why I’m trusting you.” He flashed a startlingly white smile, which looked great against his tan. “Starfish Cove is a small town with a tiny budget. We don’t have a staff psychologist or profiler, nor do we have easy access to one. I have a sense of Nott’s killer but I want to consult with you as the investigation progresses.”

  This couldn’t be happening. I shook my head to wake myself and rubbed my hand over my eyes. When I looked again the detective was still there, and I wasn’t dreaming. He really was asking me to be a psychological consultant in his murder investigation. Another Olive twist!

  “Your background check came back clean, I even managed to garner a glowing reference from that loony old gangster in New York.” He flashed those pearly whites at me again. “I’m going to unofficially deputize you to protect Lizzy.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking or dead serious—I chose the latter.

  He pulled a business card from his shirt pocket. I glanced at it. By the flimsy weight of the paper I knew he was telling the truth about Starfish Cove’s budget. He must have printed the cards himself.

  Kal adjusted Puff on his shoulder. “You failed to keep Lizzy away from Sterling once. You can’t let it happen again. She could be in danger—from Sterling or one of his enemies. We won’t know until we solve this.”

  After a slight delay my sense of silly rose to the surface. I felt a giggle struggle to get loose somewhere in my throat. I swallowed it back. Myron Meyers was my reference! The bubble of laughter broke free. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you.”

  “You’re thinking of Myron?” Kal asked. A dimple played at one corner of his mouth.

  I nodded. “You have to admit not everyone gets a recommendation from a retired mob boss. And you think Myron Meyer’s thumbs-up clears me for service.”

  “It took me twenty minutes to get the old guy off the phone. How do you put up with him?” Kal raised one eyebrow. “He said to remind you that you have twelve days left.”

  I made a brushing motion, waving Myron’s comment aside.

  “Stay close to Lizzy. A person who gets away with one murder might be encouraged to try another. She’s way too trusting and despite all their bickering, it’s obvious Sterling has strong feelings for her. His caring for her makes her a target if the killer is trying to make him suffer by taking out those closest to him.”

  “Can you share what Sterling said and what you found at Barracuda Manor? If you want my help, I need to know everything—well mostly everything.”

  His pinched expression told me I had crossed the line. It was a murder investigation and I was a non-paid consultant, not a fellow officer, or even his new best friend. My ragged breath sounded like a toy train. “Are you at least going to tell me who you suspect?”

  “I’m getting to it. How good are you at not showing your emotions?”

  It was a silly question since I was a trained psychologist. “I have a doctoral degree in poker face.”

  Kal drew his brows together. “I believe the killer is Lizzy’s father, Nelson Dingler.”

  If he was going for shock, he got me. I gasped. “Wait! You think Lizzy’s father is a killer? And he might kill Li
zzy?”

  “Not necessarily as a primary target, but if she gets in his way…”

  I gnawed on my lip, trying to make sense out of the scene—a detective with a kitten on his shoulder telling me that my new partner might be murdered by her father?” My palms were sweaty. “That doesn’t add up.”

  “You haven’t met Dingler yet. I got a call from his current wife late this afternoon.” He plucked Puff from his shoulder and put her on the floor. The kitten set about chewing on the lace from one of his Dockers’ shoelaces.

  “Irma Dingler wants police protection. She informed him she’s filing for divorce and that Sterling’s representing her. The poor woman’s terrified and I can’t spare an officer to protect her. This is the fourth time he’s headed for divorce court.”

  He was silent for a while. When he spoke his tone was low and angry. “Lizzy’s father is in his last hurrah. For years he wrangled to become commodore of the Starfish Cove Yacht Club. Sterling voted against him each time the position opened up. It’s a lifetime honor and the commodores keep dropping like flies in a fogger. Nobody suspects him but I think the old geezer might be a serial killer, specializing in yacht club chieftains. The most recent commodore fell overboard last month. His body was never found. Kelly was on board at the time.”

  He wrinkled his brow. “You may think it’s farfetched, but these old guys take being commodore seriously. Wearing the gold-braid trimmed cap and having your portrait on the wall of fame in the club lounge is a big deal for them. It’s childish but you being a psychologist, understand.”

  “And…?” I braced myself for the punch line.

  “The club votes for the newest commodore on the thirtieth. Nelson Dingler is demanding he be given the position. Unfortunately, Sterling Kelly is hell-bent on stopping him. Add that to Sterling representing Irma Dingler and…you can see where I’m headed with this.”

  Chapter 22