Murder at the Makeover

by Sandi Scott

  Georgie nodded. Then she did something she hadn’t done in quite some time. She kissed Stan on the cheek. It was quick and gentle and filled with a thousand different emotions, but it may have been the most intimate kiss she’d ever given him.

  Clara was babbling to herself as she was led out of the theater and outside the school to the waiting squad car.

  “Do you want to say goodbye to Mavey Dilly?” Georgie asked as they followed behind the other officers.

  “Yes. I really should. You know she wasn’t expecting this when she let us in.”

  “I can’t believe you went to lunch without me.” Georgie was like Bodhi returning to his favorite bone.

  “You were busy.”

  “I still have to eat. You could have asked.”

  “I didn’t think you’d want to try eating at The Greenery.” Aleta said defensively.

  “The place is actually called The Greenery? I bet that’s what you pooped for a few days after eating there.”

  “It was quite tasty, Georgie. I can’t say it’s one of my favorites, but it wasn’t all bad.” Aleta tried to keep from laughing. “And there is nothing wrong with a healthy colon.”

  “Did you have dessert?”

  Aleta cleared her throat.

  “How bad was it?”

  “It wasn’t awful,” Aleta admitted.

  “Tell me!” Georgie demanded.

  “I had a chocolate avocado pudding.”

  “Was it good?”

  “Well, I didn’t taste the avocado, but the texture was definitely not what I expected,” Aleta said, “but I didn’t say anything to Mavey about it. It was her treat, and you don’t act ungrateful.”

  “I agree. If someone serves you cardboard, well, you should be gracious and chew and chew and chew that cardboard with a smile.” Georgie gave her sister a quick side hug.

  “Very funny, Georgie.”

  “I try.”

  Chapter 14

  “Have we ever done something like this before?” Aleta asked Georgie as she took a sip of coffee from a paper cup before taking a bite of a gooey jelly doughnut.

  “I think so,” Georgie replied as she dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin, “but it had to be a long time ago. Do you realize that Clara hasn’t stopped talking to herself since she sat down?”

  The ladies looked through the two-way mirror and watched as their classmate carried on a conversation with no one.

  “When did Stan say they were going to get started?”

  “Well, I know they usually let the suspects sit and stew for a little while, but I’m guessing any minute now.”

  “This really deserves some popcorn.”

  “I didn’t want to say it, but you’re right.” Georgie nodded.

  A few minutes of quiet went by before Aleta spoke again.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Not upset about what Clara said about Bodhi anymore?”

  Georgie took a deep breath and smiled at Aleta. “No, I think I felt a little overwhelmed. She did make me mad, but I was mad at myself already for leaving that message with Stan. Then when he showed up on his trusty steed with his armor all polished, I had a small freak-out.”

  Aleta rubbed Georgie’s hand tenderly.

  “Are you going to talk to him about it?”

  “I’m going to have to. I just don’t know what to say. I do love Stan, Aleta. I wish he had never gone off looking for gold—but he did. He up and left his family. I just can’t wrap my mind around how he could have done that.”

  “I understand, trust—it’s a big one.”

  Georgie looked down into her coffee cup. “Maybe someday,” she said smiling with the glisten of a tear in her eyes. “Probably someday, in fact, but not today.”

  “I think the man could live quite happily knowing that. There isn’t a day that goes by that he doesn’t regret leaving you. Knowing there was some hope for a future together might give him something he can work toward.”

  “He’ll have to work very hard.” Georgie pointed toward the window. “Speak of the devil.”

  Stan stepped into the interrogation room with his partner, Leto Murphy. The bad cop in this situation was obviously Stan, especially after Clara had called his ex-wife’s dog ugly. Stan was not playing around.

  “I’m reminding you of your rights, Miss Lu,” Stan started, rattling off all the legal mumbo-jumbo that was intended to save the criminals from doing anything self-incriminating as if Clara pointing a gun at Aleta and Georgie wasn’t enough to incriminate her.

  “I understand my rights, and I’m ready to talk.”

  “Fine.” Stan stood behind her while Leto took a seat in the chair across the table from her.

  “Do you have a cigarette?” Clara asked unexpectedly.

  Stan pulled a pack of Marlboros from his breast pocket that he kept there during all interrogations, anticipating this specific request. He set the pack in front of her with a book of matches.

  “That is not a good look for Clara,” Aleta said.

  Georgie looked at their former classmate. With her wrinkled and dirty clothing, Clara looked like a homeless bag lady. Her hair had been combed, but her makeup had obviously been reapplied without removing the first layer. Add a cigarette dangling out of the corner of her mouth as she spoke, and she certainly looked like a killer.

  “I did Samantha a favor hiring her on to The Better You! And how did she thank me? She stole my clients. She told them lies about me. She said I would be leaving The Better You! soon to take a job in Oklahoma. She said I was going through an ugly divorce and wouldn’t be working anymore. She was just a born liar. She always was, ever since high school.”

  Georgie looked at Aleta.

  “Samantha wasn’t a liar,” Aleta said. “High school may have been several decades ago, but I don’t remember her ever lying about anything, except maybe how serious her crush on Jet Nordan was.”

  They continued to listen.

  “Samantha confided in me that she was having personal problems. She had been seeing a man who wouldn’t commit to her. He was married. She didn’t seem to have a problem with dating married men.”

  “Do you think Clara is talking about Jet?” Georgie asked.

  “His name was Jet. We all went to high school together,” Clara continued. “He was stalking her, and it was starting to affect her work. But she blamed me for all of her mistakes and, in the process, gained the trust of all my wealthier clients.”

  Obviously, Clara was lying. She was desperately trying to paint a specific picture of Samantha that was completely different from what the police already knew. She was viewing herself as a victim of sorts. She was pushed to the limit. She had no choice.

  “Yes.” Clara leaned back in her chair while tapping the ash of her cigarette into a tiny tinfoil ashtray. “I killed Samantha. I shot her in the bathroom. I thought about killing her in the stall, but she’d secured the door before I could make my move. I had to wait for her to come out. I shot her. Then I left through the jib window and circled around to the front of the house walking in like nothing had happened.”

  The room was quiet as Stan made some notes, and Leto pulled a piece of paper and a pen from the folder he was holding.

  “My business would have picked up again now that she was out of the picture. I just know it. Had you not stopped me, I would have gotten rid of those two loose ends that were snooping around. Sheesh, don’t those old biddies have lives?”

  Georgie looked at Aleta.

  “Is she talking about us?”

  “I think she is,” Aleta replied.

  “You know, they were always following me around in high school. They haven’t changed. It’s like they are obsessed with me or something. Aleta Kaye always wanted to be me. I don’t know much about her sister except that she dressed weird and still does.” Clara mused as if she were chatting at a luncheon instead of confessing to the murder of Samantha Alfred. “Will I have a chance to
freshen up? I haven’t had a chance to change my clothes. I was so busy tending to those sisters, I just didn’t have time.”

  “Miss Lu, why were you following Georgie and Aleta Kaye around?” Stan asked. He was still standing behind Clara, leaning against the door jam.

  “I was going to kill them. Never quite got the chance. What a shame.”

  Georgie knew that Stan could see her in the two-way mirror—it wasn’t because the glass was thin, or her shadow was visible—it was the connection he had to her. In that brief moment when their eyes locked, Georgie felt that love that had escaped her lips over the phone, and, like the two-way mirror, it was reflected right back to her in Stan’s eyes.

  “Miss Clara Lu, you are under arrest for the murder of Samantha Alfred. Please stand up and put your hands behind your back.”

  Georgie and Aleta sat quietly for a few minutes after Stan and Leto had taken Clara from the room to be booked and placed in a holding cell.

  “That poor woman,” Aleta said.

  “Poor woman? She was going to kill us! She is not a poor woman ...just crazy! There you go ...that crazy woman!” Georgie was firm

  “Of course, she was crazy, but she didn’t see it.” Despite all that had happened, Aleta was able to feel some sympathy for her old rival. Taking a deep breath, Aleta continued, “In her mind was a nest of snakes going in a dozen different directions, getting tangled together and never resting. Her normal was a never-ending twisting, turning mound of knots and snags. That’s a horrible thing to behold.”

  “You always were more compassionate than me,” Georgie said as she slipped her arm through Aleta’s. They exited the observation room and headed toward the bullpen—and Stan’s office.

  “You have compassion.” Aleta was positive. “You just don’t dole it out very often, but you do.”

  “You think so?”

  “Sure, anyone who would take a bullet for her sister while defending the honor of her dog has got to have a couple of shreds of compassion.” Aleta grinned and squeezed her twin’s arm.

  “Okay. If you say so, but don’t spread it around. I have a reputation of being totally weird to uphold!” Georgie squeezed back and the two giggled together.

  Chapter 15

  Georgie was happy to be home. The smell of paints and canvases and her half-finished pet portraits were like old friends waiting to welcome her after a long time away.

  Bodhi yipped and bounced in happy circles, his round tail wagging so furiously it nearly lifted his back legs from the ground.

  “There’s my good boy.” Georgie leaned down and picked the pug up in her arms like a baby. “Such a handsome face. So handsome.” She cooed as the flat-nosed dog licked her face. “Mama missed you, too. And I am home for the rest of the day and all night. What do you say to that?”

  Georgie set the dog down and decided that she not only was going to lock the door and draw the shades but also was going to treat herself to an evening of pampering. A hot bubble bath, a mud facial, and a new color on her fingernails while eating ice cream and watching old movies were the only things on the itinerary.

  While getting undressed and letting the tub fill with hot water, Georgie made one last phone call—to Aleta.

  “Hey. What are you doing?”

  “Nothing, why?”

  “I was going to take a bath and put on a facial and do my nails while I watch old movies. Why don’t you do the same but come over here after you’ve taken a bath, and we can watch some movies together. I’ve got ice cream.”

  “Not tonight. I’m beat.”

  “Are you sure?” Georgie pouted her lips. “You don’t sound like yourself.” She sat down on the edge of the tub and shut the water off.

  “You know that Marley guy I met at the old car show?”

  “Yes. You guys went out a couple of times. I didn’t get invited, but you said you had fun.” Georgie smiled as she heard her sister laugh over the phone line.

  “We did. At least, I thought we did.” There was a pause as Aleta seemed to collect her thoughts, “But it’s been a couple of weeks now, and I haven’t heard anything from him. I would have liked someone new to tell about our latest adventure, but I can’t call him. You know I can’t. I’m too old fashioned.”

  “Not unless you wanted Mama spinning in her grave. No, we Kaye women don’t call men unless we need them to do work around the house.” Georgie cleared her throat. “I’m sorry that the guy you like is so stupid he doesn’t know a good thing when he sees it.”

  Aleta laughed again.

  “I’m just feeling a little sorry for myself. Freckles is rubbing against my leg. She’s hungry. I’m going to get going and probably turn in early.”

  “You sure you don’t want to come by for a little while. Just for one scoop?”

  “Not tonight. But I’ll bring breakfast tomorrow.”

  Georgie hung up and resumed her plans for herself. She soaked in the hot water until her hands and feet were pruned. When she got out she dusted herself with powder, slathered on the lotion, gave herself a few spritzes of Jungle Gardenia perfume, then wrapped up in her favorite hot pink terrycloth robe.

  Within half an hour she had her easel propped in front of the television, settling in to watch one of her favorite movies, Gone with the Wind, that had just started on the Turner Classic Movies channel. Her face was a beautiful ivory color from the mud mask she had just applied, and her nails were bare. Choosing a new polish would require some thought. Besides, Georgie felt more like painting now that she had found the photo of Genghis and Khan the Creeles had messengered over and left in her mailbox. The two rats had returned home finally, much to Georgie’s relief.

  “Aleta was right. From a photo, they are cute. I can make them cuter, right Bodhi? Of course. Not every pet can be as beautiful as you are.” Georgie said to the dog that was slowly falling asleep on the couch.

  Just then there was a knock on the door.

  “Who in the world could that be? I’m in, and I don’t care if the place is on fire and that is Kurt Russell in a fireman’s uniform, I’m not leaving this house.”

  When she opened the door, her hand instantly went to the throat of her robe, pulling it shut.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Georgie’s ex-husband stood on her stoop as nervous as a boy coming to a girl’s house for the first time knowing the girl’s father is a Green Beret in the U.S. Army.

  “Georgie, I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me.” It was obvious there were a dozen inappropriate things he wanted to say about her being in her robe, smelling so good, but he didn’t. “There are no strings attached. I don’t expect anything out of it.”

  “Stan, I look like a Martian.” She touched her cheek that was starting to harden underneath the clay. “I just moved my painting into the living room to get a little work done, and Bodhi has been alone. I think I’d just like to stay in tonight.”

  Stan nodded.

  “I understand,” he said without arguing. “I think you look as pretty as a picture, and you know Bodhi is always welcome, but if you’d rather stay home ...” He shrugged.

  The truth was Georgie was glad Stan had stopped by. Aleta didn’t feel like coming over. There was so much to discuss about the case they just wrapped up. Georgie swallowed her pride and spoke.

  “Maybe we could order some pizza?” That sly, sexy smile that had caught Georgie’s attention all those years ago slipped across Stan’s face. “As long as you’re paying,” she added quickly

  “Sure. Of course, I’m paying.” Stan looked like he’d just won the lottery.

  As Bodhi came to greet his favorite visitor, Georgie got the phone and pizza menu and handed them both to Stan. Within minutes, he’d placed an order for an extra-large cheese and sausage pizza with a couple of side salads and three homemade cannoli for dessert.

  “One for Aleta tomorrow when she comes over,” Stan said as he hung up the phone.

  “Thanks. She’ll appreciate that.”
Georgie took a deep breath. “Stan, about what I said on the phone earlier. I sort of slipped. I was all wrapped up in the case, and, for a minute, I forgot we were divorced.”

  “I understand, Georgie. That happens to me every day just as I wake up. I forget that we are divorced, and I reach over in the bed. When I don’t feel you there, that’s when I remember.” Stan sat down on her couch. Georgie’s sofa was a loud pink and green flower printed thing that she’d fallen in love with at a thrift store. Some people would call it tacky. “Is that why you think I’m here? Because of that message?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Whether you had left that message or not, I’d still be here. Truthfully, I’m never that far away, Georgie. Even when I’m on an assignment in another city, I’m never far from you. Never.”

  Georgie would have liked to believe Stan. But the feeling she had that first morning waking up knowing he’d left her was still there. The anger had lessened considerably. Forgiveness had helped her get over the anger, but how dare he say he reaches for her every morning! How dare he make her feel bad for him!

  “It’s okay, Georgie. I won’t lie to you and tell you that I didn’t enjoy hearing those words, but I also know they weren’t for me—not yet.”

  “I guess that is why you are such a good detective. You can figure things out.” Georgie’s sarcasm was a little weak, but it was the best she could do while trying to hide the tears in her eyes.

  “That might have something to do with it.” Stan teased back. “Now, about this robe. I really don’t see how you can answer the door looking the way you do.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Yes, look at all the cleavage you’re showing. And your hair is all soft and combed back the way I like it.”

  “I have a mud mask on my face, Stan. I’m not ready for my close-up, for sure.”

  “Oh, yeah? All I saw were your eyes. I barely noticed you had one of those mask-thingies on.”

  “Very funny. You said you saw cleavage.”

  “Well, I’m a man. I’ll always see your cleavage. Even if you are wearing a turtleneck under a poncho.”