by Nancy Warren
“What time did you finish the makeover?”
“It takes about an hour. So around five.”
“Why did she want one?”
The women all looked at each other as if to say, only a man would ask why a woman might want a make over.
“She had a date last night.”
“A date? You’re sure?”
“That’s what she said.”
“She definitely said ‘date’ -- not ‘appointment’ or ‘meeting’?”
Stacy closed her eyes for a moment and he waited. She opened her eyes. “I’m pretty sure it was a date. We talked about earrings.”
“Earrings. Great. Did she mention the name of this guy she was dating?”
“She didn’t say, sorry.”
“What time they were getting together?”
Stacy shook her head.
“Was she staying at the hotel?”
“I didn’t ask. She didn’t have a suitcase or anything with her. But she was standing in the lobby when I went up to her, so maybe.”
“Did she happen to mention where she was going on this date? Anything at all?”
She bit her lip, thinking hard, but shook her head again.
“How did you meet this woman? You said she was in the lobby?”
“Right. I walked up to her and complimented her on her pretty blue eyes. It’s what we’re supposed to do. Compliment women on their features and start up a conversation. It’s called ‘friendly fishing.’”
He wished quite suddenly that he had a female partner who could help him out here. Henderson would be as lost as he was. “Friendly fishing?”
“That’s right. If you admire a woman’s hairstyle, then why not go right up to her and say so? It’s a great way to get into a conversation, plus you’ve made someone feel better about themselves.” She beamed. “Then we offer the makeover.”
“Anything at all you can remember about her would be helpful.”
“Well, there was one thing.”
He raised his notebook. “What?”
“Her skin was very dry. It sucked up the moisturizer like there was no tomorrow.”
Well, that should wrap things up. “Mind if I take the card with me?”
“Of course not.”
Toni looked up at him from her perch on the bed. “We know one other thing about that woman.”
“What?”
“She knew her Sherlock Holmes.”
Toni debated raising the issue of the sampler pack, but she decided to wait until Marciano was gone. Giving out expired sampler packs wasn’t a murder issue, it was a Lady Bianca matter. So, when he did his usual spiel about calling him if they thought of anything else, he left them and she stayed put.
Nicole looked at Toni pointedly when she didn’t rush to leave. Toni didn’t want to spend an extra second in Nicole’s company any more than Nicole wanted her there, but she needed to find a subtle way to accuse the woman of breaking company rules.
“Well,” Nicole said, “we’ve all got things to do.”
“Right.” She didn’t move from the bed. “Stacy, I’m wondering, which sampler pack did you give the woman we’re calling Violet?”
There was a moment of deathly silence. Stacy fidgeted and looked at Nicole. Aha, gotcha.
“I have some in my room, but…” Stacy began then glanced at Nicole again who picked up the story. “Stacy has a roommate so we thought it would be better to do the make over here. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring any sampler packs. But then I don’t normally do makeovers during convention week.”
“So, you’re saying you sent your makeover off without a sampler pack?” Liar.
Nicole’s eyes hardened and held Toni’s gaze in a challenge. “Yes. Just as well as it happens. If the woman gave a fake name she was hardly interested in becoming a lifelong customer. She only wanted a free makeover.”
“Well,” Toni said brightly to Stacy, “if you do any more makeovers come and see me. I’ve got lots of sampler packs.”
“Oh, so have I,” Stacy jumped in, “in my room, but Violet – the woman -- didn’t want to wait. She was in a hurry for her date. So I said I’d get her one when I saw her.”
“And did you?”
“No. I never saw her again.”
Toni stood and brushed the back of her skirt, like a kid getting rid of Nicole cooties. “I guess I’d better go.” Before she said something she’d regret. Bad enough that Nicole was lying to her face, but having Stacy expand on the lie only made it worse.
Chapter Six
My face looks like a wedding cake left out in the rain. —W.H. Auden
Toni was on her way back to her room to freshen up before the afternoon sessions started when her cell phone buzzed. Her mom.
“Hi Mama, what’s up?”
“Oh, honey, I’m all in a panic.” The familiar tone of her mother’s voice had a second’s dread stabbing her in the chest.
“Mama? Is Tiffany okay?”
“She’s fine. She wants to talk to you in a minute, but I needed to speak to you first.”
“What is it?” Her heartbeat slipped back to normal. If Tiffany was okay, the panic was going to be one of the mini soap operas that made up Linda Plotnik’s life. Other people lived life by days. Linda lived hers in episodes with enough high dramatic peaks that you could schedule commercial breaks.
“I’m not calling you as my daughter, but as my boss,” she warned.
“Okay. I’m ready.” One of her big thrills had been recruiting her own mother as a Lady Bianca rep. And Linda was surprisingly good. She lived in the most glamorously-populated mobile home park in all of Texas, Toni bet. Now, if Toni could only get her daughter interested in selling Lady Bianca to the teenaged crowd, they’d have a three-generation direct selling powerhouse.
“I did the craziest thing,” Linda said in the Georgia accent that hadn’t softened in a quarter century of living in Texas. “I invited my singing group to a make up party at my place: only when I checked my beauty supplies, I discovered I was short a ton of stuff.”
This was not the first time Toni had received one of these calls.
“Mama, you have to think these things through. You have to put in your order at the end of the month -- you know that. I can put in an order for you today that will hit the cutoff for this month, but the stock won’t be here for a couple of weeks. Don’t plan a big party if you’re low on stock.”
“Oh, honey, I always think about the party first and then check my supplies. I know it doesn’t work that way, but sometimes I forget. Could I get you to bring me over some things and we’ll sort it out when you do your next order?”
“I’m at the convention, Mama, I can’t—”
“Tiffany’s helping me and we’re really excited about the make up party.”
“Tiff’s going to help?” Usually she couldn’t get her daughter within a hundred miles of a Lady Bianca event. Except the one time she and her friends had picketed the home party Toni was appearing at – carrying PETA signs and shouting, “End Animal Cruelty.” And Lady Bianca didn’t even use animal-tested products.
Of course, she should say no. But then her mom would have to cancel her party and Tiffany wouldn’t have a chance to help out. Besides, there was a reason her mom made such a great rep. She could sell. “This is the last time, Mama.”
“I knew I could count on you, honey. I’ll email you the list right away.”
“When’s the party?”
There was a tiny silence. She could hear a whisper and a giggle that had to be her daughter in the background. “Tomorrow night.”
The store here was mostly for new products, with a few of the basics, but they wouldn’t have everything Linda needed. Which meant she was going to have to drive all the way home to her place, an hour in one direction, take the stock from her own supplies, drive back in time for tonight’s banquet dinner, and then get up early and drive everything another hour in the opposite direction to her mother’s. Which meant missing at least t
wo sessions tomorrow.
She could be a tough-assed businesswoman when she had to be, but when her mom and her daughter tag-teamed her, she was putty in their hands. She knew it, they knew it.
“Keep the coffee pot on, Mom. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thanks, hun. I knew I could count on you.”
She was still reminding herself she had to get tougher with her mother, when she walked through the lobby, heading for the car park, and all but smacked into Nicole Freedman and Melody Feckler. Another crime to place at her mother’s door. If she hadn’t been rehearsing the tough love speech she was going to give her mom in the morning, she’d have seen the pair in plenty of time to avoid them.
“Hey, Toni, did you hear the latest?” Melody said, thereby making it impossible for her to smile and keep going. Oh, dear God, let there not be any more death and drama.
“What is it?”
“The new diamond hard eyebrow pencil. They’re ahead of schedule in production. We should have full stock before the fall.”
Instinctively, she looked to Nicole for confirmation. The woman nodded. “It’s true. Orin told us. Of course, it’s not for everybody to know,” she said, frowning at Melody. “He’ll announce it tomorrow.”
“That’s wonderful. I think it’s going to be a big seller.” And might just get everybody back on track for the conference.
“Oh, I know it is.”
Toni made a move to leave but Melody made a choking sound and her mouth flew open.
“Melody? Are you all right?”
“Thomas!” she cried, her face lighting up.
“Thomas? Who’s Thomas?”
“My husband. I can’t believe he’s here. No, don’t go Toni. I want you to meet him.”
Nicole did not look overjoyed. Husbands never came to these things. It wasn’t outlawed or anything, but a sort of unwritten rule applied. No spouses or kids at the convention. Too distracting.
Apparently, Melody didn’t get the memo, for her plump face was one big smile now she’d overcome the shock of seeing him.
Curious, because she was always curious to see who was paired with whom in love and life, she followed Melody’s gaze.
Thomas Feckler was…crisp. It was the first adjective that popped to mind. His hair was perfectly cut, his casual clothes so well-pressed they gave the same impression of formality as a three piece suit. He was clean shaven with a pleasant face that was neither handsome nor homely, but somewhere in-between.
His lips curved when he spotted his wife and his pace quickened to reach her.
“I’m so happy to see you,” she said, and threw her arms around him.
He squeezed her in a warm hug, then held her away from him gazing into her face with concern. “I came the second I heard about the murder. Are you all right?”
Okay, so all the news crews and reporters cruising the lobby hadn’t been here to cover the Lady Bianca convention opening, but the murder was a bigger story than she’d realized if the buzz had gone out of state.
“Of course, I am. I’m fine. But it’s just awful. That poor woman.”
“I’m so sorry. Shh. Try not to think about it.”
“No. You’re right. I’m so glad you’re here.” She pulled back. “Oh, and where are my manners? Thomas, this is Toni Diamond. She’s one of our national directors.”
“Ms. Diamond.” His handshake was perfect. Firm, but not ‘look how much testosterone I can pump’ firm. And he took care of his hands she was happy to note.
“And this is Nicole Freedman.” She giggled. “I can’t believe you’ve never met each other before. I know I talk about you to each other all the time.”
“I’m so delighted to meet you at last,” Nicole gushed, raising a hand so covered in diamonds her glitter rivaled the that of the massive chandelier above them. If she won another division sales championship she was going to have to start sticking the rings on her feet. Or her horns.
“My pleasure,” he said, taking her hand.
Then he turned back to Melody. “I’ve come to take you home.”
“Home?” the three of them echoed in unison.
He glanced from one to the other. “Of course. You should all go home. They’re saying a Lady Bianca rep was murdered. Have they caught the killer?”
“No,” Toni said. “But they only found the dead woman this morning.”
“It could be some psycho killing off sales reps. For all you know any one of you could be next. I checked with front desk and already they’ve had cancellations and women heading home early. Please.”
“But we can’t leave,” Melody said. “Besides, Toni says it’s not a Lady Bianca rep at all. It’s terrible, of course, tragic, but we have to go on.”
“Melody, please.”
Nicole took his arm. “I’m telling you, Thomas, your wife is really going places. She needs to be here.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer to him. “I can always tell the ones who have the passion and talent to go all the way in this company. Melody is a true star. She’ll be parking her dream car in the garage of your new mansion in no time.”
Toni knew the patter. In truth, she’d used the same lines herself when she’d been excited about a star recruit. But she didn’t feel like staying to hear Nicole’s sales job.
Melody placed her plump hands on her husband’s chest. “Honey, I can’t go home. This conference means everything to me.”
Toni was about to excuse herself and slide out of the conflict zone when she witnessed a remarkable thing. Thomas Feckler leaned his forehead against his wife’s and said, “Well, if you’re not leaving, then I guess I’m staying.”
“You’re serious?”
“Somebody’s got to watch your back.”
She said her goodbyes, promised Melody’s husband she’d be careful, and wondered what her life would have been like if Duane had turned out to be the kind of guy who stuck by his wife when times were tough instead of lighting out for parts unknown the second there was trouble.
She guessed she’d never know.
Chapter Seven
I'm not offended by all the dumb blonde jokes because I know I'm not dumb... and I also know that I'm not blonde. —Dolly Parton
Luke had barely entered the hotel the next morning when he saw Toni Diamond striding toward the car park elevator. If possible, her hair seemed even bigger than it had the day before. And blonder. She was fully decked out in another one of those power suits, this one a soft green, and high heels that sparkled when the light hit whatever fake baubles were splashed over the front.
“Ms. Diamond?” he called out.
She turned. “Mornin,’ Detective. I’m in kind of a hurry.”
He caught up with her. “I have some questions about how your company works.” And there was something about her that told him he could trust her. Her eyes were such an amazing color between blue and green that he suspected fake lenses, to match everything else that was fake, from her hair color to her nails. But there was a gleam of intelligence behind those eyes, and she’d been right about that makeover.
She lasered him with her gaze. “Detective, I don’t want to tell you your business, but there is no way that woman’s death is connected with Lady Bianca.”
“She had a makeover and then she died.”
“If she had died after eating in a restaurant would you interrogate the owners on how they ran their operation?”
“If we had reason to believe there was a connection, yes.”
She pushed the elevator button with the flat of her finger, careful not to muss her fake nail. She was a tall woman in her heels. Only a couple of inches shorter than him. “How can there be a connection? You don’t even know who she was. That woman’s purse was missing. Surely the thief murdered her?”
“Maybe. But she was found with samples of your makeup, and you figured she was wearing Lady Bianca stuff. It’s about the only damn thing we know about her.”
“And that she read mysteries and was left-handed
.”
He shot her a glance.
“There were ink stains between the thumb and forefinger of her left hand.”
He nodded. Okay, he was impressed. He’d figured she was smarter than she looked, but in fact she was a lot smarter than she looked. So he leveled with her. “Maybe there’s no connection, but maybe there is. Maybe she was going to change into her fancy suit and closed toed hose and pin on her name badge so covered with jewels you couldn’t read her name anyway. But she never got the chance.”
“But—”
“And she died on the convention level which has been taken over by the Lady Bianca conference, in a meeting room reserved by Lady Bianca.”
“But—”
“I’ll only take a half hour or so of your time.”
She smiled, her perfect pink lips curving in a perfect pink crescent. “You’ll need a couple of hours.”
He held his expression to neutral. “I’m not planning to sign up as a rep, Ms. Diamond.”
She waved a hand in the air and there were so many rings on it he was surprised she could lift her wrist. “I’ve got to deliver some product to my mother this morning. She’s one of my reps. If you want to come along with me I can tell you all about Lady Bianca while we drive. That’s why it will take a couple of hours. Otherwise you’ll have to wait until I get back.”
He debated for a few seconds but Henderson had the hotel under control and his gut told him that Lady Bianca was the key to all of this. Besides, Toni Diamond might look like the Queen of the Airheads, but she’d proved to be both observant and smart. So, he said, “Fine,” and followed her into the elevator.
Her car was a surprise. He’d expected something big and flashy that would guzzle so much fuel it needed its own oil well, but in fact she drove a hybrid. A putrid color that reminded him of Easter baskets.
“Interesting car color,” he said when he got in.
She beamed at him. “It’s lilac, the Lady Bianca signature color.”
“Naturally.”
