Weapons of Mass Distraction

by Camilla Chafer

  “I’m sorry,” Sharon sniffed, taking the tissue before blowing her nose loudly. “I didn’t mean to start crying.”

  “That’s okay,” Lily murmured, edging her dress away from any splashed tears. “I don’t mean to pry, but is everything okay?” Lily glanced at me and I nodded, so she continued gently, “We noticed you seemed worried about something.”

  “Oh no, oh no, it’s nothing, it’s…” Sharon dropped her head onto her knees and cried even louder. I peeked through the drapes to the showroom, thankful that the doors were locked so Sharon wouldn’t be embarrassed by any other customers discovering her in this moment of crisis. I looked at Sharon again and then back toward the door and the large array of locks and cameras. Hmmm. Edging in front of her, I knelt, putting myself in Sharon’s view whenever she lifted her head. I placed a hand on her shoulder and told her, “I think you’re very upset and I think it has something to do with all the new security here.”

  Sharon raised her head, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes. Finally, she nodded. “Yes, it is.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m just so worried,” she wailed. “Four wedding stores in Montgomery were hit in the last month and I just know my place will be next.”

  “What do you mean ‘hit’?” I asked, trading puzzled glances with Lily.

  “Robbed. Someone is breaking in and stealing all the dresses. Do you know how many dresses I have here? Over a hundred. Not just store models either, but dresses women have saved for and paid deposits on. All those poor women who were customers at the other robbed stores don’t have their beautiful dresses anymore. Some of my customers are those who’ve already lost their dresses. I’ve installed new locks, cameras, a security system, and switched to ‘appointments only’, but it’s only a matter of time before this store gets hit!”

  “Oh, gosh, I had no idea,” gasped Lily. She smoothed her dress and grimaced.

  “I haven’t been sleeping,” Sharon continued, the story spilling out along with more tears. “I’ve been staying at the store as late as I can, just so if anyone is looking, they can see someone is here; and I come in early, but I just can’t do it anymore. I’m just so tired.” Sharon shook her head, and sniffed again. At least, the tears were subsiding. “But I don’t know what I’ll do if my dresses are stolen. I’ll probably have to close.”

  “Maybe we can help,” said Lily.

  “Uhh…” I said.

  “I would really hate if any brides had their dresses stolen,” said Lily slowly. Just to drive the point home, she pointed dramatically at her dress in big jabbing movements.

  “And the bridesmaids dresses and all the shoes and the tiaras and the…” Sharon sniffed to a halt. “They take everything. Everything!”

  Okay, I really got the point. The idea of Lily losing her dress mere days before her wedding was enough to want to get involved, not lessened by the idea of someone robbing the bridal stores in Montgomery, which really piqued my interest. What were they doing with the bridal gowns once they got them? Surely, someone noticed hundreds of dresses appearing where they weren’t supposed to be? Or a crazed Bridezilla with rack upon rack of dresses?

  “Okay,” I said, glancing to Lily to see her reaction “if Lily helps, I’m in. You are not going to lose your business and you’re going to get some sleep. We will find out what’s going on…”

  “—And we’re going to find all the stolen dresses!” screeched Lily, excitement spreading across her face. I’d seen it often enough before. She loved the thrill of the chase. “We’re going to take them down! And we won’t find any dead dudes!”

  “Dead… dudes?” whimpered Sharon.

  “There will be no dead people,” I assured her, glaring at Lily. She shrugged and pulled a face, reminding me I couldn’t really guarantee that. I suppose she had a point. Three were plenty enough dead people for one week, not to mention my short career as a PI.

  “Do you promise?” Sharon asked, looking from me to Lily, and back again. Talk about being put on the spot! I hated to make a promise I couldn’t keep.

  “Uh…” I started weakly.

  Lily stepped in. “We’ll find out what’s going. Just let us get out of these dresses and you can tell us everything we need to get started. Piece of cake. Right, Lexi?”

  “Yup,” I agreed with a gulp.

  “I can’t pay you,” said Sharon. “I’ve invested so much on security, I have no more cash.”

  “Let us worry about that,” said Lily just as I began to wonder what we were letting ourselves in for.

  ~

  By the time Solomon picked me up, my mind was still a-whirr with everything I’d done, seen, read… and agreed to. I could hardly believe Lily actually signed us up to a case, but even I had to admit it was for a good cause. We could save dozens, if not hundreds, of weddings. Maybe even save a few relationships. That was a hard opportunity to turn down.

  “You look pretty,” said Solomon, bending down to kiss me on the lips as he stepped inside my bungalow. He ran a hand down my back until it settled on my waist. He stepped back and added, “And preoccupied.”

  “Didn’t realize those were your mind-reading lips,” I quipped as I reached for my lip gloss and added a new sheen to my lips.

  “Got your report today. It was…” Solomon paused, seemingly searching for a word, before settling on, “short.”

  “It wasn’t that short.”

  “It read, and I quote, ‘I got nothing’.”

  “Okay, it was short, but it was accurate. I did discover something new though. Jim Schwarz had some kind of problem at his previous job. He confided in his neighbor that he was unhappy and maybe did something unforgivable, but he didn’t say what.”

  “That’s disappointing. Is he the type of guy to sexually harass someone?”

  “I don’t get that impression, but who knows? You don’t seem that kind of man and you sexually harass me all the time.”

  “Only because you like it.” Solomon smiled as he checked his watch. “I made reservations. We have to go.”

  “It really is a fancy hotdog stand!”

  Solomon’s smile grew. “I only take you to the best places.”

  “I have something else to tell you,” I told him as I locked up and we walked over to his Lexus. He parked it in the street, which was quiet this time of night. Lights dotted the windows of the houses around me and I raised my hand to wave to my neighbor, Aidan, out walking his dysfunctional dog, Barney. I say, walking, but Barney was currently in the process of doing some kind of belly flop and slide on the grass verge while wearing his hearing dog vest. Aidan gave me a half-hearted shrug and waited for Barney to get over whatever he was doing. As far as service dogs went, Barney was largely a failure; but he was sweet and loving and Aidan often admitted to being very attached to him.

  “That dog still a nuisance?” asked Solomon as he opened the car door for me.

  “Absolutely. He’s less a hearing dog and more a noisy dog.”

  “Cute though. What’s he doing?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. Anyway, you know I haven’t taken on a pro bono case in a while? I accidentally took one today. Oops!” I reached for the door and shut it, leaving Solomon on the sidewalk. A small movement in his face was the only reaction I got. It could have been bemusement or pride or… it could have been anything really. I waited until he climbed in, switched on the engine, and pulled into the street.

  “So?” he said finally, which was better than “no.”

  “Several wedding boutiques have been robbed.”

  Solomon glanced over. “Did Lily lose her dress?”

  “No, but Sharon, the owner of Perfect Brides, is worried her store might be hit next. I’m going to look into it. Maybe I can even get the stolen dresses back to the brides affected.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  Solomon shrugged. “Okay,” he repeated.

  “Lily said she’ll help. She’s going to do most of the
surveillance too and I'll help out when I can.”

  “Do I have to pay her?”

  “No. She’s doing it out of the goodness of her heart, and because her dress is in there.”

  “So long as it doesn’t conflict with your job, I’m happy. Plus, it’s good for business.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You get the dresses back, we give every bride a business card, and we wait for the cheating surveillance jobs to come in.”

  My mouth dropped open and I punched Solomon’s upper arm. Nice. I kind of wanted to do it again, except gentler and with more stroking. “Solomon!”

  “I’m joking!” he laughed, his face splitting into the most delicious smile. “Sweetheart, I’m joking!”

  Chapter Eight

  Beyond my initial research, I didn’t know a whole lot about Karen Doyle. Now I knew she was allergic to peanut oil, and her death was premature after being poisoned by someone who also had knowledge of her allergy. I knew she didn’t deserve to die on a treadmill. She was very fit and had a connection to my other two victims, but that wasn’t nearly enough to form an hypothesis on why someone might want to kill her. Now that Jim Schwarz’s neighbor had thrown in the idea that all wasn’t right with his previous job, I had an inkling that I needed to look further into her recent history than just the past few months.

  It was that inkling that ensured my butt was parked in my chair first thing in the morning, after arriving at the agency separately from Solomon, with her file open on the desk.

  Karen Doyle was the same age as me when she died, something I found hard to comprehend. Right now, her smiling face was staring at me from her wedding website photo. I wondered how long the website would stay live, and just in case someone closed it, I printed every page. Her fiancé only appeared in her life fourteen months ago. That told me he may not know anything about what might have occurred with her previous employers, but it didn’t tell me if they discussed other pertinent aspects of her life. However, I concluded, she might have confided in her sisters. She may even have known what was bothering Jim Schwarz. However, all that was simple conjecture until I delved deeper.

  Although I didn’t know where one sister lived, I did know that her younger sister was renting her apartment. It took me less than a couple of minutes to find the address. I logged my whereabouts onto the file, sent Solomon a text to that effect, and grabbed my jacket and purse, making my way down to the underground parking garage. Just as I entered the garage, I spotted Solomon talking to two people, a man and woman. The man looked like one of the thick-necked guys I’d seen previously. The woman held a folder that read Solomon Agency in solid white lettering across the middle.

  “Boss,” I said, nodding to Solomon. “Hi,” I said to the other two who nodded in return.

  The woman added, “Hi” and Solomon greeted me, but he made no moves to introduce anyone.

  As I climbed into my car, I couldn’t resist taking another look in my mirror. Since the agency was small and tightly knit, I knew everyone in it, from our four investigators to the doorman. These people, however, I didn’t know, so I could safely assume they worked on the mystery floor. Now that I’d made contact and properly established my position by greeting another agency employee, perhaps I could corner one of them for some more information. I quickly glanced away when Solomon eyed me, firing up the engine. I adjusted the mirror and backed out, stuffing the in-agency intrigue into the back of my mind. That was one mystery I would have to solve on my own time. Or, at least, at a time when Solomon wasn’t watching.

  Karen’s rented apartment was situated on the first block into Chilton. Even on the border, I could see it was pricey by the actual liveried doorman lurking inside the doors — since when did Montgomery get liveried doorman? — and the very stylish brick exterior. I had to park a block away and walk back, which gave me time to think about what my excuse would be for visiting. By the time I got there, I was all out of ideas, so I opted for the truth.

  “I’m visiting Melanie Doyle,” I told the doorman, who clocked me the moment I entered.

  “Sign here,” he said, pushing a pen and the guest book towards me. I signed and hesitated, waiting for him to ask me why I was there. When he didn’t, I simply smiled and went over to the elevator. Melanie lived on the fourth floor, in one of four apartments. Hers was to the front of the building, I noticed. I looked out of the corridor window while waiting after I knocked, trying not to think about how rude it was for me to be barging in on a grieving young woman.

  Melanie looked a lot like her sister. Same size, slightly bigger build, and very pink cheeks. She wore a dark floral dress and button-up cardigan, both suited to mourning, but just as likely, her everyday wear. “Hi, I’m Lexi Graves. I’m sorry to intrude, but I’m a private investigator and I wanted to ask you a few questions about your sister, Karen,” I said, trying not to trip over my own tongue in my haste to assert myself.

  Melanie blinked and frowned. “My sister died,” she said simply and bluntly.

  “I know, I’m really sorry.”

  “Why do you want to ask questions about her?”

  “My client is concerned about her manner of death,” I said. “I know this is hard but…”

  “No, no, it’s okay,” Melanie said, surprising me by stepping back and opening the door wider. “I’m worried too. Please come in. Can I see a badge or something?”

  I pulled my license from my pocket and she took it, perusing it closely before allowing me to step in. I wondered if she’d ever seen a PI license before, but she made a show of nodding that she understood it, like most people did.

  The apartment was smaller than I thought it would be, given the location, and I wondered if that was how Karen could afford it. We passed through a small entryway painted in beige and white, thick, horizontal stripes, which, I had to admit, looked very cool. The door at the far end was closed, and we passed by a small kitchen before entering a cozy living room. Everything was scaled to fit the room. Small couch and a tub chair, a dining table and two chairs. The curtains were hung high and wide, giving the appearance of larger windows. Everything was stylish, and there was nice artwork on the walls; actual watercolors, rather than prints.

  “Karen painted in her spare time,” said Melanie, noticing me looking at a meadow scene stretched over a wide canvas. “She was really good.”

  “They’re exquisite.”

  “I kept on telling her that, but she stopped painting over a year ago. Said she just didn’t feel it anymore.”

  “Did she often stop painting?”

  “No, never. It was weird actually. She adored painting, she used to go on these painting retreats and everyone always bought her oils or watercolors for birthdays and Christmas. Then, all of a sudden, she just wasn’t interested anymore.” Melanie shrugged, turning away. “Now she can’t ever paint again.”

  “This must be a difficult time for you,” I said, immediately wanting to narrow in on what could have stopped Karen from a much-loved hobby, but I stopped myself. It caught my attention that she stopped painting not long after changing jobs. That was exactly the sort of personality change that I’d learned to identify as a clue to a person’s mental state, but it was too soon to get personal.

  Melanie nodded and gave me a sad flex of her mouth. “So how can I help you?” she asked, indicating I should sit on the couch while she took the chair.

  “I hoped you would be able to give me some background on Karen.”

  “Like what? She was a pretty private person.”

  “Can you think of any reason why someone would want to hurt her?”

  “No. Honestly, I’m still in shock that someone would. She was, like, the sweetest person. She was just nice. She was nice to everyone. I really looked up to her.”

  “Were you close?”

  “Very. You know, she let me rent this apartment when she moved in with Connor. She could have rented it and made a lot more money, but she only lets me,” Melanie paused, her voice choking, �
��let me pay the minimum, just enough to cover the mortgage.”

  “That was nice of her. She was really excited about the wedding…” I trailed off, waiting for Melanie to fill in the blanks. Melanie nodded. “So, so happy,” she enthused. “She was really depressed when she got that job and Connor made a huge effort to make her feel really welcome. She always said how she was so surprised there was anyone that kind in the world, like she wasn’t, you know? She said, maybe it was meant to be. Maybe some good had to come out of…”

  I waited, but Melanie didn’t continue. Instead, she looked at her hands folded over her knees.

  I decided to try a different line of questioning. “Do you know if Karen knew a Jim Schwarz or Lorena Vasquez?”

  “Yes, they both worked at the same company as Karen. The company she left. I’m not sure if she kept in touch. How come?”

  “Jim and Lorena also died recently.”

  “Oh, that’s so sad. I don’t think Karen knew them too well, but I think they hung out at work. She said Lorena was like a mom to everyone and I think she said Jim was really funny. Like I said, I don’t know if she kept up with them. I think they all got new jobs around the same time.”

  “Yes, they did. Do you know why they all left Simonstech? Were they unhappy?”

  “I don’t know. Karen was unhappy about something. You know, I remember something odd. I came by one Saturday because we were going to brunch and Karen looked so white I thought she might be ill, or had too much to drink at the office party and was sick. But she kept crying and wouldn’t say why. I knew something had really shaken her up. I asked her a few times after that… I guess I wanted to make sure someone hadn’t hurt her and she didn’t want to say, but she told me to forget all about it, that she just had a bad day or something, and then she got a new job and I guess I forgot. She was kind of anti-social after that party, so I remember being really pleased when she told me she had a new job. After that, she and Connor started dating.”