Bodice of Evidence

by Nancy J. Parra

  “Of course.” The young woman pushed by me.

  I noticed that Vidalia was on the phone and having a very animated discussion. As I went to close the door, a young man walked into the shop. It seemed strange that a guy would come into the bridal shop alone. He didn’t have any boxes or bags, so he wasn’t a delivery guy.

  The young man was dressed in low-hanging jeans and sloppy tennis shoes, and a black hoodie covered his hair, leaving only a pale thin face showing. Vidalia’s expression when she spotted the guy had all my warning bells going off. If this was a robbery, I didn’t want my family involved. I closed the door until only a partial crack showed and listened as Vidalia hung up the phone. If there was going to be another crime, I wanted to keep my family safe.

  Chapter 8

  “What do you want, Thad?” Vidalia’s tone was decidedly chilly.

  Okay, so Vidalia knew the guy, but she wasn’t so happy to see him.

  “Is Theresa here?” he asked, looking around. I closed the door a little more so as not to be noticed.

  “She’s working.” Vidalia crossed her arms.

  “Dude, I need to see her.”

  “Fine. Wait here.” Vidalia headed toward our room and I quickly closed the door and pretended to study the last gown. “I’m so sorry,” Vidalia said as she entered the room. “I need Theresa for a moment.”

  By this time Felicity was out of the second dress. Theresa was putting the dress on the hanger when she came out from behind the screen.

  “What’s the matter?” Theresa said as she hung the second dress on the wall peg.

  “Thad is here and he’s insisting on seeing you.” Vidalia expression was stern. “I told him you were working, but he won’t leave until he sees you.”

  Theresa ducked her head and hurried out the door.

  “I’m so sorry. This will only take a moment more. Please help yourself to the refreshments. If you need to use the facilities, there is a restroom just down the hall on the left.”

  She left, closing the door behind her. I took that as my cue to follow on the pretense of finding the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” I said.

  Vidalia was scolding the couple about work boundaries and how Theresa was on the clock and should never be interrupted. I moved down the hall toward the bathroom until I was out of sight but still within hearing range.

  “Dude, chill,” Thad said. “This will only take a second.”

  “And that’s another thing,” Vidalia said firmly. “I am not a dude. My name is Vidalia Denikin. Mrs. Denikin to you.”

  “Sure,” Thad said. He and Theresa moved toward the door, which was closer to me but still out of sight.

  “What do you want?” Theresa asked.

  “You know what I want,” Thad said.

  “You can’t come in here like this. It looks bad.”

  “Give me what I want and I’ll go away.”

  “Fine.”

  I peeked around the corner to see Theresa give Thad some money. The guy pocketed the cash and gave Theresa a kiss on the cheek.

  “You’re the best, babe.”

  He left and I heard Vidalia chastise Theresa. “He cannot come in here. I mean it. He looks like a hoodlum and I need my shop to be above reproach. Especially now. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Theresa said.

  “Good, now sit at that desk and do your job. I’m going back in and seeing if I can salvage the one appointment we still have.”

  I hurried to the bathroom door and pretended to be coming out as Vidalia passed the hall. “Trouble?”

  She stopped at the sight of me and sighed. “I’m sorry for the interruption. Theresa is a good worker, but she has a terrible time with her choice of men.”

  “She said she was out sick the day your mother died,” I said. “That must have made things crazy here, having no receptionist.”

  “Not so bad.” She shrugged. “I was able to go to the coffee shop and take a much-needed break.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You had coffees in your hands when you came in that day. There weren’t any clients here, were there?”

  “No, we were swamped that morning. I remember because I had a particularly difficult appointment and I lost her because I had to keep going to answer the door.” She frowned. “Sometimes I wish I could hire an extra girl, but that’s for the future now.”

  “Strange, I remember you having three coffees when you came in,” I said. “I have no idea why I would have thought of that.”

  “I did have three coffees,” she said. “My mother loved her coffee. It was never enough to bring her one.”

  “Huh, I suppose there are some two-fisted coffee drinkers. Did anyone hold a grudge against your mother?”

  “Are you asking if she has—I mean had—any enemies? The answer to that is no. Everyone loved her. My mother had an uncanny ability to make every bride happy and soothe the family issues that always come up in wedding situations.”

  “She must have been an extraordinary woman.”

  “She was.” Tears welled up in Vidalia’s eyes. “I told Detective Murphy that I think the motive was a robbery gone wrong.”

  “Why do you say that?” I drew my brows together in confusion. Detective Murphy didn’t let me in on this little tidbit. The last thing I knew, he didn’t think it was a robbery because nothing seemed to be missing from the shop.

  “We don’t keep a lot of money on the premises. Most of our gowns are far too expensive for cash. But when I had a chance to check the inventory, I discovered that the petty cash was missing, along with a couple of our top designer gowns worth thousands.”

  “Who would buy a stolen wedding gown?”

  She shrugged. “People sell gowns on the Internet all the time. I’m certain someone would jump at getting a designer sample gown for a quarter of the price. Even at that price point the thief would make thousands.”

  “Did you let Detective Murphy know? I mean, they could have someone looking for the stolen dresses listed on the Internet.”

  “Yes, of course, he said that he has his men keeping an eye on the Internet sites that sell second-hand dresses in case one of mine shows up. Perhaps it will lead them to the killer.” She shrugged. “Still, for the dresses to come back in showroom condition is a long shot as you say. I’m better off getting my insurance to pay for it.” Vidalia gave a forced laugh. “Come on, let’s go inside. I have the perfect dress for your sister and it’s time she tried it on.”

  “Can I ask one more question?”

  “Sure,” she said, but her tone made it clear she was done being questioned.

  “Do you take a coffee break at the shop the same time every day?”

  “Of course, it’s sort of a thing with me. I like to keep a regular schedule. Are you ready to see your sister in her perfect dress?”

  “Of course,” I said, and let her lead me into the room. But my thoughts were not on Felicity. They were on the fact that if she took her break the same time every day, the killer may have known that Eva was here alone.

  * * *

  Mom gave me a questioning look when I returned and sat down beside her. I raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and snagged a little cake from the plate.

  “I’m so sorry for all the delays, ladies,” Vidalia said as she pulled the last dress from its hook. “Come on, Felicity. Are you ready to see your wedding dress?”

  Felicity rolled her eyes at us. “Sure.”

  They went behind the screen and Mom leaned toward me. “Did you get your answers? Because Felicity has had enough of this place. Once she says no to this dress, we’re out of here.”

  “Yes, I did,” I said. “We can go anytime that Felicity wants.”

  “And here she is, your bride,” Vidalia said as Felicity walked out from behind the curtain.

  The dress was not pale blue as
we first thought, but rather a lovely abalone-colored silk that shimmered in the lightest of blues and pinks and whites. The top was a delicate pale bluish white lace that covered the strapless part of the pearl silk and formed a portrait collar and three-quarter length sleeves. The gown narrowed at the waist then flared slightly, falling to the ground in delicate waves. The skirt had a wrapped train that flowed from the side of the waist to the back of the dress, revealing a panel of white embroidered flowers on the back of the skirt and along the hem of the train.

  “Oh!” Mom put her hands to her mouth, her eyes filled with tears.

  Felicity stepped up on the dais and froze. She gave the same little gasp as my mother and her eyes also welled up. Watching them made my heart tumble in delight. The dress was perfect.

  Vidalia didn’t gloat. Instead she snagged a veil from the tall thin shelves filled with veils and gloves on the wall next to the door and went to work. “And there is our bride,” she said, and stepped back with pride.

  “Oh, Felicity!” Mom was on her feet and standing beside my sister. I couldn’t help but follow.

  “It’s the dress,” Felicity said in an awed whisper.

  “It’s the dress,” Vidalia said with a smile.

  “How did you know?” Felicity asked.

  “I just do. Like I said, it’s a gift.”

  For the first time that day I knew that Vidalia was telling the absolute truth. My sister was a bride. The reflection of her and my mom and me in the three-way mirror made my heart squeeze. This was the moment dreams were made of and one of many moments I hoped my new career would be able to provide for a lifetime of other women.

  Chapter 9

  Felicity might have had reservations about buying a dress from Vidalia, but once she found “The Dress” it was all done but the haggling, and Mom was a champion haggler. Vidalia helped Felicity out of the gown and returned with paperwork on pricing and details.

  Mom was resolute about the price she was willing to pay. I think both Felicity and Vidalia were in tears by the time Mom finally said, “It’s a deal.” She had indeed negotiated a deep discount for the dress if we promised to tell everyone where Felicity bought her gown and how wonderful the experience was. It didn’t hurt that I also promised that I would include one of Vidalia’s business cards in my marketing packet for Perfect Proposals.

  “My husband, Anton, is going to think I have lost my mind,” Vidalia stated as she watched Mom sign the agreement and then write the check. “You have the gown at cost plus alterations.”

  “Warren Evans, Felicity’s fiancé, has connections with all of Chicago’s high society, doesn’t he, dear?” Mom said, and continued without waiting for Felicity to answer. “He’s practically the entire reason Pepper’s Perfect Proposals business is so successful.”

  “Well, I’d like to think I had something to do with that,” I muttered, and pulled the strap of my purse over my shoulder.

  “Plus, you will get free advertising to all of Pepper’s clients for the next six months. She deals only in exclusive high-end proposals. Isn’t that right, dear? You truly have made the deal of a lifetime.” Mom stood up and handed over the check. “We’ll see you soon.”

  “Yes, for fittings and to buy the bridesmaid dresses and mother-of-the-bride dress—if I can afford to sell them to you, of course,” she said with a cool smile.

  “Of course,” Mom trilled, and slung her arms through mine and Felicity’s and practically skipped out of the shop.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Felicity said as we left the shop. “I had no idea it was going to be the one. I’d never felt like a bride before and then . . .” She got choked up again.

  I smiled and hugged her shoulder. “You are going to knock Warren’s socks off.”

  “The dress was simply perfect,” Mom said with a big grin on her face.

  “I thought Vidalia was going to tear her hair out over your haggling,” I teased my mom. “I thought we were trying to save her business not lowball her out of it.”

  “Please, a lowball sale is a sale and that is what will save her business. She can tell everyone who asks that her business is still strong. After all, she sold a gown today.”

  “Nice,” I said.

  “Yes, it is. Remember this when you go dress shopping. Your mother is more than a pretty face.” She waggled her eyebrows and tapped her temple with her index finger.

  “Of course you are,” I said. “We didn’t get all our smarts from Dad.”

  “Shall we go grab some dinner?” Felicity asked.

  I glanced at my cell phone. It was nearly six thirty already and my message light blinked. “You two go on without me. I’ve got to check a few phone messages and I want to write down what I learned today before I forget.”

  Felicity and Mom exchanged a look that did not go unnoticed.

  “What? I’m running a business.”

  “And your sister liked that plaid bridesmaid dress, didn’t you, Felicity?” Mom looked smug.

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Fine. Where are you going? I’ll try to meet you there.”

  Mom looked at Felicity.

  “Lou Malnati’s,” Felicity said. “I feel like pizza.”

  “I’ll call your father,” Mom said.

  “The one on Higgins Road?” I asked

  “Yes,” Felicity said. “Warren is in Schaumburg today working at the satellite office.”

  “Perfect,” I said. “See you there in a few.” I strolled to my car, unlocked it, and got inside. Locking the doors, I hit the message button on my smartphone.

  “Hello, my name is Toby. I was at the country club and overheard Warren and Felicity talking about their proposal. I’d like to hire Perfect Proposals. Please call me at this number.”

  Well, that sounded like a nice lead. Especially since I had Mary’s proposal nearly all planned and had gotten Alexander’s family to agree to hold up the cards for his proposal at the landing zone of his Big Leap event. I dialed the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes, is this Toby? I’m Pepper Pomeroy, the owner of Perfect Proposals. You called and left me a message?”

  “Oh, right,” he said. “Yes, I understand you’ve done a couple of unusual romantic proposals.”

  “Yes, you can go to the Perfect Proposals website and you’ll see pictures, testimonials, references, and a link to some of the video clips.”

  “Oh, I don’t need to go to your website. I trust Warren Evans. I want to hire you. Money is no object. Can we meet?”

  “Certainly.” My heart skipped a beat at the idea that money was no object. I made my fee off a direct percentage of the costs of the proposal, so the bigger the event, the more money I made. Most of which went right back into the business, but it would be nice to have a little extra cash when I went looking for a new apartment.

  And I was planning on finding a new apartment soon.

  “Please name a date, time, and place and I’ll be there so we can get started on the details,” I said.

  “Great, can you meet me tomorrow, say ten A.M. Does that work?”

  “It works,” I said. “Where?”

  “Meet me at Centre City Books in Forest Park. Do you know where that is?”

  “Sure, it’s a favorite of my father’s,” I said. A bookstore was an unusual place for a meeting, but I was game, especially when he reiterated that money was no option. Forest Park wasn’t all that far from my parents’ home. “How will I know you?”

  “I’ll be sitting in the right corner reading nook and I’ll wear a red carnation in my buttonhole.”

  “Great, I’ll see you tomorrow at ten.” I hung up. What an odd character. Who meets in a bookstore and wears a carnation? Most people I dealt with had a LinkedIn profile and posted pictures and their entire background. Come to think of it, he hadn’t given me his last name.

 
I frowned. I suspected it was going to be an interesting meeting.

  The next three messages were from my vendors—the baker with the final directions for the black-and-white cake for Mary’s engagement party with the Casablanca motif, the permits for the jump site for Alexander’s Big Leap, and the pilot of the jump plane clearing his flight plan.

  Happy to have a thriving business, I glanced over at the dress shop. Vidalia stepped outside and waited to lock up. She looked satisfied with the sale. She really did have a flair for finding the right dress—at least Felicity’s dress. It would not be hard to recommend her to my clients.

  I chewed on my bottom lip as I noted that Theresa walked out after her. The girl headed in the opposite direction. There was something going on with that girl, or her boyfriend at the very least. It was a good thing Felicity bought her dress there. It meant a couple of fitting appointments, and of course, the opportunity to go back and buy bridesmaid dresses and mom’s mother-of-the-bride gown.

  It also meant that I would have more opportunities to ask Vidalia and Theresa questions that Detective Murphy would never think to ask.

  Chapter 10

  Ten A.M. the next morning, I opened the door to the bookstore. It had a classic glass front, a red awning with white type that said Centre City Books, and brick on the rest of the old-fashioned building. I entered to the warm aroma of books and coffee—two of my favorite scents. A smile came to my face at the realization that it had been a while since I’d visited a bookstore and experienced firsthand that wonderful smell.

  I found Toby in the right-hand corner as he had promised. He looked to be in his mid to late forties and of average height and build. He had a full head of dark, wavy hair and a five-o’clock shadow, which was a bit odd for ten in the morning.

  I tilted my head and squinted my eyes. If he were spiffed up, he could be good-looking in an older George Clooney kind of way. Unfortunately he was as rumpled as that funny old television detective, the one I used to watch reruns of with my father. What was his name? Hmmm—Columbus? Colom . . . Oh, right, Columbo. Anyway, even though he had pinned a red carnation to his shirt—with a safety pin, mind you—he was not at all sophisticated. He wore a T-shirt with Wile E. Coyote on it, droopy jeans with completely frayed hems, and ripped white skateboarder shoes.