Crushed Velvet

by Diane Vallere

  “You know what Genevieve is paying her?”

  “No idea.”

  “She’s your friend?”

  “Not exactly.” I turned in my car seat and watched traffic zip by at the end of the alley. “I only just met her this week. She showed up at the tea shop the day Phil Girard was murdered. I think she has a secondary agenda and I need to do a little digging into her background.”

  “Send her my way. I’ll tell Maria to keep the boys away from the shop and I’ll keep an eye on her myself.”

  “I don’t want to put you in any danger.”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry about me. I’m a former marine who runs a tight kitchen. If this girl wants to learn, I’ll teach her. If she wants something else, I’ll find out.”

  “Thanks, Big Joe,” I said and hung up.

  I drove to Tea Totalers and pulled into the lot. Kim’s bicycle was propped by the front entrance. No other cars were there. I parked in the farthest space, making sure to drive past the length of the back windows, giving Kim every opportunity to see me. I left the musty fabric in the back of the car and headed to the back door.

  “Kim?” I called. She wasn’t in the office or the kitchen. I went to the front of the café and looked around. The curtain panels were where I’d left them, in a general state of disarray. Behind me, I heard a toilet flush. Seconds later I heard a faucet, then smelled cookies. The door opened and Kim came out of the powder room, the scent of Genevieve’s vanilla hand soap following her.

  “Hi,” she said. She wiped her palms against each other as if she were rolling a piece of clay into a ball between them. “I’m sorry I was late this morning. I would have called you but I don’t have your number.”

  I forced a laugh as an opportunity presented itself. “I was thinking the same thing. I’m sure Genevieve has your contact information around here somewhere, but I don’t know her filing system. Why don’t I get your phone number and address? In case something pops up?”

  “Sure.” She looked over my shoulder. “Is Vaughn here, too?” she asked.

  “He was this morning.” I crossed the office to the desk and pulled a blank sheet of paper out of the printer. “Here, you can write on this.” I picked up a pen and held it out to her.

  She lowered herself into the chair in front of the computer and pushed the keyboard aside to make room to write. Her handwriting tipped backward and her letters contained fat loops. I half expected her to dot the i in Kim with a circle. She didn’t. After she’d written her name, e-mail, and cell phone number, she held out the paper.

  “Do you have a home number, too?” I asked innocently. “In case of emergency,” I said again. I wondered if she would ask what kind of tea emergency I anticipated.

  She hunched over the paper again and hesitated before writing a second number. She put a C next to the first one and an H next to the second. “I always have my cell phone on me. Always. And I have a backup battery, too, so you really don’t ever have to call that second number.”

  “I’m hoping I won’t have to call either one,” I said. I took the paper and set it in a metal tray on top of a stack of unpaid invoices. Her eyes followed the sheet of paper, as if she wanted to see exactly where I’d put it. I shifted to my right, blocking her view.

  “Kim, I need to talk to you about something.” I leaned back against the desk. “I’m friends with the couple who runs the donut shop at the other end of San Ladrón Avenue. Lopez Donuts? Have you been there?”

  “No. I come straight here and go straight home.”

  “Here’s the thing. You said you wanted restaurant experience, right? As great as it would have been for you to work with Genevieve, you’re simply not going to get what you want by working with me. I know for a fact that the Lopezes could use an extra set of hands. You’ll be able to see the business up close and personal. And when Genevieve reopens Tea Totalers, if you want, I’m sure you can come back and work for her.”

  I expected the same quiet nervousness that I’d seen on that first day to resurface. Instead she stood up straight and tugged the hem of her sweatshirt down to cover the waistband of her pink corduroy jeans.

  “Can you excuse me while I make a phone call?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  I went into the front room of the tea shop, but apparently that wasn’t enough distance for Kim. She gripped her phone in both hands and bounced her thumbs over the screen rapidly, and then looked up at me. I got the hint. I went out the front door and around the side of the building. When I glanced in the kitchen window at Kim, she was arguing with someone on the other end of the phone.

  I raised my cell to my head like I was on a phone call of my own and crept toward the building until I could hear Kim’s voice. “I didn’t ask her to do anything. I’m telling you, she’s trying to get rid of me. I don’t know how much longer I can stick around here,” she said. She had one finger plugged into the ear not against her phone, which worked out pretty well for me. I hovered by the window and leaned closer to the glass.

  “I don’t know what she knows or how she knows it,” she said. She paced away from me and continued. “I can’t do what we agreed to if she kicks me out of the tea shop.” She reached the corner of the kitchen and turned around. I put my phone to my ear and pretended to be in the middle of a conversation of my own.

  “Sure, okay. Yes. White vinegar. And school glue, just like I said. And if you think of it, something to drink. And tell your mother I said hello.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Vaughn asked from behind me.

  I whirled around, my eyes wide with embarrassment over the fake conversation I was having with him. “I gotta go,” I said to my phone. I didn’t bother hanging up since there hadn’t been a call to begin with. The charade had gone far enough.

  Vaughn held an assortment of white plastic shopping bags bulging with the requested supplies. “Was that me on the other end of that conversation?”

  “Um, yes?” I said, hoping he’d be willing to go along with me.

  “Is that the first fake conversation we’ve had? Because if it isn’t, I might need to see the transcripts so I can get caught up.”

  “I can explain everything, but not now. Can you give me a couple of minutes alone with Kim?”

  “Sure. I have a feeling that explanation is going to be worth the wait.” He turned toward the front of the building, shaking his head and laughing at me.

  I looked back in the window. Vaughn and Kim were talking. A few seconds later I heard the back door shut. I walked around the side of the building and found Kim standing by Vaughn’s wood-cutting station, dragging her fingers through a pile of wood shavings that had accumulated next to the blade.

  “Kim, Joe Lopez is at the donut shop now. He wants you to stop by to discuss wages.”

  “I’m not—this isn’t—Genevieve isn’t paying me,” she stammered. “I thought you knew that.”

  “But I thought you said you answered her ad. She wouldn’t have placed an ad if she wasn’t looking to hire someone.”

  “We worked out an arrangement. She agreed to keep it confidential.”

  “I’ve spoken to Genevieve several times since Monday and she hasn’t mentioned you once. I’m starting to wonder if maybe there’s a different reason you keep showing up other than wanting experience at her restaurant. In fact, I’m starting to wonder if Genevieve’s ever even heard of you.”

  “What are you saying?” she asked. She put her hands on her hips, facing me directly. Gone was the shy girl who matched the kitten and Troll-doll T-shirts. If this was a showdown, she was an ace. Maybe it was time to play my hand.

  “I’m saying I don’t think you’re here to learn how to run a restaurant. I think you’re working for someone else, and maybe it has something to do with the reason you’re on parole.”

  Twenty

  Kim’s face went red. “You c
ouldn’t know that unless you went through my things!” she said. “You had no right to do that.”

  “I didn’t go through your things. You dropped a piece of paper. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t hear me because you had on your bike helmet.”

  “I can’t believe you’re going to ruin this for me after everything I did to set it up.” She threw her fists down next to her thighs and stormed inside through the back door.

  “Kim! I don’t know what you’re hiding, but I’m going to find out,” I called. Seconds later the front door slammed.

  I entered the back door of Tea Totalers and went straight to the desk. Just as I figured, Kim’s personal information was missing from the metal tray. I cursed myself for letting that happen and went back out front. She was already down the street on her bike.

  “Did that have something to do with the conversation you were having with me when I got here?” Vaughn asked, surprising me. He put his hands on my upper arms and I tensed. He gently rubbed his hands up and down my sleeves.

  “She’s hiding something,” I said. A mix of frustration and anger left me in need of an outlet.

  “Most people are hiding something.”

  I turned to face him. “Are you?”

  “No.”

  I was aware of how close we were to each other, aware that he smelled like tanned leather and aged oak. Like I imagined a men’s club would smell. His green eyes glowed as sunlight picked up the ring of gold around his irises.

  “Well, maybe. Nothing serious, though.”

  I reached my hands up to his elbows and rested them for a second, then stepped backward. His hands fell from my arms and caught my fingertips. There was something comfortable about standing there with the California sun shining down on us as we stood in front of Tea Totalers. Something that made me feel like I was in the right place at the right time. I didn’t know what Vaughn would say if he heard what my morning had been like, or why I’d been arguing with Kim. I didn’t know if he’d judge me for getting involved. But for everything I didn’t know about how he’d react, I knew—I could sense—that he’d understand whatever it was I felt I had to do. It was an unfamiliar feeling and I needed to test it, to see if it was real.

  “Genevieve’s in trouble. Sheriff Clark took her to the police station this morning. He said he has enough evidence to get a conviction.”

  “What does this have to do with Kim?”

  “I think she knows something. She showed up the day Phil died. I think whatever she’s hiding has to do with Phil’s murder.”

  A breeze blew over our heads and ruffled Vaughn’s hair. The front of my own hair blew, too, my long bangs coming loose from where they’d been tucked behind my ear, now obstructing my vision. Vaughn reached a finger up and pushed my hair back to the side of my face. He slipped his finger under my chin, tipped it up, and kissed me lightly.

  “Genevieve’s lucky to have you in her corner,” he said. He rested his forehead against mine and I closed my eyes and relaxed for the first time that day. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “If there is, will you let me know?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “I wouldn’t want you thinking that’s the only reason I’m letting you stick around.”

  “Aha. So you admit you have ulterior motives.”

  I looked at the plastic bags he’d propped against the side of the house. “Sure I do. I need your vinegar.” I crossed the yard to the back door.

  He followed. “I guess my mother was wrong about catching flies with honey,” he said with a grin.

  “Depends if you want more flies or quality flies.” I looped my index finger through the handles on one of the bags and slung it over my shoulder.

  “Should I point out you’re the fly in this particular metaphor?” he asked.

  “Should I point out you’re implying you’re trying to catch me?”

  “Maybe we should call this a draw.”

  I picked up the rest of the bags with my other hand and carried them to my car.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “I’m taking the supplies to the fabric store to work there.” After loading the vinegar bottles in the backseat, I put the rectangles of wood that Vaughn had cut into the trunk. It took several trips. When I went back inside and looked around, I assessed how much work there was to do. A lot. The project had started out as a reason for Tea Totalers to be closed for the week while I helped Genevieve get her life in order. We were four days into the week and not only was her life not in order, but it was about as far from orderly as it could get. And while I suspected the repetition of decoupaging fabric to the tray table components would take my mind off Phil’s murder, I knew Genevieve didn’t have time for me to sit around crafting.

  And then there was the issue of the fabric store opening in three days. Thanks to the help of my parents, the store had been ready before any of this had happened. At least if you didn’t count the sign fiasco. But in three days Material Girl would be open for business. The celebration of reopening the fabric store would be tarnished by sadness if Genevieve wasn’t free by then.

  I called Charlie. “Have you heard anything from Genevieve yet?”

  “No. I can’t believe that jerk had the nerve to take her in. He knows she didn’t do it. I’ve half a mind to swipe his distributor cap.”

  “I don’t think it’s such a good idea to tamper with a police vehicle.”

  “Just joining you in Fantasyland,” she said.

  “Don’t make me have to prove your innocence, too.” I told her about my conversation with Big Joe and my argument with Kim. “I doubt she’ll follow through on his offer, but if she does, he’ll keep an eye on her.”

  “Good.”

  “Call me if you hear anything, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  I hung up the phone and tapped my fingers against it. After all of the evidence that had turned up, it was the appearance of an insurance policy that had led Clark to arrest Genevieve. But she claimed they didn’t have a policy, and if that was true, then where did this one come from?

  Outside, Vaughn was stacking scraps of wood into neat piles. I suspected it was a made-up task to keep him occupied while I was on the phone.

  “What do you know about life insurance?” I asked.

  “A fair amount. Why?”

  “That’s what finally got to Clark. He had all this evidence against Genevieve, but when he found out Phil had a life insurance policy in her name, he took her in.”

  “She should have told him about that up front.”

  “She and Phil didn’t have life insurance. His brother is an agent and kept trying to sell to them, but she said they always said no.”

  “Money’s been tight for the Girards, but maybe they changed their minds.”

  “How do you know about their money problems?” I asked.

  He looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s confidential.”

  “But it has to do with Genevieve and Phil?”

  “I don’t think I should be talking to you about this,” he said. “I’m sorry, Poly.” He watched me for a few seconds and I stared back at him. I expected him to say Just kidding, or On second thought, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned back to the workbench and covered it with a large gray tarp that had been sitting on the ground next to him.

  I hadn’t expected Vaughn to hold out on me after I’d confided in him. I went back inside, through the kitchen, to the front of the café and sat along the wall under the one window that didn’t have brown butcher paper covering it. I wrapped my arms around my knees and tried to think. Outside, an engine started. Gravel kicked up. A car pulled out of the lot and drove away. I didn’t bother looking to see if it was Vaughn. I already knew it was.

  I couldn’t just sit here. I had to do something. I went to the c
omputer, cued up a search engine, and typed in “San Ladrón life insurance.” Several possibilities showed up. I added the name Girard to the end of my search terms and found a Samuel Girard connected to a local branch of a major insurance carrier. I called the number and a woman answered.

  “San Ladrón Insurance,” she said.

  “Hello. I’m trying to reach Samuel Girard about an appointment.”

  “Sure, let me get his calendar. How is next week? Tuesday?”

  Tuesday was too late. I changed tactics. “You misunderstood me. I have an appointment today but I’m running late.”

  “That’s not possible. Mr. Girard had a death in the family and I moved all of his appointments to next week. Unless you arranged to meet him at his home office?”

  “I did, but I think I wrote the address down wrong. Can you confirm it?

  “Sure.” She rattled off an address. “Are you familiar with San Ladrón?”

  “A little.”

  “Do you know where Gnarly Waves, the water park, is?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Head south on San Ladrón Avenue, cross the highway, and turn right at the first street. His office is on Thicket Road, your first left. It’s a light green bungalow with white trim. Sam has a sign in the yard out front.”

  “Where does the water park come into play?”

  “If you reach the water park, you’ve gone too far.”

  I thanked her and hung up before she could ask my name or offer more assistance. It was after four and I was about to pay a surprise visit to Genevieve’s brother-in-law. I grabbed the address I’d scribbled down, locked up the front and back doors, and left.

  On the way to Sam Girard’s house, I stopped at Rosie’s Posies. It was a freestanding florist located in a small shack by the side of the road. Sam Girard’s brother had been murdered. I didn’t know if they had been close or not, but family was family. Regardless of what I hoped to gain by talking to him, I wanted to show respect.

  The structure, not more than ten feet square, had been painted a cheerful yellow with soft green trim. Tall forest-green buckets sat around the exterior of the building, holding cuttings of colorful long-stemmed flowers. A sign advertised Message to Heaven bouquets for five dollars, and a hand-painted arrow directed me to an entrance in the back. I followed the perimeter of the building and found a pretty woman in a straw hat and gardening gloves standing outside, trimming the branches on a small topiary.