Silenced in Sequins

by Debra Sennefelder

  Tracy laughed as she returned to scrolling through her contacts. “Oh, you are so naïve. It’s actually sweet.”

  Kelly left Doug’s Variety with Diana’s address. She had some time to spare before the boutique opened. Though, just to be safe, she texted Breena that she might be late. She got a thumbs-up emoji from her employee.

  The former reality star lived in Lucky Cove on a road tucked away, far from the center of town and with no water view. Settled in behind the wheel of her borrowed Jeep Cherokee, Kelly typed the address where she was heading into the vehicle’s GPS system, and off she went.

  The roads off the main thoroughfare were narrower than usual, thanks to snowfalls over the past few weeks. Town plow trucks had pushed the six-plus inches of snow to the sides of the road. Winter had made an early appearance and seemed to have settled in for a long stay. They were bracing for another storm on the horizon.

  A canopy of bare trees covered Butternut Lane, a quiet stretch of road dotted with traditional Cape Cod homes built during the big boom of development in the 1950s as city families sought suburban living. While they sought space for their growing families, they weren’t interested in originality. House after house she drove by looked identical. Even after all those years, not much had changed to those original homesteads of the burgeoning neighborhoods.

  Up ahead, Kelly caught sight of the sign for Glendale Road and took the right turn. Glendale was unpaved, and her Jeep bounced over the ruts as it cruised along the heavily forested road. She slowed down as she searched for Diana’s house.

  On her left, she spotted the first house since turning onto the road. A small cottage with shingles and shuttered windows. Standing on the front lawn was an elderly man as weathered as his home, walking with a small, white dog. The two were bundled up in plaid jackets and didn’t seem to mind the cold. The man’s shaggy white hair peeked out from beneath his black wool cap. He looked up as Kelly drove by but didn’t wave.

  Her GPS alerted her that her destination was coming up ahead. The space between the cottage and Diana’s house was another long stretch of trees and brush. She guessed all the empty acreage was waiting for development. That thought made her sad. While she hadn’t called Lucky Cove home in several years, she still didn’t want it to lose its small-town charm and become overrun with mega houses and fancy cars. So far, the small hamlet had found a balance between attracting vacationers and summer residents and maintaining the quality of life for lifelong residents.

  Could that balance be kept in check?

  She shifted her Jeep into park and grabbed her key fob and cell phone. Closing the Jeep’s door, she said a silent prayer that Diana would accept her apology. Walking along the driveway up to the brick path, she tried to rationalize what she was planning to do. She really didn’t owe Diana an apology since she had no idea how things would’ve turned out; yet if an apology kept Diana from trashing the boutique, then Kelly would offer the most heartfelt apology the former reality star had ever heard. Maybe she should have asked Breena for some acting tips.

  Kelly climbed the steps up to the porch of the new-construction Dutch Colonial house and pressed the doorbell. Thanks to her inner conflict, she hadn’t realized how cold it was. Now she wished she’d gone back to her apartment for a heavier coat before driving over to the house. She shoved her phone and key fob into her pocket and zipped it closed, then wrapped her arms around her body and gave herself a hug. And waited.

  Nobody was home?

  Kelly’s teeth chattered as footsteps approached from the other side of the door. Finally. If she stood out here any longer, she’d be a Popsicle.

  The door opened, and she was greeted by a grim-looking woman in her mid-sixties. “We’re not interested in buying anything.”

  Kelly plastered on her best smile and evoked her most perky voice. “No, no, I’m not here to sell anything. I’m here to speak with Ms. Delacourte. My name is Kelly Quinn. I own the Lucky Cove Resale Boutique.”

  Grim Lady didn’t seem impressed, nor was she budging from the small space between the open door and the doorjamb.

  “I really need to speak to Ms. Delacourte.”

  “She can’t be disturbed. You can e-mail her through her website.” Grim Lady stepped back and closed the door.

  “Really?” Offense and cold and worry swirled inside Kelly, giving her the courage to press the doorbell again. She might have left her finger pressing on the bell longer than need be. She had come to talk to Diana, and talk to the reality star she would. There had to be a way past Grim Lady.

  The door opened again. Grim Lady looked even grimmer. Clearly, Kelly was testing the woman’s patience.

  “I’ve told you, Ms. Delacourte can’t be disturbed. Now please leave.” The woman’s thin brows arched, and her lips pursed.

  The wind gusted again, permeating Kelly’s running jacket. Its soft panels of proprietary insulation weren’t working very well as she stood there on the porch. “It’s really important.”

  “I doubt that. Now go away.”

  The door closed again, and Kelly huffed. She resisted pressing the doorbell one more time. Instead, she turned and walked down the porch steps. Maybe she should e-mail Diana. She unzipped her jacket pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She typed in a search for the website as she walked back to her vehicle.

  Another cold gust of wind hit Kelly, and she muttered a curse. It was freaking cold, and she was trying to get an audience with Diana Delacourte rather than being inside her boutique where it was nice and warm.

  She found the website. She stopped walking and tapped on the menu. A passing bird overhead caught Kelly’s attention, and she looked up. The bird flew out of sight into a thicket of trees. But a glimmer of silver in the snow caught her eye. She took a few steps to get a closer look. It was fabric.

  A scarf?

  She propelled herself forward and realized it was a wrap. The same wrap she saw Diana with last night at the party.

  What was it doing outside?

  Kelly guessed anything was possible if Diana had been drinking late into the night like Tracy had suggested.

  Even if Diana had discarded the accessory, Kelly couldn’t leave it out in the wet snow. It looked vintage. And it was possibly a way she could get past the Grim Lady. She shoved the phone back into her pocket and went to the wrap. The snow was deeper as she stepped off the walkway, and a shot of cold went up her legs.

  She reached forward to snatch up the fabric when she noticed a lone silver stiletto shoe.

  Her spidey senses were screaming at her to turn on the heels of her over-priced, high-performance trainers and run . . . run fast, but she kept slogging through the snow as her heart beat so hard it was a miracle it was still in her chest.

  She fretted her lower lip and craned her neck forward as if to get a sneak peek of what lay ahead. God, she hoped she would find the silvery sequined dress. Maybe Diana had done a striptease out in the cold, snowy night. Kind of like those people who belonged to a polar bear club and dove into freezing ocean water.

  That was it. Diana was a polar bear stripper.

  Kelly’s gaze swept the landscape, and when it settled on what she’d hope not to find, her body shivered, and not because of the cold. It was because she’d just discovered Diana wasn’t a polar stripper.

  No, Diana Delacourte was dead.

  Sprawled out and tucked in by the snow, still dressed in her silver dress, Diana’s eyes were wide open but lifeless. Blood soaked the bodice of the dress. Kelly’s legs felt frozen, but she forced them to move because she was going to be sick.

  She dashed off to the side, near a thick mass of bare vines, and heaved. She felt light-headed, like she was going to pass out.

  “What are you doing?” The Grim Lady’s voice called out from the porch.

  Kelly straightened and dug into her other pocket for a tissue to wipe her mouth. She tur
ned to the woman, whose stance was firm and uncompromising. “I’ve found Diana!”

  Grim Lady stepped off of the porch, tugging a bulky sweater around herself. “What are you talking about?”

  “She’s there.” Kelly pointed. As her hand fell back to her side, she wondered about the scene that had unfolded last night between Diana and Wendy and how far their feud had gone. “She’s dead. Someone murdered her.”

  Chapter Four

  “Did you touch anything when you found Ms. Delacourte?” Detective Marcy Wolman asked from the passenger seat of Kelly’s Jeep. Wolman had arrived shortly after two Lucky Cove Police Department cruisers arrived on the scene. Grim Lady, who turned out to be Diana’s housekeeper, Nanette Berger, refused to allow Kelly into the house. Wolman did her best to keep from snickering when Kelly explained why she was waiting in her Jeep for the police to arrive.

  “No.” Kelly had the engine running and the heat blasting, but she still was ice-cold. She guessed finding a body could do that to a gal. Her feet were frozen, thanks to plodding through the snow in her running shoes. Had she known she’d discover a frozen corpse, she’d have chosen more appropriate footwear. “Was Diana wearing the other shoe? I didn’t notice.”

  “Why did you come here to see Ms. Delacourte?” Wolman jotted down some notes. She looked warm in her dark-gray, zipped coat. It wasn’t designer since she was on a police detective’s salary, but it was good quality. Kelly would’ve liked to see a colorful scarf to off-set the dreary color, but sensible Wolman had chosen a plain black scarf that matched her plain black hat. She’d slipped off her leather gloves to take notes.

  Kelly shifted, hoping to get better contact with the heated seat. “I wanted to discuss what happened last night. Let her know I felt horrible about what went down.”

  A flicker of recognition flashed in Wolman’s dark eyes. “I heard about some brush-up at your uncle’s party. It was between Ms. Delacourte and who else?”

  “Wendy Johnson. She consigned a bunch of cocktail dresses, and Diana bought one. Wendy recognized it, and well, you’ve heard what happened.”

  Wolman looked up from her notepad and cast a look at Kelly. “You somehow manage to find yourself involved in drama, don’t you?”

  Kelly did everything she could to refrain from rolling her eyes. Exhibiting any signs of disrespect would only backfire on her. “It kind of happens. Besides her missing shoe, where’s her coat? Why was she outside still dressed up without a coat in this weather?”

  “You also ask a lot of questions that aren’t any of your business. This is an official murder investigation, and I don’t want you involved in any way. Am I making myself clear?” Wolman stared at Kelly, waiting for an answer.

  “Yes, you are. I’m just curious.” Morbidly curious, but nonetheless, curious. And the last time she’d inserted herself into a murder investigation, she’d almost become the next murder victim. No, she was only curious. Nothing more. “I found her body.”

  Wolman’s eyes softened. “I know finding a murder victim isn’t an easy thing, and your interest is understandable. From what we can tell at this point, it looks like a stabbing. We’ll know more once the autopsy is complete.”

  Kelly nodded and turned her head in time to see the procession of officials—a uniformed officer and two county employees from the coroner’s office—carry Diana’s body to the van. Her stomach rolled again, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Are you okay to drive home, or would you like an officer to take you?”

  Wolman’s uncharacteristically compassionate voice drew Kelly’s face back to the detective.

  “No, I’m okay to drive back to the boutique.”

  Wolman closed her notepad. “Good. Let’s have a chat about a different topic. My brother. He’s worked hard to get where he is with his practice, and I’d hate to see him distracted or his reputation damaged in any way.”

  Kelly blinked. “What are you saying?”

  “I think it was a good idea for you not to have a second date with him.” Wolman pushed open the passenger door and stepped out. “I may need to follow up with you as the investigation progresses.”

  Kelly wrapped her hands around the steering wheel. Her fingers gripped the wheel as she pushed down her irritation at the detective’s unsolicited advice about her personal life. She wasn’t about to discuss her dating life with Marcy for two reasons. One, it was none of her business. Two, Kelly was confused about her feelings for Mark and didn’t want to discuss them.

  “Doesn’t it seem odd that the housekeeper didn’t wonder where her employer was all night? When I asked to speak with Diana, she said Diana couldn’t be disturbed.”

  “The housekeeper, what she knows or doesn’t know, isn’t any of your concern. Good-bye, Kelly.” Wolman slipped on her gloves, closed the door, and walked away from the vehicle.

  Kelly glanced back at the charming and very large Dutch Colonial that once had been the location for guilty-pleasure television—a socially acceptable way to be a voyeur into someone’s life—and that now was the scene of a murder.

  * * * *

  Kelly dropped her running jacket on the back of the chair at her desk and peeled off her gloves. She needed to get upstairs to her apartment and stand under a hot shower to thaw out. She retrieved her phone from her jacket pocket and checked for messages. There were a few, along with some new e-mails from retail supply vendors. Since it was Sunday, they were most likely automated messages to her initial inquiries. She’d been looking into getting logo shopping bags for the boutique but considering the minimum order required, it didn’t take a math genius to figure out that plan was way beyond her current budget. She’d have to learn to love the carton of white boring bags her granny had purchased last summer.

  “There you are. What on earth happened?” Pepper entered the staff room and dispensed with pleasantries.

  After she’d received Kelly’s text about finding Diana’s body, she’d sent back a sad face with tears. Kelly had never thought she and Pepper would be texting, let alone with emojis.

  “Diana was stabbed sometime between leaving the party and me finding her. That’s all I know right now. Wolman wasn’t in the mood to share much.” Except for advice on not dating her brother.

  Kelly walked to the kitchenette section of the staff room, a bare-bones kitchen with a drafty window over the sink. The robust aroma of fresh-brewed coffee was a godsend to Kelly. She poured a cup and carried it back to her desk.

  “I need a shower. I’m still frozen to the core.” Thank goodness, the building’s furnace was in good shape, and hot water wasn’t a problem. Then again, maybe that simple thought just jinxed it.

  “I haven’t told Breena about what happened.” Pepper pulled a chair from the small, round table where they ate lunch to the desk and sat. “I’m not sure how she’ll react. She’s a big fan of the show and those ladies.”

  Kelly swallowed her first sip of the coffee. “I’ll tell Breena.”

  “Tell me what?” Breena had entered the staff room. Her glossy red hair was styled in beachy waves, and she’d added a pop of deep pink gloss to her lips.

  Kelly admired Breena’s fun with fashion and makeup. Maybe it was from her drama days. She always got the lead parts in all of the high school plays and loved dressing in costume.

  Breena had gone off to New York City, like Kelly had, to pursue her acting dream, but she returned home unemployed, broke, and with a little girl to support. Besides working two jobs now, she was taking night and weekend classes in marketing. As much as Kelly was struggling, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be responsible for a child, another life. Inheriting Howard the cat was more responsibility than she’d bargained for.

  Pepper gave Kelly a look. It wasn’t her infamous Pepper glare, but it was a pointed look. Then Pepper stood and walked toward Breena. “You’d better sit down.”

 
“Why? What’s going on?” Confusion covered Breena’s face as her brows furrowed.

  Pepper disappeared out of the room, and Breena approached Kelly’s desk with hesitation.

  “Are you firing me?”

  “No. Nothing like that. But I do have some bad news. Sit.” Kelly gestured to Pepper’s vacant chair. She reached for the box of tissues and slid it closer to the edge of the desk. “You know I went to see Diana Delacourte this morning.”

  “Yeah. How’d it go? Oh, I’m guessing, by the look on your face, that it didn’t go well. I’m sorry, Kelly.” Looking a little more relaxed, Breena leaned back and crossed her legs.

  “No, it didn’t go well. Not well at all.” Kelly was stalling. She didn’t know how to tell Breena what happened. Maybe it was better to blurt it out, like ripping off a Band-Aid. “I found Diana dead. Someone murdered her.”

  Breena’s head tilted, and she stared at Kelly as if processing what she was just told.

  “I know you’re a big fan of the show and this news is unsettling.”

  Breena leaned forward and rested her arms on the desk.

  Her eyes were wide with as much curiosity as Kelly had had earlier, though now she was just plain exhausted and in need of a thawing out.

  “Murdered? How? Why? Did you find her? Who killed her?”

  The rapid fire of questions dizzied Kelly. Breena’s reaction wasn’t what she’d expected. It looked like she wouldn’t be needing the tissues.

  “Yes. Stabbed. Don’t know. Yes. Don’t know.”

  “Wow. Do you think Wendy Johnson killed her? Maybe she followed Diana back to her house and they continued to argue and then Wendy stabbed her.” Breena leaned forward and flattened her hands out on the desk. Her eyes narrowed as she waited for Kelly to respond.

  “I guess it’s possible. You know, I need a hot shower.” Kelly stood and grabbed her phone and coffee mug. While she’d love to toss around theories with Breena, she wanted to get warmed up and put on some fresh clothes and not relive the awful moments of staring down at Diana’s body.