Silenced in Sequins

by Debra Sennefelder

  “Does Clive know how much I love him?” Kelly was indebted to the Pepper and her husband for so much, and she wondered if she’d ever be able to repay them for the kindness. “Though, I don’t want you decorating outside or inside. You’re not to exert yourself.”

  “I’m not a baby.”

  “Got it. Still doesn’t change what I said. Maybe I’ll ask Liv to come over tonight, and we can have a boutique decorating party. Sounds like fun, right?”

  “It does.” Pepper stepped out from behind the sales counter. “Did you want to change any displays this morning?”

  “No. I did the window yesterday and the mannequin in the accessory department.”

  After she’d cleared out the home accents and the square room was empty, it became a blank canvas for Kelly’s wildest fashionista ideas. She’d spent hours online, browsing images to fuel the remodel, though her budget was tight, almost nonexistent. With her ideas in check, she’d stuck to a few cosmetic changes and roped in her friends for help.

  A fresh coat of paint and revealing the windows behind a few large pieces of furniture made a huge difference in the boxy room. She added two freestanding mirrors she leaned against the walls and set out two tufted ottomans for trying on shoes or just taking a breather after a hard day of shopping. Her most recent addition was a crystal chandelier she picked up at a tag sale. She’d spent days cleaning it and had replaced the old, boring fixture right before Thanksgiving. All in all, the space had come together nicely.

  “When I go out to the post office, I’d like to drive over to Diana’s house.” Kelly lifted her travel mug and took a long drink.

  “What on earth for? Your part in the matter is all done. You gave your statement to the police.”

  Kelly shrugged and set the stainless-steel mug down. “I’d like to express my condolences to Diana’s family and to Nanette, her housekeeper. The murder must have been a shock for her.”

  Pepper propped her hand on her hip. “I’m sensing you’re not being entirely forthcoming. Why do you want to talk to the housekeeper?”

  There was no getting around it. Kelly had to share what Wendy asked—no, correction, what she had blackmailed—Kelly into doing. Halfway through the story, the Pepper glare surfaced and contorted into a whole other look Kelly hadn’t seen before. Yikes.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. You will really help this woman?”

  “I doubt I can help her, but if I don’t try, she’ll make sure Summer doesn’t get on the show. You know what she’s like. Can you imagine what she’d be like if she knew I was the reason she didn’t get on the show? Plus, Wendy has connections, and we need inventory. Good, quality inventory.”

  Pepper threw her arms up in the air. “I’m at a loss for what to say to you.”

  “That’s a first.”

  Pepper wagged a finger at Kelly. “Don’t get fresh.”

  How many times had Kelly heard Pepper say that? She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.

  “Look, I will ask a few questions. Enough for Wendy to believe I’m helping her.” She used air quotes around the word helping. “It’ll satisfy her, she’ll talk Summer up to Hugh, and she’ll introduce me to socialites who want to clear out their closets.”

  Pepper shook her head. “Do you hear yourself? You’re sounding like one of those horrible reality people.”

  “Am not.” Okay, how old was she? That wasn’t the appropriate response for a twenty-six-year-old.

  “Are too.” Pepper threw up her hands and turned away. She walked toward the accessory department but stopped and looked over her shoulder. “You go do what you need to do. Don’t be surprised when you realize you’re all covered in dirt because that’s what happens when you lower yourself to their level.”

  With that snippet of wisdom dancing around in her brain, Kelly collected the packages to mail and left the boutique. She arrived at the post office, and on the way to the counter, she caught snatches of conversation as she passed by a cluster of old-timers who hung out at the post office.

  Those guys made their rounds from the post office to Doug’s Variety Store and the community center.

  Kelly walked up to the counter. She was greeted by the postmaster, a woman in her late sixties with an obvious dye job. The deep auburn shade of her hair looked unnatural against her pasty skin tone and barely there eyebrows. While scanning the packages, the postmaster pumped Kelly for information about finding Diana’s body, and no doubt, she’d pass on whatever she learned to the next customer. Small towns tended to be like that, and Lucky Cove wasn’t any different.

  With her packages mailed and her lips still sealed about finding Diana’s body, Kelly stepped out into the cold air. December was a few days away, but its weather had already arrived. A strong gust swept by, sending Kelly’s hair swirling in all directions, and left her shivering. She’d forgotten her hat when she rushed out of the boutique. But she’d remembered her gloves, and she slipped them on. Next on her to-do list was visiting Nanette. Hopefully the housekeeper would talk to her. She turned to head back to the boutique for her Jeep, and that was when she bumped into him.

  “Oh, hey, Kelly.” Mark caught her with both hands and flashed the sexy grin that had earned him the nickname Smokin’ McHottie Lawyer.

  “Hey, yourself.” Kelly stared at his dark-as-midnight eyes, and the coldness she’d felt a moment ago vanished. “What . . . what are you doing here? I mean, I know you work close by . . .” She pressed her lips together. She was fumbling her words, so it was best to stop talking.

  “Checking my PO box.” Amusement flashed in his eyes. Clearly, he felt no awkwardness.

  “Right. Lots of people have post office boxes here.” Way to go. State the obvious. Since their date after Halloween, she’d made it a point to avoid him. Run-ins with exes—though he wasn’t an ex because it had been only one date—were difficult. And it was so much easier in the city. Five boroughs and millions of people. Avoiding someone was a piece of cake. But in Lucky Cove? No such luck.

  “Excuse me,” a voice from behind Mark said.

  Kelly and Mark murmured apologies to the woman and stepped to the side of the entrance. The little sidestep gave Kelly the opportunity to break free from Mark’s hold, though it had felt nice.

  “I have an idea.”

  “You do?” Against her better judgment, she was interested.

  “How about we go get a coffee?”

  “Now?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’d like to. Really. But I have an errand to run, and I have to get back to the boutique. I don’t want to leave Pepper alone too long. She’s not feeling well.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Of course, you have to get back to work. I should too.”

  “Call me, and we can set up a time for coffee.” Her heart was racing, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Getting involved in a relationship wasn’t a smart thing to do. She had too much on her plate as it was, and he was Detective Wolman’s brother. The woman didn’t like Kelly, and when a guy’s family didn’t like you, the relationship was doomed. She’d learned that lesson when she’d dated a medical student whose two sisters thought Kelly’s interest in fashion was frivolous. They made Kelly’s life a living nightmare for the five months she’d dated the guy. She could only imagine what Wolman could do to her.

  “Sounds good. I’ll call you. Have a nice day, Kelly.” He leaned in for a kiss on her cheek and then continued into the post office.

  Her gloved hand touched her cheek, and she smiled. Why did he have to be Smokin’ McHottie Lawyer and Wolman’s brother?

  With a heavy sigh, she propelled herself forward to walk back to the boutique and get her Jeep for the drive over to Diana’s house.

  * * * *

  On the drive to the crime scene, Kelly passed the small weathered cottage. Today the old man and his
dog were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they were hunkered inside, a smart choice considering that the temperature hovered around twenty degrees. With the wind chill, it felt ten degrees colder. Technically it wasn’t winter yet, but it seemed Mother Nature hadn’t gotten the memo. If this was any sign of what real winter would be like, she needed to get thermal underwear.

  She arrived at Diana’s house and parked her Jeep in the circular driveway. She grabbed her tote bag and stepped out into the cloudy, bitter cold. Her steps were quick as she walked to the front door. As she pressed the doorbell, she prayed her visit wouldn’t be a repeat of Sunday, when Nanette had shut the door in her face not once but twice.

  Moments passed before the door opened. Nanette appeared with a scowl etched on her face. Her cropped black hair was sleek, and her outfit was a pair of black trousers with a cream-colored, button-down shirt. In one hand, she held packing tape, and the other hand rested on the doorknob.

  “Good morning, Nanette. I was hoping to speak with you. I promise it won’t take long.” Launching into her sales pitch came easily for Kelly. She wanted her visit to be brief. Pepper had said she was feeling better, but Kelly heard her coughing as she left for the post office. When she got back, she’d insist Pepper take the rest of the day off.

  “I’m very busy.” Nanette began to close the door. Déjà vu all over again.

  Kelly held out her hand to stop the door from closing—a bold move she didn’t expect to make, and now she had to follow through. What she’d told Pepper was true. She would do just enough to let Wendy believe she was helping to clear her name. What she didn’t share was that she was curious why Nanette hadn’t known her boss was dead and lying in the snow for most likely the whole night.

  “Please. I promise I’ll go away once we talk.”

  Nanette’s heavy eyelids drooped over her pale blue eyes, and her face was drawn with exhaustion. Even her attempt to shut the door on Kelly seemed half-hearted, as though she didn’t have the strength to close it hard and storm away.

  “You’re persistent.” Nanette released her hold on the front door and turned. She walked into the living room, which was open to the foyer, thanks to an arched doorway.

  Kelly entered the house and closed the door behind her. As she passed through the two-story foyer, she didn’t inspect the space; she didn’t want to waste any time since the clock was ticking on the housekeeper’s reluctant hospitality.

  In the living room, several packed moving boxes were stacked in front of the empty built-in bookcases and the fireplace mantel, which was barren of decorations. What was left in the shell of a room was the furniture, floral and stripe patterns mixed together, while the pale wood items were bare of accessories. Nanette shuffled over to an opened box and resumed wrapping a lamp in Bubble Wrap.

  “It seems so soon to be packing up Diana’s things.” Kelly dropped her tote bag on the sofa.

  “We’ve been packing for weeks. Diana was up to her eyeballs in debt. Most of this is going to an auction house.” Nanette didn’t look up. She continued to work on wrapping the lamp, then gingerly set it in the box. She then added a bunch of tissue paper for added security.

  “That’s why she bought a dress from my boutique? Because she didn’t have the money for a new designer dress?” So much for living more eco-friendly and the book deal. “I thought she was doing research for an upcoming book about recycling and sustainability.”

  Nanette stopped packing tissue paper into the box and looked up. “What are you talking about?”

  “Diana didn’t have a book deal?”

  “Ha! That would have been a godsend. Reality stars get huge advances for their books.” Nanette returned to packing. “She shopped in your store to save money. She’d already sold most of her evening wear, and she probably didn’t want to be seen in a dress she’d worn before. Then she buys one that Wendy owned.”

  “Appearances were important to Diana?”

  “You have no idea. When Aaron walked out on her two years ago to be with Janine, the backstabbing witch, he cut off Diana’s monthly allowance.” Nanette closed the flaps on the box and ran the roll of tape over the seam.

  “How did she keep up with the other ladies if she didn’t have the money?” There was an old saying in suburbia about keeping up with the Joneses. When Kelly got into fashion, she learned that keeping up with or besting a neighbor was child’s play compared to what it was like in the world of privileged, Upper East Side socialites. She could only imagine that the same held true for the Long Island Ladies.

  The housekeeper’s eyebrows arched. “Good question. I could use a break. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “I’d love one.” Kelly hadn’t expected Nanette to mellow so quickly. Maybe she wanted someone to talk to.

  While Nanette prepared the coffee, Kelly texted Pepper to check in and let her know she’d be a little late getting back to the boutique. Pepper assured her all was well and there wasn’t any need to hurry back. Kelly was still worried and promised herself she wouldn’t stay any longer than she had to.

  Nanette returned to the living room with the coffee, and they both sat on the sofa. She’d chosen two LIL mugs. “Diana squandered all the money she did have to keep up with the other ladies. The designer clothes, the fancy car—which, by the way, has been repossessed—the vacations. Dinners out and parties to attend to be seen. Nobody wants to tune in to watch you sit in your house night after night. Social engagements meant new dresses, shoes. All such a waste, if you ask me.”

  Kelly blew on the steaming cup and then took a sip. “When she was fired from the show, she lost the only income she was receiving?”

  “Exactly. Diana was broke, and she blamed Wendy.”

  “Because of the blog post and those photographs. Do you know why Wendy did such a thing?”

  “Sure do. Wendy was desperate to stay on the show. Did you know she faked a story line about being romantically involved with some European count? Then she faked a pregnancy scare? At her age! Talk about absurd.” Nanette shook her head before lifting her mug to her lips. “Then this past season, when she married, she planned this whole over-the-top wedding that cost close to a million dollars.”

  “Wow. All of that sounds extreme.” Kelly took another drink of her coffee. A million-dollar wedding? How was that even possible? It was a ceremony and dinner. A million dollars? She’d always dreamed of marrying on the beach in a vintage dress. She’d love to find a gown made by the same dressmaker who’d made Jackie Kennedy’s dress. Or maybe a vintage Priscilla of Boston gown. She’d love one of those.

  “Wendy had no choice. On the show, Diana was her biggest competitor for attention and sympathy. Diana didn’t have to embellish one thing about her marriage’s breakup. Her pain was real. Her husband cheated on her with a friend. If you ask me, even though she lost pretty much everything, Diana was better off without him. He’d been very mean to her. The entire world saw him berate her. Horrible man.”

  “What about the other ladies? What was Diana’s relationship like with them?”

  Nanette sipped her coffee. “Diana got along with everyone, except for Wendy. And it was because of Wendy’s insecurities. Janine is busy planning her wedding to Aaron. Looks like there’s nothing standing in Janine’s way now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Nanette lowered her mug. “Diana was fighting the divorce. She had no intention of making it easy for Aaron or his mistress. Now she’s dead, and Aaron is free to remarry any time he wants to.”

  Interesting. It sounded as if both Aaron and Janine had a motive for murder. They had a lot more to gain than Wendy. In fact, other than the argument Saturday night, Wendy didn’t have a motive. She’d already gotten Diana off the show. Detective Wolman should look at the estranged husband and his girlfriend, not Wendy.

  Kelly set her mug on the glass coffee table. “I have one more question. When Diana didn�
�t come home—well, I mean, come inside Saturday night—why didn’t you try to find out where she was? Why didn’t you call the police?”

  Nanette also set her cup on the coffee table, pressed her palms against her thighs, and drew in a deep breath. “I’ll never forgive myself. If I’d called the police, maybe she’d still be alive. But you have to understand Diana’s lifestyle. It wasn’t unusual for her to stay out all night at parties and with the occasional date.”

  “Was she dating anyone when she died?”

  “No. She hadn’t been on a date in months. Not after those awful photographs surfaced. Though she liked her men younger.” Nanette stared off toward the fireplace. “It was cold on Sunday morning, so I didn’t venture outside. Had I gone out, I would have found her.” Tears streamed down Nanette’s face, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. She stood and walked to the end table and pulled a tissue out of the box. “To think she was lying in the snow and died all alone.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

  Kelly stood and guided Nanette back to the sofa. She remained for another half hour, and when she left, Nanette was calmer and had gone back to work packing up the living room. Kelly’s heart was heavy with sadness for the housekeeper. She genuinely seemed to have liked her boss.

  Sliding behind her Jeep’s steering wheel, she realized she’d told Pepper she wasn’t really going to investigate on Wendy’s behalf. Reason number one was that she wasn’t a detective. Reason number two: the last time she stuck her nose into a murder case, she almost became a very dead fashionista. Reason number three: she owed Wendy nothing. All superb reasons. Solid reasons, if she said so herself. So why was she itching to talk to the lady who wanted to step into Diana’s Jimmy Choos and marry Aaron Delacourte?

  Chapter Eight

  Kelly returned to the boutique. Pepper was assisting two customers at the changing rooms, while three more browsed with armfuls of clothing. Now that was how to put a smile on a gal’s face. She greeted the browsing customers, and each one mentioned Diana’s death. Not wanting to discuss the topic, she guided the conversations back to the clothing. By the time two of the women were ready to try on their selections, Pepper had rung up the two customers she was working with.