by Rose Pressey
Footsteps sounded from behind me and I whirled around. If only I could have been invisible like Charlotte.
Detective Valentine regarded me solemnly. “Are you spying on someone?”
“It does look that way, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does,” he said.
I wasn’t sure how to explain this one. I mean, I’d discovered a dead man in one alley, and now I was lurking around another. The only option was to be completely honest with him.
“Tell him you lost your cat,” Charlotte said. “Whatever you do, don’t tell him the truth.”
I motioned over my shoulder. “I thought I saw Cindy Johnson talking to a man.”
Charlotte groaned. “Why don’t you listen to a word I say?”
“And you were watching her talk to a man because?” the detective asked.
“That was one of the men who was following me.”
“Okay, now you just sound paranoid, Cookie. I beg you to shut your mouth now.”
Charlotte was probably right. The more I talked the worse it sounded.
“I just wanted to make sure she was safe. You never know who to trust, right?” I gave a half-hearted smile.
“Yes, you’re right about that.” He stepped around the building and looked down the alley. “Wait right here.”
He walked down the alley halfway, turned around, and joined me again on the sidewalk. “There’s no one there now. Was there some reason why you thought she wouldn’t be safe?”
“No. I guess I was just spooked,” I said.
“Where are you headed now?” he asked.
“Back to my car. It’s in the diner parking lot.”
“Okay, how about I walk you there?” An air of confidence swirled around him.
I adjusted the purse strap on my shoulder. “Sure.”
Charlotte smiled. “An escort by the handsome detective. I don’t know if it’s because he wants you to be safe or he thinks you’re off your rocker.”
I wanted to remind her that the only reason he would think I was off my rocker was because of her.
“Well, don’t just walk. Talk to him,” Charlotte pushed.
He shoved his hands in his pockets as we walked. “You know, that shirt I bought from your shop really is comfortable. I wish I could buy another one like it.”
I smiled. “Yeah, that’s the only downside. With vintage, you usually can’t buy extra, but at least you know it’s one of a kind.”
We’d just reached my car when I spotted a stocky man with short dark hair nearby. When he spotted us, he took off around the side of the building. I wasn’t the only living person who saw him.
“Wait here,” Dylan said. He ran after the man.
“Thank goodness he saw him this time,” I said to Charlotte.
“What do you think he was doing here?” she asked.
“I assume he was talking with Cindy, but why he was around my car, I don’t know. He may have been looking for me.”
“I hope you’re not right,” Charlotte said.
After a couple minutes, Dylan appeared from around the corner.
“Did you find him?” I asked.
“No. I’m sorry to say I think you’re right—someone may have been following you. Why don’t you let me follow you back to your shop?”
I clutched my purse close to my chest as if that would offer some kind of safety. “I wasn’t going to the shop now. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
He opened the Buick’s door. “I’ll find out who that guy is.”
“Thank you, Detective—Dylan.”
I climbed in the car and cranked the engine. When I pulled out, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Dylan was still watching me.
“Are you going home? Wind Song is still at the shop,” Charlotte asked with a smile.
“You’re right. I’ve got work to do. But when I go home, I’m going to eat a pound of chocolate after what just happened.”
“A moment on the lips, forever on the hips,” she warned.
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take,” I retorted.
I pulled up in front of the shop and checked the rearview mirror. So far no one had followed me.
“You should try yoga to relax.” Charlotte slipped out of the car.
I climbed out and locked the door. “I should try not talking to ghosts to relax.”
Chapter 31
Cookie’s Savvy Vintage Fashion Shopping Tip
When you go shopping,
wear comfortable clothing that’s easy to remove.
Lots of zippers and buttons slow you down
when you’re ready to try on some tempting items.
After a full day at the shop, I loaded up Wind Song and pointed the Buick in the direction of home. I’d sold the pink prom dress from the estate sale, turning a nice profit, just as I had hoped.
Inside the house, I pushed the buttons on the security device that would avoid alerting the police of a break-in, then reset the alarm. I let Wind Song out of the carrier, made myself a PB&J, and poured a glass of chocolate milk. Going to the living room, I plopped down on the sofa with my laptop. Maybe blogging would take my mind off things for a while. I opened my e-mail and froze. Another comment had been left on my blog. I clicked it open.
Charlotte saw the look on my face. “What does this one say?”
I swallowed hard. “It says, ‘Curiosity killed the cat and I will kill yours if you keep snooping. Stay out of other people’s business or watch your pretty shop go up in flames.’”
It was the scariest one yet. I knew that whoever was leaving the messages was serious about their threat. They’d killed before and I knew they wouldn’t hesitate to take me out. Apparently, that was what had happened to the private eye.
I picked up the phone to call Dylan, but after punching in half the number, I hung up.
“Not calling him is probably for the best,” Charlotte said with confidence.
I’d already told him once. He had enough on his plate. I’d just have to be extra careful. Be more secretive about snooping around. Watch my surroundings. If the killer was after me, I wouldn’t let him have the chance to get to me.
My PB&J tasted like sand, even washed down with chocolate milk. After cleaning around the house, I pulled out my laptop and spent a couple hours working on the blog. I closed the computer and headed off for bed. Before reaching my bedroom, I double-checked the locks on the doors, just in case.
It took me forever to fall asleep. When I finally drifted off, I dreamed of the murdered private eye wearing a vintage dress and that emerald and gold diamond patterned scarf.
Charlotte wasn’t in my room pacing when I woke up, which was unusual. Wind Song was on the edge of the bed sleeping . . . or pretending to sleep. I wasn’t sure which.
I slid into my pink fuzzy slippers. As well as pajamas, vintage slippers were hard to find, so I’d settled on a new pair from Target and the matching striped pink and white cotton pajama set that went with them. Actually, since they were so cute I’d purchased every color the store had in stock. I was a real connoisseur of pajamas.
I stepped out into the hallway, and looked around for Charlotte. Had she left? Maybe I’d gotten rid of her. Oh, I couldn’t get that lucky. But to be honest, I was beginning to enjoy her company.
I sat at the kitchen table and pulled out my computer. After logging on, I was relieved to see that there wasn’t a new message.
I brewed toasted hazelnut coffee and poured myself a bit of orange juice then put a couple pieces of whole grain bread into the toaster. When it popped, I spread apricot preserves on top, grabbed the coffee, and headed for my bedroom, only to spill the coffee and drop my breakfast when I found Charlotte standing in front of me. “What the heck are you doing?”
“While you were sleeping, I went out.”
I grabbed the toast from the floor where Wind Song was sniffing it. “What? You mean you can go places without me?”
“Well, I couldn’t get farther than the front porch, but I
had time to think and I am more motivated than ever. Get dressed so we can get this day started.”
Since Charlotte was making me nervous, I didn’t have a lot of time to select an outfit. I decided to go with a navy blue and white mod polka-dot mini dress from the nineties. It had a raw scissored hem, open sleeves, and an exaggerated nautical sailor collar.
I slid into white leather sandals and grabbed a red leather purse from the closet. After stuffing my belongings into the bag, I ate the slice of the toast that hadn’t fallen on the floor and grabbed my coffee cup. I refilled my cup, turned off the coffeepot, and headed out the door with Charlotte behind me and Wind Song in her carrier. It was becoming routine.
Charlotte and I piled into the Buick and headed downtown. I turned up the music—the Andrews sisters singing “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy”—so that Charlotte wouldn’t feel the need to constantly talk. Sometimes it was just nice to be lost in my own thoughts, although lately, my mind had been consumed with helping my ghostly friend. I needed this investigation to be over so that I could go back to finding clothing for the shop and writing my blog without worrying about threatening messages. I also needed to follow up with the movie people about the wardrobe consultant possibility.
At the shop, I busied myself with rearranging clothing that customers had put back in the wrong locations. The bell over the door jangled and I looked up to see Heather. Her outfit stood out right away. Not her tie-dyed T-shirt, not her love beads, and not her stone-washed denim jeans. It was the scarf around her neck—the exact same one that Charlotte and Cindy had.
“Where did you get that?” I asked.
Charlotte turned around to see who I was talking to. Her eyes widened when she saw Heather. “She is wearing my scarf.”
Heather touched the scarf. “It was on the street in front of the yellow house on Sycamore Street.”
“That’s my scarf. I know it’s my scarf,” Charlotte repeated again.
Since I had the one that we’d found at Cindy’s, it really could have been Charlotte’s. Actually, Winona had said that she’d had only two, so the one Heather was wearing had to be Charlotte’s scarf, right?
“Charlotte says that’s her scarf,” I said.
Heather looked like she was ready to rip it off and stuff it in the trash can. “Actually, I found this scarf and a handkerchief at the same time.” She shrugged. “I figured they were meant to go in the garbage since it was next to the trash can, so I picked them up. Don’t judge me,” she said with indignation. “So what if I like to Dumpster dive?”
“Hey, I would be the last one to judge. I would totally climb in the Dumpster if it meant finding a great vintage piece,” I said. I walked to the counter and sat down on a stool.
“How did this happen?” Heather asked. “It wasn’t the scarf Charlotte was buried in, was it?”
“I don’t know. You say you found it on Sycamore Street? Was that the house with the black shutters and the red door?” I asked.
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
I turned to address Charlotte. “Will you stop pacing? You’re making me nervous.”
Heather took the scarf from her neck and placed it on the counter. “Well, I’m not wearing it anymore.” She plopped down on the stool beside mine.
I picked up the scarf and examined it. It was exactly like Cindy’s. A memory floated back to my mind. I remembered seeing Marie come out of that house.
I asked Charlotte, “What connection does Marie have to the house on Sycamore? I saw her come out of it one day.”
Charlotte leaned against the counter. “Simple. That’s her home.”
“What does the handkerchief look like?” I asked Heather.
She described it and I knew it was probably the third from the set that Winona had sold. Finding the items in the trash in front of that house meant they had to have been Marie’s, right?
I grabbed my purse. “We have to go to Marie’s home right now.”
Charlotte and Heather followed me to the door.
“What are you going to say to her?” Heather asked.
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll figure that out when I get there.”
Chapter 32
Heather’s Heartfelt Tip for Getting Rid of an Unwanted Ghost
Never use a Ouija board unless you have the help
of a professional . . . or a psychic cat.
While Charlotte and I headed out to confront Marie about the scarf and handkerchief, Heather watched the store for me. I had a feeling she would try to get Wind Song to use the tarot cards or Ouija board while I was gone. If it was bad news, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Heather and I watched each other’s store on occasion. Usually, I’d put a sign in the window indicating for customers to go next door for assistance. Since it was Saturday, I knew it would get busy, so I’d have to hurry back.
I wasn’t going to deny that I was nervous. What would I say to Marie? After all, she had been really strange about Charlotte’s clothing since the estate sale.
We pulled up to the curb and I cut the engine. The yellow plank house was trimmed in white. Pink flowers burst from the white window boxes on the two front windows. It was a small but lovely, well cared-for home. A breeze rustled the leaves of the magnolia tree in the small front yard. A green boxwood wreath hung on the red front door. Small hedges and daffodils filled the flower beds.
“Don’t worry, Cookie. We’ll just go up to the door and ask her about the scarf,” Charlotte said.
“We’ll ask her?” I said, glancing over at Charlotte. “Don’t you mean I’ll ask her? She can’t see you, remember?”
“Don’t get technical about it.” Charlotte floated out of the car. “You can do it,” she urged.
I got out, locked the door behind me, and made the trek up the brick path to the front door. My heart rate increased when I pressed the doorbell. It was too late to turn back.
“Don’t forget to breathe,” Charlotte said.
Footsteps sounded from the other side of the door and the door opened.
Marie looked shocked when she saw me standing on her porch. Her white and black striped maxi dress was layered with a white short-sleeved blazer. She wore a chunky gold bracelet and wedge heels. Her makeup and hair were perfect as if she’d just left the salon.
“Cookie, I’m surprised to see you here. How did you know where I live?” A smile may have crossed her face, but there was suspicion in her eyes.
I couldn’t tell her that Charlotte was standing right beside me and had told me where she lived, so I said, “I happened to be driving by the other day and saw you walk in your front door. I thought I’d take a chance and see if you really do live here. It looks like I was right.” I looked over her shoulder to see the inside of her house.
She stepped in front of me to block my view. “So you just wanted to say hello?” An idea struck her. “Did you decide to sell Charlotte’s clothing to me?”
“Tell her you’ll make a deal with her. Maybe that will get her to talk with you about the scarf,” Charlotte said.
“Yes, that is exactly why I came by.” I smiled.
Marie’s eyes shone with delight. “Oh, that is fantastic news. Won’t you come inside?” She moved out of the way and motioned for me to enter.
“Thank-you.” I stepped inside the room and looked around. It was stylishly decorated with matching furniture. A fireplace and bookshelves lined the far wall. The room was painted almost the exact shade of pale yellow as the exterior of the house.
“Why don’t you have a seat on the sofa? Would you like something to drink? Iced tea?” she offered.
“Yes, iced tea would be nice. Thank-you.” I eased down on the gray sofa.
“I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Marie bounced out of the room.
“She seems awfully excited now that she knows she’s getting the clothing. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s lost a few marbles,” Charlotte said.
“You might be right about that,” I whispered.
I spo
tted a handkerchief on the table across the room. Maybe my eyes were deceiving me, but I thought the pattern was like the ones at Bud’s house and Charlotte’s place, except this one had purple flowers. “Aren’t those the same handkerchiefs?” I whispered to Charlotte.
I pointed to the table. “I think that’s the third handkerchief in the set,” I whispered. “What do you think?”
Charlotte floated over to the table to take a look and nodded. “Yep. Same design. Looks like the third hanky in the pack.”
Marie sashayed back in the room with two tall glasses of iced tea and handed me one.
I took it and said, “Thank-you.”
“I’m so glad you decided to sell me the clothing. You know, I really wanted something to remember Charlotte by.” She stood opposite me, one hand on a damask-covered club chair. “It’s such a tragedy what happened.”
Charlotte stepped up nose-to-nose with her. “Yeah, you seem really broken up about it.”
“That will be nice,” I said, then took a sip of my tea.
Maybe it was Marie or maybe it was just the dimly lit house, but something was making me antsy.
Marie’s phone rang. “Oh, will you excuse me please? I need to get that.”
“Sure,” I said.
Charlotte and I watched her walk out of the room.
“I wonder who is calling her?” Charlotte asked. “I bet it’s real estate business that I should be handling, but instead I am dead. This isn’t fair. I was good at what I did.”
Too bad I couldn’t give Charlotte a hug. “I’m sure you were, Charlotte.”
“You’re darn tootin’ I was. Now I have to walk around with you for the rest of your life. And then what happens?”
I didn’t like where this was going.
“No offense,” she said.
“Yeah, none taken, I guess.”
Charlotte motioned for me to get up. “You should take this opportunity to snoop around.”
I set my glass on the coffee table, making sure to carefully place it on the coaster. “Snoop around? What am I looking for? Besides, I can’t do that with her in the house.” I kept my voice as low as I could.
