“Bernadette is flighty. My neighbor went to her for weeks.” Pepper had returned to the group and touched the dress Kelly still held. “She told my neighbor her daughter would get pregnant by the winter. And sure enough, she did. I’m not saying I believe, but who knows?”
“Glad to hear you don’t believe, because they’re scam artists preying on insecurities and vulnerabilities,” Gabe said.
“You sound so cynical.” Where had the boy Kelly used to know gone? The boy who did silly, spontaneous things that landed him in the principal’s office on a regular basis? The jokester who never failed to make her laugh?
“It’s a fact. I better get back on patrol now since everything’s okay here. Love you, Mom.” He kissed Pepper on the cheek, and she walked him to the door.
Pepper then returned to the sales counter and rearranged the pumpkins she’d knocked over earlier.
Liv’s gaze followed Gabe, and she sighed when the door closed. Lovesick. That’s what she was.
“Why didn’t you tell Gabe about Bernadette’s vision, about what she said about a murder?” Liv asked.
“You heard him. He’s not going to believe her vision.”
“You do?”
“Probably not.”
“Do you want me to rehang the dress?” Liv reached out for the dress.
“No. I don’t think I’m going to put this back out just yet.”
“Why not?”
“I want to check the records and see who consigned the dress.”
“What does it matter? The vision wasn’t real. It was all staged. A stunt.” Liv tilted her head sideways. “Come on, don’t you think it was odd how Maxine just happened to appear in the shop at the exact moment Bernadette had her vision and collapsed?”
“Possibly.” Kelly’s curiosity was piqued. Could there be something connected to the dress? As crazy as it sounded, there could have been a crime committed. And a murder at that.
Kelly glanced at the dress. Liv and Gabe were probably right. But what could it hurt to check? She padded through the boutique to the staff room and went directly to the desk, where she dropped the dress and then sat.
On her first day in the boutique as the new owner, she had spent eight hours sorting through all the paperwork and had begun transferring all the data into her laptop.
Granny and Pepper hadn’t jumped on the computer bandwagon and had managed all records on paper. She couldn’t blame them. Because of the nature of the consignment business, it was contrary to the normal inventory and accounting systems, which couldn’t handle consigned inventory effectively. That was why many shops used manual processes. She had two top-priority tasks to tackle—finding an inventory system and a new cash register that would tie into the inventory system.
Until then, she created a database that should make it easier to track merchandise, but it meant she had to be extra vigilant in monitoring what came in and what went out, because reconciling inventory would easily become a nightmare.
Since her one-day organizing binge, the top of the desk was cleared and a desktop organizer sat to her right, with all the pertinent files she needed to access. She’d set out her pink polka dot pencil holder and her heart-shaped mouse pad she used on her desk in Bishop’s buying office. They’d been stuffed into a cardboard box her work best friend, Julie, handed to her along with a handful of tissues on her last day of work. Humiliation and hurt reduced her to a ball of tears, but she hadn’t had the luxury of time to pack up her belongings. No. Serena Dawson wanted her out of the building ASAP.
Kelly shook off the memory that seemed would never fade. But it’d been only forty-five days, so maybe she needed some more time.
While she waited for her laptop to power up, she reclined. Her gaze landed on the photograph of her, her parents and her sister, Caroline. They were all gathered together in front of Radio City Music Hall after coming out of the Christmas Spectacular show. Kelly was twelve and Caroline was fourteen; they were all smiles. She’d kept the photograph on every desk she ever worked at, from her bedroom to her dorm to Bishop’s and now there in Granny’s shop.
A little ding drew her attention back to her computer and away from her past.
She straightened up and tapped on a few keys and accessed the inventory information. She scanned for the black lace dress. Given the state of the boutique when she took over, the dress could have been consigned within the past three months or six months. Whatever policies the boutique had when it first opened were most likely gone by the time she took over the reins. Granny was old and Pepper was just one person.
There it was! Black lace dress, size six. And the original owner was…Irene Singer.
“Interesting.” She patted the dress. Liv did say Irene’s husband died. Was it possible Bernadette’s vision was of Mr. Singer dying at the hands of his wife?
Kelly took a mental step back. The thought sounded crazy, and if she shared it with anyone, they’d think she was certifiable.
But what if it wasn’t crazy? She pressed her lips together, eyeing the dress. What if it really happened? Someone could get away with murder.
Kelly shook her head, hoping to shake out those crazy thoughts. She closed the program and powered off her laptop. She needed to get back to the sales floor and rehang the dress and try to salvage her three-day sale event.
She stood and scooped up the dress. With a purposeful stride, she headed to the door but stopped mid-step.
What if what Bernadette saw was true? What if she wasn’t a scam artist? After all, she was right about Pepper’s neighbor’s daughter, and the psychic Kelly’s intern friend went to had been right about her life.
Kelly twirled around and walked back to the desk. She grabbed her camel-colored suede tote bag, one of Bishop’s private label bags inspired by a Lanvin shopper tote, and shoved the dress into it. There was only one way to settle the matter once and for all.
Liv poked her head into the room. “Hey, is everything okay?”
Kelly nodded. “Yes. I have an errand to run. On my way back, I’ll pick up lunch for us.”
Liv pushed the door open wider. “What are you up to?”
“What makes you think I’m up to something?” Kelly swung the tote bag over her shoulder after digging out her designer sunglasses. Luckily, she’d had an employee discount, which enabled her to purchase both items so her budget wasn’t completely blown. The thirty percent off everything was what she missed the most from her previous job.
“I can just tell. You should know your uncle is out there.” Liv hitched a thumb in the direction of the door.
Kelly huffed.
“Better he shows up now than earlier when Bernadette was still here,” Liv stated.
“Good point.”
Liv’s gaze landed on Kelly’s tote bag. “Where exactly are you going?”
“Out. I’ll be back soon.” Kelly snagged her gray leather moto-jacket from the coat hook and slipped it on.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Don’t be a worry wart. And thanks for the heads-up. I’ll use the back door.” Kelly smiled as she slid on her sunglasses and breezed by Liv. She wiggled her fingers in a wave as she disappeared into a small space that was used as a mudroom back in the day.
Liv sighed. “I want a grilled veggie wrap! And don’t do something stupid!”
Chapter 3
Don’t do something stupid. Liv’s parting advice after her lunch order repeated in Kelly’s head as she stood on the front steps of the Singer house. The simple pale green ranch house was nestled among other similar-looking homes in the mature neighborhood. There weren’t any fancy cars or heated in-ground pools or gardeners maintaining gardens in this section of town. No, what was found on Belle Flower Lane were homes of hardworking people who settled there for a life of ordinary. The exact thing that sent Kelly headed to New York City on the Long Islan
d Expressway after she graduated high school. She didn’t want a life of ordinary. She wanted something more.
Caroline had called it running away. Her mother had called it being foolish. Her father had called it irresponsible. But Granny had called it brave. Granny had always had her back and loved her unconditionally.
Standing on the concrete front steps of the Singer home wasn’t what she came for, so she needed to either press the doorbell or walk back to her car. Pick one, Kell.
Just as Kelly pressed the doorbell, a barking dog drew her attention away from the white door decorated with a harvest wreath. She turned toward the yapping and found Irene Singer standing on the sidewalk, holding a leash to a Yorkshire terrier. Irene was frowning, no surprise there. She removed an earbud, which was attached to her cell phone secured in an armband. Dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a zipped-up fleece hoodie, Kelly could now see Irene’s slender frame that had fit into the little black dress. Irene’s severe bob was pulled back into a loose ponytail; she looked ten years younger with a slight flush to her cheeks.
“What are you doing here?” Irene walked along the concrete path to the front steps with her little dog leading. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“I hoped I could have a moment of your time.”
“If it’s about what happened at your grandmother’s shop…I mean your shop, there’s nothing to talk about.” Irene pulled out a key from a hidden pocket in her yoga pants.
“It’s not. It’s about something else that happened after you left.”
“Bernadette Rydell’s incident? I heard all about it. She’s crazy. Psychic? Ha!” Irene shook her head as she unlocked the door. After she pushed the door open, the dog trotted in, and she then turned to face Kelly. “Since you’re here, you might as well come in.”
Not exactly a welcoming invitation, but Kelly accepted it. She followed Irene into the small house and, with no foyer area, she stepped right into the living room. The furnishings looked comfortable, especially the dark brown recliner angled in front of the television.
“You have a lovely house.”
“It’s home. Has been since I married.” Irene bent over and unleashed the dog, who then approached Kelly and sniffed her. “His name is Buster.”
“Buster? He’s cute.” Kelly moved to pet him, but he started yapping again. She pulled her hand back. Like owner, like dog.
“Please, sit.” Irene gestured to the sofa as she walked to an upholstered chair and sat. “What can I do for you, Miss Quinn?”
Kelly moved to the sofa and sat. “Kelly, please.”
The sofa was piled with needlepoint pillows in all shapes and sizes. She barely had enough cushion to sit on. Trying to get comfortable by readjusting a pillow behind her, she grabbed hold of something small. She removed her hand and took a look.
Packing peanuts?
“Sorry.” Irene stood and took them from Kelly. “Buster is always finding stuff and then hiding it.” She disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and then returned. She must have disposed of them in the trash can. “You were saying?”
Finally, as comfortable as she was going to get, Kelly said, “Bernadette had her episode when she tried on a dress. She said when she put the dress on she saw a man who was dead. She believed he was murdered.”
Irene stared blankly at her.
“I checked our records. The dress was consigned by you. It’s a black lace dress with a bateau…ballet neckline.”
Irene gasped. “I was wearing the dress when I received the call about my husband’s accident.”
“Accident?”
“Yes. He was on his way home. He was in Maine for a fishing trip.” Tears welled in her dark eyes. “The trip was unexpected, but it was only a short one because it was our wedding anniversary. We were going out to dinner when he came home.” She dabbed away a tear before she dipped her head.
“How awful.” Kelly glanced at the recliner. She guessed it was the late husband’s chair. Her dad had one. And so did her grandpa.
“It was. I was expecting to celebrate, not think about funeral arrangements.”
“Did you purchase the dress new or was it a consignment?” There was a chance Irene wasn’t the original owner of the dress and the previous owner could have been wearing the dress in Bernadette’s vision.
“New, of course. Why are you asking about the dress? Wait, do you believe my husband was murdered?” Irene lifted her head slowly, and her glare landed on Kelly. It was as harsh as it was earlier that day. “Oh, now I see… You came here to ask if I killed Eddie. This is outrageous. You have some nerve, Miss Quinn. This crazy woman said she saw a murder while wearing my dress? You immediately thought I murdered Eddie?”
“Irene, I apologize for upsetting you. But once Bernadette had her vision, my store cleared out faster than a Rebecca Minkoff sample sale.”
“And that gives you the right to come into my house and accuse me of murder?” Irene stood.
“I didn’t accuse you of murder. I’m trying to find out if there’s any validity to what Bernadette said.”
“Then you should go talk to her.” Irene stalked to the front door and opened it. “I never wanted to see the dress again, so I consigned it. Goodbye, Miss Quinn.”
“I’m truly sorry I upset you.” Kelly walked past Irene with her head still hung low. The moment she crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut and she winced. “Really sorry,” she murmured.
She descended the concrete steps and walked to her car. She slid into the driver’s seat and started the ignition. At least she knew the owner of the dress wasn’t a murderer. A good thing. Right? It explained why the dress had no damage or stains. Otherwise, it would have been present at the cleanest crime scene ever.
Her cell phone blared Liv’s ringtone. She dug into her tote bag and pulled the phone out of the back pocket. “What’s up?”
“Where are you?”
“I’m heading back to the shop now. I’ll pick up lunch.”
“Seriously. Where are you?”
“Belle Flower Lane.” Kelly cringed in anticipation of Liv’s reaction.
“You went to see Irene Singer? Oh, my lordy. It was her dress? Are you insane? That’s like poking the bear with a short stick.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Well, did she do it?”
“No.”
“Of course she didn’t do it. Her husband was killed in a car accident in Maine on their anniversary. Everybody knows about it.”
“Not everyone,” Kelly said quietly in her defense.
Liv let out an exasperated sigh.
“Why did you call me?”
“Bernadette called here looking for you. She’s upset. She says she needs to see you immediately. Since you’re over at Irene’s house, you can head over there before picking up lunch.”
“Did she say what’s wrong?”
“No. She sounded rattled.”
“Good grief. How’s business?” Her question was met with silence. That wasn’t good. “Liv, please tell me the boutique is packed with bargain hunters.” More silence. Kelly gritted her teeth. More evidence word had spread quickly about Bernadette’s little show in the boutique.
“I’m sure it’s just a temporary lull,” Liv said quickly.
“It better be.” The sinking feeling in Kelly’s stomach was the fear of her inheritance going down the drain. The boutique wasn’t much, but right now it was her only hope for an income. “Can you text me Bernadette’s address?”
“Sure. Don’t forget my veggie wrap.”
The line went silent, and a moment later Bernadette’s address came through as a text. Kelly started the ignition and pulled out of the parking space. At the intersection, she made a left turn onto Island Road, which eventually would lead to Gull Drive and hopefully to an explanation of why Bernadette created the scen
e at the boutique and what she intended to do to repair the damage she caused.
Kelly’s eyes grew wide as she navigated her car up the gravel driveway as Bernadette’s home came into view. A Gothic Revival Victorian cottage. It took her a few seconds to remember. Once she did, a smile crept onto her lips.
This was where the old witch lived when Kelly was a kid. She wasn’t sure if the spinster had had any magical powers, but the old lady sure enjoyed fueling the speculation she did. The house was popular for trick or treating, and then sadly became popular for vandalism when the homeowner became too old to defend her property.
With her car shifted into park, Kelly leaned forward, resting her forearms on the steering wheel, and stared at the cottage. If shabby-chic and Halloween had a baby, it would be Bernadette’s cottage.
From its steeply pitched roofline with a gable to its ornate multipaned windows to the front porch decorated with intricate woodwork, the weathered cottage was mysterious and inviting at the same time. She attributed the welcoming vibe to the abundance of sunny yellow mums scattered across the covered porch, while the mysterious feeling that emanated from the house came from the dark gray paint and heavy gingerbread trim that draped the house.
She cut the ignition and grabbed her tote bag off the passenger seat. She pushed open the car door and stepped out. She had to hand it to Bernadette, the psychic, ghost whisperer, whatever you wanted to call her, had the perfect setting for contacting the dead.
Kelly couldn’t help but wonder if there was a black cat lurking around.
As she adjusted her tote bag, she inhaled a deep breath of chilled sea air. Her moment of bliss lasted barely a moment. She wobbled. High heels and gravel didn’t mix. Shoot! She’d probably just scraped a heel.
Ruining a pair of Stuart Weitzman booties wasn’t a good thing because, even on sale, they cost a small fortune.
She tossed a glance upward. “What else can go wrong?”
She huffed out a breath and continued to the front porch. She climbed the three steps and walked across the painted floorboards to the front door. She looked for a doorbell and when she didn’t find one, she raised her hand to knock. Her knuckles had barely touched the wood door as it creaked open slowly. Finding a door unlocked and open wasn’t too unusual in Lucky Cove, especially off-season. It was that kind of place.
Murder Wears a Little Black Dress Page 3
