She turned her attention back to the current problem—Maxine’s missing laptop. She drummed her fingers on the polished desk. Who would have taken Maxine’s laptop? And why? Kelly walked around to the other side of the desk and pulled out the chair then sat. The obvious answer would be the killer. But what wasn’t obvious was what the heck Kelly was doing in the Rydell house? Didn’t Bernadette have someone closer in her life to turn to?
Kelly surveyed the desk. This was the space where Maxine recorded her scams. She shook her head in disgust. Her laptop probably held all the down and dirty details of her cons. Was it realistic to believe that Bernadette didn’t know her cousin was a fraud?
Fraud or not, the woman was dead, and Detective Wolman had Kelly in her sights as a suspect. Clearing her name was the utmost important thing for Kelly to do. Based on what Ariel had said, Maxine had a few people angry enough that they contacted the authorities about her and, even though she kind of liked Bernadette, she was willing to bet there were some people equally unhappy with her.
Was the laptop the only thing missing? Back at the boutique, Kelly was transferring handwritten files to her computer, so maybe Maxine had some paper files of her own. She pulled open one drawer and found office supplies. No leads there.
She pulled opened another drawer and found a thick legal-sized file. Not sure how much longer Bernadette was going to be with the tea, she hastily flipped through the file. All legal documents with Maxine’s name on them. She wondered if those files contained any names of people she supposedly defrauded. Before she thought too long about right and wrong, she stood and pulled her tote bag to her and shoved the file into the bag. She quickly closed the desk drawer, and just in time, because Bernadette appeared in the doorway with a tray of tea.
“It’s not your fault,” Bernadette said.
Kelly’s heart was beating hard against her chest. She almost got caught stealing. She never stole. What was going on with her? Why not just ask Bernadette if she could look through the file? Because she could say no, reasoned the little devil on her shoulder.
“What’s not my fault?”
Bernadette shook her head. “I don’t know. Your granny wants you to know the accident wasn’t your fault.” She entered the room and set the tray on the desk.
Kelly swallowed hard. “The accident?”
“Something happened a while ago. You blame yourself. You shouldn’t.”
Everybody in Lucky Cove knew what happened the night of the party and that Kelly blamed herself. Liv was right. There wasn’t anything Bernadette could tell her she couldn’t have learned from gossip.
Bernadette held Kelly’s gaze. “It’s not complicated. Just be a friend.”
Whoa! How did Bernadette know Kelly told Ariel that their relationship was complicated?
Bernadette poured Kelly the tea and handed her a cup. “Will you help me?”
* * * *
Kelly downed her first glass of wine as she filled Howard’s bowl with kibble. She’d gone straight to the wine rack as soon as she’d walked in the door then juggled the bottle opener while tugging off her boots. As Howard chowed down, she sank onto the sofa with her second glass of wine and tried to will the tension out of her body.
The shop had been busy with curiosity seekers, but not actual paying customers. A few browsers who lacked filters came right out and asked to see the murder dress. One woman even offered a hundred dollars to buy the dress. Maybe Kelly’s friend Julie was right about marketing to a different clientele. She might have to consider it because, when she closed out the cash register, it was pitiful. For a five-hour day, there were few sales and nowhere near Kelly’s projections for the weekend.
She tamped down the anxiety of the failed three-day sale event and tried to fortify her resolve with a reminder that running a business wasn’t a sprint, it was a marathon. She was in it for the long haul. Maybe a few mornings of affirmations and a T-shirt with “You’ve Got This” written across it would be a good place to start. Another place to not start, but to finish up, would be clearing all the home accents out of the addition. She had the option to return the items to their original owners, but she’d like to make some money. Then an idea sparked. If the mountain wouldn’t come to… She grabbed her cell phone and texted Liv.
Does your brother still have his box truck?
While she waited for Liv to reply, Kelly took a long drink of her wine. She probably should pace herself, but the past few days had been rough, and there was no sugarcoating it: she was scared. Scared she was going to be arrested and convicted of killing Maxine. Scared the defaced flyer tacked to the fitting room was truly a threat. Scared she’d lose her granny’s beloved shop. Her next drink was more of a gulp.
She checked her phone again. No reply from Liv.
Gabe had told her Detective Wolman would be investigating everyone involved with Bernadette and Maxine. That could be a lot of people, depending on how many clients they had in Lucky Cove and how social they were. A good place for Kelly to start her investigating could be the file she’d removed from Bernadette’s house. With her glass in hand, she swiped up her cell phone from the sofa and walked over to the table where she’d tossed her tote bag when she got home earlier.
She sat and pulled out the file. After another drink of wine, she flipped through the thick stack of papers and swore it was in a foreign language. All the legalese quickly sobered her up. Her brain hurt as she tried to read it, and she was reminded of high school algebra. Seriously, she’d yet to find a use for that bit of knowledge.
From what she could gather, which wasn’t much, Maxine had been served court papers by a man named DJ Brown. She came across what looked like a list of dates and, from the paragraphs above the list, she figured those dates were his appointments with Maxine. Wait. There was another name mentioned. Ruth Brown. Wife maybe? She read a little bit more. No, Ruth wasn’t his wife. She was his mother.
Mother and son conned by the same psychic? Now talk about sad.
Her cell phone buzzed. She reached for the phone and found Liv’s reply. Her brother still had his truck. Great. She could pack up most of the home furnishing items and take them to the indoor flea market that was open once a month. She could actually make some cash if she could secure a booth. Nothing in the consignment agreement stated the items needed to be sold on the shop’s premises.
She typed a thank-you reply and sent it.
She reached for the legal file again but remembered she had an article due for Budget Chic. Just in case she had to close up shop, she needed to start building her portfolio. She pushed the legal file away. She walked back to the sofa and found Howard curled up in a ball on the center cushion.
“Please, don’t get up. I’ll just sit over here.” She dropped onto a cushion and set her glass on the end table before reaching for the laptop, which was set on the coffee table. She gathered a crochet afghan from the back of the sofa and draped it over her legs. Like the window over the sink downstairs in the staff room, the apartment was drafty. Now that heat wasn’t included with her rent, she resisted the temptation to crank up the thermostat. Cuddling in a warm afghan was a more budget-friendly way to stay warm. The multicolored afghan was the last one her granny made, and being wrapped in it felt like a hug from Granny.
She set her computer on her lap and opened a file to review the in-progress article. She nodded. Not bad. She still had a few more websites to check out before she submitted the article.
Websites.
Against her better judgment, she opened the internet and brought up the Lulu Loves Long Island website.
Gloss. Sleek. The header image was a collage of images from all around Long Island. Kelly could see why Lulu loved the island. Across the top of the homepage was a tab for the blog, and Kelly clicked on it. She found the post about the boutique and murder dress. Seeing it again and knowing how it affected the day’s business had Kelly fi
nishing off her wine.
She clicked off of the blog and continued to search the website and found another section dedicated to local news and a link to Lucky Cove. Curious, she clicked on the link and read through the headlines. Lulu was a busy gal, compiling all this information for her readers.
Local businessman dies in car accident in Maine.
That must have been about Eddie Singer. She should be working on her article, and yet she was clicking on the link. Up came a couple of paragraphs about the self-storage facility owner.
Eddie was fifty-six at the time of his death. Apparently speed and bad weather played a part in the fatal accident. In his pickup truck, he was transporting an extra canister of gasoline for a fishing boat, and the explosion was intense.
Kelly shivered at the thought of dying in a blaze of fire. Then she recalled Maxine’s death. She concluded there wasn’t any good way to go.
Chapter 10
“I’m glad you were able to come over and take all this clothing to your shop. You have no idea of how much time you’re saving me.” Regina Green led Kelly into the living room of her beachy cool two-story colonial.
Light and airy with large windows, the cavernous space was filled with a comfortable seating area designated by a sprawling multicolored area rug. Atop the rug was a massive white-slipcovered sofa anchored by two deep-cushioned black wicker armchairs. A collection of oversized artwork hung on a whitewashed shiplap wall. Where did the woman shop? Gigantic Furniture “R” Us? Pine end tables and a sideboard grounded the room. Kelly could definitely spend some serious leisure time in Regina’s living room.
“No problem. I’m happy to be here and to see what you have.” Kelly had made an effort to push away all the stuff she’d been dealing with over the past few days so her first in-home estimate would be successful. She needed a clear mind as she appraised the clothing and tallied up an estimate of what the clothes were worth. It was hard, but she managed. She even applied a pair of false eyelashes to lift her spirits and hopefully disguise her tired eyes.
“How about a cup of coffee. You look a little tired.”
Kelly sighed. The false lashes weren’t working. Before she could decline—she’d already had two large cups of pumpkin spice coffee before leaving home—Regina thrust a mug decorated with fall leaves in her hand.
“It’s not flavored. I prefer a robust blend to all those fancy flavors.” Regina returned to the coffee table and filled her mug from the white coffeepot. She looked less harried than the other day when she rushed into the boutique. Her dark hair was sleek rather than tousled, and her makeup was smudge free. She wore a simple yet elegant twinset, Kelly guessed a cashmere blend, and black trousers with black suede pumps. Her jewelry, only a wedding band, necklace, and earrings, was understated but expensive.
“It’s good,” Kelly said after a sip. “I’m excited to see what you have here.” She set the mug on the coffee table and walked to the rolling garment rack Regina had loaded with clothes. The thrill of the hunt sent adrenaline pumping through Kelly. She scanned the entire rack, and something didn’t quite seem right. She slid a glance to Regina, who was perched on the arm of the sofa and smiled brightly.
Kelly began sliding the hangers on the rack to get a look at the clothing and the labels. Regina said the other day she had St. John, Ralph Lauren, and Ann Taylor. She pushed a woven blouse aside and then another and then another. They all had the label of Susannah Gray. The name was familiar. A dozen stretch knit pants in a rainbow of colors, also from Susannah Gray. Then she remembered. Gray was a popular designer for the Shop at Home channel. Her heart sank. She’d been led to believe there would be designer pieces for consignment. Disappointed, she continued to go through the hangers and saw pieces from J.Crew and Talbots. All the clothing looked to be in good condition, and she was certain she could sell them. An added bonus was Regina’s size, a healthy size eight. It was important for Kelly to offer a variety of sizes for customers. Regardless of size or budget, every woman should have fabulous clothes.
“Do you have any other clothing you’d like to consign?”
Regina laughed. “You’re looking at a loaded rack of clothing. Isn’t that enough?”
Kelly wasn’t sure how to bring up the designers Regina had dangled in front of her the other day. Bait and switch. Regina had dangled the designer names to get Kelly to come out to her house and haul off all those clothes for her. Wow. Regina Green played Kelly like a well-tuned violin.
A look of feigned surprise came over Regina’s face. “I think I know what’s going on. You misunderstood me the other day. I didn’t mean I had any St. John or Ralph Lauren to sell.”
There wasn’t any misunderstanding, but Kelly didn’t want to argue because if the woman did actually have those designers in her closet, and Kelly wasn’t convinced yet she did, then maybe when she decided to get rid of them she’d consign with the boutique.
“What you have here is great, and I’m confident it will all sell.” And that was important—sales.
“Has the post on Lulu’s website had an effect on your business?”
Kelly shrugged. So much for not thinking about all the stuff she’d been dealing with. “It did encourage curiosity seekers.” She walked back to her tote bag and took out her cell phone. She tapped on the calculator app, punched in some numbers and came up with an amount she believed she could sell all the clothes for and then calculated the percentage Regina would receive. She showed her consignee the final number and emphasized it was only an estimate. Regina smiled. Great. She seemed pleased.
“Every little bit helps, right? Now, how about we finish our coffee before you run off with all my clothes?” Regina moved over to a cushion on the sofa and sat.
“Sounds good to me. I have a little time before I need to open the boutique.” Kelly picked up her mug from the coffee table and sank into one of the wicker armchairs.
“I heard up until recently you worked as a fashion buyer for Bishop’s in the city.”
“Actually, I was an assistant fashion buyer.” The specifics of Kelly’s downfall at the store weren’t public knowledge back home, which she was eternally grateful for.
From day one, she’d been on Serena Dawson’s bad side and never quite got away from it. On her last day of employment at Bishop’s, she was sent to get Serena’s coffee, which was more of a task for an office assistant than an assistant buyer, but Kelly went. Somehow, she returned with the wrong coffee order; then a designer’s assistant gave her the wrong pencil skirt sample and an appointment that wasn’t confirmed had Serena arriving at a showroom with no one there to greet her. Serena returned to the office furious, but her Botoxed face didn’t show the emotion, which was why Kelly was caught off guard when Serena appeared at her desk and publicly fired her. She shivered at the memory.
“And now you’re back here in Lucky Cove. Though, it doesn’t seem to have been an easy transition. First, Bernadette’s vision right there in your shop. And then you found her cousin dead. Murdered! I still can’t believe there was a murder right here in town. But I guess it can happen anywhere to anyone.” Regina took another drink of her coffee.
“I admit it hasn’t been easy, but I guess it could be worse.” Why? Why did she challenge the almighty gods again?
Regina nodded in agreement. “It seems so many bad things are happening. Just a few months ago Irene lost her husband.” She tsked-tsked before refilling her coffee cup. She gestured to refill Kelly’s cup, but Kelly declined.
“Irene Singer? I heard her husband died in a car accident up in Maine.”
“He did. One minute she was telling him to have a good trip and the next she was a widow. Maybe, in some way, it was a blessing for Irene.” Regina lifted her mug to her lips and took a sip.
“What do you mean?” Kelly never really thought about dying as a blessing unless it ended a prolonged, painful illness. Under those circumstances she c
ould understand someone finding relief in death.
Regina leaned forward. “I hate to gossip, but what happened to Irene should be a lesson to all you younger gals.”
Kelly’s interest was piqued. “What’s the lesson?”
“Irene’s husband liked to gamble. Eddie was always betting on something. I wouldn’t be surprised if his fishing trip was really a poker game.”
Curiosity won out. Kelly had to ask. “How bad was his gambling?”
“Let’s just say if he didn’t die in the car accident, I’m sure Irene would have killed him. Irene was always a frugal person. She’ll fight you down to the last penny.”
Kelly was familiar with that personality attribute of Irene. “Why didn’t she divorce him?”
Regina leaned back. “The fact Eddie kept losing money infuriated Irene. It had gotten worse the past year. They didn’t divorce because, for all of Irene’s frugality and hardness, she was hopelessly in love with the man. High school sweethearts. But, love only goes so far.”
“Do you really think Irene would have killed Eddie?”
Regina shrugged. “Who knows what someone is capable of? I’d like to think she couldn’t do such a thing, but I witnessed a huge blowout between them just before the car accident. From what I overheard he’d lost a lot of money to someone.”
Kelly finished her coffee in silence as her mind churned over what Regina had just said. It sounded like Irene had a motive for murder. However, if Eddie did indeed owe someone money, Irene might not have been the only person with a motive.
As Kelly was packing up the back of Pepper’s SUV, which she had graciously loaned to Kelly until she purchased her own vehicle, she got another 911 text from the boutique. A part of her wanted to know what new level of craziness was happening while another part of her wanted to get behind the wheel and drive far, far away from Lucky Cove.
* * * *
Kelly pushed open the boutique’s front door and was stricken by the eerie silence. There wasn’t a soul in the store. Where was everyone? Where was Pepper?
Murder Wears a Little Black Dress Page 9
