Murder Wears a Little Black Dress

by Debra Sennefelder

  “Thank goodness you’re back!” Pepper appeared from the home accents section of the boutique with panic etched on her face. “You have to make it stop.”

  “Make what stop? We don’t have any customers again?”

  “There are people here, and they’re all back there!” Pepper pointed to the addition. “I’ve tried to break it up, but no one is paying attention to me.”

  “Break what up?” Kelly started walking toward the addition.

  “The séance.”

  Kelly skidded to a halt. “The what?!”

  “Valeria Leigh came in and, before I could intercept her, she sat down at the pine table and took out her crystal ball.”

  “Her what?”

  “Then everyone started to gather around her, and some of them even joined her at the table.”

  “Good grief.” Kelly spun around and marched into the addition. This nonsense was going to stop. She was going to make Bernadette publicly recant her stupid vision then insist Lulu write a post letting everybody and their mother know the boutique wasn’t haunted; but first, she was going to kick Valeria Leigh out of her boutique.

  New store policy—no more freak shows.

  A lyrical voice drifted from the addition. Was someone singing? She entered the dark room. Great. Someone had turned off the lights, which was probably some type of code violation in a commercial building. She flipped the light switch, and a chorus of groans replaced the singing.

  Good, she’d gotten their attention.

  “Please return the room to darkness,” a woman seated at the table requested.

  Kelly guessed she was Valeria Leigh, the medium.

  “I don’t think so. I’m Kelly Quinn, and this is my boutique. What is going on here?” Kelly stepped farther into the room and approached the woman.

  “I’m Valeria Leigh, and I’m holding a séance. I’m reaching out to the departed. I’m sensing a lot of spirits in need of assistance.” She let go of the hands she was holding.

  This had to be a Halloween prank. Kelly was certain of it.

  “Not anymore. I’m running a business here, not reaching out to the dearly departed. If any of you would like to make a purchase, I’m happy to assist. Otherwise, I must ask you to leave.” She looked around the table and saw a very familiar face. “Frankie? What on earth are you doing here?”

  “Hey, cuz.” Frankie gave a little wave.

  “Seriously? You’re involved with this nonsense?”

  “This isn’t nonsense. Through séances, I connect with the spirits of those who have departed this earth and assist them with unfinished business.”

  Kelly leveled a stern look on the medium. “You can depart now, Miss Leigh.”

  “Why, I never—”

  “I’m sure.” Kelly tugged at the chair Valeria Leigh sat in. Asking politely wasn’t working, so now it was time to get a little more forceful. “If you don’t leave, I will call the police and have them remove you and perhaps charge you with trespassing.”

  Valeria Leigh huffed as she stood. Her long burgundy dress swooshed in her rapid movement to the small chest of drawers where her purse was set. She grabbed hold of the bag and returned to the table. Her silver hair was swept up into a stiff bouffant hairdo, and badly applied false eyelashes lined her dark eyes. What decade was the woman from? And where did she learn to apply fake lashes?

  “I take no offense to your ignorance regarding this matter. But be assured there are spirits here. In fact, I’ve connected with one.” She pointed to a simple oak ladder-back chair. “There’s a deceased man attached to the chair.”

  Kelly looked over her shoulder. “Could he be the same man Bernadette saw in her vision?” she thought out loud.

  “Since it was her vision, I couldn’t tell you. But if the dress and chair came from the same person, then it’s reasonable to assume he’s the same man who was murdered.”

  Reasonable? What was Kelly thinking asking the question in the first place? “The chair isn’t haunted, and you haven’t connected with any spirits.”

  Valeria Leigh huffed again before she picked up her embroidered bag and put her crystal ball in it. “You’ll be begging me to come back when the spirits haunting your shop rise up.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Kelly gestured for the medium to leave the room, and when she did, the bystanders began to shuffle out of the room one by one, griping at the sudden turn of events. Included in the group was Frankie, but she grabbed him by the sleeve of his turtleneck sweater. “You. Stay.”

  “Oh boy,” he murmured.

  “Pepper, make sure they all leave,” Kelly instructed. Then she turned her attention back to her cousin.

  “What were you thinking? Do you have any idea of how destructive this mumbo-jumbo has been to my business?” She propped both hands on her hips and waited for an answer.

  Frankie lowered his head. “Sorry, Kell.”

  “What? I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

  Frankie looked up. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “I’m sorry. I came over to check on you, and then Valeria swept in and I got caught up. You know how much I love this paranormal stuff. She started singing… It was so cool!”

  Kelly shook her head. “This isn’t a joke. I may lose my boutique if I can’t turn this around. You! You being here, participating in it… I can’t even explain.” She swiveled and marched out of the room with Frankie on her heels. She needed to cool off because she was so angry she frightened herself.

  “Kell, come on. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Frankie stopped at the sales counter, where Pepper was standing with a scowl on her face. “Tell her, Pepper. Tell her I didn’t come here to hurt her.”

  Pepper crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. Kelly suppressed a smile. Pepper wasn’t going to make it easy for Frankie, either.

  “We’re family. I’d never do anything to intentionally endanger your business. I just got carried away. You know what that’s like, right, cuz?” Frankie whined a little bit and gave his best puppy dog eyes, which he knew would melt Kelly’s resolve to stay angry with him because it always worked.

  “You really came in to check on me?” She joined Pepper behind the counter. She noticed the boutique had cleared out. Not one of those people had any interest in buying anything.

  “Yes. I got back home late last night from Atlantic City. I talked to Liv yesterday on the drive back, and she filled me in on what’s been going on.”

  “It’s been insane. I really have to put an end to this parade of ghost whisperers strolling in and conjuring up spirits.” Kelly rested her elbows on the counter and set her chin in her palms. “Something’s been nagging at me. Nothing like this has happened before. So why now?”

  Frankie shrugged. “It’s almost Halloween.”

  “There have been other Halloweens and Friday the Thirteenths. Why now?” She racked her brain, trying to pinpoint a reason for the spike in paranormal activity coming into the consignment shop. “Wait a minute.” Kelly straightened up and pointed to Frankie. “Your father!”

  “Ralph?” Pepper asked.

  Frankie looked surprised by the suggestion. “Dad? You think Dad has something to do with this?”

  “Yes, I do. He’s never wanted to see me succeed with this shop. Being executor means he has to do a whole lot of work for pretty much nothing in return. If I close and sell, he’d be off the hook.”

  Frankie shook his head. The physical similarity between him and his father was strong. They both shared the same sandy-blond hair, though Frankie’s hair had a slight wave to it. They both had narrow noses and squared chins. “Sure, he wants you out, mostly because he’s angry Granny didn’t leave him this building, but hiring a psychic and a medium to ruin your business doesn’t sound like something he’d do.”


  “Why not?” Pepper asked.

  Frankie cocked his head to the side. “Because this type of plan requires creativity, and Dad isn’t creative.”

  “Excuse me,” a voice called out.

  Kelly looked over her shoulder in the direction of the soft voice and found Dorothy Mueller standing with her hands clasped together. She didn’t look good.

  Kelly darted out from behind the counter and rushed to the older woman. “Are you okay, Dorothy?”

  “I’m a little frazzled. So much excitement. Do you really think ghosts are attached to your stuff here?” Dorothy looked at Kelly with wide, clear eyes.

  “No, no, I don’t. I’m sorry Valeria Leigh upset you.” Kelly cupped Dorothy’s elbow and guided her to a chair beside the sales counter, but Dorothy hesitated before sitting. “It’s not haunted, I promise. Would you like a glass of water?”

  “I’d rather go home, but I don’t feel like driving. Would you be a sweetheart and take me home?”

  “Of course I will. Let me get my jacket and bag.” Kelly stepped away from Dorothy.

  “I wanted to see what else you had for sale, you know, to go along with the chair I bought. I didn’t think there would be a witch holding a séance,” Dorothy said.

  Neither did I. Kelly shot a look at Frankie. He was her family and should’ve stopped the medium. She then looked at Pepper. She supposed her employee was doing the best she could under the circumstances. At least she summoned Kelly back to the boutique right away.

  “Please hurry, dear. Judge Carmen is on in half an hour, and I never miss an episode.” Dorothy smiled.

  Chapter 11

  Kelly pulled her vehicle onto the gravel driveway of Dorothy Mueller’s house with just minutes to spare. She checked the dashboard clock. Judge Carmen’s show would be on in eight minutes.

  The charming little cottage with weathered shingles and bare window flower boxes looked to be the perfect home for Dorothy. Kelly could imagine bright, pretty flowers spilling over the tops of the boxes in the warmer months and Dorothy watering them each morning. Not a gardener herself, she had no idea which types of flowers would do well in a container. That reminded her, she still needed to get some autumn decorations for the boutique.

  “We’ve had quite a bit of excitement, haven’t we?” Dorothy dug in her purse for her house key.

  Kelly nodded at the understatement of the year. “We certainly did.”

  “Ms. Leigh was quite fascinating. I hope none of your merchandise is haunted. Do you think your grandmother’s spirit is still in the store? After all, she did die there.”

  The reminder of her granny’s death hit Kelly hard, right in the chest. The memory of Pepper’s phone call to let her know she’d lost her grandmother replayed in her mind. Martha Blake had collapsed just after opening her shop and was found by Pepper, but it was too late. She was gone. Now every time Kelly passed the spot where Pepper discovered Martha, her stomach constricted and her heart broke all over again.

  “Oh, dear, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Kelly wiped away a fallen tear and forced a smile. “I’m okay.”

  “Listen to me prattle on. All this talk about ghosts and murder. I still can’t believe that psychic’s cousin was murdered. What is happening to our Lucky Cove?” Dorothy rested a hand on Kelly’s forearm. “Would you like to come inside for a cup of tea? I think a nice cup of herbal tea would do us both a world of good. I have a honey lavender brew.”

  Brew? Perhaps not the best choice of words considering all the paranormal talk. “Thank you, but I need to get back to the boutique. Will you be okay getting inside?”

  “Of course. I’m not so old I need assistance walking.” Dorothy opened the passenger door and stepped out.

  “No, no…that’s not what I meant,” Kelly called after Dorothy.

  “I appreciate the ride, dear.” Dorothy closed the car door and carefully made her way to the front porch of her house. After unlocking the door, she disappeared inside. Kelly had done her good deed for the day by delivering the elderly woman home.

  Staring at the house and replaying the comment that Granny’s spirit could be hanging around the boutique reminded Kelly she needed to clear out the rental cottage. The owner had been gracious enough to allow Kelly some time to take out her granny’s possessions since it was at the end of the season, but she felt the clock ticking on the homeowner’s generosity.

  Just as Kelly shifted her vehicle into reverse, she caught a glimpse of a familiar face walking up the path to the front door of the house next door. Evan Fletcher.

  Sometimes living in a small town had its advantages. She was still suspicious of his refusal to answer what she considered simple questions. It felt like he was hiding something. Since the opportunity presented itself, Kelly wasn’t about to waste it. She swept her arm over the front seat and grabbed one of her sales flyers. She stepped out of her car and trotted across the lawn, her feet plowing through a thick layer of fallen leaves.

  Evan turned his head. He must have heard the leaves crunching as she made her way to his property.

  “Hello! I’m Kelly Quinn, and I own Curated by Kelly. It’s a resale boutique, and I’m looking for inventory.” She thrust the flyer into Evan’s hand. “Perhaps the lady of the house has some clothing she’d like to sell.”

  The man had traded his cheap suit for a more casual yet rumpled look. His dark green baggy chinos puddled at his scuffed loafers, while his untucked striped shirt needed a good pressing. He glanced at the flyer and then back at Kelly. Recognition gleamed in his eyes. “You were at Bernadette’s house. You found Maxine dead.”

  Kelly did her best fake recognition look, even clutching her chest with her hand. “Evan Fletcher. Right. Small town life. Geez.” She hoped she wasn’t overacting, something she was accused of doing in her middle school play when she played Matilda in Alice in Wonderland.

  “Does everybody know everyone here?” he asked.

  “Pretty much. You’re not from around here, are you?”

  “No, I’m from Maryland.”

  “What brings you up to New York? Business? Pleasure?”

  “You could say that.”

  Great. More vagueness. The man couldn’t seem to answer a question directly.

  “Have you heard anything from the police about the murder?” Kelly asked.

  “It appears they’re keeping a tight lip. I guess it’s understandable.”

  “Detective Wolman interviewed me again. Has she contacted you again?”

  He shook his head. “No. Do you mind me asking what she followed up with you about?”

  “Just reviewed what I saw when I arrived.” Not exactly the truth, but she wasn’t going to admit to a stranger the detective had discovered Kelly had a possible motive for murder. “She just wanted to review my statement. Like how long after I found Maxine’s body you appeared for your appointment.”

  “Right. It was a shock coming onto the scene. Yet, you managed to keep it together.”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice with Bernadette falling apart. When I arrived, there was no one else around the house and I didn’t hear anyone in the house. How about you? Did you see anyone? Outside? Inside?”

  Evan glanced at the flyer. “Do you own a clothing shop or are you a detective?”

  Kelly smiled. “I own a clothing boutique. You know, Bernadette told me Maxine’s laptop is missing. To get to the living room you have to pass the study where the computer was. Did you see the computer?”

  Evan stiffened and shoved the flyer back into Kelly’s hand. “There’s no lady of the house here. Goodbye, Miss Quinn.” He turned and walked to the front door of his cottage and disappeared after he slammed the door shut.

  * * * *

  The bell over the front door jingled, and Kelly poked her head out of the doorway from what used to be the d
ining room. Now it was a sales space she hoped to makeover with additional changing rooms and added shelving for sweaters and other tops that could be displayed folded. She wanted to give her customers the feel of a hip boutique, not a dowdy consignment shop. She even considered installing a chandelier for added ambiance. Maybe she could find one at the indoor flea market.

  A group of four teenage girls bopped in, giggling, and they dispersed throughout the main sales area checking out the clothing on the racks. All four wore some type of Vera Bradley bag—tote bag, backpack, or crossbody. Vera bags were popular among younger girls, but seeing it in real life gave Kelly the idea to create a window display next August in time for back-to-school shopping. She made a mental note to actively acquire Vera bags.

  Next August? She only hoped she’d be able to stay in business until then.

  She walked out to greet the girls, who didn’t seem fazed by all the haunted merchandise talk going around town. Three of the girls pulled earbuds out of their ears and returned her greeting, while the fourth one glanced up from her phone; she was busy texting.

  “Is there anything you’re looking for specifically?”

  “We want to dress up for Halloween. Do you have any vintage clothes?” a petite blonde asked, who wore a Vera Bradley backpack slung over a shoulder.

  “There are a few pieces scattered throughout the store. But I really don’t specialize in vintage.”

  All four girls frowned with disappointment.

  “Though, there are some pieces you can make work. Do any of you have any other clothing you’ll be wearing already?”

  Two girls nodded.

  “Great, something to work with. Let me help you find some things and see what you think.” Kelly moved to one circular rack and began sliding the hangers. This was what she loved doing—putting looks together.

  The girls started chatting with her about what they liked, what they didn’t, and, before long, they were trying on garments and giving an impromptu mini-fashion show Kelly styled.