A Body on Fitzgerald's Bluff

by Anna Celeste Burke

  “Wow! What smells so great?” Neely asked as she swept into the cottage and I closed the door behind her.

  “I’ve been baking scones to take with us in case we get into a situation where a small bribe might help.”

  I stared at Neely, who had transformed herself into a resort guest. She wore an outfit that wasn’t too different from the one Diana had been wearing at the time of her death. White Capri pants, a knit top, and canvas sneakers. She’d also tamed her curly hair with gel or had contained it some other way. Her wild mane was tucked up beneath a visor in a shade of blue that matched the stripe in her boatneck shirt. With the hat and a pair of enormous dark glasses she looked nothing like she had last night in her vibrant purple tunic and a pair of lounge pants like something that might be worn in a harem.

  “Good thinking!” I blinked for a second trying to put Neely’s comment back into context given how distracted I’d become by her new “look.”

  “Oh, yeah—the scones. It was Marty’s idea, remember?” Neely nodded. “You want to do a taste test?”

  “I thought you’d never ask!” I realized that I still hadn’t moved even thought I’d made that offer of a scone. It also dawned on me that Neely carried what resembled two small overnight bags—one in each hand.

  “I’m sorry I’m so out of it. You really look different and I’m trying to understand how you’ve done it. Can I carry one of those bags for you?”

  “I’m okay. Let’s eat and then we’ll work on changing your look. I know there’s no way the killer spotted me out on the bluff since I wasn’t there. Just to be on the safe side, I figured I’d give myself a makeover too. If the strangler’s been roaming around here checking up on you, I didn’t want to take a chance that we were spotted together at the Clubhouse or waiting to be seated in the dining room. We got lots of attention standing around with Dudley Doofus and Handsome Hank.”

  “You look great, Miriam!” Neely exclaimed later. “This wig makes you look ten years younger. Not that you’re old at fifty. You should get contacts and dye your hair the same shade as the wig you’re wearing.” I was speechless when she came up with that number so glibly. What could I say?

  “I’m comfortable looking my age. What makes you think I’m not fifty-five?”

  “Your birthdate is on file so the HOA can send you a birthday card. It’s on that form your husband filled out when he bought the Hemingway Cottage.” Neely squinted a little behind her fishbowl specs that she’d put back on to do my makeover. Her brow furrowed as if puzzled by my concern. “Oh, please, our conversation about the brouhaha among HOA board members hasn’t worried you, has it? You don’t have to worry about being younger than fifty-five. Unless your husband decides to divorce you or turns up dead.” I gulped. Still puzzled, Neely peered at me and then shrugged.

  “Come on, let’s do your makeup—Hollywood diva style. Then we’ll have to find something for you to wear. Do you have a tight pair of jeans?”

  “Not one I bought on purpose. After the cake, Shoo Fly pie, and scones, I bet I do now.” Neely laughed.

  “It’ll be good for you to get out of those baggy sweats you wear around here most of the time. Don’t get me wrong—I like comfortable clothes more than anyone I know, but a little flair goes a long way, my child.” It was my turn to have a puzzled expression on my face.

  “I’m getting into character. We’re going to be a mother and daughter visiting from LA. I’m Carmel Schneider, and you’re Tara Brown, okay?” I giggled at the excited expression on Neely’s face and wondered how on earth she’d picked those names!

  “Carmel and Tara sure sound like names that could come straight out of Hollywood.”

  “Good! If I can work it into the conversation, I’m going to let it drop that you’re on vacation writing a script and always on the lookout for the next great one someone else has written. That ought to create a bit of a buzz. When you’ve been on the West Coast longer, you’ll understand how many Californians have a script in a drawer or are working on one—in their heads at least.”

  “Are you sure we want to create buzz?” I asked. Neely nodded enthusiastically.

  “Buzz is always helpful when you want to get people to talk to you. The idea that you’re writing a script also gives us cover when we ask about Diana Durand’s trouble. Depending on whodunit, Diana’s story has made-for-TV movie written all over it. In fact, faux daughter, here’s a little advice from your pseudo-mother. That might be an interesting first writing project for you—A Body on Fitzgerald’s Bluff.” My head was spinning at the pace Neely’s imagination set.

  “A scriptwriter from Hollywood bearing scones. Let them figure that one out!” I laughed.

  “Oh, you are a West Coast newbie. California is a nation of foodies! Alongside that script stashed in a desk drawer is an old family recipe for the world’s greatest something—scone, burger, cupcake, salad dressing—you name it! If you don’t sell that script you’ve got to have something else up your sleeve.” I laughed heartily. Domino, who had been lounging nearby made this little woo-woo sound as if laughing along with us.

  “Let’s go find your tightest pair of jeans and a breezy blouse to wear with them. You can put those reading glasses away since I have a pair of Linda Farrow cat-eye shades for you that were in a swag bag a friend sent me. Soooo trendy! You really are going to look the part.”

  “Linda Farrow? Cat-eye shades? Swag bag? I don’t speak Californian yet, do I?” I shook my head, realizing how out to sea I still am in my new hometown.

  “Pricey designer. Pointy edged shades. A bag of gifts handed out at events trendy enough to give out thousand-dollar pairs of sunglasses. That’s a quick and dirty translation that will have to do for now. We’ve got some shopping to do. Fortunately, I also have money left on a gift card I got in exchange for a promise to review the goods at Two. That’s a boutique that’s chez chic. It’ll help us fit the part to carry shopping bags with their logo on them as props. They sell caftans which is where I got the one I wore to Charly’s. In a shop like that where most everything is size zero, it’s about the only thing that fits me.”

  “It’s beautiful and looks so comfy,” I said.

  “It is comfy, and it ought to be beautiful, too, for four hundred bucks. No way am I going to wear it to the beach, even though it’s meant to be a cover up, you know?” I was shaking my head as that “fish out of water” feeling rushed over me again.

  “Four hundred dollars for something to wear around sand and saltwater. That’s impossible to believe! I’m sure I’m going to blow it in my pose as a with-it SoCal shopper when I gasp at the price tags.”

  “Nah—it’s fine to express shock and outrage at prices. Whining is okay, too! On the way to Blue Haven, I’ll coach you on how to whine as if you were born and raised in the San Fernando Valley. Let’s glam you up with my movie star makeup tricks. You’re going to be a Hollywood hottie by the time I’m done with you!”

  11 A Bad Boy Shopper?

  Our first couple of stops on our mystery shopper adventure turned out to be duds. I’d spotted the Caswell-Massey cologne shop that the website had listed among all the stores at the resort. It carries men and women’s fragrances. Pete had a cologne he used, off and on, for years after we visited their store in Cleveland. I was inspired as I explained this to Neely on our way.

  “Maybe I noticed the fragrance out there on the beach because I smelled it before in that Cleveland store.”

  “It’s worth a try. Let’s check,” Neely said.

  After fifteen minutes, I gave up. Nothing came close. Neely suggested it might not have been a man’s cologne. After a similar effort sampling a few women’s perfumes, I could barely distinguish one fragrance from another.

  “That’s because you have ‘nose fatigue.’ That’s why some people wear too much perfume. When your nose gets too full of a fragrance, you need to give it a rest. All the little receptors are tuckered out. Even if you switch from one fragrance to another, the colognes are likely t
o share some of the same base elements.”

  “Time for a break, huh?” I asked. Neely nodded and led us out of the shop.

  I tried not to let my discouragement show. A few minutes later, when we passed a Brooks Brother’s clothing store that carried several proprietary fragrances, I tried again. We had no luck there either.

  “Oh well, what difference will it make if we discover which fragrance it is? It’s not likely to put us any closer to knowing who wore it.” I sighed heavily. “I hope this mystery shopper idea won’t be a complete waste of your time.”

  “Chin up, Tara, my daughter. We’re just getting started! The gift card I have is burning a hole in my pocket. We’ll look much more the part if we’re carrying bags from a posh place like Two.” Neely darted off and then pushed her way into the small store. The pencil-thin waif slouching on a bar stool near the register took one look at us and went back to scrolling through pictures or messages on her cell phone.

  “Holler if I can help you,” she said with her eyes downcast. She must have assumed we were merely browsing or killing time. At least she wasn’t giving us the hard sell that I’d experienced in some of the mall stores in Ohio.

  “Will do! You must be reading about that dead woman they found on the beach. She worked here, didn’t she?”

  “Not in this shop,” she replied without even looking up.

  “I heard she was a shopaholic. She must have shopped in a cutting-edge place like this, right? In LA, everyone is talking about Two. That’s how I got this great gift card in my A-List Swag Bag at the premiere of Mindy’s Mark.” Neely glanced at me as she embellished her story about how she got her hands on that gift card. Given my track record when it comes to fibbing, I wasn’t going to correct her.

  The young woman’s demeanor changed at the mention of gift card. Or it could have been Neely’s reference to the swag bag or the mega-hit movie. The sales clerk put her phone down and took a closer look at us.

  “Are you looking for something specific or just browsing?” She asked sweetly as she handed each of us a business card.

  “I already have a gorgeous caftan I bought at Two in LA. I’m going to buy another one in a different color. Maybe you could help my daughter, Tara, find something cool and trendy.” Then “Mom” leaned in and lowered her voice before glibly continuing the fabricated story she was telling. “Tara’s working on a movie script about that young woman’s murder. It would really help her with character development if you could give her some idea of the sort of thing Diana Durand would have worn.”

  “I can definitely do that. Follow me.” I glanced at Neely with raised eyebrows in mock surprise at the series of lies she’d just spit out without hesitation and uttered as though she’d scripted the entire situation. The transformation in her personality was far more stunning to me than the changes she’d made to her appearance. She smiled and made hand motions urging me to hurry after the woman who, according to her business card, was Valerie Bargewell. I did a quick attitude adjustment and got into my role.

  “You’re a lifesaver, Valerie. I can’t tell you how much I need to get a handle on the woman’s style and motivation to portray her as a well-rounded character. People will want to understand who she was, although so far the media hasn’t portrayed her as a very sympathetic character.”

  “Sympathetic character’s not how I’d describe her, either. Murdered on a beach isn’t a good end for anyone, is it?” She shrugged and moved on.

  “No, it’s not,” I replied. A brightly colored scarf in a gauzy fabric caught my eye. “This is fun, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, she bought several of those.” There wasn’t much enthusiasm in Valerie’s tone. Maybe the scarf was too cheap for the salesclerk to get excited about. I glanced at the price tag and felt woozy. Three hundred dollars and Diana had purchased several of them.

  “Is ‘fun’ no better than ‘sympathetic’ as a way to characterize Diana Durand?”

  “Not unless you’re referring to the fun of the hunt.”

  “The hunt?” I asked and paused for a second. “As in men, you mean?”

  “Yes. Here’s an outfit she bought.” In a flash, Valerie had pulled an ankle-length wisp of a dress with spaghetti straps from the rack in a black nearly sheer fabric. She paired it with silver sandals and a foldable white hat with black trim. I watched with amazement as she pulled more outfits together—skinny pants with tops that somehow managed to be slinky even though they were made of the same tissue-paper-like fabric. A little on the scanty side for my taste.

  “Judging by the ensembles you’re putting together her coworker wasn’t making it up when she called Diana a siren, was she?” Valerie pursed her lips and shrugged.

  “She definitely dressed to attract attention.”

  “It sure looks like the wardrobe you’d own if you intended to lead men to their destruction,” Neely commented, suddenly appearing at my elbow.

  “I wouldn’t know what Diana Durand did with the men once she had them in her sights,” Valerie said. “Truthfully, I don’t much care what our customers do with the clothes I sell them. The reason I mentioned Diana Durand was on ‘the hunt’ is that the first time we met, she asked me if I’d seen any good-looking men around the resort lately. Since she was with a man at the time, her question stuck in my mind as predatory. I’m not sure about the siren thing. If all the men she bagged were like the big guy who came in here with her, I’m guessing they could take care of themselves.”

  “What makes you say that?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could. My heart had sped up as she spoke.

  “The guy was huge. Not just tall, but well-built, in his thirties, maybe, but his face had a story to tell that I didn’t want to hear. Bad boy was written all over him with scars and tattoos—even on his head that he’d shaved. He was tame enough sitting in the corner hanging onto the bags she had with her from other shops.”

  “Did he pick up the tab?” I asked.

  “No, she put everything on account. Several thousand dollars as I recall.” Valerie shrugged. That lightheaded feeling returned as I imagined slashing the balance on my car loan in half with the money Diana spent on one purchase.

  “Thanks, Valerie. This has been very enlightening.” Neely picked up that black dress with the spaghetti straps and the white hat and added it to several items she was already holding. “You’ll look great in that dress.”

  “How do you know it’ll even fit?” I gasped.

  “Don’t worry. It’s one size fits all,” Valerie replied. She glanced at Neely. “Fits most.”

  “Get her a hat and a pair of those sandals, too, okay?” Neely made eye contact and then paused. She had to be waiting for me to jump in with my shoe size. I did that quickly before our salesperson had time to wonder why mom didn’t rattle off her daughter’s shoe size.

  “Ring us up, okay?” Neely asked, obviously ready to leave.

  When we left the store, I was still reeling from the tale of the tape. Neely’s shopping spree hadn’t reached the several thousand-dollar mark like that set by Diana Durand, but a couple more items would have done it.

  “Thanks for your generosity, Neely. You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Hey, it’s good to have friends in Hollywood. I can only fit into the larger version of one size fits all garments as that salesclerk so deftly pointed out. What else could I buy in there for me besides a second caftan, a beach bag, and a floppy hat? You’ll be tres chic in that dress. You’ll also look so much better in the red caftan than I would. The gold one’s for me! Purple and gold are my colors as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Neely handed me a shopping bag with the Two logo on it.

  “Here! Help your dear old mother, please, and carry your own bag. Let’s pay a visit to the shop where Diana worked next. Maybe we’ll learn more there.”

  “How much money was Edgar spending on Diana?” I asked trying to keep up with Neely as she sped off toward our next shopping destination. “Valerie said she already had shopping bags with
her!”

  “Too much, that’s for sure. You’re wondering about an account that allowed her to purchase several thousand dollars’ worth of designer goodies in one fell swoop, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am. Not to mention the fact she’s got a man with her while she’s spending Edgar’s money. How could she do that to a sweet old guy like him?”

  “A sugar daddy, too sweet for his own good. In a way, it serves him right for getting mixed up with her. At least Edgar came to his senses.”

  “Thank goodness!” I exclaimed. “Given the company she keeps, Edgar may be lucky to be alive.”

  “I’m inclined to agree with you given Valerie Bargewell’s description of Diana’s shopping companion. He must be the same guy Alf and Alyssa witnessed Diana slapping in the parking lot. I know they said it was about money, but it could have been a lover’s quarrel as well.”

  “Tagging along with Diana on one of her shopping sprees sounds like boyfriend behavior. On the other hand, a bad boy shopper doesn’t quite fit the image of a man with scars and tattoos, does it?”

  “It might if Diana met him in the music business. It’s possible he’s mixed up in the whole West Coast hip-hop, gangster rap music scene.”

  “The what?” I asked.

  “Oh, please. They have rap music in Ohio. Eminem spent lots of his formative years in the Midwest.” Then she made a few sounds that were more buzzes and bumps than musical notes. I nodded, even though I only vaguely understood what she was trying to tell me.

  “I’ve heard of rap and Eminem, but Adele and Annie Lennox are more my speed. If you say he could be a musician, I trust you.”

  “A bodyguard or a roadie rather than a performer is more likely,” Neely retorted and then pondered the matter a little more. “He could be a poser or a hanger-on—you know? Someone trying to look the part and insinuate himself into a performer’s entourage. I’m sure the Bay Area has their share of those just like LA.”