We walked a little farther than I'd intended, and my sore knees were starting to protest by the time we approached Brian's house. Brian noticed that I'd slowed down a bit.
“Are you all right, Amanda?”
“I'm fine. I had a bump on my knees earlier today, so they're a little bit sore.”
“Anything I can do to help? I can walk Laddie for you tomorrow so you can rest.”
“No, thanks, Brian. I appreciate the offer, but Belle's going to watch him tomorrow morning while I drive over to Sedona. I'm going to try to sell my scarves to some of the boutiques there.”
“You're a busy lady. I hope you're not too busy to have dinner with me tomorrow night.” When I hesitated, he added, “Or maybe you won't be back in time.”
“I should be.”
“Well?”
“Yes, of course. That would be nice.”
I wasn't really sure that dinner was a good idea, but I couldn't think of a polite way of turning Brian down, and I didn't know that I wanted to, anyway. I kept going back and forth about it. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that Brian had asked me for a date. If we dated and decided to call it quits after a while, it would be more than awkward to be living right next door to him. He seemed like a nice guy, and he'd worded his suggestion for a dinner date so naturally into our conversation that he'd taken me by surprise.
“Great!” he said enthusiastically. “Pick you up at seven?”
“All right; I'll see you then.” With a little wave, I bade him good-bye, and Laddie pranced along by my side the few yards to my house.
I debated with myself all evening about my upcoming date. I didn't know whether I should have agreed to it or not, but, since I had, it was too late to back out now. I would never stand somebody up—not unless an emergency prevented me from keeping a date, so I decided I might as well make the best of it. I couldn't decide what to wear. I looked through my closet and came away without making a decision. Dinner could just as easily mean a trip to the local pizza place as an upscale event at a fine restaurant, and Brian hadn't mentioned any particular eatery.
Later, when I went to bed, Mona Lisa and Laddie snuggled close, their earlier feud forgotten for now. I fell asleep without ever deciding on my ensemble.
Although I hated to do it, I had to call Belle early the next morning to remind her that I'd be bringing Laddie over to visit soon. Dennis answered the phone and assured me that Belle was already awake. As soon as I was ready, I put a few dog treats in a baggie so Laddie and Mr. Big could have a mid-morning snack. I had no idea how long I'd be gone, but, if I hadn't made any progress by mid-afternoon, I intended to come back home. It was about an hour's drive, so that would give me time to get ready for my dinner with Brian.
The aroma of coffee brewing wafted my way when Belle opened the door for Laddie and me. Mr. Big came running to greet his buddy, and the two dogs rolled around on the floor together in a joyful frenzy.
Belle, still in her robe, smiled. “I'm going to have my coffee on the patio while they play in the backyard,” she said. “Do you have time for a cup?”
“I'd better get on the road. I'm not sure how long this is going to take.”
“I wish I could come with you. Promise you'll call if you have any news, and be sure to let me know if you won't be home by five. I can pick up Laddie after I get home from the library.”
“I should be back before then, but I'll keep you posted.”
I hugged Laddie and told him to be a good boy. He was always happy to stay with Mr. Big, so I left them to their doggy play date and went on my way.
I glanced at the map Lieutenant Belmont had drawn before I pulled out of the driveway. I had the address of a restaurant that was at the same intersection on the map, although it probably wasn't the same restaurant where Lieutenant Belmont had found Jill all those years ago, but it was a place to start. I'd searched on an online app to find the exact place that Lieutenant Belmont had marked, and, now that I'd put it into my GPS genie on my phone, I could head straight there as soon as I reached Sedona.
What should have been an hour's drive took half an hour longer than I'd anticipated due to an oversize motor home that was traveling well below the speed limit on the winding two-lane road. There was no place to pass, so I had to follow the huge vehicle for miles before reaching my destination.
When I came to the city limits, I turned on the GPS and followed directions to the corner where the restaurant stood. Evidently, it was a popular spot. There were people crowding in the door, and the parking lot was jammed. I waited until a man driving a black pickup truck pulled out, and I zipped into the vacated spot, earning a disgusted stare from a woman approaching from the other direction, but, since I hadn't cut her off, I didn't feel guilty in the slightest.
Inside, a hostess greeted me, and I could see that I was in for a wait. She took my name and told me she could seat me in about twenty minutes before escorting a group of four to their table. It was standing room only in the small area between the cash register and the door. I was planning to ask the hostess how long the restaurant had been in business, but she was so busy I didn't get a chance until she finally called my name and led me to a small, two-seater table near the back of the restaurant. As she handed me a menu, I learned that she'd been working at the place only a few months and had no idea how long it had been in business.
Since I'd already eaten breakfast before leaving home, I'd planned to limit my order to some tea, but I found I couldn't ignore the aroma of cinnamon rolls as a server carried a tray past me laden with cinnamon rolls so huge each covered a dinner plate.
When my server, a young woman whose blond hair was confined to a neat bun at the nape of her neck, approached me to take my order, I asked her if a smaller version of the sweet treat was available.
“Sure thing. We have a mini-bun. It's about this size,” she said, forming a small circle with her fingers.
“OK. I'll have one of those and some tea.” Then, I repeated the same question I'd asked the hostess, but my server didn't know the answer, either, so I went on to another question. “Do you happen to know if there's anybody around who's worked here a really long time? I'm looking for a woman who used to work here years ago.”
“What's her name? I could ask in the kitchen.”
“Jill Durand.”
“Doesn't ring a bell, but I'll check with Tony. He's our baker.”
I thanked her and waited for my order to be delivered. The cinnamon roll she set before me was oozing with glistening white frosting, and she set a small dish containing a generous dollop of butter next to it.
“Tea's still brewing,” she said as she placed an empty cup on the table along with a cute little china pot decorated with the image of mischievous kittens playing with a ball of yarn.
“Tony gets off work in a few minutes,” she said. “He can talk to you then.”
“Oh, great!” I said. I was so surprised I'd have dropped my fork if I'd been holding it. I hadn't had high hopes that I'd be able to learn anything about Jill, but now it seemed I was on the verge of finding out what had become of her. As I ate my cinnamon roll, which I'd slathered with butter, I wondered how much Tony knew about Ulysses's ex-wife. I was sipping my tea when a portly man dressed in baker's whites came to my table and sat in the chair opposite me.
“Tia said you're looking for Jill Durand.”
“That's right. Do you know her?”
“What do you want with Jill?” he asked cautiously, as though I might be a bill collector on her trail.
I decided to take the long way around in hopes of putting his mind at ease. I explained that I was an artist in Lonesome Valley and that I also made tie-dyed scarves and handed him my business cards—one for my art business and the other one for the silk scarf business.
He scanned both and immediately relaxed. At least, he knew I wasn't a debt collector.
“That one of your scarves?” he asked, motioning to the fuchsia silk scarf draped around my neck.
&
nbsp; “Yes, it is. I use several different techniques to make abstract designs.”
“Looks like something Beth might stock. Jill goes by 'Beth' now. You'll find her at the Desert Rose Boutique. It's about a mile down the road on the left-hand side. You can't miss it. It's the only rose-covered cottage on the block.”
“Thank you, Tony. And thanks for the delicious cinnamon roll, too. I understand you're the baker.”
“Yup, thirty years here now. I've been through four owners, and the restaurant's changed names a few times, too, but the cinnamon rolls are the same as they were back then.” He hefted himself up from the table. “Thirty years of starting work at two o'clock in the morning: you'd think I'd be tired of it by now, but I'm not quitting any time soon.”
“I'm sure your customers would be happy to know that.”
Frankly, I was astonished that Tony hadn't asked more questions—questions that would have been difficult to answer without arousing suspicion.
I couldn't believe my luck. Had Jill Durand lived in Sedona the whole time since she'd left Ulysses? If so, she'd been practically right under our noses, a mere hour's drive from Lonesome Valley. Close enough to visit Ulysses in the hospital. Close enough to murder him in his bed!
Chapter 33
Before getting out of my SUV, I debated whether I should lug the display stand in with me. After all, I planned to make this a legitimate sales call and try to engage Jill in a more far-reaching conversation in hopes of learning what I could about her. Finally, I decided to leave the display stand in the back of the SUV since it was a bit awkward to carry and probably wasn't the subtlest way of pitching my scarves.
I went inside, where I was immediately attracted to a lovely aubergine maxi dress with silver bugle beads accenting the neckline. Displayed on a mannequin, the elegant simplicity of the dress drew me to it. I felt the fabric, which was as beautiful as the dress's design. I took a peek at the price tag and dropped it like a hot potato.
“May I help you?”
I twirled around and could see immediately that the offer to assist me hadn't come from Jill, but from a young woman with wavy red hair. I introduced myself, explained my mission, and asked to see Jill.
The woman looked confused. “I'm sorry. Nobody by that name works here.”
“My mistake,” I said quickly. I took a small notebook out of my purse and pretended to consult it. “I meant Beth.”
“She's not here right now.” When I looked disappointed, she added, “But she should be back in a few minutes. She had to run to the bank. Would you like to try on that dress while you wait?” She looked me over appraisingly. “We have only two of them in stock, and I'm sure one of them is in your size.”
“Well, yes, all right. I would like to try it on.” What could it hurt? I asked myself. I had to kill some time before Jill returned. Besides, if it didn't look good on me, I wouldn't feel bad about not purchasing it.
The clerk located the dress on a nearby rack and led me to a small dressing room in the back of the boutique. She showed me the large mirrors outside the dressing room and encouraged me to come out to see my reflection in them from every angle as soon as I tried on the dress. It took me only a few minutes to shed my linen pants, jersey top, and silk scarf and don the striking dress. When I emerged from the dressing room, the clerk exclaimed that I looked wonderful in the dress. As I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, I decided I agreed with her.
“It really looks stunning on you,” she gushed. “Very flattering. It's versatile, too. I think it works just as well for a special occasion as it does for a casual one.”
“Do you really think so?” I asked. She affirmed what I was already thinking: no matter which restaurant Brian chose, this dress would be appropriate for me to wear.
“I really do!”
“All right. I'll take it,” I said decisively, before I had a chance to think about how much I was about to spend on a totally unnecessary purchase.
“I'll put it on a hanger for you as soon as you're ready.” I thought the hanger was a nice touch. Most shops would have stuffed the dress into a shopping bag.
By the time I stepped to the checkout counter, she had the dress ensconced in a pink plastic bag hanging beside the register. The bag had the shop's logo—a rose—and its name, Desert Rose Boutique, on it.
“Cash or charge?”
I handed her my debit card. I knew my credit card was close to its limit, and, after my grocery shopping spree, I didn't have enough cash left to pay for the pricey dress. The transaction seemed to take forever to process. I began to feel nervous, wondering if the bank had put a hold on Brian's check, but, if so, they certainly hadn't informed me.
“Ah. Here we are,” the clerk said, as she ripped the receipt from the cash register. “Sorry that took so long.”
A jingling bell signaled the opening of the front door. I hoped it was Jill, returning from the bank. Now would be a perfect time to speak with her, since there were no other customers in the boutique. As soon as I saw her, I had no doubt that she was Ulysses's ex-wife.
“This lady's been waiting to see you,” the redhead told her boss.
I was prepared with my business card and brochures, and, since I was wearing one of my own dyed scarves, I had a sample handy to show her. She listened to my spiel politely and asked about wholesale terms.
“Let me show you the wooden display stand that I have available. It's free with an initial order of a dozen scarves.”
“All right,” she agreed. She definitely took notice when I reached for the dress I'd bought and folded it over my arm. The fact that I'd made a purchase at her store couldn't hurt, I thought, although I doubted that she'd buy my scarves solely because I'd bought a dress from her shop.
When I returned with the display, she looked it over with a skeptical eye. “It's very nice,” she said, “but I don't really have enough counter space for it. Would you consider giving me a discount with my first order, instead?”
I never would have thought to ask for a different perk on an opening order, just as I never would have made a sale as handily as the redheaded clerk, who'd made the whole process appear seamless. What she was asking for wasn't unreasonable, so I had to come up with an answer fast.
“How about a ten-percent discount off wholesale?” I suggested.
“Make it fifteen, and we have a deal.”
I was tempted to say “twelve and a half,” but I didn't want to lose the sale, and I could tell that she could be a tough negotiator. Besides, she had more experience at this than I did.
“Done.” I wrote up the order for a dozen scarves, and she gave me a check to pay for half the amount of the invoice, just as my terms specified. I was a little surprised that she hadn't tried to get me to agree to bill her with a thirty-day grace period, but perhaps she sensed I couldn't afford to do that. She definitely had me pegged as a rookie, though.
I'd made a sale, but I hadn't accomplished my main mission. I needed to get Jill to talk, but our business was essentially concluded. I should have tried to chat with her before going into my sales pitch, but, luckily, Jill provided me an opening herself.
“I see you're from Lonesome Valley,” she said, glancing at my business card. “My daughter lives there, too.”
I didn't want to appear too eager, even though I couldn't wait to learn more details.
“Yes, it's a wonderful town,” I said. “I moved there after my divorce,” I added, hoping that our having something in common might encourage her to talk to me,
“Ah” was her only response.
“How does your daughter like Lonesome Valley?”
“It may be a little tame for her. I think Samantha would prefer a big city, but she was offered a good job at Lonesome Valley Hospital, and she didn't want to turn it down.”
Bingo! She'd told me exactly what I wanted to know.
“The hospital gift shop is one of my accounts,” I told her. Of course, it was my only other account besides hers, but she didn't need
to know that.
“Well, I hope you're not planning to saturate the market with your scarves. I like to keep my merchandise unique. I don't want my customers seeing the same thing in other places around town.”
“No problem,” I said. “You'll be the exclusive retailer in Sedona.” I knew there was no way I could keep up with lots of scarf accounts and still have time for my painting. I figured by the time I added a few more accounts in Lonesome Valley and perhaps Prescott or Phoenix, I'd have more than enough dyeing to do.
“I appreciate it,” she told me. “Oh, and by the way, you are going to give me free shipping on my first order, aren't you?”
Chapter 34
Skunked again! It was time to leave the Desert Rose Boutique before I ended up paying Jill to sell my scarves. After agreeing to her last request, I hastily exited the shop. I could have kicked myself for giving in to all her demands, but, at least, I'd learned what I'd come for. Jill had given me her business card along with her check when she'd paid me the deposit on her initial wholesale order. I hadn't looked at it at the time, but now I glanced at the card and saw that she was going by the name Beth Applegate. She'd ditched Jill Durand somewhere along the way. Perhaps she'd remarried or maybe she'd resumed using her maiden name. Whatever the case, I'd learned two very important things: Jill Durand lived in Sedona, only an hour's drive from Lonesome Valley, and her daughter Samantha worked at the Lonesome Valley Hospital. Given that Lieutenant Belmont thought nurse Samantha looked so much like Jill that he'd momentarily mistaken her for Jill, I had no doubt that the nurse and Samantha Applegate were one and the same.
I left the Desert Rose Boutique and headed toward the Sedona city limits. I pulled off the road, into a parking lot, and made three calls before continuing on my way. I kept each brief, since I was in a hurry to get home now that I'd found out what I'd come to Sedona for.
After giving Belle the scoop, I let her know I should be home soon, so she wouldn't have to check on Laddie again. Dave Martinez was out of the office when I called the police station, so I left a short message on his voice mail, telling him that Jill Durand, aka Beth Applegate, lived in Sedona. The last call to Lieutenant Belmont woke the grumpy detective from a nap.
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