“I have a few questions. You’re familiar with this process, aren’t you?” Wolman seated herself across from Kelly. She set her notepad and pen on the table.
“I am familiar with the process.” Which meant there was no need to prolong their conversation for any longer than necessary. “I came by today to do a yoga workout with Tawny. She’d invited me yesterday.”
“You and Mrs. Fallow were friends?” Wolman opened her notepad.
“No. Not really. She’s a…she was a consignment customer.” Kelly crossed her arms over her body and leaned back.
Wolman jotted something down.
“Do you know Ms. Dawson?”
“I do. She’s the vice-president of merchandise at Bishop’s department store.”
Wolman lifted her head. “You worked there, didn’t you?” After Kelly nodded, the detective continued. “How well did the deceased know Ms. Dawson?”
“I honestly don’t know. As I said, we weren’t friends. But their relationship was intense. When I came by yesterday to do an estimate for Tawny’s clothing, I found them arguing.”
“What exactly did they say?”
Kelly unfolded her arms and leaned forward. A twinge of guilt pricked at her. For some odd reason, she felt loyalty to Serena. Surely, that loyalty was misplaced on Serena, and she needed to figure out why she had it. She could do that later, now she had to tell Wolman everything she heard yesterday.
“How well do you know Mr. Fallow?” Wolman was jotting down notes as Kelly spoke, recounting her visit there yesterday and this morning.
“I don’t. I only met him yesterday. He seemed upset because I guess Serena was supposed to have left, but she didn’t. He looked a lot calmer last night when he met Serena at the Gull Café.”
Wolman set her pen down and cocked her head sideways. “How do you know they met?”
“I saw them out the window when I was closing up the boutique.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“I wasn’t snooping.”
“Of course not. You’re just a concerned citizen who keeps popping up at my murder scenes.” Wolman closed her notepad and clicked her pen. “I know I’ve said this before, and I hope this time you actually do as I say. I do not want you interfering in this investigation. Am I clear?”
Kelly leaned back. “Perfectly.” Considering who was involved in the investigation, she preferred not to be a part of it. Thank you very much.
Wolman had a few more questions, ones she’d already asked, but now phrased differently. Kelly guessed it was a way for the detective to catch an inconsistency. There were no inconsistencies in her answers. Just an urgency. She wanted to be the one to tell Breena that her fitness idol was dead.
Chapter 6
When Wolman wrapped up her interview questions and allowed Kelly to leave, she darted out of the house. Her intention was not to look back. But she did.
Halfway between the house and her car, she stopped and stared at the surreal scene. The crime scene unit was busy at work, moving efficiently and methodically to process all the evidence.
All the evidence of Tawny’s death. Just yesterday, she was alive, getting ready for a coaching call, espousing the virtues of smartwater. Now she was dead.
All the smartwater in the world hadn’t mattered. Nor had Tawny’s hours of exercise or all of her hard work in building her business. She was gone.
Kelly gave herself a sharp mental shake, forcing herself to climb out of that dark tunnel.
Tawny led a life she loved, pursued her passion, and was making a living from it. Rather than viewing all of that as a waste of time, it should be an inspiration. Live life with no apologies or regrets. If you want to spend all your money on smartwater, then so be it.
She stared at the scene for one more long moment before returning to her Jeep. How long the morning’s events would replay in her mind was uncertain. What was certain was that the image of Serena standing over Tawny’s body wouldn’t be leaving her soon.
On her drive back to the boutique, Kelly decided she’d be gentle but straight forward, no hedging when she told Breena what happened. Just rip the Band-Aid off and tell her. With her plan set, she knew what she had to do. Take Breena aside, give her the facts, and then hand her a box of tissues. Breena was an emotional person. Perhaps the actress in her allowed her to be so tapped into her emotions. She wasn’t shy about crying in front of others, while Kelly preferred to keep her weeping to private moments. After all, who wanted to see her ugly cries?
For an added dose of fortification to break the news, Kelly stopped at Doug’s. She found a parking space and dashed inside. It took only a few minutes to get three large coffees, and just as she reached her car, she heard her name called out. She looked over her shoulder and found her best friend, Liv Moretti, standing in the open door of her family’s bakery. Tall and lanky, Liv was dressed in her usual work uniform of dark jeans and a T-shirt with a bright pink apron tied at her waist. Her dark auburn hair was styled into a pixie cut, and her brown eyes were warm and friendly.
“Are you okay?” Liv shuffled from the doorway to Kelly’s side. She rested her hand on Kelly’s arm and gently squeezed. She was forever the mother hen of the two of them. When Kelly was sick, she brought homemade chicken soup. When Kelly was heartbroken, she brought wine. When Kelly was grief-stricken, she brought cannoli and tissues.
“You heard?” Kelly knew that news traveled quickly in town, especially along Main Street retailers. She wondered how much information was shared. And how accurate it was.
“Of course, I did. Was Tawny really killed by Serena?” Liv slid her hands into her apron’s pockets.
“I don’t know. All I know is that I found Serena standing over Tawny’s body. She claimed she found Tawny dead when she arrived.”
“What was Serena doing there?”
“Good question. She had some excuse, but I’m not sure.” Kelly wasn’t sure how much she could share about what they’d said at the crime scene. While Liv didn’t intentionally spread gossip, she would tell her mother and sisters, and they would pass it along to customers. Before you knew it, an innocent comment made was turned into a full-fledged scandal, and it would bring Wolman’s wrath down on her. So, tightlipped it would be.
“It’s a shame. Tawny was really nice. Once a week, she popped in to pick up a blueberry muffin for Jason. She didn’t eat baked goods, but she liked to treat her husband.”
“When was the last time she was here?”
“Last week to get the muffin. Like clockwork. I better get inside. Call me later.” Liv pivoted and darted back to the bakery. She disappeared inside.
When Kelly arrived back at the boutique, it appeared she had nothing to worry about when it came to breaking the news to Breena. Yep, she’d been worried for nothing.
“We just heard! It can’t be true. Tawny can’t be dead.” Breena dropped the handful of blouses on the sales counter and rushed to Kelly as she entered the boutique.
Kelly looked to Pepper, who was walking toward the sales counter from what used to be the dining room and now held mostly outerwear and evening apparel. She held a roll of paper towels and a spray bottle.
“So, it’s true?” Pepper asked.
“I’m afraid it is.” Kelly walked to the sales counter. She set down her purse and the coffee tray. “I’m sorry, Breena. I know you were a fan.”
Tears welled up in Breena’s eyes, and her shoulders sagged. “I can’t believe it. You just saw her yesterday.”
“What I can’t believe is that you have found another body.” Pepper set the spray bottle on the countertop. Her precise enunciation got Kelly’s attention and the unspoken message that had just been relayed to her—don’t go sticking your nose into the murder.
“It’s not like I went looking for one.” Kelly heard the defensiveness in her voice and regretted it. Any lectures
, verbal or telepathic, from Pepper, came from a place of love and concern. “What I can’t believe is that I found Serena standing over the body.”
“No way! We didn’t hear that.” Breena dashed to the counter. She leaned her elbow on the glass top and dropped her chin to her palm. Her tears had dried up, and now she was curious to hear more.
“Did she kill Tawny?” Pepper asked.
“I know she can be overbearing, rude, condescending, and icy. I mean, she makes Cruella de Vil look warm and fuzzy.” Kelly plucked a coffee from the tray and took a sip.
Breena stepped back from the counter and dramatically extended her arms outward. She then pulled them back to her body, wrapping them around her chest, as if she was closing a coat. She lifted her chin, batted her lashes, and channeled an unfamiliar voice.
“Where are the puppies? Bring me the puppies!”
Breena’s impersonation of Cruella had them laughing, something Kelly desperately needed and welcomed.
“And end scene,” Breena said with a curtsy.
“Oh, my gosh, I almost spit out my coffee,” Kelly said.
“She’s one of my favorite villains. Do you think Serena could be such a villain?” Breena asked.
“I honestly don’t know. I never thought of her as a killer. Although she’s killed a lot of careers.” Like mine. “No, she’s not a murderer.”
“Don’t be too sure. We don’t always know a person like we think we do.” Pepper patted the counter twice for emphasis before taking a coffee and heading into the accessories department.
“I better go check changing room one. Mrs. Parsons is back, and she’s trying on a boatload of stuff. Cha-Ching.” Breena giggled as she broke away from the counter next.
Changing room one. It made the small stall with a hanging curtain for privacy sound so official. Like there was a bank of them when, in reality, there were only two. But Breena had the right idea. It was time to get to work. The police had everything under control with Tawny’s murder, and she had a business to run. Her smartwatch vibrated, reminding her of her appointment with Buck to inspect the roof. She could use a little Cha-Ching to help pay for the repair. She called out to Pepper as she walked through to the staff room. He should arrive at any moment.
She hustled out to the parking lot, and as she closed the door behind her, she spotted Buck’s pickup truck. It was parked next to her Jeep, but there was no sign of him.
“Up here, Kelly!”
Her head swung upward, and she shielded her eyes with her hand. Buck Phillips was standing confidently on the roof. Propped up against the exterior of the building was a ladder. He wasn’t expecting her to join him up there, was he?
“Be right down.”
Phew. She stepped forward to the ladder as the roofer made his way down with practiced ease. She wondered how many times over the years he’d been up and down a ladder.
“How bad is it?” she asked when Buck set foot back on the pavement.
“I’ve seen worse. But it’s pretty bad.”
She groaned. There wasn’t a budget for pretty bad. “Bad enough to require a new roof?”
“This winter was a rough one, and now with all this thawing and re-freezing, ice dams are forming. I have three more appointments after I leave here. Anyway, add to the fact that the roof has outlived its expectancy…yeah, Kelly, you’ll have to replace it. ‘Fraid it’s going to include taking off the two roofs already up there and possibly removing the sheathing if we find damage.”
Kelly groaned again.
“I’m sorry I can’t recommend a patch job like last time. The roof’s only getting worse. You will have to bite the bullet at some point. If you don’t do it now, you’re risking damage to the building.”
“Any chance that it’s not going to cost more than your estimate from last fall?”
When she’d seen the five-digit number last year in his email, she gasped in horror. She didn’t have that kind of money then, and certainly didn’t have it now.
Buck removed his baseball cap; he was a die-hard Yankees fan and faithfully wore the team’s apparel often. He dragged his fingers through his thin hair. Unlike Jason’s hair, which was a refined shade of salt and pepper, Buck’s hair was a dull color of gray with strands of pure white at his temples. His weathered face and calloused hands resulted from decades spent up on hot roofs.
“Your granny and I went way back, so I’ll do my best to keep the cost down.”
“Thank you.” Even with his offer, she still didn’t know where she’d get the money to pay him. She expected he’d want some money upfront.
“I appreciate whatever you can do.” Kelly turned away, trying to figure which of her Stuart Weitzman boots to sell on the Mine Now Yours, the luxe resale website she loved. Selling one pair of over-the-knee boots wouldn’t put a dent in the money she needed for the new roof. But maybe two. And a few other items. Every bit would help.
Buck cleared his throat in a way that made it clear he wasn’t finished with her. Great. More bad news? She slowly turned back around. What else could be wrong?
“Is it true you found Tawny Fallow dead this morning?”
“Yes. Let’s just say this morning has been a bad one.”
“Yeah, I would say so. You know, we did some work on their house last summer.” Buck went to his truck and pulled opened the driver’s side door. He reached in and pulled out a clipboard.
“A roof?”
Buck nodded. “Nothing was wrong with the roof they had on, but the mister wanted a better…what did he call it? Aesthetic. Gotta love these rich city people who move out here.” He closed the truck door.
Kelly echoed his sentiment. Jason Fallow had enough money to put on a new roof while his old one was perfectly fine, and there she was struggling to replace her roof—not for aesthetics but for function.
“Yeah, the whole exterior was redone with new siding and new windows. Man, you should have seen the plans for the landscaping. I saw the drawings and the costs. In my next life, I’m coming back as a gardener.”
“Too bad Tawny won’t be around to see the finished landscaping.”
“Oh, there’s no landscaping. The mister pulled the plug on the project and canceled all the interior work just after I put on the new roof.”
“Do you know why?”
Buck shrugged. “Nah. But I see it all the time. These homeowners overextend themselves, and then at some point, reality sets in after they keep writing those big checks. The landscaping job alone was six figures.”
“Holy Cow!”
“And here I am balancing on rooftops in the blazing sun most days. Yeah, next time I’m going to be planting flowers and raking out mulch. Look, don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. When I’m done, you’ll have peace of mind for the next thirty years.” He patted Kelly on the arm as he passed by her and climbed up the ladder again.
With him safely up on the pitched roof, finishing his assessment of the job, she walked around to the front of the building. She’d do her best not to think about the estimate. Keeping nimble on her feet to avoid the minefield of puddles, she followed the narrow strip of walkway along the side of the building to the sidewalk.
Mr. Tillerman passed by with Abigail, his Jack Russell terrier. The retired economist walked every morning from his home on Sandy Drive to Main Street. He always waved, and Abigail gave a friendly bark.
Passing the pair on her way to the curb, she gave the dog a quick pat on the head. Abigail responded with another yip. They continued with their walk while Kelly stared up at the roof of her building. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun.
From a novice’s point of view, the roof looked just fine, confirming the old saying—looks were deceiving.
“Good morning.” An unfamiliar voice dragged Kelly’s attention from the roof to a petite redhead approaching her. “You’re Ke
lly Quinn, right?”
Kelly dropped her hand and moved away from the curb toward the woman. “I am. And you are?” Her wish was a new customer who needed to revamp her entire wardrobe on a budget or who needed to empty out a closet full of clothes. Either was good with Kelly.
“Ella Marshall. I’m a reporter for the Lucky Cove Weekly.” She looked to be around Kelly’s age. She was smartly dressed in a dove gray sweater, slim black pants, and black patent loafers. Kelly appreciated the effortless chicness of the reporter’s outfit. Especially the pearlized buttons on the sweater and the simple coin necklace that filled the sweater’s V-neck. Slung over her shoulder was a black tote.
The Weekly was a staple in town for decades. Kelly’s mother read the paper every Friday morning at the kitchen table while she drank her tea. And there was always a stack of the newspaper each week at Doug’s Variety Store. When Kelly re-opened the boutique with its new name and new image, the Weekly covered the event. It helped bring in business, so she was eager to learn why Ella was there, and then it hit her. The reporter wanted to interview her about Tawny’s murder.
“It’s nice to meet you. Would you like to come into the boutique?” Kelly was preparing for her ‘no comment’ comment. She wanted to be firm yet graceful. There was no need to offend the reporter; she was just doing her job.
“I’d love to interview you…”
She knew it. Kelly opened her mouth to give her firm “no comment” comment.
“About your boutique. Women are seeking alternatives to fast fashion. Shops like yours are becoming trendy.”
Kelly closed her mouth. She’d been hasty, quick to judgment.
“I applaud you for being a part of this nationwide, if not, global movement.”
She was a part of a movement? Who knew? Well, Kelly had been doing research since taking over the boutique. She found there had been an uptick in women who wanted to recycle clothing, not only in her age bracket, but women in older age groups. Fast-fashion’s surge seemed to have hit its peak, and women were realizing the true cost of dropping tens and twenties on a whim—poor quality, overspending, and tons of waste. Consigning was a way combat those problems, but still buy affordable clothing.
How to Frame a Fashionista Page 6