I rummaged through every drawer, piling stuff on my countertop. Auntie noticed what I was doing and meandered over. I looked up at her. “It’s gone.”
“What’s gone?”
I dropped back into my chair. “My journal of recipes for my oil blends. I’m pretty sure that I put it in the upper left-hand drawer on Friday, but now, I can’t find it anywhere.” And if the journal was gone, I was hip deep in trouble.
Auntie frowned. “Have you looked in my office? Maybe Tawny moved it for some reason.”
“I doubt it, she never touches my things.”
“Go look anyway. I’ll search the counter.”
As I headed back to her office, I had the sinking feeling that my quest was useless. But I dug through the desk drawers and looked under the desk and in the wastebasket and everywhere else I could think of. After that, I tore apart the area we reserved for the facials and manicures. Auntie managed to pull herself away from the crowded shop long enough to ask me if I’d found anything.
I shook my head. “Nothing. It’s not here.”
“Why don’t you go home and look? Maybe you tucked it into your purse or tote bag and forgot. Stranger things have happened. Go on; I’ll reschedule your appointments for this afternoon. You have to find that notebook.”
I grabbed my purse and keys and headed out to the car, fretting. Auntie was right; I didn’t dare lose the journal. I’d stupidly ignored all warnings to make a copy, although I’d been gearing up to store a backup of the recipes on my new laptop. Hindsight was a bitch. I dropped into the bakery before I took off for Moss Rose Cottage to fill Barbara in on the problem. She offered to help me out by continuing the search at Venus Envy while I was away, since Auntie had her hands full. Grateful, I took her up on it.
The roads were packed and, where it usually took me fifteen minutes to make it home, this time it took me over forty. By the time I pulled into the driveway, I felt like I was balancing on a razor’s edge. Seeing Elliot’s car there didn’t help matters any. He was waiting on the porch. I stomped up the steps, glaring at him.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
He frowned. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
“You aren’t my friend, old or otherwise.” I pointed toward the driveway. “Make tracks. Now. Or I’ll call Kyle again, and you’ll have one more incident on the track record we’re keeping.”
Elliot pulled out an envelope and handed it to me. “I brought you a card.”
I sighed. “Listen, Elliot, and listen good. I’m in a bad mood, and you know better than to get on my bad side. Hey, speaking of cards, did that marker ever come off your chest?” I’d written a nasty note on him while he was drunk one night, after he’d insisted on sliming all over me. In permanent marker. Last I heard, he still had a faded crimson note imprinted on his chest, warning all comers to avoid dating him because he was such a jerk.
His eyes narrowed, and I knew I’d struck a nerve. “Want to find out?” He reached for his buttons, but I wasn’t in the mood to play games.
“I’m telling you this one time, and one time only. Get off our porch, get out of our driveway, and get off our land. Leave now, or I will first call the police, and then I will pick you up by the collar and toss you down the stairs. You know I can do it, and you know I won’t be gentle.”
I reached in my purse and held up my cell phone, flipping it open to make my point. Without another word, Elliot headed down the steps, climbed in his car, and screeched out of the drive. The minute his car disappeared down the road, I unlocked the door and headed inside, stopping to latch the screen door behind me. I paused to call Kyle and tell him that Elliot had been here.
Kyle made a suggestion I hadn’t thought of. “Persia, do you think he might be the one trying to sabotage Venus Envy? He’s mad as shit at you.”
“Interesting. Hadn’t thought of that, and it’s certainly worth a look, although I’m pretty sure Bebe Wilcox is behind this. But I’ve got another problem now. My recipe journal for my fragrances is missing. I couldn’t find it at the shop, and I’m going to search here at home, but if you want to know the truth, I think somebody stole it.”
Kyle’s sigh was audible. “Do you have a copy of it?”
I cast my gaze down to the floor as Pete came running into the room, tongue lolling out as he bumped against my legs in greeting.
“No…no I didn’t. I’m stupid, okay? And did I tell you about the computer?” I recapped what Andy had told me. “Auntie and I didn’t have copies of our records that were on there, either. We won’t make that mistake again, but there’s nothing we can do now.”
“Didn’t you think ahead? Honestly, Miss Florence is too bright to forget something like that.” He sounded irritated, which exacerbated my own mood.
“Listen, we made a mistake. It happens. Auntie got the computer installed shortly before I arrived, and neither one of us knew jack shit about using it. Jared was going to give us a quick rundown, but we never had the time to get together. So give us a break.”
After a pause, Kyle said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I sounded so harsh. You’re right. Mistakes happen to the best of us.” I knew he was thinking about his wife Katy, who had misjudged the weather when she ran afoul of a logging truck on a back road and lost her life. “If you can’t find your journal by tonight, come in and fill out a report. By itself, the loss could be coincidence. But with everything else that’s happened…you may be right. Everything sounds tied together.”
I thanked him and then began hunting through the house. We kept the place in fairly clean shape, though we really needed a housekeeper. As I dug through the desks and sideboards, I had no more luck than I had at the shop. My journal had a velvet burgundy cover and would have been easy to spot amidst all the green and yellow ledgers that Auntie had strewn around the house.
Beast, Beauty, and Delilah decided to join in the hunt. Beast and Beauty wanted to go for a walk and kept bringing me their leashes, while Delilah decided that the place to be was the inside of every drawer I was searching. I’d pull one open, pile everything on the floor, and she’d hop in the drawer. I’d take her out, replace the books and ledgers, and we’d move on to the next.
By the time I worked my way up to the third floor, Beauty and Beast had given up, off in search of more interesting diversions. Delilah, however, seemed to be having the time of her life. I ruffled her fur and gave her a sound smack on the head. She liked to be kissed.
“You’re a phony, you old biddy. You pretend to be so nasty, and then I turn around and there you are, in all your fuzzy, furry, glory.” We reached my bedroom, and I began searching. My vanity and dresser came up empty, but when I scrunched my head under the bed, I was in for a little surprise.
Over the past few months, I’d noticed little items disappearing. A bracelet, a string of sandalwood beads strung by Buddhist monks, a fuzzy glove. And now I knew where they’d gone: beneath my bed, along with a small treasure trove that included a dried-out, half-eaten piece of French bread and a couple of catnip mice. Delilah noticed me poking around and squeezed under the bed, hurrying up to the pile while chirping anxiously.
I laughed. “Are these yours, girl? Did you make yourself a nest of toys under here?” She looked so worried that I left everything except the bread. I didn’t need the bracelet or beads or glove for a while, and I knew where they were if need should arise. Delilah scanned my face, then, seeing I wasn’t going to take them away from her, curled up next to her treasures and promptly fell asleep.
The journal wasn’t in my perfumery, nor was it in my study. I leaned back in my leather chair, realizing that my initial fears were playing out. The journal was gone, and I was certain that somebody had stolen it. When Kyle had mentioned Elliot as a possible suspect, I’d been doubtful, but now I wondered. Could he be exacting revenge on me? He certainly hadn’t forgiven me for abandoning him when he was arrested, but would he go to these lengths?
Or
was it somebody else? How could Bebe Wilcox have gotten into the shop and stolen my notebook? Or had she delegated that responsibility to one of her cronies? I thought back to the last time I’d seen my journal…and then I knew. Sharon Wellstone. I’d pushed my journal to the side when she was trying to persuade me to join them. She must have seen it; she knew what it was since she’d been one of my clients. But she’d left empty-handed, so I really couldn’t be positive it was her. I fully believed her capable of pulling such a stunt, but when had she found the opportunity?
Killian Reed had accused her of being a thief and a liar. What had she stolen from him? It seemed a good idea to find out—and to talk to him more about the corporate espionage he’d hinted at during our talks. Not to mention, I just wanted to see the man again. As I stood up and dusted off my jeans, I decided it was time to pay a visit to Sharon. Which meant going back to the convention.
Chapter 8
AS I SPED along, weaving in and out of traffic, I called Tawny on my cell phone to let her know I was on the way. I also gave Auntie a quick buzz to let her know what I was planning. She agreed to my plan. We had to find some answers as to what the hell was going on. Venus Envy would sink like a stone if crap like this continued.
The conference seemed even more frantic, if that was possible, as I marched down the rows of vendors, pointedly ignoring the Belles, who seemed caught up in some more motivational cheerleading. They were huddled in a circle, chanting away. Maybe they’d morphed into some demon fan club who worshiped Bebe as their fiendish leader, I thought, then shook off the idea when I realized I was half-serious. I steered clear of their booth, taking an alternative route to reach Venus Envy’s stall.
Tawny waved when she saw me, and after a quick hello, I asked, “Did you move my recipe journal? Do you even remember seeing it?”
Her eyes wide, she quickly shook her head. “Nope…I never touch your stuff. I’m too nervous about messing something up. Maybe the cleaning lady?”
I hadn’t realized I was so intimidating. “God, am I that much of an ogre? I called Clarisse a little while ago and she basically said the same thing you just did, in the same tone of voice.” I glanced around. “Then let me ask you this. You remember when Sharon was in the store a few days ago? Did she come back later the same day?”
Tawny thought about it for a moment, then perked up. “Oh, yeah, she said she forgot something over by your station. But I had my hands full, so I told her to go take a look. She must have found it, whatever it was, because when I went over to help her, she was gone.”
I groaned. “Have you seen her today?”
With a pop of her gum, Tawny shook her head. “Not that I remember, but then again, I haven’t really been looking for her.” She brightened. “I’ve passed out most of the samples, though.” The table was nearly empty, and it looked like there’d been a big run on the Lazy Lilac line and the Juniper Girl products.
“Good job. Keep it up.” I decided to make a run past Killian’s stand before gathering my courage to stroll by Bebe’s Cosmetics.
I found myself a little anxious as I headed toward the Donna Prima booth and realized that for the first time in ages, I was worried about how I looked. Shaking off my fears—insecurity wasn’t pretty—I peeked in the booth, but Killian was nowhere to be seen. Trish, however, was minding the shop.
She gave me a knowing smile. “Killian’s in a meeting right now. He’ll be back later.” She paused, then said, “Do you want to leave a message?”
I might have taken offense except for the glint in her eye. I leaned across the table, returning her smile. “Hey Trish, yeah, I do want to leave him a note.” I jotted down my phone number, the words “Call me,” and handed her the paper. “Say, would you mind terribly if I asked you a couple questions?”
“That depends on what you want to know.” She was arranging a basket of what looked like rouge and lipstick samples.
“Have you seen Sharon Wellstone today?”
The smile on her face froze, then disappeared entirely as a cold edge entered her voice. “No, and I have no desire to see her.” She set the basket on the corner of the table. “If she’s smart, she’ll make herself scarce around here.”
So Trish didn’t like her either. Maybe I could dig up a little information on just what Sharon had done at Donna Prima. “I overheard Killian confront her the other day. He really doesn’t like her, does he?”
Trish clammed up. “I’m sure Killian will tell you what you want to know about that,” she said, but her voice was simmering, and I had the feeling Killian wasn’t the only one who had a bad opinion of Sharon.
I shrugged. “No problem. I just need to get in touch with her. Not that I want to,” I added, sighing, not sure how I was going to even speak to Sharon without losing my cool.
Trish gazed at me for a moment. “You look so delighted by the prospect,” she said, her lips curling into a faint smile. “I’ll make sure Killian gets your note.”
“Thanks, Trish. I appreciate it.” As I headed off, she gave me a little wave.
I was almost to Bebe’s booth when I stopped short. They had a new display—perfume oils. It hadn’t been there the day before. A warning bell went off in my head, and I glanced at the names.
Narcissus Nights. Tiaras and Roses. Dreamweaver. The sample cards were simply paper impregnated with scents, but a sinking feeling lodged in the pit of my gut, and I hurried back to Venus Envy’s booth. Tawny was talking to Allison Montgomery, a brilliant player in Gull Harbor’s social elite youth crowd. Allison had been a big help to me when I’d investigated Lydia Wang’s death. I tapped her on the shoulder.
“Persia, hello—” she started to say, but I held my finger to my lips.
“Hi Allison. Listen, I have a huge favor to ask you, and I need it done soon, if you would.” She blinked but waited for me to continue. “Listen, if you could go over to the Bebe booth and snag me several of their fragrance sampler cards, I’d appreciate it more than you could know. For reasons I’d rather not get into, I don’t want to be seen picking them up.”
Tawny raised her eyebrows and gave me a questioning look. I shook my head at her. Allison stared at me like I was nuts, but then shrugged.
“Sure, I don’t have a problem with that. I take it that I’m not to mention you at all?” Allison actually smiled, a rare occurrence outside her social set.
“Right. I appreciate this,” I said. “Get samples—two of each if possible—of Narcissus Nights, Tiaras and Roses, and Dreamweaver. Remember, don’t tell them I asked you to do this.”
Allison slipped off into the crowd.
Tawny leaned her elbows on the table. “Trouble?” she asked.
“Yeah, I think so. If it’s what I’m afraid it might be, then you’d better call Kyle, because I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself. I’ve had it with Bebe and Sharon, and I’m just about ready to deck the both of them.”
Tawny put a hand on my wrist. “Persia, keep your cool. If it’s as bad as you seem to think it is, you don’t want to make it worse by acting first and thinking later. At least, that’s what your aunt would say.”
Just then, Allison returned. She dropped the samples on the counter. “I know why you wanted me to do this,” she said in a whisper. “I hope you’re wrong, for both your sake and theirs. Because if I were them, I would not want you on my bad side.” With a glance at her watch, she added, “I’m late for a luncheon.” And with that, she dashed for the door.
I picked up the sack and motioned for Tawny to slide over. As I took a seat next to her on the bench, I peeked in the bag and took out the sample cards. Slowly, one at a time, I opened one of each and held them to my nose. After a few seconds, I silently handed the trio to Tawny, who followed suit. It took her a little longer, but then realization dawned, and she let out a little “Oh” of surprise.
“Persia, those are your blends.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Those bastards ripped me off…and
Sharon Wellstone is behind it. My journal disappeared after she showed up at the shop. Now I know where it went.” Dreamweaver was a replica of my Lite Dreams oil. Tiaras and Roses—Beauty Queen. And Narcissus Nights was my Narcissus Dreaming blend. Bebe’s Cosmetics Company had not only stolen my journal, but they’d replicated my recipes, changing the names. They were probably banking on getting them out to the public at large before I ever noticed, changing them just enough to void any claim I might have that they stole my creations.
Tawny watched me, a nervous look on her face. “You better go outside and walk it off before you do something stupid.”
I glanced up at her, my voice perfectly even. “Stupid? Now, would I go and do something stupid? I’m just going to go have a little talk with the Belles and casually drop the hint that perhaps they should reconsider stealing from me.”
Tawny shook her head. “Oh, Persia, I don’t like that look on your face.”
“Why? Just what on earth do you think I’m going to do? Break Sharon’s neck?” But she didn’t have to answer. She knew exactly what I was thinking—that I was going to march over there and wipe the plastic smiles off of Bebe, Sharon, and anybody else who got in my way.
As I stood, Tawny shoved her cell phone into my hand. “Call your aunt! Do it, or you’ll regret it later. I don’t blame you, but I’m telling you, Persia—you do not want to land in jail over this.”
I wavered. As much as I hated to admit it, Tawny was right. If I gave in to my instincts, Kyle would have to drag me out of the hall in handcuffs. I woodenly picked up the phone and started to dial Auntie, but then stopped. I was too angry to talk coherently.
“I’m headed to the beach. I have to calm down before I do anything.” Before Tawny could reply, I was out the door. As I headed toward my car, I did make one call—to Bran. I asked him to meet me at Cove Egret in fifteen minutes, then hung up before he could say more than an “Okay.”
With one leap, I cleared the door of the car, jumping into my Sebring. Now, if I could manage to keep my speed in check, I might make it to the ocean without an accident. I just prayed that Sharon Wellstone didn’t meet me on the road, because I’d have no hesitation in chasing her down and settling the score.
A Blush With Death Page 11