Silk Stalkings

by Diane Vallere

  Many of the young women had packed lunches, but when given the offer of an hour of free time, they eagerly left the shop. Across the street and to the right, about half of the distance to Lopez Donuts, was a small area of covered tables and carefully cut lawn that would be perfect for an impromptu picnic. The young women walked to the edge of the block and crossed at the crosswalk, holding up traffic. Yet another way the pageant impacted the town.

  Giovanni met me out front. “I don’t suppose you made arrangements for our lunch, did you?”

  I took the high road. “As a matter of fact, lunch is on me,” I said. “Head up the street two blocks and turn in at Tea Totalers. I’ll call Genevieve and tell her to expect you.”

  Giovanni raised an eyebrow. “You’ll never turn a profit if you keep throwing money around like this,” he said. He called to the ladies in the workroom and ordered them outside.

  “Where’s Jun?” I asked. “The lady who was here when you arrived?”

  “She’s inside. She said she brought her lunch. Do you want me to bring anything back for you?”

  “I can handle my own lunch,” I said.

  I headed back inside and saw Jun picking at the contents of a plastic container with a pair of chopsticks.

  “Jun, I’m treating for lunch at Tea Totalers. Do you want to go with the others?”

  “I bring gyoza. Very yummy. Steamed dumplings. You like to try?”

  “How did you steam them?”

  “Over coffee burner. I bring pot and use water from sink. Tomorrow I bring enough for everybody.”

  “That’s not necessary. I don’t know if everybody will be here tomorrow.”

  “Then I bring for you. I bet you like.”

  “I bet I would.” From the corner of my eye, I noticed a movement. When I turned, I saw the young woman who had been with Charlie standing on the steps that led to my apartment. I looked around for a moment and realized I hadn’t seen her inside during the entire consultations.

  “Hello?” I called. I walked over to the steps. “I haven’t met you yet. I’m Poly Monroe.”

  “I’m Lucy.”

  “Are you a contestant?” She nodded. “But I didn’t meet with you. Did you put your name in the bowl?”

  “I got here after you started pulling names. It’s okay. I don’t mind going last.”

  It was a blatant lie, and I didn’t know why she told it. I’d seen her enter the store when I was driving back from Lopez Donuts.

  Lucy seemed skittish. I wanted to ask her about how she knew Charlie, or at least tell her I’d seen the two of them together, but I didn’t want to spook her. She wore the name tag that the other young women wore, though considering she’d missed the check-in the previous day, I didn’t know how she’d gotten it. In her hand, next to a bent manila folder, was the packet that I knew had been sent out to each of the young women who had made it through the screening process.

  “What were you doing on the stairs this whole time?”

  “Playing with the cat,” she said. I looked down and saw Needles curled up on the stairs. He lifted his head off his paw and let out a polite little peep that was about half as loud as the one he’d bellowed that morning when he wanted food.

  “Is there a Pins?”

  “Yes, how’d you guess?”

  “I read the tag on his collar.”

  “His tag says Needles.”

  “They’re cats in a fabric store. I figured . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “You figured correctly.” I bent down and scratched Needles’s ears. His purr started up like a lawn mower engine. “Would you like to go over your sketch now? The rest of the contestants are going to be back by two and I think it would be best for you if you’re caught up with them.”

  She followed me downstairs to the wrap stand and opened her worn manila folder. Inside was a piece of lined notebook paper with a drawing on it. It was a simple sketch that spent no time at all on the head, face, hands, or feet of the person wearing the dress. It showed a strapless dress, cut straight along the bustline, with a thin self belt. Instead of the full ballroom skirts that so many of the other young women had chosen for their dresses, Lucy’s was a modest A-line style that fell to the floor. She’d colored it in with a shade of robin’s-egg blue that I knew another one of the young women had already chosen.

  “This is a beautiful dress,” I said. “Where did you get the idea?” I had asked each young woman this question. Not because I suspected anyone of copying a design, but I thought it was important to understand their stylistic influences.

  “Promise you won’t laugh?”

  “I promise.”

  “When I heard I had to design a dress, I went to the vintage store next door and saw pictures from an old newspaper. I have a pretty straight body so I thought this would look better on me than a sexy dress or a ball gown.”

  “Why would that make me laugh?”

  She shrugged. “I know it’s old-fashioned. That doesn’t bother me, but I’ll stick out like a sore thumb next to the others.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “No. Just the opportunity to spend time around others my age is great. At home, it’s just me and my dad. He’s the reason I’m here.”

  “Well, I think this is a beautiful dress and it’ll look great on you. We will have to pick a different color because someone already selected the robin’s-egg blue.”

  Her eyes darted toward the wall of fabric. “What about the one that looks green from one side and purple from the other?”

  She was referring to a bolt of transfugitive silk. It was among the most beautiful that I had, only because the color changed so significantly based on how the light hit it. More than one of the contestants had grabbed at it when first given a chance to choose, only to put it back when they saw the way the color morphed under light.

  “Are you sure you’d want that?” I asked.

  “I think it’s pretty,” she said.

  Not only was it pretty, but it would suit her perfectly. Her coloring was darker than some of the other young women, which gave her skin a natural glow that didn’t require sun. She had deep brown eyes and long, straight, dark brown hair, like an exotic princess in a Disney movie. It wouldn’t matter what kind of light was used at the pageant. Both the shimmery olive and the iridescent purple of the fabric would complement her complexion.

  “I’d like to see the sketch that inspired you. Jun, can you take Lucy’s measurements while I pop next door?” I asked. Behind us, Jun looked up and nodded once.

  I left the two of them and went to Flowers in the Attic. Lilly was behind the counter.

  “Hi, Lilly, there was a young woman in here, long, straight brown hair, big brown eyes. She was looking at some pages from an old newspaper. Do you know where that might be?”

  “Booth fifteen. I’ll show you.” She came out from behind the counter and led me past a display of vintage Bob’s Big Boy collectibles on the left and a small vignette laid out with white leather gloves, a beige mink wrap, and an assortment of pillbox hats on stands to the right. To the rear of the store, we came upon a wire stand that displayed vintage rhinestone brooches and antique cuff links. On top of the case was a floral tray with newspaper clippings that had been preserved in clear plastic sleeves.

  “Who was she?” Lilly asked.

  “One of the contestants.”

  “Funny. I’ve never seen her around San Ladrón.”

  “I’m sure if she wasn’t qualified, she wouldn’t have the appropriate paperwork. From what I hear, the selection committee is very cautious because of some trouble in the past.”

  “Are you referring to my niece?” she asked.

  I set the magazine pages down and put my hand on Lilly’s arm. “Have you or Violet ever talked to anybody about Elizabeth leaving?” I asked gently. It worried me to think that
either one of them had bottled up their emotions, letting them bubble to the surface once a year—or worse, creating a pressure cooker that threatened to explode.

  “What good is talking going to do?”

  “It might help you find an outlet for your anger.”

  “Violet finally found an outlet for her emotions and I don’t blame her. It took her long enough but she finally did what she had to do to put this nightmare behind her.”

  Sixteen

  Lilly’s words sent a chill through me. “What did she do?” I asked.

  “Something she should have done a long time ago. Don’t underestimate the lengths a parent will go to for her children, even after her children have left.” She wrote up a sales slip, checked the tax on the calculator, and counted out my money. I was short three cents so I took back all of the change and gave her Giovanni’s dollar bill.

  “She must have taken it very hard when her daughter left. I’ve heard people say there’s a lot of pressure on these young women. Does Violet blame herself?”

  “Everybody knows there’s only one person to blame for what happened to Elizabeth.”

  “That must be why it’s so hard for Violet. She’s not willing to see the role she played in driving her daughter away. And she can’t get the forgiveness she so desperately needs because Elizabeth cut all ties with her.”

  Lilly cut me off. “I’m not talking about Violet, I’m talking about Harvey Halliwell. He controlled every aspect of that pageant. Violet held her tongue for far too long. I’m just glad she had a chance to settle things over the weekend.”

  “She confronted Harvey on Saturday? At the Waverly House party?”

  Lilly carefully rolled the magazine page and slid it into a small cardboard tube. “They had a meeting on Sunday morning.”

  “About what?”

  “I believe that’s none of your business,” Lilly said. She held out the tube but pulled it away from me when I reached for it. “This is a painful time of year for Violet, and I’ll not have you slander her. If I find out you’re bringing up old wounds because you want to play detective, I’ll be sure to expose what I know about the young woman Charlie brought to your shop today.”

  “Lucy? What do you know about her?”

  “You’re not the only one who keeps an eye on the neighbors,” she said with a huff.

  I took the cardboard tube and left Flowers in the Attic. Lucy was consulting with Jun, and I had about twenty minutes left before the young women were scheduled to return. Once the sewing machines started buzzing, there would be no time for breaks. A life-altering opportunity hung in the balance, and it was up to me to make sure each one of the young ladies in my shop got the attention she deserved.

  Which meant I was going to need to find out what was going on with Charlie first.

  I crossed the street and went into Charlie’s Auto. Today, Van Halen had been replaced with Metallica. Charlie was under a car. The bottom half of her jutted out in a display of dirty blue coveralls and heavy black boots—even though it was summer. For all I knew, she wore her boots with her pajamas.

  I squatted down next to her legs and put my hands up to either side of my mouth. “Hey, you under there. It’s Poly. Got a minute?”

  “Not really,” she said. “What’s up?”

  “I need to talk to you about Lucy.”

  Her legs bent and she stepped her feet along the concrete until she’d pulled herself out from under the car.

  “I thought you weren’t going to ask a bunch of annoying questions.”

  “Well, guess what? Surprise. I can’t help myself.”

  “Fine,” she said. “I know you won’t go away until I tell you everything.” She looked down at her hands. They were black with grease. “Wait for me in my office.”

  Within a few minutes, Charlie and I were sitting face to face in her office. She leaned back in her chair and gave me a direct stare. I recognized it as an act of intimidation that worked on a lot of other people in town, the people who tried to worm their way into Charlie’s business. This time, Charlie’s business overlapped with my business, and, aside from the fact that she was my friend, I needed to know what was going on. So, to keep things even, I stared back. After a few seconds, she smiled and tipped her chin down.

  “You’re a quick study, I’ll give you that. What you need to know about Lucy? And this stays between us, got it?”

  “It’s not anything illegal, is it?”

  She rolled her eyes. “If I were doing something illegal, Clark would be on me like white on rice. You think I don’t know he’s been watching me?”

  “He’s worried about you.”

  “He has bigger things to worry about.” She chewed her lower lip for a second, took a drink from the mug on her desk, and looked at me again. “I don’t know what I was thinking, getting involved with the town sheriff.”

  “You like danger?” I said.

  “Clark’s a pussycat.”

  “Okay, how about this: maybe after all the time you spent running, you like the idea that there’s somebody who could look after you? And not just because he wants to, but because it’s part of his job?”

  “You’re skating on thin ice, Polyester.” She turned away from me and jiggled the mouse to the computer but didn’t do much more than stare at her screen. “Of course, I could say the same thing about you and Vaughn. You didn’t have much money growing up and now you’re dating a rich kid.”

  “It’s not the same at all. I don’t need somebody to pay my bills,” I said. A touch of defiance had crept into my voice.

  “And I don’t need someone to make sure I get home safe at night. Doesn’t change the fact that we’re both drawn to the unfamiliar.”

  Behind Charlie, I saw the pageant contestants returning to the fabric shop. If the black-and-white cat clock that hung on the wall was right, I had three minutes left, not nearly enough time to finish our conversation.

  “I don’t have time to get into this right now. I have to get back to Material Girl.” I stood abruptly and knocked the chair back a few feet. Charlie stayed seated and watched me leave. Traffic was steady enough that I had to hike to the intersection and wait for the signal to change. Charlie called out to me while I waited.

  The light changed. “Yo, Polyester—don’t you want to know why I sponsored Lucy to enter the pageant?”

  I stepped back on the curb. “I thought only family could sponsor a contestant?”

  “You thought right. Lucy is my sister.”

  Seventeen

  Under any other circumstances, I would have canceled where I was going and gone back inside with Charlie to get the story. Today, I couldn’t. Across the street the twenty contestants were filing into Material Girl. There was no way I was leaving my business in the hands of Giovanni.

  “We need to talk about this. I’ll come to your shop tonight. Don’t make plans,” I said.

  “I already have plans. Don’t expect me to be alone when you show up.”

  The walk signal changed to a countdown. I withheld the reaction Charlie had no doubt wanted and jogged across the street before the light changed again.

  Giovanni met me at the door. “You didn’t learn about long lunches from me,” he said.

  “Get out of my way.”

  The afternoon activities were simple. The seamstresses mocked up versions of the dresses from the muslin and checked the fit. Once that step was complete, the contestant was free to go—if she wanted. The seamstresses would continue to work until Giovanni called it a day. Depending on how far we got, I’d have to call in my ace in the hole and get rooms at the Waverly House. I had a feeling we were going to need them.

  After working things out with Adelaide, I leaned backward and spun the phone around, then started to dial again. I stopped before I finished and turned to Giovanni. “A little privacy, please?”

 
; “Does this have to do with the pageant?”

  “It has to do with business,” I said. “What did you do at To the Nines while we were all working?”

  “You’d be surprised.” He walked to the wall of silk and rearranged a couple of colors.

  I called the number. Beth Fields answered. “How’s everything going today?” she asked.

  “It’s great. The girls are working with the seamstresses now.”

  “They’re young ladies, not girls.”

  “I’m sorry. Nolene told me that but I keep forgetting. I didn’t mean anything derogatory—”

  “I know,” she said. “It comes down from our legal department. We can’t stop what the public says, but everybody attached to the pagent is to only refer to them as ‘young women,’ ‘young ladies,’ or ‘contestants.’ We don’t want anybody saying that there’s an impropriety attached to the competition.”

  I thought back to the first time Nolene had corrected me, and the story I’d heard about Violet’s daughter. “I’ll make more of an effort. I think we’re going to be working well into tomorrow, so I made arrangements for the seamstresses to stay over at the Waverly House.”

  “That’s a good idea. Send me the bill and we’ll reimburse you. Or do you want a cashier’s check? I can leave it with the security guard and you can pick it up tonight. How’s that?”

  “There’s a security guard at Halliwell Industries? Until what time?”

  “We keep a guard around the clock.”

  “Does anybody else work late?”

  “Until the pageant is over, Nolene will be here most nights. The crew setting up for the pageant has been putting in extra hours, and there are a couple of people in the labs and the greenhouses, too. The rest of the offices empty out at six, six thirty. Why?”

  “No reason,” I lied.

  “I’ll leave the money at the security desk. You can pick it up any time.”

  I thanked Beth, and hung up.