Silenced in Sequins

by Debra Sennefelder

  Kelly stacked the bins together and carried them back to the storeroom. She then firmed up her plan to take a drive to Queens to talk to the former LIL crew member tomorrow. Breena said she would come in and cover Pepper’s shift. The extra pay would help buy a doll her daughter wanted for Christmas. With the boutique dealt with, Kelly hoped her drive into the city would result in some information that could help clear Wendy.

  Clearing Wendy took a back seat to a spur-of-the-moment decision to meet Mark for dinner. Yes, they’d discussed meeting for coffee, but after a text exchange at closing time for the boutique, they agreed that, since they both had to eat, the only logical decision was that they eat dinner together.

  No pressure. It was only dinner.

  “No pressure. It’s only a meal, not a date,” Kelly repeated to herself while tossing aside dress after dress, blouse after blouse, and skirt after skirt. She wanted a casual, stylish, it’s just dinner look but not too casual or too stylish or this really isn’t an important meal look. By the time she finally decided on what to wear, she was running late, and her bedroom looked like a tornado had roared through it.

  She fed Howard in record time, grabbed her wool coat from the hall closet, and dashed across the street to Gino’s. After shrugging out of her coat and hanging it up, she found Mark seated at a cozy table with a bottle of wine, waiting for her. She made her apologies, and they awkwardly kissed on the cheeks. On their one and only date last month, they had said good night with a kiss that left her body tingling, right down to her toes. A kiss on the cheek seemed so unsatisfying, but it probably was a smart thing, considering they weren’t on a date. They were just having dinner.

  “You look beautiful.” Mark pulled out a chair for Kelly.

  “Thank you.” She’d finally decided on a Peter Pan–collared jersey top and a tweed skirt with her wedge-heeled tall boots. Short on time, she’d swept her hair up into a messy bun and freshened her makeup. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  Mark returned to his seat. He wore a V-neck sweater and chinos. Unless he was meeting with a client, he had a very casual dress code in the office. “No problem. I only got here a few minutes ago. I had a last-minute call with a client. Wine?” He lifted the bottle.

  “Yes, please.” With her glass filled, she lifted it and gazed over the rim at Mark. The flicker of the candle on the table, the low lighting in the dining room, and instrumental background music all came together and created a magical moment. She was sitting across from the man . . .

  “Mark?”

  An all-too-familiar voice interrupted Kelly’s thought.

  “What are you doing here?” Detective Wolman had approached the table from behind Kelly and continued to her brother, coming into full view of Kelly. “Miss Quinn, isn’t this a surprise?”

  Kelly couldn’t have agreed more.

  “Hey, sis.” Mark smiled as his gaze traveled between his sister and Kelly. But his smile quickly vanished. Kelly guessed he was seeing that neither woman was pleased at the moment.

  The magical moment was definitely gone.

  “I didn’t realize you two had started seeing each other again,” Wolman said.

  “We’re not . . . it’s just . . .” The legal eagle was at a loss for words.

  Kelly took a gulp of her wine. “We’re having dinner, Detective Wolman.” Kelly set her glass down while silently praying Mark wouldn’t invite his sister to join them.

  “Please, join us,” Mark said.

  Kelly cringed inwardly. Why, why, why?

  “Thanks, but I’m picking up takeout. Late night at the office. I have a murder to investigate.” The detective’s lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes narrowed on Kelly.

  “Terrible thing. Any leads, yet?” Mark seemed oblivious to the tension bubbling off of his sister. Or maybe he was accustomed to it and no longer acknowledged it.

  Wolman turned her face toward her brother. “You know I can’t discuss an ongoing case. Especially in front of a witness.”

  Kelly leaned forward. “That would be me.” She took another gulp of wine.

  Mark’s brows knitted in confusion. “Well, don’t let us keep you, sis.”

  Wolman stared at Kelly and Mark for a beat. “Have a nice dinner.” She turned and continued to the takeout section of the restaurant.

  Kelly’s shoulders slumped, and she leaned back. Fat chance of having a nice dinner now.

  “Are you okay?” Mark pushed aside his glass and reached for Kelly’s hand.

  She liked the touch of his warm hand on hers. She also liked his kisses. And his Smokin’ McHottie Lawyer sexy grin. What she didn’t like was his sister.

  “She hates me.”

  “No, she doesn’t. She’s protective.”

  “And suspicious.”

  He nodded. “It’s part of her job. A part she takes home with her. Give her time. She’ll warm up.”

  “You promise?”

  He grinned. “I do. Now, how about we order? I’m starving.”

  “Sounds good.” She let go of his hand and opened the menu their waiter dashed over with. She peeked over the top of the menu and smiled. Maybe they were on a date after all.

  Chapter Twelve

  Breena arrived to open the boutique and said she could stay until Kelly returned. She didn’t have to work at Doug’s Variety Store until Sunday. Knowing she didn’t have to rush eased Kelly’s nerves about driving into Queens and meeting Patrice Garofalo.

  She’d messaged Patrice on social media and asked to meet. Kelly had a hard time explaining why she wanted to talk because she wasn’t sure herself. She had a feeling in her gut that Patrice could help shed light on Diana’s murder, at least where Wendy was concerned. Then again, if that were the case, the police would’ve talked to the former LIL employee. However, in one of Patrice’s messages back to Kelly, she said they hadn’t contacted her. So this might be a complete waste of time on Kelly’s part.

  They agreed to meet in a small coffee shop around the corner from Patrice’s apartment building in Jackson Heights. When she entered the shop and approached the table, Kelly recognized the twentysomething from her online profile picture.

  “Hello, Patrice. I’m Kelly. Thank you for meeting with me.” Kelly pulled out a chair, and it scraped along the battered floor. As she sat, a larger man brushed by her and grunted.

  “I’m not sure how I can help you.” Patrice’s dark hair fell loosely on her shoulders, and her brown eyes were hooded and bloodshot. In front of her was a large coffee and a tablet she tapped to close the document she had been working on.

  “Neither am I right now.” After a quick inspection of the table, Kelly chose to set her tote bag on her lap. She wondered when was the last time anyone had wiped down the tables in the coffee shop.

  Patrice nodded as she lifted her disposable cup. Her fingers wrapped around the cup, giving Kelly a full view of her high-maintenance manicure. Her stiletto-shaped nails must have required frequent appointments. One finger on each hand had an intricate design of miniature crystals. Patrice had also loaded her fingers with silver-tone rings. Feeling a little self-conscious, Kelly slid a glance at her own hands. They hadn’t had a proper manicure in months.

  “I’m sorry Diana died. She was a nice lady. Well, at least to me.” Patrice took a long drink of her coffee.

  “She wasn’t nice to the crew or her castmates?”

  Patrice laughed—but not in a jovial way. No, her laugh was dark. “No one on that show is nice. But it is what it is.” She shrugged. “People love to watch the lives of those uppity ladies who spend more money on one lipstick than I spend on a day’s worth of food. They don’t want to see someone like me struggling to pay the bills. No, they prefer to watch the lifestyles of women like Diana and Wendy.”

  “Do you know Wendy is a prime suspect in Diana’s murder?”

  Patrice’s mou
th fell open. “You’re not serious? She couldn’t have murdered Diana.”

  “They had a public feud. It sounds like it was nasty.”

  “All of those women had feuds. It was good for ratings. Not one of them has ever regretted starting a fight. Look, the best thing to have happened to Diana’s career was her cheating husband leaving her. The whole incident made her relevant again, which infuriated Wendy. She wanted to be the queen bee.”

  “But not enough to want to kill Diana?”

  Patrice shook her head. “I got the feeling Wendy was all bark and no bite. But I guess I could be wrong.”

  A screaming toddler drew Kelly’s attention to the counter. His mother fussed to quiet him, but he kept wailing, forcing her to retreat from the shop. Kelly turned her gaze back to Patrice. Dressed in a well-worn denim shirt, unbuttoned to reveal her ample cleavage, the young woman seemed to be okay with talking about the show, and Kelly hoped she’d be okay with talking about the incident at the airport. If she wasn’t, Kelly couldn’t blame her. She knew what it felt like being handcuffed and hauled off to jail, though Kelly wasn’t placed in a cell or officially arrested, only detained for an interview.

  “I hope you don’t mind me asking about the incident in Florida. Why did Diana help you?”

  “The incident? Nice way to phrase it. My arrest. Talk about bogus. Those weren’t my drugs. I swear. I have no idea why Diana stood beside me and forced Hugh to pay my legal expenses.”

  “Did you ever ask her?”

  “Several times, and she would only say I didn’t deserve what happened. And she didn’t deserve to die. Look, I’m sorry for what’s going down with Wendy, but I don’t know how I can help you. Why are you even asking about this? Are you a relative of Wendy’s or something?”

  Kelly would be option number two—or something. “No, I’m not a relative. She asked me to help her.”

  “Wow. Wendy asks no one for help. She must be mellowing or she’s terrified. Probably scared. She’s not going to mellow. Ever.” Patrice drained her coffee cup.

  “Do you think it’s possible someone on the show planted the cocaine on you?” Kelly wasn’t sure where the question came from. It just popped into her head.

  Patrice nodded. “Yes. Absolutely. I can’t think of any other way it got into my bag. I didn’t put it there. Look, whatever motivated Diana to help me out, I certainly appreciated it. I wasn’t in a position to afford a decent attorney. It has turned my whole life upside down, though it’s not completely ruined.”

  “I admire your positive outlook.”

  “Hey, sometimes life throws you a curve. But I learned one thing. One very important thing.”

  “What?”

  “Never. Trust. Anyone.”

  Those weren’t the words of wisdom Kelly expected to hear. But considering what Patrice had gone through, she had reason to be wary of people—that was, if she was set up. Kelly couldn’t imagine living her life never trusting anyone. She’d be one lonely gal.

  Patrice leaned forward. “For what it’s worth, my money’s on Janine as the murderer. She wanted Diana out of the way.”

  “Do you know anything about a restraining order Janine had on Diana?”

  Patrice let out a low whistle. “Restraining order? No idea about it. Sounds like their animosity had sunk to a whole new level. Or Janine was just being overly dramatic.”

  “For ratings? Then why has it been kept a secret? There’s nothing online about it.”

  “How did you find out about it?”

  Kelly worked her lower lip. Should she confess to snooping through Janine’s papers? Probably not. “I heard someone mention it.”

  Patrice nodded her head. “Sure you did.”

  Patrice’s tone and skeptical look told Kelly she wasn’t being believed for a minute. “Thank you for meeting me.”

  “Not sure if I was much help.” Patrice stood, swept up her cup and tablet, and walked away.

  Kelly dug into her tote bag to check her phone. There was a message from Julie, her closest work friend from Bishop’s. She returned the call.

  “What’s going on in Lucky Cove? Serena is bat crazy,” Julie said.

  “Why?”

  “A television producer called wanting information on you. He told Serena you’re going to be on a reality show. You’ve been holding out on me.”

  Kelly could hear the pouting in her friend’s voice. “No, I’m not. His name is Hugh McNeil, and I’ve told him I’m not interested in his show.”

  “Are you bat crazy? Why not? It could be a great marketing opportunity for the boutique. Girl, you need to reconsider.”

  “I appreciate the advice, but my answer is still no.” Kelly stood and slung her tote bag over her shoulder. She made her way through the crammed tables to the exit and emerged out onto Astoria Boulevard.

  “Party pooper. Here I thought I’d know someone famous.” Julie laughed.

  “Sorry to disappoint. Look, I’ve gotta go. Call you later.” Kelly disconnected the call and returned the phone to her bag. Now she could zip up her coat. The air was cold and biting. She walked along the sidewalk to where she’d parked her car but stopped when she came to a nail salon. She looked at her hands. She’d been working nonstop since taking over the boutique, and it was high time for a little pampering. She headed for the salon’s entrance.

  * * * *

  The holiday spirit was kicking in. Kelly splayed her fingers and admired her manicure. She’d opted for the Candy Cane, alternating stripes of red and white nail polish. For the drive back to Lucky Cove, she found a Christmas music station on the satellite radio and hummed along to many of her favorite songs.

  By the time she arrived home, the Christmas spirit had infused her. Where were those stockings Pepper wanted to hang on the mantels? She had to find them because she was putting them up tonight. With the Jeep parked in its spot behind the boutique, she reached for her tote bag. Digging for her house keys, she found the tin of mints she’d been looking for. She dropped it into the interior side pocket. As she pulled out her keys, her phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Gabe.

  You should know. Summer was in a car accident. Not hurt.

  Kelly gasped.

  When the shock settled, her fingers itched to text back to Gabe to let him know some news shouldn’t be shared through text messages. Instead, she typed a generic thanks and opened her contacts app to call her uncle.

  The news had knocked her holiday spirit to the wayside. Impatiently, she waited for her uncle to answer her call. While waiting, she said a silent prayer Juniper wasn’t in the car with Summer when the accident occurred.

  “Unbelievable day, Kelly,” her uncle said in a shaken voice.

  “What happened? Is Summer okay? Is she in the hospital? What about Juniper?” Kelly’s questions were rapid, to match her heartbeat.

  “Juniper was here at home when the accident happened.”

  Kelly expelled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Thank goodness.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it. Summer lost control of her car. She said it happened so fast she’s not sure what happened. She said it felt as if the brakes weren’t working. They serviced the freakin’ car a month ago! I swear, if I find out Chuck missed something . . . What? I’ll be right there. I have to go, Kelly.”

  “Sure. I understand. I’ll come by tomorrow before the boutique opens to see Summer.” Kelly ended the call and stared out the windshield. Ralph took meticulous care of his vehicles. He was proud of them because they conveyed his status to the world. He had them serviced on schedule, had them washed regularly, and replaced them for newer models every two years. Summer’s brakes wouldn’t have just failed. An unsettling feeling settled in the pit of Kelly’s stomach.

  Summer was being considered for the vacant spot on LIL Diana had left, and Diana had been murdered. W
as Summer’s accident simply a case of mechanical failure or a murder attempt?

  * * * *

  After learning about Summer’s accident, Kelly wasn’t into holiday decorating. She let Breena go home early and worked until closing time. With the boutique locked up for the night, she climbed the stairs to her apartment. After a quick change into a pair of cozy fleece pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, she swept her hair into a ponytail and decided to spend the evening working on her article for Budget Chic.

  She had the best of intentions to work. Instead, she stood at the dresser, staring at her granny’s collection of fashion jewelry, set out on a porcelain tray. She’d sorted through the jewelry, detangled the delicate necklace chains and organized the rings. She wasn’t sure what she’d do with the jewelry. Perhaps buy a jewelry box to store the pieces in. None of them was her style, but getting rid of them didn’t feel right to her.

  A small smile touched her lips as she fingered one necklace. The faux stone was a deep purple set in a simple setting. She remembered her granny wearing it one Easter. Kelly’s fingers moved over to the rings. She’d lined them up in a straight row. Over the years, her granny’s ring size had fluctuated. Most of the rings coordinated with the necklaces. Martha had liked sets.

  Though, there was one ring that didn’t match any necklace. It was a simple gold band.

  Kelly picked it up and studied it. It looked like a wedding band. Simple, thin, and gold. Kelly knew that Martha had been buried with the band Kelly’s grandfather had given her on their wedding day.

  Kelly’s mouth gaped open. Was the ring she was holding from Marvin Childers? She stepped back to the bed and dropped to the mattress. She didn’t take her gaze off of the ring.

  “Why didn’t Granny tell anyone? Why was it a secret?”