Kiss & Makeup: Beauty Secrets Mystery Book 2

by Stephanie Damore

  “Mrs. J., how do you always know where to find trouble?” I was only half joking.

  “Hush now. Who they digging up over there?”

  “No clue. I just tripped over the body.”

  “Again? You gotta quit doing that, sug’.” She had a point. Although, it had been a few months since I’d found my last dead body.

  I looked back and saw Detective Roxy staring me down yet again. “Gotta go,” I said to Mrs. J. and ran back to meet them. I gave Detective Roxy a look that said, “What, you didn’t say I couldn’t move.” I asked Finn if he was ready to go.

  “Are we good here?” he asked the detective. She waved us away and started typing something into her phone.

  Finn jogged back closer to the body to see if we could grab the stuff we had dropped. I left that task to him and thought of a question to ask Detective Roxy.

  “Quick question for ya… Where’s Detective Brandle?” I was hoping he had finally taken a vacation, but I doubted that was the answer.

  “Surgery, ulcer. He’ll be back in a few weeks.” She didn’t even look up from her phone.

  “Ah, good to know.” I should send him a care package. But skip the sweets, his wife would kill me. Detective Brandle was never very good at managing his sugar, and it probably wasn’t good for an ulcer either.

  Something caught my eye and I looked over before I could catch myself. It was the light reflecting off Paulette’s sequined blazer. Oh, that’s not good, I thought. She was the one who had been murdered and buried in the sand. I knew I wasn’t the only one who saw it when the collective gasp moved through the crowd. I looked back behind me and saw Mrs. J. backtracking through the crowd as fast as her white sneakers would take her.

  4

  It’s a little-known fact that I eat a lot of junk. Wait, who am I kidding? Everyone knows that the only vegetables I eat are the pickled ones in my bloody Mary. Sugar is my main food group. That, and maybe water. You know, to balance things out and eliminate all those free radicals. As a result, I forced myself to work out four times a week, which usually ended up being three times a week. No need to be an overachiever. Today was a cardio day, which meant running. Ugh, I hated running.

  Finn’s side of the bed had long been vacated and I could see the sunlight blasting in through the living room’s front bay window. Finn didn’t care about curtains as he was up every morning before sunrise (occupational hazard) and his bedroom didn’t have windows.

  I lay in bed for ten more blissful minutes before getting up to start my day. I refused to store anything at Finn’s. Not even a toothbrush. But I did keep an overnight bag in my truck for these occasions, which were becoming more frequent, whether I wanted to admit it or not.

  I quickly retrieved my bag, freshened up, and threw on a pair of running leggings and a tank top. The June heat was sweltering. I would be a sweaty mess in thirty seconds. I planned on rewarding myself with a chai latte and coffee cake from Sweet Thangs when I was done (see, what did I say about my eating habits?), but I didn’t have to. Finn had already left a strawberry cheesecake muffin next the coffee pot for me. He was right: he did know me well. Even better, he didn’t try to change me. Aria, bless the girl, would’ve left me a carrot muffin or banana bread with flaxseed in it or something nasty like that. I considered Aria’s regular diet a form of torture.

  While I ate the muffin, I thought back to yesterday. It had been a birthday to remember, for sure. Finn’s charm bracelet glimmered off my wrist in the sun. I thought about taking it off. It wasn’t like I had to wear it twenty-four, seven, but I didn’t want to lose it either. I decided to keep it on until I got home and could put it in my jewelry box. I thought back to Paulette and her comment to Mrs. J. yesterday. “Over my dead body,” she’d said, which is exactly what I had tripped over. Super ironic, but in a horrible way. I also thought about Detective Roxy. Foxy Roxy was a force. She seemed like a good cop, but a bad people-person. She would have to ditch the whole staring-you-down bit; that wouldn’t go over well here in small-town USA. You wanted people to like you. After all, one catches more flies with honey. I was glad I wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore. I only hoped Mrs. J. would play it cool when Detective Roxy came calling; and believe me, she would come calling as soon as she heard about their little cat fight yesterday. Make that a whole lifetime of cat fights. Mrs. J. better check her mouth before opening it to Detective Roxy. That would only get her into trouble.

  I ate the last cheesecake-filled bite and smiled in satisfaction. Time to run. I tried to stifle my groans. Thankfully, I had an agenda to stick to for the day. Tomorrow was the farmers market and my big business debut. I wanted to make sure I had enough product ready to rock and roll, which meant a stop by the natural food store for raw sugar, coconut oil, and bees wax, and then a quick stop by the apothecary for more essential oils. Everything in my products was all-natural, the closer to nature the better. I just had to get this stupid run out of the way first. So, my plan was to run there, downtown around the city squares, pop into those two stores and then head home and get to work.

  I left my truck at the marina and set out from there. It was early by my standards, about nine AM, but Seaside Days were in full effect. The carnival rides were already roaring to life and I thought long and hard about an elephant ear. Those things were the best. But I did already have a cheesecake muffin. No, I will demonstrate some will power and start running. In the opposite direction. As quickly as possible. However, the sidewalk sales congested the streets and had me rethinking my plan, again. I wonder if shopping burns any calories? It burned through the cash in my wallet, for sure. Nope, I must move forward.

  Once I made it through the heaviest retail section of the strip, the crowds thinned out and my run picked up pace. I saw Military Mary straight ahead, doing laps around the park square. Against my better judgement, I decided to try to catch up with her and congratulate her on her win yesterday, and see if she had heard about Paulette. Sweet sugar, that woman can run. Either that, or my running game was seriously lacking. Probably a combination of both.

  This was a terrible plan.

  My calves burned and I was only about three minutes into it. Why did I want to talk to her anyway? Did I think she killed Paulette? I had a feeling Mary was a very sore loser. I lost sight of her for a few minutes and was ready to give up only to realize that she was lapping me. She came up from behind, her gait smooth and strong. Here I am, all huffing and puffing, and there she is breathing all calm like. I was really starting to not like her.

  “Hey...congratulations...on your big...win...yesterday,” I puffed out when she caught up to me.

  “Thank you.” Mary looked straight ahead. She picked up her pace, ready to put me behind her, but I followed suit.

  “You...seemed...confident.”

  “Of course. One doesn’t win by accident.”

  Uh-huh. “How...so?” Could you slow down a bit, lady? Seriously, I’m dying here!

  Mary stopped short and I ran right into her. “Oof, sorry.”

  Mary looked at me like I was an idiot and then started jogging again. At least this time a little bit slower.

  “You train. Winners are made, not born,” she said.

  “In the kitchen?” I wanted to make sure we were talking about the baking competition.

  “Where else?” And then she picked up the pace again and I let her pull away.

  Wow, she is … hardcore. I had a feeling she tackled everything in life like it was a competition. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Wonder just how far she’d go to win?

  I didn’t see Mary for the rest of my run, which admittedly wasn’t as long as it should have been. With exercise checked off my list, I ran, or rather walked, and completed my other two errands and was ready to get home and get to work when I spotted Mayor Potts, pacing in front of the courthouse steps. He had on a cheery yellow suit, but he looked downright distraught. His usual limp was a bit more pronounced, probably from all the extra walking he had bee
n doing. He didn’t have his cane with him, but boy, he could’ve sure used it. I was planning on completely ignoring him and continuing past when he made eye contact. I couldn’t ignore the worry I saw there.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “Such dreadful news. So unfortunate,” Mr. Potts said.

  That it was. I thought back to the comment Mrs. J. made about he and Paulette having relations. He must have been devastated to lose someone that he cared so much about. “I’m very sorry to hear,” I started to say...

  “Just, the worst timing. I know how many people rely on Seaside Days for their businesses.”

  “Oh…” Well, there was that. Not really the worst of it, in my opinion.

  “And the press. Of course, the local paper downplayed it, at my request, but I can’t promise anything. Not when the rest of the news gets out.”

  “What rest?” I hadn’t heard anything.

  “Poisoned. That’s what I’ve been told. Such a mess. I hope it doesn’t affect turnout this weekend.”

  I suppose it was the mayor’s job to be concerned about things like that, but I had to be honest, he was in way over his head. I hoped he didn’t have anything official to do with the investigation. He probably wasn’t even supposed to be talking about it.

  “The farmers market, silent auction ... they all need to be big hits,” he continued. “If this festival fails, I guarantee I’ll lose the election to McGovern’s boy.” Mayor Potts scowled and then he started to pace once more. I stumbled for the right words.

  “Mayor Potts,” Detective Roxy called out, motioning with her finger for the mayor join her. She had just walked down the courthouse steps, annoyance stamped on her face. I had a feeling he was about to get scolded. Personally, I was grateful for the interruption.

  “Oh yes, keep it very hush-hush. I’m not supposed to be saying anything.”

  I was right. “Got it, and I’m sorry about your loss.”

  “What? Oh, yes, yes. So sad. Very heartbreaking.”

  He didn’t look all that heartbroken, but I knew people grieved differently. I turned to leave when I heard Detective Roxy say, “Ziva, one minute.” I gave an internal sigh. I didn’t have time for this. My products needed to set for so many hours before they would be ready to sell tomorrow. I really needed to get a move on. I waited rather impatiently for my turn, and Detective Roxy walked over to me a moment later.

  “I heard this wasn’t the first dead body you’ve found,” she said by way of introduction. Today, she had favored a pretty pink lipstick with a soft blue eyeshadow. Both look good on their own, but mixing them together was another beauty no-no. I wondered if I should’ve let her know that. Right now probably wasn’t the best time. I got back to her question.

  “No, actually it was the second. Wait, no make that the third. Last time, it was two bodies, but one murder so…” I wasn’t sure if that made things better or not. Shut up, Ziva, so you can get out of here!

  “And you just happen to keep finding these bodies?” Detective Roxy looked incredulous.

  “Well, yeah, it’s part of my job. Not finding dead bodies, I mean selling beauty products.” I was not doing a good job of explaining myself. Probably because I was in a hurry. I tried to clarify, “I sell Beauty Secrets products, so I’m in clients’ homes a lot. It just so happened that I walked in on a murder this past spring.”

  “And this time?” Detective Roxy asked.

  “Bad luck?” I offered. Surely, the two couldn’t be related.

  Detective Roxy did the eying-me-up thing again. So annoying. I didn’t know what she expected to find. If she didn’t stop, I was about to mention her makeup faux pas.

  “What can you tell me about Mrs. Birdie Jackson?”

  Oh boy. Maybe we should go back to discussing the dead bodies. I wondered how close I should stick to the truth… Probably should leave out the part about Mrs. J. threatening Paulette at the bake off and being at the crime scene last night. I stuck with, “Mrs. J.’s great. If you want to know anything going on in town, she’s the person to ask,” which was totally true.

  “Would you say she and Paulette were friends?” It was obvious Detective Roxy already knew the answer to that question. Why else would she ask?

  “Er, not exactly. They’d known each other for a long time though, that I know.” See, I was still being honest, just leaving out the details. You know, the parts Detective Roxy really wanted to know. Sorry, but she wasn’t getting that information from me. Common knowledge or not, I never talked bad about a client, especially Mrs. J., who was also practically family.

  “Listen, I’ve really gotta run. You know tomorrow’s the big farmers market and I have a lot of work to do.” I held up my two brown shopping bags. “But if you have any other questions, you can stop by there and I’ll try to help you out.” I didn’t even wait for her to reply. I just gave a quick sorry (not sorry) and jogged off.

  The first product I needed to make was my lotion bars, as they took the longest to set. Tomorrow, I was featuring sweet orange, lavender, and my favorite—chocolate. The bars got their scents from essential oils, except for the chocolate one. That scent was curtesy of natural cocoa butter. Anytime I could include chocolate in my products, whether edible or not, I was all about it.

  I had just finished pouring the bars into their molds when Aria and Christina stopped by. Holy moly. Talk about looking rough. Is Aria still wearing her pajamas? She wasn’t the messy-hair-don’t-care type. Aria usually cared. A lot. I often said she could make yoga pants look glamorous, but she was not rocking the pajama pants. Not even a little bit.

  “You look horrible,” I told her, holding the door open for her to walk in. Christina followed, looking like night and day with her pressed Oxford button down and penny loafers. Her braided hair was twisted up into a sophisticated French twist. I wasn’t sure if Aria had even brushed her hair.

  Aria walked right past me into my kitchen and began rummaging through my cupboards.

  I leaned in and whispered to Christina, “Has she been like this all morning?”

  “All morning.” Christina plopped an accordion folder down on my kitchen counter. “And we have work to do. I need her to focus.”

  “Yikes.” I meant that in more ways than one.

  Aria rejoined us with a king-sized candy bar and took a giant bite. Sweet sugar, something’s definitely up. The only chocolate the girl usually ate was the gourmet, eighty-five percent, dark-chocolate variety.

  “Can you give us a few minutes?” I asked Christina.

  Christina looked over to Aria, but she was totally zoned out, devouring her candy bar. I knew Christina didn’t want to, but she wouldn’t be rude either. “I suppose.” Christina walked over to the living room and took a seat. I would’ve preferred her to walk back out the front door but, ah, whatever.

  I pulled a bottle of water out of my fridge and gave it to Aria. She was going to need it to dilute her system and counter the sugar high she was about to experience. One needed to build up a tolerance before devouring a candy bar of that size. I should know, I was a professional.

  “What’s going on?” I semi-whispered to her.

  Aria looked at me with big tears in her eyes. I made a sour face. Did I mention how much I hated it when people cried?

  Aria knew that.

  “Sorry.” She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand and took a deep breath. I handed her a tissue from the kitchen counter and gave her a minute to compose herself.

  “You good?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, so what’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Everything!” Aria threw her hands in air and then dabbed her eyes with the tissue. “For starters, our kids hate one another.” Vince had a daughter, Amelia, from a previous marriage. She was six years old, just a couple months older than Aria’s son Arjun, and from what I had heard, they didn’t like to share. Aria said it was like having twins who hated one another. “And Vince has to go out of town now. And did y
ou hear about Paulette? She was poisoned. Poisoned! And you know what she ate yesterday? Mrs. J.’s cake. I can’t have her make my wedding cake!”

  Aria was about to lose it with the tears. I had to talk some sense into her. “Hang on a sec. Maybe Paulette was poisoned, but that doesn’t mean Mrs. J.’s to blame. Who knows what else Paulette ate yesterday. Maybe it was one of the other contestants’ desserts or a fast food burger gone bad. I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself.”

  “And you want me to chance that with my wedding cake?” Aria looked incredulous.

  “You think she really poisoned Paulette? I guarantee if she did, it wasn’t an accident.” I slapped my hand over my mouth because both of us knew that was true. In fact, I remembered Mrs. J.’s comment from yesterday afternoon about wanting to put a little something extra in Paulette’s slice of cake. “Let me talk to Mrs. J. and see what she knows. It’s not like she has poison lying around her kitchen.” At least, I didn’t think she did. Aria didn’t look convinced. “You just focus on your family, let me worry about the rest.” I wasn’t sure when I would have the time to worry about the rest with everything I had going on this week, but somehow, I would make it work. I sealed the deal with a smile that looked more confident than I was, and a promise to be Mrs. J.’s assistant baker on the big day. She probably wouldn’t let me, but hey, no need to bring that up.

  “Feel better?” Christina asked as she came back into the kitchen. Aria nodded. I wrapped her in a big hug.

  “Why don’t you go get a wheat grass smoothie or something like that? Treat yo’ self,” I said with a half laugh, even though I was mostly serious. Wheat grass made me gag, but I knew Aria loved it. “And here, take a jar of this. I’m still fine-tuning the formula, so it’s not for sale yet, but it’s a skin soothing cream. It should help with whatever you’ve got going on.” I motioned to her mess of a face. I was hoping the tea tree oil and honey found in the cream would help calm her skin. A trip to the dermatologist probably wouldn’t be a bad idea either.