Kiss & Makeup: Beauty Secrets Mystery Book 2

by Stephanie Damore

  Detective Roxy snapped me out of it. “Ziva, you have a minute? I want to chat with you.”

  I squinted my eyes at Justine for added measure. She stuck out her tongue. I thought about smacking her across the face, but that probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do in front of a cop.

  Detective Roxy and I stepped outside and walked a few steps down the street.

  “We got a match on your lotion. Urushiol,” she said.

  “Come again?” What was it with all this toxic talk lately? I needed a chemistry degree just to make sense of it all.

  “Poison ivy, well the compound that causes you to itch, anyway. Remember I told you it was like I had poison ivy? Well, I had them look for it, and we got lucky.”

  “No flipping way.” I was about to turn on my heel and march back into Sweet Thangs. Detective Roxy as a witness or not, I was going to pummel Justine. I swore on all things holy that I would get back at her.

  “Don’t, she’s already left.” Detective Roxy seemed to be a mind reader. Or maybe I was just that transparent.

  “Can’t you arrest her? Take her in for questioning? Something? Anything so I don’t have to just sit around and wait for her to do something else.” Because honestly, I wasn’t about to sit around much longer and do nothing. I was already planning how to take matters in my own hands, and well, not go to jail for it.

  “We need to have some evidence or an eye witness, something more than just your hunch.”

  “Years of disdain doesn’t count?”

  “Not when arresting someone. I tried talking to her, but she didn’t offer up much. Do you have anything else?”

  “Not yet,” I said with a mischievous smile.

  “I did not hear that, but let me know what you find out.”

  “Don’t worry, I will.”

  Running into Justine reminded me that I needed to rebrand my business. Bye-bye, Serenity Now. I didn’t even want to try and salvage that company’s reputation. I needed to come up with a new name, which I was more than okay with as Serenity Now had been Mrs. DeVine’s idea. I went back through my original ideas. I wanted to incorporate a part of me into my business’s name, but still allow people to know what the business was all about. Hence why Chocolate Lover was out. I ended up writing up a list of all the adjectives that described me (smart, sassy, sophisticated. Okay, maybe not that last one), and things that I loved (chocolate, cake, sugar, and shoes) to come up with Sugar & Sass Skincare. Now I just needed to contact my designer and get her to mock up a new logo, and I needed to file for a new LLC license and DBA papers, and update my website. It was going to be a heck of a lot of extra work, but worth it. I thought once I had all the branding in place and market research to back it up, Mrs. DeVine would be totally cool with the change. At least, I hoped she would.

  That night at 6:45 PM, after spending all afternoon working on the rebrand, I parked in front of the conservatory and headed inside. The conservatory was housed in a large, glass dome building with open-aired gardens and smaller glass houses connected to it. The architecture was impressive, the flowers gorgeous, and my allergies in check, thanks to the mountain of antihistamines I loaded up on before class. Good thing they were the non-drowsy kind.

  I had no idea what to expect. The course description didn’t mention anything about supplies, but like a good student, I brought a notebook and pen along. I wondered if I should’ve brought gardening gloves. I was not touching anything.

  I walked down the hall, past the auditorium, and into a small classroom on the right. Several potted plants some with vines, or covered in tiny hairs, and others with beautiful blooms were displayed on a metal table at the front of the room. Next to each one was a sign that said DON’T TOUCH and POISONOUS with the skull and crossbones image above it. Just looking at the plants, I would have never guessed they were poisonous. Thirty people or so were already in the room. The way they chitchatted told me that they all mostly knew one another. A woman named Inez walked in after me. Inez was one of my beauty clients who loved to talk as much as she loved her flowers. She had been born with the gift to gab, as my nan used to say. She was also Vince’s grandmother, although she called him Tico. I had no idea they were related until I saw him over at her house one day, but that’s another story.

  “Well, hello, Ziva. I wasn’t expecting to see you here today. Such a wonderful surprise!” Inez took a seat next to me. “I had no idea you were into gardening. You never said anything before. Now we have something else to talk about. Oh, and aren’t you excited for this weekend? I found the perfect dress. Tico took me shopping at Nordstrom!”

  Now that was something I could talk about. I loved Nordstrom’s shoe department. Once I got this mess straightened out, I was rewarding myself with a new pair of heels. I saw the cutest pair of gold strappy sandals there a couple weeks ago that I haven’t been able to get out of my mind. I was starting to feel even more motivated to find out who killed Paulette and poisoned the mayor. Shoes motivated me like that.

  “Did you hear that the mayor was poisoned?! I bet that’s what all these people are here for.” Inez looked around the room. “I wonder if Vicki’s working on the case?” Now that was something I hadn’t thought of. I should’ve given her name to Detective Roxy this afternoon along with her and Paulette’s history. If all checked out, Detective Roxy would probably appreciate someone like Vicki on her team.

  Vicki walked in then, wearing safety glasses and heavy-duty gardening gloves up to her elbows. This looked serious. Maybe I shouldn’t have picked a spot in the front row?

  Vicki welcomed us all and started the class by asking us if we could identify any of the plants before her. Inez’s hand shot up and startled me. Someone was going to be an A student, and it wasn’t going to be me.

  “Well, first you have Water Hemlock. Looks lovely like Queen Anne’s lace, but it’ll kill you in a heartbeat. That’s a wicked little plant. Next to that, you have the nefarious stinging nettle. Don’t get too close to that one! On the end, there is the castor bean plant. They say the seeds are more poisonous than rattle snack venom!”

  “Ah yes, ricinus communis. Everything on this one is poisonous. It’s big and the color is bold, but it’s also deadly. One bean and—” Vicki pretending to cut her throat with her finger. “Lights out.”

  I scooted my chair back an inch.

  Vicki continued, “The saying goes: the difference is in the dosage. Some poisonous plants become powerful medicines when taken at the appropriate dosage. Take foxglove and digitalis. The blooms make for beautifully cut flowers, and butterflies love them,” Vicki walked over to a vase filled with yellow and peachy bell-shaped flowers, “but the plant itself is toxic. People have died by confusing it with the comfrey plant, which herbalists use to make tea. Pets have also been poisoned by drinking the water in a vase containing the flowers.”

  I thought of poor Captain Jack at home. What type of flowers are in the vase on my kitchen table? Are they harmful to him? And what other dangers are lurking around my apartment? Looks like I had some serious puppy proofing to do, and soon. Good thing he was in his crate right now.

  “But digitalis extracted from the plant is used to treat a variety of heart conditions. You’ll find the same thing with belladonna,” Vicki continued.

  “Deadly nightshade,” Inez chimed in.

  “Right. It’s extremely toxic, especially the berries, but it could also save your life. You can thank the plant’s component of atropine for that. If you’re in cardiac arrest or have pesticide poisoning, you’ll be very grateful for this one.” Vicki was in her element. This was the most animated I had ever seen her.

  “And what about this one?” Vicki brought a small potted plant forward on the table. It had clusters of lovely green leaves and looked totally harmless to me. This time, several hands shot up in the air.

  Inez whispered to me, “Well, everyone knows that’s poison ivy.” I nodded my head as if I couldn’t agree more. The clueless gardener, that’s me.

&n
bsp; “I’m sure you’ve all heard the adage, Rules of three, let it be, or Hairy vine, no friend of mine. But did you also know it can grow as a shrub?” Vicki held up a picture of an impressive-looking bush. With it’s beautiful yellow flowers and lush leaves, I never would’ve thought it was the same plant as the vine in front of me.

  “Here are a couple other fun facts for you. The urushiol compound in the plant, which is responsible for our misery, is actually what helps the plant retain water. Several animals take advantage of this, like deer and bears. They can snack on the plant with no problem. The plant is a member of the cashew and almond family. A similar compound to urushiol is found in the raw shells of cashews.”

  Hmmm, well, scratch cashews off my shopping list.

  I thought of a question to ask and raised my hand. “So, with poison ivy, is there a way to squeeze the juice out of it or something?” I was trying to figure out how Justine would’ve gotten the compound into my products.

  Vicki looked at me strangely and was probably wanting to know why I wanted to know, but she answered my question anyway, “You could. It’s the sap that’s in the plant where the urushiol is contained. I suppose you could milk it, so to speak.”

  “Oh, good to know. I was just, um … curious.” Wow, that lie was awful. Inez gave me the side eye. “I’ll tell you later,” I told her.

  A couple other people asked a few questions, which Vicki easily answered, and then she continued to show us poisonous plants that were native to the area. I seriously had no idea there were so many plants that could kill you, and many of them in your own backyard.

  Vicki asked if anyone else had any other questions and I took a chance. “What about grayanotoxins?” I hoped I pronounced it correctly.

  Vicki studied me for a minute. “What about them?”

  “What is it from? Is it common to the area?” I wanted to know how easy it had been for the killer to get his or her hands on the poison.

  “Very much so. The toxin is derived from azaleas, also known as the Georgia State Wildflower.”

  You gotta be kidding me. Azaleas I knew. The flowering shrubs were everywhere and they made me sneeze something fierce every single spring. How was Detective Roxy supposed to narrow it down when you could literally pick the poison from almost anyone’s backyard?

  I didn’t ask any more questions after that. I thought whoever had chosen azaleas to make poison out of was pretty smart. Vicki was pretty smart.

  13

  The next morning, my first stop was at the groomer. I hoped they had some magical shampoo to wash the pink out of my puppy’s fur. This morning when he woke, I noticed some pink dye had rubbed off on my white down comforter. My bedding was an easy fix, but if the stains started showing up on my couch and clothes, then I was going to have a problem. I wasn’t sure what could be done for his ridiculous drawn-on eyebrows, but I was up to letting them try. Captain Jack looked at me like I was a traitor when I dropped him off, but I promised him a special treat if he was a good boy. He didn’t look happy. He sure wasn’t going to like it when I took him to the vet.

  Next up was a trip to the pharmacy for my monthly girl-supply run. I found that it was best to always be prepared where your period was concerned. Maybe if I was feeling extra brave this month, I’d try out a pair of those fancy-shmancy period panties. I heard they were quite amazing. But until then, I hit up the candy aisle first. Chocolate bars were buy two, get one free. Who could pass that up? I was after all, a proud member of the twelve-step chocoholic program. You know, never be more than twelve steps from chocolate? Let me tell you, that was a good motto to live by. I added six bars to my basket and kept on shopping. Ice cream was on sale too. Both were necessities in my book. I added two pints to my basket, promising I’d save one for Finn. Maybe.

  And then the drama happened.

  There I was, perusing the tampons and panty liners when I heard a voice that I would recognize anywhere, even if she was dressed incognito. I peered around the end cap and spotted Justine talking one-on-one with a pharmacist. Her cheese-doodle hair was tucked under a baseball cap, and she was sporting tight jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. This was about as undercover as she’d ever been. Something was definitely up.

  I walked down the next aisle to get a better look.

  Justine pushed up her sleeve, revealing a nasty, blistering rash on her arm. It was the same one my other clients had been sporting, only hers looked much worse. I had two conflicting thoughts in that instant. One: Justine must’ve gotten some of the poison ivy sap on her when she was tampering with my products; or two: Justine had been using my products and thus was another victim. I liked imagining her as the perpetrator versus the victim, by far. Either way, it explained why she didn’t want to be seen. She’d either be admitting her guilt or that she’d been using my products. I stood there wondering what I should do. Do I want Justine to see me, or do I want to let her think I’m still in the dark?

  My reflexes made up my mind for me.

  Justine turned from the pharmacist and headed my way. I whipped around so fast that I crashed right into the family planning end cap. Pregnancy tests, condoms, and personal lubricants toppled onto the floor. One of the bottles rolled under my heel, tripping me up and sending me falling onto my butt. I sat dumbfounded on the tiled floor for a second, looking at the mess around me. Whoops.

  Miraculously, Justine didn’t see me. My bet was she was eager to get out of there and didn’t want to be seen any more than I wanted her seeing me. I stood up and rubbed my back end, apologizing to the sales associate who ran over to help me. I looked around, but Justine was already gone. What is she up to now?

  I couldn’t spend all morning thinking about Justine. Not when I had a murder to solve, and a realtor to meet up with. Today was the day that I was set to sign lease papers on my new storefront. Part of me felt guilty, as I hadn’t fessed up to Mrs. DeVine about what happened at the farmers market, and she was my financial backer. The other part thought that I had everything under control and once I had Justine on the hook, I’d have her make a public apology and that would be the end of that. I might not be able to win those customers back, but hopefully I could stop the bad press and potential lawsuits.

  I pulled in front of the vacant storefront. It was wedged between a day spa and a shoe store. I couldn’t have asked for a better location, well unless a spot next to Sweet Thangs opened up. But in terms of product placement, this was the best. I was hoping to naturally pick off some of my neighbors’ clients. I had already thought of offering a ten-percent discount to either of their customers if they showed me a recent receipt. I peered inside at the wide-planked pine floors and white shelves just waiting to be stocked. The only major addition it needed was a washing station on the side somewhere. A place where people could try out my exfoliators and soaps. I could picture it in my mind, a white porcelain farmhouse sink with a brushed nickel faucet. I was hoping Finn would give me a hand with the plumbing part. He was, after all, good with his hands. My phone buzzed in my pocket and snapped my mind out of the gutter. I was hoping it was my realtor, Cassandra, saying she was on her way. Seeing the time made me realize she was already ten minutes late.

  But it wasn’t. It was Aria. I was starting to dread her calls. How awful was that?

  “What’s up, love?” I asked.

  “It’s gotten worse.”

  “I was afraid of that. What’s going on?”

  “I had Christina check in with the caterer, because I’m paranoid like that now, and turns out the last party they did, a bunch of people got sick.”

  “Sick? Like how?”

  “Food poisoning.”

  “Oh gross.” Throwing up rated right up there with watching people cry. Then again, maybe I’d rather throw up.

  “So, now I’m stuck. I’m not sure if I want to just chance it or if I should rush out and try to book someone else.”

  “What did Vince say? Oh wait, never mind. But you should seriously probably clue him in to what’s
going on. I’m sure he’d want to know.”

  “I know. He comes home tonight. I’d love to have this all straightened out beforehand though.”

  “I hear ya.” After all, I wanted to do the same thing with Mrs. DeVine and my business drama.

  “So, what do you want to do now?”

  “I guess I’m going to keep the caterer on the line and make a few calls. See if there’s anyone else even willing to take on a wedding with this short notice. What are you doing?”

  “Supposed to meet my realtor, but she’s not here yet. Let me give her a call and see what’s up. I’ll call you back. Maybe we could meet for brunch?” I was thinking we could both use a mimosa right now. Maybe two.

  I hung up with Aria and tried to reach Cassandra. No luck. I left her a message telling her where I was and reminded her that I was ready to sign the lease. Hopefully, she’d call me back in a hot second and we could meet up to the sign the papers, but five minutes went by without even a text. I took it a step further and sent her an email pretty much saying the same thing and then called back Aria and told her I’d meet her in ten.

  I was sipping my mimosa on the outside patio of Le Crêpes Café when Cassandra called back. Our waiter had just delivered our crepes—strawberry, chocolate, and cream cheese for me; spinach and feta for Aria—but I left it untouched, eager for some good news.

  “Hey girl, thanks for getting back with me. I thought we were supposed to meet up this morning?” I said.

  “And I thought you didn’t want the property anymore. Something about your products being contaminated?” Cassandra sounded unsure.

  “What? Said who?” I hadn’t spoken to Cassandra since my birthday. I knew news travelled fast in a small town, but not fast enough for a realtor to back out of a commission.

  “Said you, in your email, Sunday night.”

  “I never emailed you.”

  “Well, that’s weird.”

  I had another word for it, but instead I said, “You have no idea. Listen though, I still want to rent the space. Is it available?”