Elaine Viets & Victoria Laurie, Nancy Martin, Denise Swanson - Drop-Dead Blonde (v5.0) (pdf)

by Drop-Dead Blonde (epub)

  Why hadn't I thought of Evie sooner? Of course, she had probably been one of Popo's most frequent clients.

  ``I'm very shocked,'' I assured Evie.

  ``She was practically my best friend,'' Evie said quietly. A sparkle of tears welled up in her eyes. ``I could always call her just to talk when I was feeling down. I don't know what I'll do about my spring clothes. Popo planned to order everything for me in the next few weeks.''

  ``Maybe Darwin can help.''

  Evie winced. ``Or maybe I'll try another store. Darwin's not exactly my type. He doesn't have Popo's joie de vivre.''

  ``Or,'' I suggested, taking a chance, ``her access to the best merchandise?''

  Evie laughed awkwardly. ``Oh, you know Popo. She al- ways had a few little treats tucked away. For special clients. She called them her small investments.'' 54 Nancy Martin

  ``Investments?''

  Tears forgotten, Evie started to blush. ``To tell the truth, I suspected she bought the things herself for later resale. Why, last summer she suddenly realized she had some of

  ` those Hermes ties that were so hard to find months ear- lier--the ones with the sailboats? Just in time for Trenton's birthday. I feel certain she kept them just for me.''

  ``But you think they came from Popo, not the store? From some kind of special stash?''

  ``Well, that was my suspicion.'' Evie began to look dis- tressed. ``She hand-delivered personally. Come to think of it, she didn't provide store receipts either. I wanted those ties so badly that I never--''

  ``Evie, this is important or I wouldn't ask. Do you think Popo might have stolen the ties from the store?''

  ``Of course not!'' Evie mustered some indignation. ``No, I think she purchased the treats with her own money and simply resold the ties to me later. She really went the extra mile for special clients. We were friends, honestly.''

  ``Do you know where Popo kept her little treats?'' I asked. ``The things she held back for her pals?''

  ``Not at the store,'' Evie said slowly. ``Last May she in- vited me to an after-hours sale at her apartment. I was so flattered to be asked. Popo has a condo in Rittenhouse Square. In fact, it might be the same building you lived in before your husband--I mean, before now. She gave us caviar and a tour of the things she wanted to sell. Some of it was out-of-date, but she had a lot of new merchandise, too. I bought a Lettitia McGraw tote.''

  So Popo had been hoarding merchandise for years and reselling it to her most trusted clients. Now I needed to find out if the merchandise had been legitimately hers to sell or if she'd stolen from Haymaker's to keep her side business well stocked.

  But I wasn't going to learn more from Evie. She pulled herself coolly together, obviously sorry she had told me anything. ``It was so nice to see you again, Nora. Thank you for coming.''

  She couldn't get me out the door fast enough.

  I decided to hike across town to Rittenhouse Square. If Popo truly lived in my old building, perhaps I could chat SLAY BELLES 55 up the doorman. He might have some insight into Popo's private boutique.

  But the weather had gotten ugly, and I made it only a few blocks before stopping to dry off in a coffee shop. I didn't want to ruin my shoes in the slush, so I found a pay phone and got lucky. Well, sort of.

  Twenty minutes later, my sister Libby pulled up in front of the coffee shop. I ran out across the sidewalk to the street and popped open the passenger door of her minivan.

  ``I was picking up a few more gifts! Shopping is such an adrenaline rush. Almost as good as aerobics, don't you think?'' She chattered with even more animation than usual as I climbed in. ``I had a fabulous day. First I went to the King of Prussia mall; then I dashed into the city for another look around Haymaker's, but they're closed. Can you be- lieve it?''

  ``Are you taking those metabolism herbs again?''

  ``Of course not! I'm just enjoying the season! Look, I even bought a few things for myself. There was an Eliza- beth Arden special bonus and a Vera Bradley diaper bag discount, so I went crazy.''

  I glanced into the backseat and saw a mountain of bags and packages. ``Boy, you're not kidding.''

  ``You don't have to hurry home, do you? Can you have dinner with me?''

  ``Don't you have to get home to the baby? Aren't you still nursing?''

  ``I'm weaning him. I don't mind the extra cup size, but the leaking has become a problem. You should have seen the puddles I made on the massage table last week.''

  I remembered I wanted to ask Libby about her massages, but she bulldozed over my voice.

  ``It's time to wean, anyway. I can't put my own life on hold forever,'' she rattled on as she pulled into traffic. ``And that child can thrive on Bright Beginnings just as well as my milk, which is probably tainted by preholiday stress.''

  ``Why don't you let me help with your shopping, Lib? You could stay home and enjoy the children.''

  ``Dear heaven, I'm trying to get away from home! The twins are driving me insane. Lucy's invisible friend gives everybody the creeps, and who knows what Rawlins has 56 Nancy Martin been doing. He's hardly ever at home anymore. I think he needs a father figure, a strong man to be a role model.''

  I began to suspect that the blaze in my sister's eyes was a hormonal surge, not seasonal mania. ``Are you doing something about that? The father figure, I mean?''

  ``Of course not! I'm not dating anyone. Or seeing anyone at all, in fact.'' Her madly cheerful front began to crumble. ``Who would want a lactating cow like me? What man could possibly enjoy spending time with a widow with five children when he could have anyone in the world, b-b-but he chooses another man over me, for crying out loud, be- cause I'm too disgusting?''

  ``Are we talking about--''

  ``J-J-Jason, of course! He's gay! How come nobody ever tells me these things? Attractive gay men should be re- quired to wear name tags so women don't make fools of themselves! I-I-I felt like such a breeder!''

  ``Libby,'' I said, ``let's go get some dinner and talk.''

  She burst into tears.

  She wobbled the van next to a fire hydrant, set the brake, and bawled for a while. I made soothing noises and calmed her down with some platitudes, pats on the back, and finally a butterscotch Life Saver that I found in the glove compart- ment. She blathered a lot of nonsense and soaked through her own handkerchief and mine. Nobody could have hyster- ics the way my sister could. I think there was even runny mascara on me by the time she was finished. But she emerged from the handkerchiefs looking radiantly beautiful.

  Eventually, she was able to drive again. She made a bee- line for a Friendly's, and we skipped dinner to order gar- gantuan ice-cream sundaes in a booth near the jukebox.

  ``For five seconds I thought about trying to change him.'' She scraped the last molecules of whipped cream and choc- olate sauce from the bottom of her dish. ``But remember what Mama used to say?''

  ``That you can't change a man unless he's in diapers?''

  ``It's true, I know. But I thought if anybody could get Jason to change his tune, it's me.''

  ``Right,'' I said.

  ``I'm not unattractive, you know.'' SLAY BELLES 57

  ``I know.''

  ``I may have a few more curves than some women, but I'm very firm. He told me that. I have firm flesh. He said it.''

  ``I'm sure he meant it.''

  ``He has wonderful hands.'' Libby's eyes began to glaze over again, and not from the shock of all the ice cream she'd just ingested. ``I've never had a massage like he gives. So sensual. So caring. Jason really leans into his work, and when he touches my--''

  ``Libby.''

  ``Right,'' she said. ``There are lots of fish in the sea.''

  ``Exactly,'' I said.

  ``More men where Jason came from.''

  ``Even better men.''

  ``I need a passionate, but spiritual person, somebody who understands my subconscious needs. Someone whose de- sires meld with my unique chakras, who will interface with my physical and nonphysical being as we travel beyond this plane to a self-a
ctualized illumination. Are you going to finish your ice cream?''

  I passed my dish across the table. ``Have you heard from Emma?''

  ``She phoned this morning. Maybe that's part of my prob- lem.'' Libby swirled chocolate sauce into the melting ice cream. ``Now that Emma's out of commission for a while, I feel as if I should be wreaking havoc on the male of the species on her behalf.''

  Our youngest sister, Emma, could attract men wherever she went. Of the three of us, she was the incredibly gor- geous one, the sister who exuded sexual invitation the way other human beings perspire. She handled men as deftly as she managed the wild horses she trained. They obeyed her every command.

  But gradually Emma's social drinking had gotten out of hand. Libby and I had risked a powerful sisterly bond by insisting Emma get some help. She had checked into a rehab program just a week earlier.

  ``How's she doing?'' I asked.

  ``She's still pissed off. But less than before.''

  ``She's taking rehab seriously?'' 58 Nancy Martin

  ``I think so. Look, we can't worry about her every mo- ment, Nora. We have to allow Emma to make her own mistakes.''

  ``She's made more than her share,'' I said.

  ``We're all at turning points.'' Libby licked her spoon and eyed me.

  ``What is that supposed to mean?''

  ``That man of yours . . .''

  ``Libby--''

  ``I just want you to know that it makes no difference to me if you're having a fling. As a reject from the Common Sense Club myself, I encourage an occasional wild, sexual adventure, especially for someone as repressed as you are, but--''

  ``Hey.''

  ``But I hope you're being very careful, Nora. You don't want to be mixed up with a dangerous man for the long haul.''

  ``I'm not a teenager,'' I said. ``So you can lay off the motherly lecture.''

  ``Can I help it? I care what happens to you! And I know That Man is not the kind of partner who's best for you. You need a dependable, hardworking, sensitive person who can help you come to terms with the disaster of your first marriage and move--''

  ``Can we stop talking about this?'' I asked.

  ``Do you honestly see yourself eating spaghetti and meat- balls the rest of your life?'' she demanded. ``Bailing him out of jail every time he gets arrested? A nice, normal sort of man won't cause you any more heartache. You've had your share already, Nora.''

  I waved to the waitress. ``Check, please!''

  ``When are you going to wake up? That Man is a criminal.''

  I grabbed the check out of the startled waitress's hand. ``Let's go home.''

  On the way back to Bucks County in the minivan, I dis- tracted Libby by asking about Cindie Rae's Web site. My sister knew everything.

  ``It's sorta like QVC, only Cindie Rae has most of her clothes off when she talks about her product.''

  ``Does she make much money?'' SLAY BELLES 59

  ``Well, I noticed she uses a nine-hundred number, which means the customer gets charged for making the phone call to her. She takes requests, you know. There must be a bunch of weird regulars who watch all the time and call in to chat. I don't know if she sells many of those crazy col- ored dildos. I didn't watch for very long. The fuzzy screen gave me a headache.''

  ``She can't be on camera twenty-four hours a day, of course.''

  ``No, no. She's got her Web cam on all the time, although she's not always on-camera. She puts up little signs to ad- vertise when she'll be back. It's adorable.'' Libby heard my choke and said quickly, ``In a very yucky way, of course.''

  Libby dropped me off at Blackbird Farm. The house was empty, and I found myself actually missing Spike's annoying presence.

  I went upstairs and took a long, soaking bubble bath with a book, then put on my pajamas and took my laptop to bed. Sitting Indian-style, I typed up my notes on the Aqui- nas party and e-mailed the piece to my editor.

  Then, still wide awake and feeling brave enough to take a look, I located Cindie Rae's Web site on the Internet. Chapter 7

  Maybe I have a delicate stomach, but when the grainy pic- ture finally came into focus, yucky did not begin to describe how I felt.

  I heard her voice first.

  ``And if you're feeling frisky, boys, you can try this fun toy outside in the fresh air. Just be careful, because some- body might be watching! Some naughty person could be spying on you. Ooooh . . . For under twenty dollars, you can please yourself or your lady friend. And if you act now, I'll throw in a special gift, just for you.''

  As she giggled, the camera homed in on something large, long, and neon pink. Cindie Rae's talonlike fingernails scored the length of it as she brightly began to describe the various ways she could employ such a grotesque item. While she spoke, the camera blurred as if run by an ama- teur photographer, then landed on Cindie Rae's bare thigh and began a leisurely tour of parts better left unmentioned.

  I clapped my hand over my eyes. ``Oh, God!''

  ``And girls,'' Cindie Rae continued, ``if you're planning a wild and crazy bachelorette party, let me show you a few fun games you can play with your girlfriends. No, wait--I think I hear a caller! Hello, baby, are you there?''

  ``Uh, yeah, Cindie Rae, how you doin'?''

  ``I'm doing great! What's your name, honey?''

  ``Uh, Dick.''

  ``Hi, Dick! What can I do to make you happy tonight?''

  I peeked between my fingers. Cindie Rae's face filled my computer screen, and her smile was perkier than the Friendly's waitress had been.

  60 SLAY BELLES 61

  I turned the sound off, got up, and went into the bath- room for a Tums.

  Padding back to the bed, I heard a whistle from down- stairs and then the sound of footsteps on the staircase. With a rush of guilt, I allowed my finger to hover over the ``quit'' button.

  ``I'm up here!'' I called, still debating.

  Michael came in crooning ``Are You Lonesome To- night?'' in his best Elvis impression. He carried a glass of milk in one hand. With the other, he plopped Spike into his basket. ``What did you do? Take a really hot bath? You're all pink.''

  ``Not as pink as some people.'' I turned the screen so he could see.

  He took a slug of milk first and climbed onto the bed to kiss me on the mouth. ``Whoa,'' he said when he caught a glimpse of the action on my computer. ``This is a side of you I didn't expect.''

  ``It's a onetime deal. Look, it's Cindie Rae.''

  Michael twisted his head sideways. ``How can you tell?''

  ``The implants. See?''

  ``Yikes. Even scarier without the clothes.'' He slurped some milk. ``May I ask what you're doing?''

  ``Libby thinks I'm repressed.''

  He grinned. ``And this is your answer? Watching Internet porn? Look, if you want to cut loose, I have some better ideas.''

  I tweaked his ear. ``I thought we'd done it all.''

  ``We've hardly scratched the surface.'' He offered me his glass.

  I accepted the drink. The milk was warm and smelled slightly of rum, but I handed it back without sipping. ``No, thanks. My stomach is a little upset. No, look at the back- ground. Behind Cindie Rae.''

  ``If you're looking at the background, maybe your sister is right.''

  ``No, look.'' I pointed at the screen.

  ``Yeah,'' Michael prompted. ``What am I looking at?''

  ``A handbag. See? Hanging on the back of the closet door. To be specific, it's a Lettitia McGraw handbag.''

  ``Okay. What's the significance?'' 62 Nancy Martin

  ``Cindie Rae was in Popo Prentiss's salon looking to buy exactly this handbag. Why would she want one if she al- ready had this one at home?''

  ``Maybe this is the purse in question.''

  ``Yes, Watson, you could be right.''

  ``What the hell is she doing now?'' Michael asked. He squinted at the computer screen. ``The camera is too damn fuzzy.''

  ``The lousy camera work,'' I said, ``means there's some- body else in her studio. Someone's running the camera.''
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  ``It's not her fiance. I hear he's still in jail.''

  I didn't ask how Michael knew that information. He had various twisted lines of communication that reached all ech- elons of law enforcement. ``Is Alan all right?''

  He hesitated. ``Rutledge isn't great. Somebody broke his nose. He's got bruises that would scare Mike Tyson.''