“Hello, I’m Kelly. Is there something I can help you with?”
The elderly woman nodded. “Yes. I’m Dorothy Mueller, and I’d like to buy this chair.” She patted the top of the tired, old ornate chair with intricate carvings and a wide seat.
Kelly had been able to see past the chair’s garishness. Once, it must have been a stunning piece of furniture.
In the right setting, of course, like Bernadette’s house.
“Really?” Kelly hoped she didn’t sound too surprised, or else she might be haggling over the price. Back in the city, she loved to scour flea markets where negotiating prices was an art form. Experience taught her looks could be deceiving. Sure, Dorothy Mueller looked like a sweet old lady who baked apple pies and knitted the hat she wore, but she could be a stealth ninja price haggler if given the slightest opportunity. “I think you’re making a fine choice.”
“It’s quite an interesting piece. Don’t you agree?” The small woman smiled expectantly at Kelly.
“It is an interesting piece of furniture. You have a spot already picked out in your home?”
“Yes, I do. In my entry hall. It’s quite sturdy. It’ll be perfect to sit on and take off my boots.”
“Dorothy, did you find something you’d like to buy?” Pepper came up behind Kelly.
“She’s buying the chair.” Kelly pointed, and surprise registered on Pepper’s face but was quickly replaced by a smile.
“I’m going to check out the rack of cardigans. One caught my eye as I passed by.” Dorothy started to walk away but stopped. “Is it possible to have the chair delivered?”
“Absolutely. I’ll bring it by later this afternoon for you, okay?” Kelly asked.
“Yes.” Dorothy turned and walked to the front of the boutique.
“At least we have one less piece of furniture to donate.” Kelly removed the price tag from the chair.
“Martha invested quite a bit of money when she added on this addition for the home accents.” Pepper busied herself with tidying up the displays.
Kelly knew exactly how much her granny had invested in the addition. The loan was still open and was now her responsibility to pay back.
“This space will bring in more per square foot with clothing than vases and paintings.” Kelly stared at a pair of whimsical frog salt and pepper shakers. Where on earth did her granny find those things?
Before she opened for the three-day sale, Kelly worked long hours, with the help of Pepper and Liv, to prep the home accents section for the event. They cleaned, polished, and staged, to the best of their ability. The result? One chair, a dozen pillows, and three vases sold. Not exactly stellar sales.
“Well, you do know more about retail sales and square footage than I do.” Pepper patted Kelly’s arm as she passed by and continued to the front of the store.
Kelly took a long look around the room and envisioned the space freshened up by a coat of paint, a few mirrors, and well-merchandised clothing racks. If she could weather the haunted dress fiasco, the boutique just might thrive.
Enough with the daydreaming. She had work to do. She took off to the staff room and settled at the desk. She turned on her laptop and opened her email. She scanned the list and saw one she’d been waiting for.
Her heart raced with anticipation as she hovered the cursor over Heather’s email and clicked. Heather was the senior fashion editor for Budget Chic. After Kelly was fired and publicly humiliated by Serena Dawson, she quickly became fashionista non grata in the fashion industry from magazines to suppliers. Serena’s reach was far, and no one dared to cross her. Hiring someone Serena personally fired would be the kiss of fashion death.
Kelly went from an up-and-coming fashion buyer to being treated like last year’s It Bag, and no one wanted to be seen with her.
Budget Chic was solely a website operating out of Los Angeles, and she guessed they weren’t worried about the all-powerful and mighty Serena Dawson.
Kelly had pitched an article on using coupon codes to score discounted fashions online. She titled the article “How to Be a Couponista.” Liv wasted no time in pointing out that couponista wasn’t a real word, but Kelly argued it was catchy and who knew, maybe it would land her a regular column on the budget-conscious website.
She clicked on the email and prayed Heather accepted the pitch. She scanned the greeting. Who cared about salutations? Were they buying the article or not?
We’re happy to publish…
Yes!
Kelly did a little triumphant jump and let out a scream. Granted, the pay wasn’t huge, but it was something, and maybe it was a good sign of things to come. For a few moments she indulged in thinking the boutique would be a success and she’d become a sought-after fashion writer.
A ping from her computer dragged her back to reality. Turning an old and tired consignment shop was going to be an enormous job, while she’d be competing with thousands of other wannabe fashion writers. Reality was a buzz kill.
She closed Heather’s email after she wrote a quick reply thanking her and confirming she’d turn in the article on the date assigned. Then she opened the new email.
Karma apparently needed to balance things out for her. Email number two was from a contractor she’d spoken to. He’d attached the estimate for the minor roof repair—emphasis on minor. She clicked the attachment and nearly fell off her chair as she screamed, which was nothing like the one earlier. It was one of horror, of shock, of disbelief a price could have so many digits and didn’t come with a designer purse.
How on earth was she supposed to come up with that much money to repair the roof? She didn’t think it would have been such a big thing, but as she read through the estimate, she learned she was wrong. Roofing was complex and expensive, even for something minor.
She closed the email because she couldn’t reply, not until she had a clear head and an idea of how she’d get the money to pay for it. She propped her elbows on the desk and rubbed her temples. A tension headache was looming, threatening to explode at any moment.
A knock at the swinging door was followed by Liv popping her head into the staff room. “Kell, got a sec?” Worry was etched all over Liv’s heart-shaped face.
What was wrong now?
“Actually, I do.” Kelly leaned back.
Liv pushed the door open, and Detective Wolman entered the room. The detective looked over her shoulder and thanked Liv then dismissed her.
“Miss Quinn, I have a few more questions, if you don’t mind.” The detective moved farther into the room and took a look around. She looked like she was cataloguing every item in the room. Was that what detectives did? Scanned their surroundings and kept a record for future reference? It made sense at a crime scene, but Kelly’s office? Unless she was looking for evidence.
Kelly bolted upright and then stood. “You have more questions? I thought you were quite thorough yesterday.”
Wolman dragged her gaze from the kitchen area to Kelly. She studied Kelly for a moment before speaking. “Thank you. Unfortunately, we don’t always have all of the information available to us at the crime scene, so we follow up. You understand?”
Kelly nodded. The detective made sense.
Wait. What information?
Wolman walked toward Kelly’s desk and scanned the surface before picking up the one and only framed photograph on the desk.
“My parents and my sister,” Kelly offered.
“Christmas show. Did you enjoy it?” Wolman lifted her gaze to meet Kelly’s. Her deep-set eyes were warm.
“Of course. It was magical. My sister and I wanted to be Rockettes. We practiced their famous kick all winter.”
“My girls did the same thing last year when we took them to see the show.” Wolman replaced the photograph in the exact spot from where she took it. “It looks like you’re settling in nicely to your new shop.”
“Boutique? A little upgrade?”
“Sort of.” Kelly stepped out from behind her desk. “At some point I’d like to remodel this space into a proper office.”
“Sounds like you have a lot of plans.” Wolman moved to the table where Kelly and Pepper usually ate their lunch and sat. She leaned back against the chair and crossed her legs. Her pants leg hiked up, revealing navy-blue ankle boots with a sturdy, block heel and a hint of pattern tights. That’s where the detective had a little fun with fashion.
“I do. How can I help you today, Detective?” Kelly moved along to the front of the desk and leaned back against it. She willed her heart to stop beating so fast. The detective probably just needed to tie up a few loose ends.
“When you told me yesterday that Bernadette had a vision here, in your boutique, you failed to mention your business slowed down significantly and, from what I can see today, it’s not much better. Your boutique is pretty much empty.” The warmth that filled Wolman’s eyes a few moments ago vanished and, in its place, was a hardness. The detective was there for more than just to tie up a few loose ends.
Kelly cleared her throat. “It’ll pass. Retail is a very fluid business. We just sold a chair and a cardigan. And I made up flyers.” Kelly twisted around and grabbed one off of her desk to show the detective.
The detective barely glanced at the flyer. “Why did you go to Miss Rydell’s house yesterday?”
Kelly set the flyer back down on the desk. “She called here looking for me, and then Liv called to let me know. She said Bernadette was upset and needed to talk to me. Bernadette didn’t share why she was upset.”
“You just went over there?”
“Yes, she asked me to.”
“Where were you when you got the call from Miss Moretti?”
Kelly sighed. “I’ve already told you. I was at Irene Singer’s house.”
“Why?”
“I asked her about a dress she consigned.”
“Do you always do that with your consignees?”
“No. But in this case, I felt it was necessary.” Why on earth did Kelly add the last part? If she’d learned anything from her binge-watching crime shows, she should have learned to simply answer the question and not offer any more information.
“Why was it necessary?”
Kelly pushed herself away from her desk and walked to the table. She crossed her arms over her chest and then wondered what type of body language she was conveying to the detective. No doubt Nora Wolman was scrutinizing every nuance of Kelly’s reaction and speech pattern and how she moved her body. She uncrossed her arms. She had nothing to hide or be defensive about. “I really don’t see how that relates to Maxine’s murder.”
“I’m the detective. Let me be the judge of what relates and what doesn’t.”
“Fine. Bernadette’s vision was of a man being murdered. She said the dress was connected to the murder.”
The detective’s lips started to form a smile but stopped short. “You went to see Mrs. Singer to ask her if she murdered her husband wearing the dress in question?”
“Something like that. Detective Wolman, I didn’t kill Maxine. I didn’t have anything against her.”
Wolman stood. “But you had something against Miss Rydell?”
“No, I never said I had anything against Bernadette.”
“But do you?”
“No!”
“The two women were similar-looking. Miss Rydell is costing you business. I’ve heard some of the talk. You could’ve mistaken Miss Lemoyne for her cousin when you snuck in.”
“I didn’t sneak in. I was asked to come over, and the door was unlocked. I didn’t kill Maxine.” Kelly stepped back. Her tension headache had exploded across her forehead. Even her eyeballs hurt. “Do I need a lawyer?”
“It’s always good to have one handy.” Wolman turned and walked out of the staff room. Her exit was immediately followed by Liv’s entrance.
“What happened?” Liv sat on the chair Wolman had just occupied. “Are you okay?”
Kelly dropped to the other chair and rested her head in her hands. “I think I’m a suspect in Maxine’s murder.”
Chapter 7
Kelly’s fitness tracker vibrated, prompting her to get up and move. She’d been perched on a stool behind the sales counter for over an hour as she finished logging in all of the store inventory into her laptop. While her fitness tracker thought she needed to walk, she craved a glass of wine and a hot bubble bath. She guessed the walk up to her apartment to the wine bottle and then to the tub would placate the fitness tracker. Right?
She pushed the laptop away from her and rubbed her temples with her fingers. To say it had been a long day would be a huge understatement. A restless night’s sleep compounded by a run-in with Summer, lackluster sales, and a visit from Detective Wolman made for a really bad day that almost rivaled her last day at Bishop’s. Almost.
She looked out the store front window. When had it gotten dark? She glanced at her fitness tracker. It was almost five and time to close the boutique.
She’d let Pepper leave a couple of hours earlier to head home and start baking for the library’s bake sale. The boutique hadn’t been filled with customers, and Kelly was confident she could handle the rest of the day by herself. And sure enough, she had.
Only three customers came in after Dorothy Mueller purchased the chair and cardigan. The upside to the quiet day at the boutique meant she was able to catch up on all of her paperwork and she was able to email a few representatives of inventory management software without being interrupted. Though, if business didn’t pick up, she wouldn’t need a new inventory software, just more sale signs.
She slid off of the stool and stretched her arms out and rolled her head gently around in circles, releasing the tension in her shoulders. The stretch felt good. Maybe she should consider Summer’s offer of Pilates sessions. Years ago she took a Pilates class with a coworker, and the gentle workout stretched out her body and, for the first time after a workout, she didn’t have any soreness the next day.
But, the Pilates classes in Lucky Cove came with Summer. That would be a whole different kind of pain.
Shaking off the idea of signing up for classes at Summer’s studio, she headed to the front door to flip the open sign to closed. Just as she reached the front of the store, a woman pushed the door open.
“I know you’re probably about to close, but I’ve been running around all day, and I just got back to Lucky Cove.” The frazzled woman tucked a lock of wayward dark hair behind her ear.
“I have a few minutes before I have to close. Please come in.” Kelly stepped aside to let the customer in.
“Thanks. I’ve been meaning to come here for days, but, you know, things get all crazy.” The woman unbuttoned her plum-colored suede barn jacket to reveal an ivory cable-knit sweater. “I’m Regina Green.” She extended a hand.
Kelly shook Regina Green’s hand and officially welcomed her to the boutique.
“I’m not here to buy anything.” Regina looked around the shop. “Rather, I’ve gone on quite an organizing binge, and I have a bunch of clothing to consign. My sister has a consignment shop near her home in Greenwich, Connecticut, and the shop comes out to her house to give an estimate and take the clothing. I assume you offer the same type of service.”
Kelly knew the type of consignment store Regina was talking about. They were the high-end consignment shops, selling designer labels such as Chanel, Hermes, Chloe, and Prada. They offered white-gloved service for their wealthy consignees, which included in-home estimates and pickup. Kelly wanted to up the fashion in the boutique, and she’d give anything to get her hands on a Chanel bag or a Prada anything, so offering an in-home estimate mig
ht not be a bad idea.
She eyed Regina’s black purse. It was a structured Kate Spade top-handle bag. Kelly was curious what Regina had in her closet.
“I do now.” Kelly turned and walked to the sales counter. “Let me get your information.”
“Marvelous. It’s all in-season clothing.” Regina followed Kelly and then rested her purse on the counter. “And I promise none of it is haunted.” She gave a big smile.
Kelly, caught off guard by the comment, was speechless. Regina seemed to find the whole situation amusing. At least someone did.
“Good to know.”
“Honey, I’m joking. I don’t believe any of that nonsense about the murder dress.”
“Murder dress?” Kelly pushed down the lump in her throat.
“That’s what everyone’s calling it.” Regina leaned forward. “Tell me, is the dress hanging on any of those racks?” She laughed.
Kelly joined in and laughed but, deep down, she was dying. It was far worse than she’d thought. Her boutique was now home to the murder dress. “No, no, it’s not. When would you like for me to come to your house?” Kelly had opened her date book.
“How about Monday morning?”
“I can come over before the boutique opens.”
“Marvelous.” Regina gave Kelly her address, and they set a time for the appointment. “I have a bunch of St. John and Ralph Lauren and Ann Taylor.”
Kelly nodded. Regina had a nice variety of price points to consign, and she appeared to be a size 6/8, which was a bonus. Kelly wanted to have a mix of sizes for her customers. If she ever got any customers.
“We’re all set for Monday.” Regina buttoned her jacket. “I haven’t consigned here before. But I did know your grandmother, and she was a very nice lady. I’m glad you’ve decided to keep the shop.”
“I am too.” Kelly followed Regina to the door. “Have a nice weekend, and see you on Monday.” She waved goodbye to Regina and shut the door, flipping over the sign to closed and locking the door.
Murder Wears a Little Black Dress Page 6