by Ana Bisset
“I’m not sure, hopefully, whatever is happening around here won’t be a lasting thing. I’m going to start organizing my room and home office this afternoon. Can you get me a few phone numbers? Starting with the security company you use and a cleaning service?” I asked.
“Absolutely, dear. I may be off this afternoon, but I’ll leave that for you on the table,” Grammie said.
I heard Nikki honk. I kissed Grammie, said thank you for breakfast, grabbed the last piece of toast and ran to the door to get my coat and boots. Not only was I going to get the chance to talk to Bianca about what she may have known about the murder, but I was getting a beauty morning. I haven’t been this excited since I don’t know when.
_____________
Sassy’s Style Studio was one of two beauty salons in Black Ridge Cove. The original owner and the original Sassy was 90-years-old and enjoying her final years with her friends at the Tamarack Nursing Home. The current Sassy was her daughter, who ran the place differently than when her mother was in charge. She had to, she catered to a broader clientele who wanted more than just a quick cut and pretty colors on their nails. She employed four young women and paid to have them take classes in Portland on the latest beauty trends.
Kyle’s youngest sister was one of the women that worked at Sassy’s, which is how Nikki knew Bianca Mancini had a nail appointment this morning. It was also how she was able to get appointments for us to have our nails done at the same time.
We walked into Sassy’s Style Salon via the side door into the mudroom. Currently, the front door had 3-feet of snow on it. We hung our coats and shook off our boats before going inside.
Sassy jumped off her chair and came around the counter to wrap Libby in a hug. “Libby! It is so nice to see you, dear. I hope you are taking advantage of our relaxing massages today?”
“It is nice to be back. Grammie said to have you give me a facial and I am excited to be getting a manicure and pedicure,” I said.
“Oh my dear, you must add a hand or foot massage to those, on me as a homecoming gift. That is, I hope you’ll be staying?” she asked.
“I’m hoping to stay for a while, maybe find online writing to do. I promised Grammie to take my time and weigh my choices before deciding what to do next,” I said.
“Oh, what good news to hear. You know, Black Ridge Cove could always use its Post back. I can’t afford to run an ad in the Portland newspapers,” she said, eying me.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Sassy. There are quite a few people interested in The Cove Post lately.”
Violet came over and said, “Just go and take a seat, Libby. I’ll be right with you. Mel, go to the next open seat. Colleen will be there in a few minutes.”
I walked over to the chair she indicated and was happy to see Bianca sitting at the next table, her attendant had just started her manicure. Mel took the seat on the other side of her and yawned. She was looking extra tired this morning.
I sat down and put on my most innocent smile, the one I generally reserved for cops who pull me over for speeding. The problem was, I wasn’t good at it.
“Hi, aren’t you Bianca Romano?” I asked her.
She turned, gave me the once over and corrected me. “Mancini. I’m Bianca Mancini, married to Salvatore Mancini. But my father is Lorenzo Romano, Sr. So, I used to be Bianca Romano. You are?”
“Libby Foster,” I said sticking out my hand to shake hers before realizing she had one hand soaking and the other was being worked on. I let out a little laugh pulling my hand back, “Sorry.”
She smiled, “Yes, I’ve heard of you. My father and husband were talking about your paper.”
“That seems to be a popular topic of conversation around town. That and the second body in the casket,” I said.
She got quiet and looked as if she was going to start crying.
"Are you okay?" I asked her.
“Yes,” she said in a small melancholy voice, "A little sad. Diego had been a friend in my youth. An ex-boyfriend, really. He worked for my dad since we were both in high school. I thought we would get married one day, but he just wasn't the marrying type and Sal came along and things changed.”
"Oh, I didn’t know. I guess I should have put two and two together. I am sorry for your loss," I said. Violet came over to show me a few colors to choose from. I picked a natural with white for a French manicure.
Bianca continued to look at the different colors of nail polish, weighing her options. She seemed to be much more modern with her choices, picking gems and other nail add ons.
“I had heard that Diego was new in town?” I said, hoping she would take the bait.
“Yes, he just moved up from Boston, where we lived before. He had stayed there when we first moved up. But he missed me, I mean, our family. He really liked working for my dad,” she said.
“Didn’t your husband get jealous? He doesn’t seem like the type who wants his wife’s ex-boyfriend around,” I said.
“Ha! He doesn’t care. He was more jealous of the attention Dad gave Diego. I’m just his ticket into our family. Now don’t get me wrong. He still treats me good, because he knows what is good for him. But, he doesn’t get jealous. Then, I would have to get jealous too, and he would want that,” she said.
“So, you have an open marriage?” I asked.
“We got a marriage, like anybody else in the world,” she said a little miffed. “Why are you asking so many questions?”
“Sorry, just a habit. I am curious by nature. It’s why I’m a journalist,” I said.
“I shouldn’t get mad. It’s nice to be able to talk to someone around this tiny tourist town who doesn’t sound like a backwoods hick. I mean the summers here are okay, but these long winters when there is no one around really bites, and now Diego is gone.” Full on waterworks started when she said his name, and she ran into the ladies room.
Nikki walked over looking towards the ladies room door. "You didn't hit her?" she asked.
“No, but she isn’t the most likable person. I asked her about the guy in the casket. It seems they were having an affair, but I kind of knew that already,” I said.
“Interesting reaction, I guess she didn’t do it,” Nikki said.
"I don’t know. I did just finish telling her I was a journalist. Maybe she is putting on an act for me?" I said.
"And the plot thickens," Mel said as she wiggled her eyebrows, both her and her manicurist giggled.
“So, what were you talking to Sassy about? You two looked as thick as thieves whispering behind the counter.
Nikki looked at the girls who were working away and back at me, “It's a surprise, for everyone else but you and Mel. But I can't tell you here.”
“Okay, we’ll do lunch after we are done here. Then, you can spill,” I said.
“As long as it is at the diner. I want chocolate pudding pie,” said Mel.
“You know, one of these days all that chocolate pudding pie is going to catch up with you!” Nikki told her.
“But not today,” Mel smiled.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The rest of the day went by quickly and pretty efficiently by my standards. I got all the things I had brought from my Boston apartment unpacked and organized. Did a few loads of laundry while cleaning out the closet in my brother’s room. I moved an antique desk from the guest room to my new office. While I was at it, I took a reading chair my grandfather would use in his room and put it in my room. It was a favorite sitting spot of mine when I was younger. No reason to let it go to waste now. I added an embroidered pillow and crocheted throw I had purchased from a hand-crafter to make the space look a little more me.
As I sat there, I thought about all the changes that were happening around my friends and me. Nikki told us about more of her plans for the spa. She was cleared to purchase the Smith house but has them fixing the issues with the kitchen area first. Her next problem was finding an excellent staff, and that is where Sassy came in. It seems Sassy was talking about retiring soon, b
ut she doesn’t have a daughter to take over the business. She’s a good person and didn’t want to put her girls out on the streets looking for work.
So Nikki and Sassy worked something out where Sassy would stay in business until the spa was ready to open. Then, the girls and business could just transfer. Nikki would pay Sassy for her business over the next ten years. Sassy would sell her building whenever she felt like it to someone else who was not going to compete with Nikki. It was a great plan and should start Nikki’s spa off right.
Mel and I said we were beginning to feel like we needed to make something happen for us too. I’m not sure what Mel is thinking. Actually, I may be a little afraid of what Mel might be thinking. But for me, I know what I need to do. I’ve avoided it, but life’s road keeps bringing me back to it. It’s time to re-open The Cove Post.
It is not like I haven’t wanted to do it, I want it as badly as Nikki wants her spa. I always have. But, Gramps and I didn’t leave things on good terms. He would go back and forth whether he wanted me to stay and someday take over or go do something else. I never knew if I was good enough.
I know the part I had played in our arguments, stubborn independence mixed with pride and youth. But I never understood his fear in letting me have a piece of the newspaper he had built. I could never decide if he was trying to protect it from my youthful ideas or protect me from it. I mean, why would I need protection?
Putting heavy thoughts aside, I went to the kitchen table with my phone and called the security company and cleaning service, I explained what I needed done and both were able to accommodate me quickly. I would have a clean office with new security in two days.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The next day I slept in, and then ran some errands around town. The town part of Black Ridge Cove was close to the shore, but several feet above it. Market Street ran parallel to the shoreline and boasted several quaint shops and small businesses. One of the shops, Old Treasures, was owned by Nikki's aunt, her father’s sister. She spent much of the winter traveling up and down the East Coast looking for old treasures and spent the summers selling them to the tourists.
While I can understand the value of old things, to me things just get old. For instance, old dolls need to be totally redone including the hair and the face paint, how is that still an antique? I guess maybe antiquing just isn't for me.
I was contemplating just how many dolls Grammie had collected while walking down the stone street when I heard Leah Miller’s voice in distress. I looked up and saw her in a parked car up ahead. She was on the passenger side, and a man was sitting on the driver's side. She had the car door half open. I stopped and began window shopping at the car parts store to keep from having to walk past and bring attention to myself.
“You said she didn’t mean anything to you,” Leah said. “I wonder what she would think if she knew!”
She jumped out of the car, slammed the door, and ran past me down the street towards her home. The car pulled out of its space quickly and drove away. I had seen the car before and believed it belonged to the Romano family. Cassey, the sheriff department’s secretary, had said Leah was having boyfriend problems. I didn’t know her boyfriend was one of the Romano sons. I hope she is okay.
I continued my walk to the antique shop. Each of the buildings that housed the shops is three stories high, having apartments on the top two floors, some of them where occupied by the owners and some who rent the space out. Kyle lived above the cupcake shop. Some could say his sweetness would be hard to resist, I prefer the sweetness of the cupcakes in the shop below his apartment at the moment, I thought as I passed by breathing in the sweet smell.
In two more steps, I was in front of Old Treasures Antique Shop. I walked in the door setting off the tinkle of the doorbell, letting Rosie know I was there. Her shop was organized in disheveled shelves from the ceiling to floor in a few areas, others had cabinets that stood about waist high. Everywhere else there was furniture and other antiques placed in every nook and cranny. You had to wonder how she could possibly do an inventory.
"I'll be right there, just give me a minute," she said. "No rush. It's just me, Libby Foster," I said.
I heard a few things knocking around in the back and saw an older woman sitting on a settee looking at a photo album. She wasn’t quite corporal and didn’t seem to notice me. I didn’t over think about it, as I knew this place was haunted and always had been. How could you have so many old things in one place and not have their dead owners attached to them? Another good reason I am not an antique collector.
She came out of the office door, “Oh Libby it's so good to see you! Come in, I’ll put tea on, and you can tell me about your adventures.”
She had a sitting area where customers could make a cup of tea and peruse the books or old photos, it was where the old woman had been sitting when I walked in. She was no longer there, leaving the photo album on the settee.
“Sit here, Libby, I’ll just get this old photo album out of your way,” she said. “I swear this one has legs. I must put it back 3 or 4 times a week.”
I giggled, “It’s funny how things like that happen,” I said.
After placing the album on the shelf, she plugged in the electric teapot and selected two cups with saucers.
“I have cookies in the back if you are interested in something sweet?” she asked.
“No, thank you. The tea alone will be perfect,” I said.
“Well, while our tea brews, tell me what you’ve been up to,” she said.
“Not doing too much yet, just getting my bearings back,” I said.
“You will be home for a while then? I know my Nikki loves having you around.” She poured water into the mugs and added the tea bags.
“We were together again yesterday. Getting our nails done with Mel at Sassy’s Style Studio,” I said.
“Ah, she has big plans for all of that, my niece. I am looking forward to when she has it all done so I can enjoy relaxing in a hot tub or getting a massage. Do you think you will still be in Black Ridge Cove then?” she asked.
“I do. I’m going to be working from home for a while.”
“That’s wonderful news! I have missed our town paper, maybe you could bring it back.” She placed my cup of tea down on a table in front of me. “So, tell me why you have come to see me. Is it about the paper? Some puzzle you need help to figure out? Your grandfather used to give those to me from time to time.”
I wasn’t sure what she meant by puzzles, but I knew what I did need. “I was hoping you could help me with this. I found this book in my grandfather's old office. I need to know if it has any value?” I asked.
“Certainly, let me have a look,” she said.
“I wish I could, but Sheriff Kyle confiscated it because it may have something to do with the second body in the coffin,” I said.
“Oh, my word! I could swear to you, I jumped right out of my skin when the coffin fell over, and he rolled out,” Rosie said.
“Me too. I can describe the book, maybe you have seen one like it?” I asked.
“Certainly, I will try.”
“It was a hardback book, but it looked hand bound. It contained artist sketches and film cells from Disney’s Pinocchio movie. It looked like a special edition and it had a number 52 on it,” I said.
She thought for a minute and stood up. “Let me see if I have a reference book to use. I will be right back.”
As she looked for it, I sipped my tea and admired the pretty teacup it was in. She was smiling when she came back. “I found something. Did it look like this?” She pointed to the image of the book I had found.
“Yes! May I see that?” She handed me the book. “That’s it. It says here there were only one hundred of these made, by the artists of the movie given to those who worked on it. Valued at over ten thousand dollars? That is a lot of money for a book.”
“Did you grandfather collect books? I don’t remember him ever showing me any,” she wondered.
"H
e didn't collect old books. That was one thing my grandparents never got into, old books. Honestly, they liked things that reminded them of memories or items they could use to make happy memories. Collecting books wasn’t their style."
“Well, that is a mystery. Let me know how it turns out,” she said. She looked at her watch and stood up. “The time is getting away from me, Libby, and I have to get this box of transistor radios ready for a client. It was wonderful to see you and make sure you stop by with that book if you ever get it back,” she said.
“Thank you for the tea and information. I’ll be back soon,” I said.
She picked up our teacups, going off to do her work while I got up to leave, no more signs of the old lady with the photo album. While I was looking for her, I nearly collided with Salvatore Mancini, who was coming into the shop with Mario.