When Sleuthing Spells Trouble, page 12
Mariah nodded vigorously. “Elle is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister.”
I leaned back against the seat cushion. Lassiter had mentioned he’d gotten the impression the woman Blackthorne was involved with might have been a former patient. Elle’s admission that she had been one solidified her position in my top suspect category. I slid my phone out of my pocket and sent a quick text to Hank: Investigation proceeding. Can U verify alibis for Paul Lassiter and Elle Gardner?
I added the names of the three doctors Lassiter had given me, hit send and slid my phone back into my pocket. I was relatively certain Lassiter’s alibi would check out, but now I was extremely curious as to where Elle Gardner might have been the day of Blackthorne’s death.
Cruz’s business district loomed ahead, and Elle made a sharp turn onto Main Street. “Is anyone hungry?” she asked.
“I could go for something to eat,” Mariah admitted. “I skipped lunch and only had a piece of toast for breakfast.”
“Good,” Elle said, “because there’s a lovely little tearoom here that opened a few weeks ago. We can have some tea and sandwiches, and then there’s a store right across from the high school I think you’d love, Mariah. It’s primarily a beauty supply store, but she has the most divine collection of perfumes, lotions and bath products I’ve seen in a long time. I’ve been in there at least a dozen times since it opened, and the smells are divine every time.”
My head snapped up. Was she talking about Carm’s store? “You mean Skin and Scents?”
Elle met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “I think that’s the name. Anyway, I was in there the other day and bought a bottle of Joy. She had an excellent price on it.”
I sunk down a bit lower in my seat so Elle couldn’t see me worrying my lower lip. After what Carm had said about Mariah the other day, I knew she wouldn’t be happy to see her come into her store. I decided to offer up an alternative. “There’s a very nice thrift shop near there,” I suggested. “They have a wide selection of perfumes too, and they’ll probably be more reasonably priced than Skin and Scents.”
I caught a glimpse of Elle’s nose wrinkling in the rearview mirror. “Thanks, but we’re not on a budget—not yet, anyway,” she said. She angled a glance at Mariah. “I noticed a whole shelf of lavender-scented products when I was in there. You’re still fond of that scent, right?”
“Oh, yes. I would like to see what they have. Who knows, maybe they will have something similar to my Midnight Lace.” Mariah twisted in her seat so she could look at me. “I loved that perfume. Whenever I’d run out, Christian would turn up with a new bottle.” Her tone turned dreamlike. “It was a light, clean scent. Notes of lavender, jasmine and bergamot. It evoked images of birds chirping, grass growing. I loved it so.”
“I tried to get some for Mariah while she was in prison,” put in Elle, “but they discontinued the scent.”
Mariah shook her head. “Such a shame. Now I shall have to find another, and it won’t be easy to top Midnight Lace.”
“Well, maybe that store will have something similar,” Elle suggested. “It’s worth a look, right?”
Mariah sighed. “I guess.”
I settled back in my seat. Well, I’d tried. Maybe we’d get lucky and Carm wouldn’t be working today.
Elle managed to find a parking spot across from the tea shop, aptly titled Take Tea and C, and we trooped inside. The tiny shop was packed and every table appeared to be filled. I recognized the owner, Marianne Ferrante, as she bustled about, teapot in hand, flitting from table to table. She noticed us standing by the door and hurried forward. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “We had a big rush today. Apparently there are big sales all along Main Street. A table should free up soon, though, if you care to wait?”
Elle tapped her foot impatiently on the parquet floor. “How long of a wait?”
Marianne brushed a strand of salt-and-pepper hair out of her eyes and scanned the quaint little room. Every table was filled with customers, mostly women, chattering and sipping tea and eating what appeared to be either delicious finger sandwiches or mouthwatering scones. “I just seated five tables a few minutes ago, so . . . maybe a half hour?”
Elle raised both eyebrows, then turned to us. “Skin and Scents isn’t far from here. We could go look in there and then come back.”
“You could do that,” Marianne said. “Skin and Scents is a lovely shop. Tell you what, tonight’s our dinner night. We’re serving Yankee Pot Roast. If you’re interested, it’ll be my treat.”
“That’s very kind of you,” murmured Mariah. She looked at us. “What do you think? I haven’t had a good pot roast in years. Velma used to make an excellent one.”
“I’m in. What about you, Nora?” Elle asked.
“Sure. Pot roast sounds good.” If it were tasty, I’d get a small take-out portion for Nick.
“Wonderful,” Marianne said. “I’ll expect you back in about a half hour, forty-five minutes then?”
“We’ll be here,” Elle sang out. She waved her arm. “Okay, ladies. It’s off to Skin and Scents.”
• • •
I was decidedly impressed as I followed Elle and Mariah into Skin and Scents. It was the first time I’d set foot in Carm’s shop, and I had to admit Elle’s assessment was correct: the aromas were indeed fragrant and spicy, even more so than those from Marianne’s tea shop. I paused and gave a quick glance around. The shop seemed to be divided into two sections: The right side was chock-full of beauty supplies—makeup, hair care products and the like—and was rather Spartan in nature. The other half, the fragrance half, however, reminded me of an upscale jewelry store. Long glass cases held bottles of all shapes, sizes and colors, gleaming bottles that sparkled like gems. The whole left side of the section was mirrored, with glass shelves that held a selection of scented soaps, lotions, even candles and essential oils. A small sign behind one of the glass counters read, Let us create your own personal scent. It appeared that Carm was catering to the upscale with the fragrance portion of the store, and more to the general public with the beauty end. I idly wondered which half made the most profit.
Elle’s sharp eyes noticed the sign and she touched Mariah’s arm. “Look over there. They have a perfumer who crafts personal scents. I bet they could make you up something even better than Midnight Lace.”
“Maybe,” murmured Mariah. “I suppose we could inquire.”
Elle took Mariah’s arm and steered her toward the sign. I glanced idly around the shop. Over on the beauty side, a cluster of teenaged girls were giggling over a hairspray display. Two women, their backs to me, were idly checking out various brands of hair color. The perfume side appeared deserted, except for us and for one man standing at the black marble counter. I noticed that Carm didn’t appear to be anywhere around, and some of the earlier tension I’d felt dissipated.
The curtain behind the counter parted and a woman holding a small wrapped package came out. She seemed familiar, and a few seconds later I realized why—it was Gillian, Carm’s round-faced friend. I almost hadn’t recognized her. Today she wore her hair up in a French twist rather than loose around her shoulders, and her apparel—a crisp white shirt and navy cardigan—was a definite improvement over her usual threadbare one. I figured Carm had made good on her promise to hire her.
Gillian smiled at her customer. “There you go, Mr. Murray. That will be fifty-seven ninety-five.”
As Mr. Murray fumbled in his wallet for his credit card, Gillian glanced up and saw me. She flashed me a quick smile, and then her gaze shifted to the small counter where Mariah and Elle stood. Her eyes widened, and the credit card slipped from her hand. “Oh, goodness me,” she murmured. “I’m really clumsy today.” She bent to retrieve the card and quickly rang up the order. She handed him the slip along with the package. “Thank you for shopping at Skin and Scents,” she said. Murray left and then Gillian turned to vanish into the back room again, but not without a final glance in Mariah’s direction.
Mariah hadn’t failed to notice how her presence seemed to bother Gillian. She and Elle walked over to where I stood and Mariah sighed, plucking nervously at the sleeve of her jacket. “Maybe we should go,” she murmured. “Seeing me upset that woman, I’m sure of it.”
“Well, then, that’s her problem,” Elle snapped. “Honestly, Mariah, are you going to let some goggle-eyed store clerk get the better of you? Get used to it. People will stare at first, but then . . . they’ll get over it. That woman did, and pretty quickly too, I might add.”
“I hope you’re right,” Mariah said. She didn’t sound convinced.
I smiled at Mariah. “How did you make out with the personal scents?” I asked.
“The perfumer isn’t in today,” Elle answered. “I took his card, though. We’ll come back.” She turned to Mariah. “Over there is the display of lavender I was talking about.” She took her hand and I followed them as Elle led Mariah down the middle aisle. She paused before a shelf and made a sweeping gesture. “See, there’s a hand lotion, a bath lotion, a shampoo, a spritz, a cologne . . . lavender was in Midnight Lace, right?” Elle snatched up the deep-purple bottle with one hand, grabbed Mariah’s wrist with the other. Before the other woman could protest, she’d spritzed her wrist with the cologne. “That smells nice,” she announced. “I think you should treat yourself to a new signature scent. Recreating Midnight Lace is too much like dipping into the past.”
Mariah frowned. “Maybe you’re right,” she said slowly.
“Of course I am.” Elle tossed her head. “You’ve got to let go of the old and embrace the new. I think you should try something totally different.” She reached for a bottle on another shelf. “Here. This scent is pine, cherry and sandalwood. Try this.” She uncapped the bottle and spritzed a good amount onto Mariah’s wrist.
Mariah bent her head and sniffed. “Not bad,” she said. She held out her wrist to me. “What do you think, Nora?”
I took a sniff. “Very pine-ey. It reminds me of Christmas.”
“Christmas,” Mariah murmured. “My favorite holiday. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have that lovely feeling all year round.” She set the bottle back on the shelf and said, “I saw more bath salts one aisle over. I’m just going to have a quick look.”
“I’ll go with you,” Elle said. “I could use some new bath salts.”
The two moved into the adjacent aisle but I lingered a moment looking over the various offerings. Then I decided to take a closer look at the display for the customized fragrances. As I moved in that direction, I saw Gillian walk into the aisle opposite the display. I hurried over, saw her straightening a display of French perfume. She glanced up, saw me, and her face split into a wide smile. “Hey, Nora,” she said. “I see you finally made it down here. How do you like it?”
“It’s great,” I said. “Carm certainly has put a lot of work into it.” I gestured at her smock. “You’re working here now?”
Gillian pulled a face. “Yes, Irene made good on her threat and cut my hours, so Carm hired me to work two days a week so I wouldn’t lose any income.” She lowered her voice and added, “Don’t ever tell her, but I so prefer the bookstore. It’s not half as busy as this place, although I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Busy means my hours won’t be cut, right? And I do need the money.” She moved closer so her face was only inches from mine. “Plus, there are some added perks. I get a fifteen percent discount on all the scents, and twenty on makeup.”
I was close enough so that now I could see what Carm had been talking about the other day. Gillian’s foundation was pretty thick. I imagined she’d probably welcome the discounts. I took a swift glance around the shop and added, “I take it Carm’s not working today?”
Gillian’s laugh tinkled out. “Oh, Carm works every day. You just missed her, actually. Her son has an event at school and Carm had to run a quick errand before it started. She’ll be back soon, though. Tonight the shop’s open till nine and I go home at seven.”
That surprised me. “I didn’t know Carm had a child,” I said.
“Kenny’s hardly a child. I think he’ll be six or seven in a few weeks. But to tell you the truth, I’m glad she’s not here right now. If Carm knew Mariah Blackthorne was in her store, she’d have ten fits.” She pulled her sweater more tightly around her. “I hope she leaves before Carm gets back. I’m not in the mood for all the drama.”
“I don’t believe we’ll be staying much longer,” I assured Gillian. I figured a change of subject was in order so I gestured toward the sign on the wall. “I didn’t realize you could have a personal scent made?”
“Yeah, it’s something Carm’s trying out. She hooked up with some guy who’s a perfumer—I think that’s the right term. He comes in two days a week to blend special scents. You have to make an appointment. I think the guy’s booked for this entire month already.”
I goggled at her. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. You’d be surprised how many people want their own personal scent. They don’t want something that half the population has. They want to be unique.” She cocked her head at me. “You should try one of those special blends, Nora. Yours would probably have an air of mystery. Maybe something like . . . this?” She reached for a bottle on a nearby shelf, pulled out the stopper. She held it under my nose and I breathed in deeply—and almost choked. The perfume was definitely strong, I’d give it that.
“Citrus, lemon, patchouli and just the barest hint of tobacco,” said Gillian. “It’s very earthy and mysterious.”
I smiled and shook my head. “I think that might be a little too much mystery for me.” I sniffed at the air. “Your scent is nice, though. Nice and light. Did you have it blended?”
Gillian shook her head. “Oh, no. I couldn’t afford to do that.” She made a little face, lifted her wrist and sniffed at it. “Actually I just spritzed this on. I ran out of my current one the other day, so I’m trying some others out. So far I haven’t found one I really like.”
Elle appeared in the aisle just then, two large glass containers clutched in each hand. She spotted Gillian and strode right up to her. “I was looking for bath salts in a lime and ginger scent,” she said. “Do you carry anything like that?”
“Lime and ginger? I don’t think so, but I’m sure we could order it for you,” Gillian said.
Elle made a little noise in her throat. “Don’t bother. I’ll just take these.”
“Okay,” Gillian said. “I can ring you up now.”
“Wait, my friend is buying some bath salts too. I want everything put on my bill—ah, there she is now.”
Mariah came around the corner just then, a glass container of bath salts in one hand. Her head down, she butted right into Gillian’s back. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Mariah murmured. “I wasn’t watching where I was going, I’m afraid.”
Gillian hesitated, then reached out and gave Mariah a tentative pat on the shoulder. “No harm done,” she said. She looked at Elle. “Are you ready now?”
“Yes.” Elle reached out and plucked the jar from Mariah’s hand. “This is my treat, and don’t bother to protest. I insist.”
As Elle and Gillian moved off toward the counter Mariah and I went over to stand by the front door. Mariah glanced casually around the shop. “This really is a very nice store,” she said. “I think I would like to come back and talk to the perfumer. Maybe I should try something new—oh my God!” She stopped speaking, and her back stiffened. Her eyes flashed, and her lips compressed into a thin line as she pointed down the aisle opposite where we stood. “What is she doing here?” she rasped.
I followed Mariah’s pointing finger, and my own heart skipped a beat as I saw who had caught Mariah’s attention: Jennifer Hinkle.
Chapter Thirteen
Before I could say a word, Mariah started down the aisle toward Jennifer. “What are you doing here? You’re following me, aren’t you?” she screamed at the reporter.
Jennifer appeared startled, but she held up both hands in a gesture of surrender as Mariah approached her. “Mrs. Blackthorne, I’m not following you,” she said. “I just came in here to look around.”
“A likely story,” Mariah spat. She walked right up to Jennifer and shook her finger in her face. “Didn’t I warn you to leave me alone and to stop dogging me? If I catch you around me again, I swear I’ll . . . I won’t be responsible for what I might do to you. I—ooh.”
Mariah’s eyes closed and she swayed uncertainly on her feet. I hurried forward and slipped my arm around Mariah’s shoulders to support her. Jennifer took a step back, and as she did so I caught a glimpse of a soft, pink scarf sticking out of the edge of the voluminous tote bag slung over one arm. Unless I missed my guess, it was the exact shade of pink as the thread I’d found in Mariah’s room.
Jennifer turned on her heel and made a beeline for the door, vanishing through it just as Elle hurried over to us. “What happened?” she asked me, then without waiting for me to answer, she nudged me aside and pulled Mariah close to her. “Dear, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Mariah spat. “It was that horrid reporter. She’s following me!”
“I’ll be right back,” I said and hurried out the front door after Jennifer. I spotted her halfway down the block. “Jennifer,” I yelled. “Stop.”
Jennifer stopped, turned and saw me. For a minute I thought she was going to bolt, but she stood there, tapping her foot and waiting for me to approach. As I drew close to her, she lifted her chin and growled, “What do you want? To accuse me too?”
I folded my arms across my chest. “I don’t know. Have you done something that I should be accusing you of?”
“Of course not.” Jennifer shifted her tote bag from one hand to the other. “It’s not a crime to shop, is it? I happen to have been in that store before and I like their products.”
I tapped my foot against the sidewalk. “So you weren’t spying on Mariah?”
“Spying? Heck, no!” Jennifer put a hand on her hip. “For your information, I was already in the store when the three of you came in. I was very careful not to let you see me because I figured my presence would be upsetting to Mrs. Blackthorne, and I was right.”
