A Frothy Fiasco: A Cozy Mystery (Sweet Home Mystery Series Book 3) (7 page)

  Chapter Ten

I came home from Connie’s with an armful of dry shampoo, leave-in conditioner, spray mousse for my roots, salt spray for double volume, the rest of the box of clip-in hair extensions (since I was too chicken to let her use the kind that have to be glued in), a round brush, blow dryer, and a satin pillow case. She said that would be “a good start.”

And the good news is, my hair looked like real hair that belonged on the head of a real girl! She moisturized the heck out of it, cut off the split ends, layered it just a little, brightened up the color, added highlights and a few of the clip-in extensions, put in some other “product,” and then blow-dried and styled it. Two hours later, I was a very happy camper.

I called Jules to come over to make sure it didn’t look like I was going overboard for the occasion, and she was also really fantastic with makeup – and helping me pick out the right dress. I starved myself, since I only had a few hours to lose ten pounds. Well…it’s the thought that counts. And I soaked in a warm bubble bath for half an hour. I made sure the water wasn’t hot enough to steam the body out of my hair. Jules arrived at 5 o’clock, and Eli would pick me up at 7:30. If he canceled tonight, I was prepared to pull every hair out of his head, one at a time.

“My gosh, this is the best your hair has ever looked, Lily. Your aunts really came through for you with their hair stylist.”

“It’s not too much…too desperate…too…girly?”

“It’s not ‘too’ anything. It’s just beautiful, and so are you. It’s enough so that Eli will notice it, but not so much that he’ll think you’ve got an agenda.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“So, first, we’ve got to pick out the dress and the shoes so we can match the makeup and the handbag. Closet.” She pointed her command, and we went to take a look.

“Not red,” she said. “That’s the color you wore for Schooner. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Funny.”

“Red is too…overstated. You want the ‘sexy’ to come from you tonight, not from the dress.”

Okay, I was buying it.

“Where are those dresses we got from Lucille’s going out of business sale when she went to prison?”

I pulled out the four dresses I got there, still never worn.

“Here.” She tapped her finger definitively on one of the dresses laid out on the bed several times. “The turquoise wrap-around. It flatters your figure, and you’ve got the perfect shoes to go with it.”

“And I can loosen it up a little after I consume a whole steak and lobster.”

I’m not one for a lot of makeup, but Jules did a great job of making me look good without making me look like a French streetwalker. Okay, I’ll say it because normally I won‘t: I looked pretty.

Eli told me I looked nice (not exactly what I was hoping for), and we managed to drive to the Torch Club without talking business—his or mine. I was curious about any developments in the crime cases, but I really didn’t want to get him started. Maybe during dessert.

It wasn’t until we were at our candlelit table and sipping on our first glass of wine that Eli was able to let work and everything else go and settle into the present moment where the whole world consisted of just the two of us.

The 7-piece orchestra was playing relaxing dinner and dancing tunes from the big band era on the stage across the dance floor. One young couple was dancing, lost in each other’s embrace. He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, enhanced by the flickering of the candle, and had just a hint of a smile. Everything was perfect. Then he reached across the table and rubbed the back of my hand.

“Lily Parker, you look…” He inhaled quickly as if something had taken his breath away for a moment and he needed more air before he could continue speaking. “…beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

That’s
the word I wanted to hear! And now that I heard it, I could sense the doubting voices in the back of my head trying to reject it. Not tonight. I was beautiful, and I could feel it.

I tilted my head and smiled, as I imagined Rita Hayworth might have done. “It’s just little ol’ me.” Oh, gosh, did I really just say that?

He smiled and chuckled. “Did you do something to your hair?”

Seriously? He had never noticed before that my hair always looked like a wet mop head after swabbing down a dirty floor?

“Uh…I just bought a new comb. Maybe that’s it.”

He nodded, and his eyes never left mine. “Yes, I’m sure that’s it. It’s so well combed tonight. And that dress…an old tablecloth, perhaps?”

“Last year’s drapes from the coffee shop.”

Eli’s phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. Great. Well, it’s was a magical night while it lasted. Without looking at it, he pressed a button with his thumb and slid it back in his pocket.

I looked at him, a little bit puzzled. Should a police lieutenant really be disregarding a call like that?

“Don’t worry,” he said with calm reassurance. “If they need me bad enough, there’ll be a black and white here real soon to drag me away. They know where I am. And they know that they’d better not disturb me unless the Martians are attacking.”

I was impressed. This must be a pretty important dinner.

“Well, we’d better get some more conversation in before Officer Crenshaw comes for you.”

He smiled. “Well, Karen would probably restrain the rest of the force from coming for me unless it was Martians, the Jesse James Gang, Godzilla, or a mass prison break. I think we’ll be safe for a while. It was probably just Dad reminding me about the big golf cart race tomorrow.”

“Are you on duty tomorrow?”

“Not officially, but I intend to do some snooping around at the event. And with the whole town at the steeplechase, I’ve got everybody doing some reconnaissance runs through the streets of Sweet Home.”

“That’s a really good idea. All the homes and businesses will be empty.” I didn’t really want to turn the topic to the rash of thefts, but curiosity got the best of me. “So…Toe or the kids?”

“The thief? I really don’t have a handle on it yet. There are clues that point to both and some things that seem to indicate that’s it’s someone else. Like the white powder.”

“Karen said there was powder on Essie and Hildie’s doorknob. And on Toe’s Pen, you said. Where else?”

“None on Dad’s iPad mini. Just Toe’s and Dad’s fingerprints. But there was some on the checks that were returned to Clyde Jackson, and…” Eli seemed in deep thought and drummed his fingers on the table.

“Where else, Eli?”

“At the Portswain scene.”

“So what is this powder anyway?”

He shook his head slowly and pensively. “All we know so far is that it’s medical grade. It has some anti-bacterial properties, and it keeps things both dry and slippery, like gymnastics chalk or something. We’re still trying to find out who makes it, what it’s used for, and where you can get it around here. Hopefully that shoe should drop in the next couple of days or so.”

The waiter refilled our wine glasses with the bottle in the chilling stand by our table. Eli’s was nearly empty and mine was about at the halfway mark.

“Would you like menus, sir?” the tuxedoed waiter asked Eli.

Eli shook his head. “No, thank you.”

What! I starved myself for this! We’re just having drinks?

“Just bring us each the steak and lobster, medium rare, with drawn butter,
au gratins
, grilled zucchini and broccoli, and a Caesar salad.”

“Yes, sir.”

That was a relief. I was about to reach across the table and swat him. “So, you don’t think I know how to read a menu?”

“I’m pretty sure you could sound it out, except for some of the big words.”

Cool. Eli has a good sense of humor. He must feel relaxed around me.

“Actually, I just didn’t want to take any chances that you’d do that girl thing and order a cob salad with no dressing. I want you to feel full and satisfied, not hungry and weak at the end of a night.”

I probably shouldn’t tell him that I’m always hungry. “Why?”

“I just want you to feel like you had a good date. I really don’t know how to do this dating thing, you know. I’ve missed so many years with my nose to the grindstone, and don’t want to let my whole life pass me by.”

I could definitely relate to that. “I know what you mean, Eli.”

“And then…here I am with little Lily Parker, and for some reason it scares the hell out of me.”

“I’m…scary?” I knew what he meant, but it seemed that he was opening up a part of himself, and I wanted to keep him talking.

“Did I blow it already?”

I smiled and moved my hand to the top of his. “And I’m here with big Eli Davis…and it’s kind of cool. We’ve come a long way from throwing mud balls at each other. We have some different kinds of barriers to break through than a lot of couples, but…”

His eyes turned toward me kind of quickly when I said “couples,” and he smiled gently. He finished my thought. “…but maybe we have a shot at something if we get to know each other as the people we are today.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself. It looked as though he was relaxing and loosening up a little.

“Lily, I just want you to leave here tonight knowing that I have a genuine interest in you.”

Wow. That felt nice.

“I see. And, since I combed my hair for this occasion, you can assume that I might welcome that interest.” I decided to push it and give him the true test of a man’s interest in a woman. “So…are you interested enough to take a girl for a spin on the dance floor?”

He inhaled briskly though his nose and then let it out. “Well…like a lot of men, I’m not much of a dancer and not real confident in my abilities out there on the dance floor, especially these days when everybody is watching Celebrity Dancing, or whatever it’s called…”

I figured as much. As long as he didn’t kick my ankles or mangle my toes, I was game.

“But I did tell myself that if things went well, I might ask you for a dance before the end of the night.”

“Ah, okay. So, when were you thinking about doing this?”

“Not sure. Probably after dessert.”

“That’s too bad,” I said, looking at my wine glass and shaking my head with a mischievous grin.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, after devouring an entire arthropod and a side of beef with all the trimmings, I’m probably not going to have room for dessert.”

“Ah. Well, in that case,” he took my hand as he stood and walked around the table,   “may I have this dance, Miss Lily Parker?”
 

Chapter Eleven

It was high noon, and a perfect sunny Sunday with a cool salt breeze coming in from the Atlantic coast 25 minutes away. The Sinking Springs charity event sponsored by the retirement community was in its final day, and there were visitors from Orlando, Tampa, and Daytona Beach as well as tourists and relatives from all over the country drawn to the event.

There were rides for the kids set up in the town park with an art and craft fair all along Sleepy Palms Boulevard leading up to the retirement home. The ice cream social was in full swing in the main courtyard, and all of the residents were wearing their vintage 1890s attire. The ladies had long button-down dresses, fancy bonnets, and parasols, and the gentlemen wore white shirts and black vests with flat broad-rimmed or bowler hats. Many had grown out their moustaches for the occasion, which they waxed and curled.

They welcomed the guests, manned the ice cream booths, and herded people over to the silent auction like barkers at a carnival sideshow. Jerry Thatcher, the self-appointed comedian of Sinking Springs, was in his glory.

“Hurry, hurry, folks! It’s your last chance to win a weekend with Mickey and Minnie, dinner for two at the Torch Club, one-month of free coffee at the Coffee Cabana, and much, much more! It’s all for a good cause, the Children’s Research Hospital, so get your bids in now! It could be the best deal you’ll ever get, or my name’s not Jerry Thatcher – No relation to Margaret!”

The retirement community consisted of a large condominium complex with one wing for assisted living.  These were mostly filled with retired transplants from the Snow Belt. For the aging locals who wanted independence and a little help with their lawn maintenance, plus a community for bingo and picnics, they also had a homeowners association with several square blocks of private homes. That was where my aunts and Harvey and some of the other old-timers lived.

“It just doesn’t seem the same without Miss South Carolina here in her sash and tiara welcoming everyone at the gate,” Jules said to me as we were heading back out to the street.

“Yeah, poor old Mrs. Portswain. I never really knew her, but she sure added a little something to the events here. It’s been a week since…it happened, and still not much in the way of clues, according to Eli.”