Makeovers Can Be Murder (10 page)

″I′m an orphan now,″ she said, as if testing out the sound of the unfamiliar word.

In a whisper she continued, ″
Orphan
. That word sounds strange, doesn′t it? When you′re an orphan it seems like you should be a kid. Like Little Orphan Annie.″

″It′s a horrible thing to lose your parents no matter what age you are,″ I replied.

Shaina was staring past me. Then her neck arched back, and her gaze angled away at a guarded slant.

I turned around to see what she was looking away from.

A man charged into the room at a full-bore tilt. ″My dear, how are you feeling?″ he said. ″Oh, my girl, I was thinking of you the entire drive up from Florida.″

″Gavin.″ Shaina said the name in a flat-sounding voice. ″Kate, this is my stepfather.″

With a jolt, I recognized Gavin. He was the man I′d just seen outside in the parking garage. There was no mistaking the Trump-do and gaga-musky men′s fragrance.

Jana′s widower was Mr. Musk-and-Blow. Who, when last seen by me, had been playing hide-the-hand down the décolleté of the chesty blonde in his Corvette.

Chapter 17

Give Your Face an Instant Lift

—From
The Little Book of Beauty Secrets
by Mimi Morgan

 

 

Without thinking, I stepped between Gavin and Shaina, blocking her stepfather′′s progress.

″What? Who are
you
?″ Gavin said to me, taking a step back.

There was no glimmer of recognition in his eyes. Obviously he′d been too wrapped up with Miss Skanky Blonde to notice me standing right next to his Corvette.

″I′m not up to seeing anyone right now,″ Shaina said to me.

Looking directly at her stepfather, she continued, ″Please, Kate—can you make him go away?″

″Let′s go outside for a moment,″ I said to Gavin, hustling him out the door.

Once we were in the hallway, I closed the door to Shaina′s room behind us.

″What′s wrong with her?″ Gavin sounded bewildered. ″I drove here all the way from Florida to see her.″

″Well, I′m sorry, but she said she′s not up to seeing you right now. And anyway—don′t you have someone waiting for you outside?″

Gavin shot me a guarded look. ″What do you mean?″ he demanded.

″I think you know what I′m talking about.″

″It′s not your business,″ he sputtered. ″Like I said before, who the hell are
you
?″

″I′m a friend of Jana′s. Your wife, remember? I saw you in your car out in the parking garage just a little while ago with that blonde. Isn′t it inappropriate for you to bring your girlfriend with you to the hospital, right after your wife is killed?″

Gavin dug into his pocket and extracted his car keys, as if preparing to make a getaway. But it turned out he was just getting warmed up.

″I don′t know what you think you saw,″ he said, his chest puffing up. ″My assistant, Can-dice, drove up here with me from Miami. She′s doing some work for me this week. That′s all.″

″Candice? You mean
Candy
, don′t you? Admirer of the naked videos you sent her? I have sources who told me all about them, Gavin. Or is it Guido? Didn′t you change your name?″

″What the—How
dare
you?″

Gavin swayed dangerously close. Even though it was before noon, I could smell whiskey on his breath.

A doctor passed by and scanned our tense body language with a curious expression.

As soon as the man was out of earshot, Gavin grabbed hold of my forearm. He wasn′t a huge man, but his grip was painful.

″Who the
hell
do you think you are?″ he said, lowering his voice to a growl. ″You′re interfering with my family′s private business. You better back off, lady. I need to talk to my daughter.″

″Shaina′s your
step
daughter, remember? And right now she doesn′t want to talk to you.″

″That′s enough. I′m having you thrown out.″

″That′d be great. In fact, why don′t you call the police, Gavin? You make out with a girlfriend at the hospital the day your wife is murdered? I′m sure they′ll be interested to hear about that.″

″The police will be
quite
interested, in fact.″

Luke was standing next to me in the hallway. I hadn′t heard him approach. Neither had Gavin, apparently, from the startled look he gave the detective.

Next to Luke was a cop I′d never seen before. He must have recently been promoted to detective grade, or else his wife had just given him a makeover; his blazer-and-khakis outfit looked fresh off the rack. Every movement seemed slightly uncomfortable.

Luke opened his wallet and showed his badge to Gavin.

″You′re Gavin Spellmore, husband of Jana Miller?″

When Gavin nodded, he continued, ″I′m Detective Luke Petronella of Durham Homicide. I′d like you to chat for a few moments with my colleague Detective Stripling.″

Gavin opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it again.

Grabbing me by an elbow, Luke spun me away from Gavin and herded me down the hallway.

I expected Luke to pump me for information about what I′d learned about the tête-à-tête I′d seen between Gavin and his girlfriend in the Corvette. But Luke surprised me by scowling. At
me
.

″What the hell were you doing just now, Kate?″ he asked. ″You haven′t been talking to my witness Shaina about this case, have you?″

″Of course not,″ I said. ″But I just saw her stepfather, Gavin, outside playing a game of booby trap with his girlfriend. That′s why Jana was divorcing him. Doesn′t that make him a likely suspect in her murder?″

″Oh, so now you′re a historian for the War of the Roses. Are you planning to go to detective school, too?″

Before I could reply, he kept on blasting, ″Are you
shittin′
me, Kate? If you screw up my case, I will poach both your ass cheeks and serve them up cold on an English muffin for breakfast. With bacon.″

″I have no idea what that′s supposed to mean, Luke, but you don′t have to threaten me.″

″I wouldn′t have thought of threatening you before now. After witnessing this little hallway performance of yours, I may have to change my mind.″

He stabbed the air with a commanding finger. ″Remember, Kate,″ he said. ″Your bacon.
In
the eggs Benedict.″

I rolled my eyes. Luke loves food metaphors, but he always messes them up.

I mean, everyone
knows
that eggs Benedict doesn′t come with bacon.

Chapter 18

God′s Gift to Women on the Beach

—From
The Little Book of Beauty Secrets
by Mimi Morgan

 

 

On the way home from the hospital, I reached Shaina′s uncle Belmont Miller by telephone. The Millers had just landed at RDU Airport from Los Angeles in—must be nice—their private Gulf-stream jet.

″I owe you one for keeping that jerk Gavin away from Shaina,″ Belmont said when I told him what had happened at the hospital. ″He′s the
last
person she should see right now. I wonder why he was so insistent on seeing her.″

The possible answer made me shudder. What if Shaina was right and Gavin had had Jana killed? What if he′d had her mother murdered for the insurance money? The notion seemed far-fetched, but I wasn′t in the mood to overlook any possibilities.

As I was mulling that over, Belmont continued, ″We′re going to take Shaina to our cottage in the Bahamas. She can recover there.″

″So soon?″

″The doctors said she′s okay to travel. I just got off the line with the police. I gather from the detectives that they′ve already gotten all the information they need from her for now. We′ll fly her back in for anything else they need.″

″Still, I don′t know if it′s best that she—″

″I′ve brought our private physician with us. Don′t worry—Shaina will get the best of care.″ All at once, Belmont sounded like he was in a hurry to end the conversation.

I wasn′t too happy about the idea that Shaina was going to be whisked out of the country right after her mother′s death. It was hard to wrap my head around the idea of bopping around the world on a private jet with one′s own doctor. It sounded like the life of royals. Even though I′d always known Jana came from a rich family, I′d never realized
how
rich.

Belmont, Luke—everyone, it seemed—were telling me not to worry, that things were under control. They had their suspect and their story lines straight. But I still had a duty to my friend Jana.

I needed to know
why
she′d been killed.

Chapter 19

Protect Against Sun Damage with Tea Tree Oil Products

—From
The Little Book of Beauty Secrets
by Mimi Morgan

 

 

The clouds cleared away that afternoon just in time for the Newbodies to hold the Memory Ceremony for Jana.

At four p.m. I was clutching the prickly stem of a red rose in my right hand, a white rose in my left—red to symbolize life, white for death.

Eight women were clustered around me atop a stone bridge that spanned New Hope Creek in Duke Forest. The rains had transformed the boulder-pocked rivulet into muddy rapids; all around us was the sound of rushing water and the smell of damp earth.

Frank crouched below us at the shoreline, his camera resting on his shoulder. Bringing a crew along had actually been Evelyn′s idea. I′d resisted at first, not wanting to exploit Jana′s death. But Evelyn had already text-polled the Newbodies, and all eight women had decided unanimously that broadcasting the ceremony would provide a highway to release Jana′s spirit to the cosmos.

The only member who hadn′t made it to the gathering was Trish Putnam, who was still out of town. I′d left her a message on her cell about Jana, but had missed her return call. I still wanted to find out what had become of Jana′s purse, which she′d left at Trish′s house on the night of the Newbodies meeting. I′d have to follow up about that with her later.

Evelyn stood at the crest of the bridge, facing us. She was wearing a full-length white dress and carrying a woven basket. The basket had pieces of paper in it.

″As you all know, Jana Miller was a former member of the Newbodies,″ Evelyn began. ″She moved away to Miami a couple of years ago but kept in close touch and was a good friend to many of us. We′ve come here today to honor her life with our spirit memories.″

Evelyn started handing out pieces of paper and tiny pencils from the basket.

As she distributed the items to each of us, she continued, ″This is biodegradable paper that will dissolve almost instantly and leave no pollution in the creek,″ she said. ″I′d like us each to write a spiritual memory of Jana. Then we′ll release the notes and the roses into the water.″

When I got my piece of paper, I stared at it for a while, unsure what a ″spiritual memory″ was. Then I knew.

Jana
, I wrote.
Shaina is fine and she misses you very much. The police have made an arrest. I′ll keep following up until I′m satisfied they have the right person. I hope you′re at peace now. Love, Kate.

It was an oddly factual, unspiritual message.

But hey, I′m a reporter, not a psychic.

And if by some miracle my message managed to reach Jana on the other side of life, I hoped she′d appreciate the update.

Chapter 20

Brighten Those Red Eyes

—From
The Little Book of Beauty Secrets
by Mimi Morgan

 

 

Our after-ceremony was much less spiritual than the Memory Ceremony had been.

At my suggestion, a few of us met at Bug-tussles. By now it was seven p.m., and I was in serious need of decompression, one involving libation and perhaps some of Bartender Bernie′s famous hamburger sliders.

Four of us made the pilgrimage—me, Evelyn, and two women I′d first met at the Tuesday night Newbodies meeting.

Passersby were shooting curious glances at us. We were at the bar, but we certainly weren′t in bar-chat mode.

Evelyn was still wearing her Sister Aimee gown, with roses in her hair that she′d picked up at the Memory Ceremony.

″We don′t have a quorum here to decide anything tonight,″ she said. ″But I′m thinking we should probably disband the Newbodies.″

″Don′t we need to talk to Trish about that before even
discussing
it?″ said Monique, a shockingly tall woman who had the most overdeveloped neck I′d ever seen. ″I don′t want to preempt.″

Monique had once been named Michael, I′d heard, which probably explained the height
and
the neck.

″Certainly I don′t mean to preempt Trish,″ Evelyn said in a defensive tone. ″But I′m scared. Too much has happened. Like what about the fact that Anaïs Loring was killed last spring? Who′s next?″

Celia, who had a pasty-white complexion that made her look like she′d been bitten by a vampire, looked up from her drink. ″You didn′t even know Anaïs, Evelyn,″ she said. ″I did, and I certainly can′t imagine any possible connection between Anaïs and Jana. Let′s all take a deep breath and not overreact.″