An Uplifting Murder (4 page)

“My name is Cody John Wayne. I’m here to pick up my wife’s order.” He lowered his voice. “She’s having a bra altered.”

“I’m sorry,” Laura said, “but her order won’t be ready for another hour. Would you like to have lunch in the mall or do some shopping and then come back?”

Frankie blocked his way to the door. “You look awfully scared for a war hero, Cody,” she said. “Maybe you could pick up some panty hose while you wait.” She handed him a pair of extra-large control-top hose from a rack.

“My wife is petite,” he stammered.

“Oh, these aren’t for your wife,” Frankie said. “Perhaps you’d like something for your hero son, Tyler. Imagine that. Two heroes in one family. Must be genetic. Or maybe Tyler gets his heroic genes from his mother.”

Cody’s face turned sunset red. “I need to go to the food court,” he mumbled, and fled the store.

“Trish will be happy to wait on you, Frankie,” Laura said.

Trish didn’t look happy. She was making a big show of folding stock on the sale table.

“I’d rather have her.” Frankie pointed to Rosa.

“We’ve got Rosa,” Josie said, quickly.

The two saleswomen, unused to being the prizes in a tug-of-war, stayed silent.

“Whatever,” Frankie said. “It’s no big deal. Especially not in your case, Josie.”

“Wearing oversized sacks of saline doesn’t make you a better person,” Josie said, as Alyce dragged her toward the dressing room door.

Chapter 3

“If you ladies will take off your tops, you can put on one of those silk robes there,” Rosa said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Are you getting your tape measure?” Alyce asked.

“Don’t need one,” the saleswoman said. “I can tell your size by looking at you. I could make an educated guess now, but it’s better if I see the real you. I suspect that you, Josie, are a C-cup.”

“No, I’m a B,” Josie said.

“I don’t think so,” Rosa said. “But we’ll know better when you try on some bras. Alyce, you’re wearing a bust minimizer. You’re squashing your poor breasts. That underwire has to dig into your chest. It’s pushing your breasts out under your arms.”

“My bust is too big,” Alyce said. “If I don’t minimize it, I look dumpy.”

“In the right bra, you’ll look curvy,” Rosa said. “You’ll have a waist and your hips will look smaller. I promise. I’m built like you.”

Rosa gave a little hip-check. She had a lush figure, silky brown hair, and lively, humorous eyes the color of black coffee. She was overweight by fashion standards, but Rosa looked shapely in her pencil skirt and black sweater. A black leather belt emphasized her waist.

“All the women in my family are built like me, including my mama and my sister Maria. Mama still insists on squashing her chest with a minimizer, but Maria follows my advice, and let me tell you, the men follow her. It won’t hurt to try on a bra, Alyce. I promise it will hurt a lot less than that minimizer.”

“All right.” Alyce was reluctant. “But I’m no Megan Fox. Armani isn’t after me to model their underwear.”

“No, you’re not Megan Fox. You’re a grown woman with a beautiful figure,” Rosa said. “Do you want a stick figure like a child draws? Change into your robes, ladies, and I’ll be back with some bras.”

“Is that the saleswoman who got the complaints?” Alyce whispered.

Josie nodded yes. She didn’t know how thin the walls were. Alyce got her silent message.

“This dressing room is the size of my entire bedroom,” Josie said. “At least they keep the temperature warm.”

“The slate blue suede-cloth walls make it seem cozy,” Alyce said. “The mirrors aren’t too awful. I don’t look like a lump of lard.”

“You’re too rough on yourself,” Josie said, though her own self-appraisal was equally brutal. She felt as old and saggy as her bra looked.

Rosa came bustling back with an armload of bras. She handed a lacy black one to Alyce.

“I can’t wear lace,” Alyce said. “I’m too big.”

“Lace is a better support than those ugly industrial-strength bras,” Rosa said. “Anyway, you’re not that big. You’re only a DD. We carry bras through size K.

“And you,” she said, handing Josie a hot pink bra and a dark gray one, “are a definite C. A B-cup is too small for you.”

Josie tried on the larger size, a sophisticated steel gray with an embroidered lace band and straps.

“You mentioned your sister. Does your family live in St. Louis, Rosa?” Josie asked.

“Yes. My sister and her husband have a Mexican restaurant near Cherokee Street, El Loco Burro. Good burritos, enchiladas, and taco salads. Good prices, too. They live nearby. There are many Latinos in that section of south St. Louis. If you’re in the area, stop by for a meal and tell them Rosa sent you.”

“Do your parents live there, too?” Josie said.

“No,” Rosa said. The warmth vanished from her voice and her face shut down. The bright, mischievous eyes avoided Josie. “I’ll get you some panties.” Rosa slid out of the dressing room door.

“Did I say something wrong?” Josie whispered.

“Didn’t sound like it to me,” Alyce said. “I’m definitely going with this black lace bra. She’s right. It fits.”

“So does this C-cup,” Josie said. “If only I’d known in high school that this would be my future size. I wouldn’t have wasted any tears on Frankie’s insults.”

Half an hour later, Josie and Alyce had made their selections. Josie was relieved that Rosa had survived the checklist questions. She peeked out of the dressing room.

“There’s no sign of the insulting Frankie,” Alyce said.

“Shh!” Josie said, and lowered her voice. She opened their dressing room a sliver and said, “The door is closed on the dressing room across the hall. She’s probably in there. Here comes Rosa with our panties.”

Rosa appeared with lacy lingerie in lush pink and peach and dashes of bold black and red.

A snarl issued from behind the closed door. “Who do I have to screw to get waited on around here?” Frankie shouted.

Rosa ran down the hall room. “I’ll send in your saleswoman right away,” she called.

Trish had been packing up the alteration order for Cody John Wayne, the shy hero. Laura the manager took the bra away from Trish and pushed her toward the dressing rooms. Cody eyed the store as if Frankie might ambush him behind a bra carousel.

He looked even more frightened when Frankie marched up to the counter, holding a sheer red crossed-strap contraption along with her plastic-bagged dress. She practically dangled the bra in Cody’s face. He blushed.

“I decided not to wait for your salesperson,” Frankie said. She flopped her plastic-covered dress on the countertop, taking all the available space. Cody flinched as if it were poison instead of plastic.

Laura gently pushed the plastic-wrapped dress out of the way. “Thanks for waiting, Cody,” she said. “You’re a brave man to come in here and pick up your wife’s order.” She gave him a warm smile as she bagged his wife’s bra.

“Good-bye, Cody,” Frankie said. “We won’t forget your heroism—or your son’s.” A shark would envy her smile.

Cody dropped his bag and backed away from Frankie. He stood in the center of the store, a blushing hero turned to stone, scrambling to pick up the lingerie bag.

“I can ring you now, Frankie,” Laura said, trying to get Frankie’s focus away from the bumbling hero. “Did you find what you needed?”

“This will do,” Frankie said. She held up a fashionably fat Gucci purse. “Good thing I’m honest. I could have shoplifted this bra. Your saleswoman Trish certainly didn’t stick around. Too eager to wait on a man, I see. I thought this store was supposed to be by women for women.”

“I’m sorry you’re not happy,” Laura said. Josie noticed she didn’t apologize for her saleswoman. “Trish is one of our finest sales associates. She was able to fit you when no other store could.”

A white-faced Trish came around to the counter and began stacking lingerie hangers. Cody dropped the bag again.

“What is the address of your corporate headquarters?” Frankie asked. Her tone sounded like trouble.

Laura handed her a business card.

“And where’s your bathroom? I need to pee.”

Cody went a shade redder under his sun-weathered skin.

“There are restroom facilities two stores down on the left,” Laura said. “Your total is seventy-six twenty.”

While Frankie wrote a check, Rosa approached a young woman in the doorway. She was about as tall as Rosa, but dressed older than her years. She hid what looked like a buxom figure under a shapeless navy coat. Her shiny dark hair was pinned into a tight French roll.

“May I help you?” Rosa asked.

Miss French Roll looked around the lingerie store. Her eyes widened and she stammered, “Do I have to take off my top for a fitting?”

“Just for a moment,” Rosa said. “We’ll give you a robe to wear.”

“Uh, no,” she said, and left.

“We get some shy ones sometimes,” Rosa said.

Everyone had stopped to watch the doorway drama with the shy woman in the French roll. “Excuse me,” Frankie said. “You have customers here trying to buy things. Like me.”

“I’ll need your driver’s license for that check,” Laura said.

Cody dropped the bag for the third time. Trish ran out, picked it up and handed it to him. “You’re all set,” she said. “If your wife has any problems, please, have her call us. My card is in the bag.” Cody sprinted for freedom as Trish went to the second register.

Out of respect for Cody’s unease, Josie and Alyce had stayed in the doorway to the dressing rooms. Now that he was gone, they went to Trish’s register with their lingerie. Neither woman stood close to Frankie, as if she might lash out and attack them.

Josie presented her credit card to Trish. The blond saleswoman had cushiony pink lips and hair so short it looked shaved, but stylishly so. Her skin was the color of skimmed milk. Standing next to Alyce, the two pale women were a whiteout.

Alyce was wearing her new black lace bra under her blue sweater. She admired her improved figure in the shop mirror. “Look,” she said. “With my new bra, I have a waist for the first time since I was pregnant. I may even buy a belt.”

“We can shop for one now,” Josie said.

“Deep Designer Discounts at the west end of the mall has good buys on accessories,” Laura said. “That’s where I got this black-and-white scarf.”

“Pretty. It looks like a Chanel,” Josie said.

“It’s my ten-dollar bargain,” Laura said. “DDD has a pile of them. Where else can you get a Chanel for ten bucks?”

“It’s a Chanel knockoff,” Frankie said. “I have the real thing at home.”

Laura hooked the bag for the newly purchased bra over the dress hanger and handed it to Frankie. She sailed toward the door, the plastic-covered dress billowing behind her.

“See you later,” Frankie said.

“I hope not,” Josie said.

Chapter 4

Josie and Alyce strolled through Plaza Venetia’s synthetic summer. The soft, warm air was an invitation to linger. The bright red and pink flowers were a promise that winter would end. The marble fountains could have been in a palace garden. Plaza Venetia made shoppers believe they could buy their way into heaven.

“That was an unusual bra fitting,” Alyce said. “But I like the results.” Alyce was carrying her heavy winter coat to show off her improved figure. Her shoulders were thrust back and her bosom jutted proudly.