Murder Is a Piece of Cake (13 page)

Chapter 22

Sunday, October 28

Josie shut the door on her own domestic dream and drove to Denise’s Dreams. After
Ted’s comfortable home, the bridal shop’s picket-fence perfection seemed fake.

So did Rita’s smile.

“I knew you’d come back,” she said, blond curls bouncing. “Which tiara do you want?”

“The baroque pearl roses,” Josie said, and mentally crossed her fingers. She hoped
her hunch was right.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rita said. “Denise sold it.”

Josie didn’t think Rita sounded a bit sorry. She didn’t look it, either. “Really?”
she said. “When?”

“Yesterday afternoon,” Rita said. “Another bride saw it, loved it, and bought it on
the spot.”

Rita’s sad smile was as sincere as a deadbeat’s promise that the check was in the
mail. Josie didn’t believe any bride would pay twelve hundred dollars for a tiara,
then turn around and try to sell it on eBay the next day—for much less.

Josie suspected that Rita stole it and was trying to sell it. But she needed a motive.
She had to find out if the saleswoman needed quick cash.

Rita’s dress looked new—powder blue with puffed sleeves and a cascade of ruffles down
the front. She hovered nearby while Josie tried to stare wistfully at the tiaras on
display. They were fairy-tale jewelry for princesses, pageants, and personages, she
thought. I guess a bride is all three.

“Would you like to look at the pink pearl tiara again?” Rita said. “It’s elegant.”

Josie sighed. “My heart was set on those baroque pearl roses. Mom didn’t mind the
price and it was perfect for my dress. I wanted it to become a family heirloom. Could
Denise make another one like it?”

“No,” Rita said. “Denise’s unique designs are her specialty. She used the highest
grade baroque pearls for that tiara. Each pearl was different. They can’t be duplicated
and neither can the design.”

So there isn’t another tiara like it, Josie thought. I’ve connected the tiara on eBay
to this shop.

“I’d hoped my daughter would wear it on her wedding day. Now that will never happen,”
Josie said as if she were mourning the loss for the future generations of Marcus women.

“At least look at the other tiara again,” Rita said. “Come sit down. Sunday afternoons
are quiet. I have time to help you make the right choice. Have some coffee and chocolate
fudge.”

“No fudge,” Josie said. “My final dress fitting is coming up.”

“Black coffee, then,” Rita said. She took Josie by the shoulders and practically forced
her into the blue chair. “Sit.”

Josie sat like a well-trained hound. Rita brought black coffee in a bone china cup,
then took the pink pearl tiara out of its velvet box.

Josie studied it, then shook her head. “I thought this looked elegant last time,”
she said. “Now it just seems plain.”

Rita wrapped a blond curl around one finger and absently tugged on her hair. Josie
thought her unease was genuine.

“Maybe I can help you choose if I know the kind of dress you’re wearing,” Rita said.
She handed Josie a heavy ring binder with photos of smiling brides in sample dresses.
The styles ranged from sexy strapless numbers suitable for nightclub singers to billowy
skirts for long-lost senior proms.

Josie pointed to a ruffled dress much like Molly’s. “That’s my dress. I went all out
with the ruffles and lace. I’m old-fashioned when it comes to weddings.”

“Me, too,” Rita said. Her ruffles bobbed as she nodded her head. “That’s so much like
my dress. I can show you lots of good choices for it.” She rushed into the back and
returned with a teetering pile of velvet boxes, like a shoe salesperson with a selection
of wares.

“Now sit back and sip your coffee,” Rita said, opening the top velvet box. “This one
has an intriguing diamond design.”

“Too modern,” Josie said.

“Then how about this scroll design?” Rita asked.

Josie pretended to consider it. “Better. But not quite.”

“This swirly tiara would look good.”

Josie shook her head. She nixed the hearts, butterflies, and bows. Rita offered stars,
circles, and crystals. Josie said no. Now they were both exhausted.

“I’m not giving up,” Rita said. “But let’s take a little break.”

She brought a fresh cup of coffee for Josie and one for herself, then settled into
the chair for a chat.

“I can’t stop thinking about your poor friend,” Josie said. “The one whose fiancé
ran off to Montana.”

“Molly,” Rita said.

“I’m surprised she could stand to work here.”

“It was hard for her,” Rita said. “But keeping busy helped her recover after George
abandoned her.”

“Did she get stuck with the bills when George ran off?” Josie said. “I’m asking because
my mother is nervous. I signed all the contracts and paid the deposits for the hall,
the caterer, the flowers. My fiancé travels so much, if I had to wait for him to cosign,
we’d never have a wedding. Mom says if he walks away this close to the wedding, I’m
stuck paying for everything.”

“You don’t think he’ll do that, do you?” Rita looked alarmed.

“No,” Josie said. “I’m sure he won’t. But Mom says I’m a fool and it’s happened to
smarter women than me—like your poor friend Molly. And you, too.”

“But that doesn’t mean your fiancé will break off your wedding,” Rita said. “I’ve
helped hundreds of brides and ninety-nine percent had beautiful weddings.”

“Bridal nerves,” Josie said. “Heaven forbid, but if the worst happened, I’d survive.
I’d be in debt, but I’d go on. I’d be strong like you and Molly. It didn’t ruin your
life. You didn’t go bankrupt.”

Rita sipped her coffee, then said, “Molly spent forty-five thousand dollars on her
wedding, but she’d have to spend a lot more to go bankrupt. She and her sister both
inherited about two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”

“Nice,” Josie said.

“It got nicer,” Rita said. “Molly had a gift for making money. She more than doubled
her inheritance through shrewd investing. People underestimated her because she was
blond like me. But Molly knew her way around the markets. She was smarter than Emily’s
husband. Brad was supposed to be this big-deal accountant. Hah! Molly knew more about
investing than he did. Molly and Emily didn’t really get along, and Brad didn’t help.
I think Emily was jealous of her sister. Molly was so pretty and feminine. When Molly
was engaged to that Dr. Ted”—Rita spat out the name again—“Emily said Molly could
have her wedding gifts delivered to her house because Molly worked all day. Personally,
I think Emily was trying to get her mitts on some of Molly’s gifts. Molly was also
going to get a lot of money.”

“Was that delivered to Emily’s house, too?” Josie asked.

“No, but Molly put her sister’s name on the joint wedding account,” Rita said.

“Why would she do that?” Josie said. “What if Brad got his hands on her money?”

“Molly made it very clear that neither of their men—Brad or Ted—would spend that money.
It was supposed to go toward a house for Ted and Molly. Their aunt Martha gave Molly
fifty thousand dollars to help her buy a house, and she suggested the other family
members give money to help the couple get started. Molly said it should have been
my name on that joint account because I was really her sister, but Aunt Martha didn’t
like that the sisters had had a falling-out. Molly put her sister’s name on the account
to show Aunt Martha there were no hard feelings.”

“Sounds like Molly didn’t hold a grudge,” Josie said.

“She was a good person,” Rita said, her voice wobbly with tears. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t
cry like this at work, but I miss her so much.”

“Of course you do,” Josie said. “You don’t get over a loss like that. What about you?
Did you get stuck with the bills for your canceled wedding?”

Rita seemed grateful for the topic change. “Yes, I did,” she said, sniffling. “I’m
still paying the caterer and the hall. Denise did me a favor. She refunded my deposit
for the flowers and took back my tiara and veil, so I didn’t owe her. I made an arrangement
with my other creditors. I pay them two fifty a month.”

“Molly wouldn’t lend you money?” Josie asked.

“I didn’t ask her. I have my pride,” Rita said.

Now she seemed to regret her spurt of plain speaking. “Well,” she said, taking a last
sip of coffee, “shall we look at more tiaras?”

Rita returned with a daunting pile of velvet boxes. “This is a sweetheart style,”
she said. The tiny pearl hearts looked like valentine candy.

While Rita talked tiaras, Josie tried to sort through what she’d just learned. If
Molly spent forty-five thousand dollars on her aborted wedding to George, Rita had
to owe almost that much. “Here’s a wave design,” Rita said, showing her another tiara.
“And this . . .”

After all, Rita and Molly had similar tastes, Josie thought.

“Pear-drop design is popular. So is this saddled tiara.”

Rita was saddled with a staggering debt and a sales salary.

“I like this pedestaled tiara,” Rita said.

Paying down a debt that big was a monumental task, Josie thought. Even if Rita did
negotiate a monthly payment.

“But maybe you’d like these lovely swooning hearts,” Rita said.

Rita had nursed Molly through a broken heart, but her good friend wouldn’t help her
out in her own time of need. Did they have a one-sided friendship?

“I also like these Victorian flowers. Very complex,” Rita said.

But what if the answer was simple? Josie thought. What if Rita wasn’t really too proud
to ask Molly for help? What if Molly had refused to help her best friend? Then Rita
turned light-fingered to pay her debts and Molly caught her stealing from the store
she loved. A small store couldn’t survive big losses.

I’ll have to check with Denise.

“I’m sorry,” Josie said. “I don’t really see anything I like. I have to pick up my
daughter at school. Maybe I could come back later this afternoon.”

“That’s a good idea,” Rita said. “Denise will be back this afternoon with more handcrafted
selections. The only bad thing is I won’t be here.”

“You’re off work?”

“I’m so excited,” Rita said. “I’ve bought a vintage Coke machine and it’s being delivered
this afternoon at two. Denise is letting me go home and wait for the delivery people.
Could I ask a favor?”

“Sure,” Josie said.

“I’ve enjoyed working with you, but I get a commission. If you come back this afternoon
and buy one of the tiaras I showed you, would you let her know?”

“Don’t worry,” Josie said. “I’ll make sure you get credit for all you’ve done.”

Chapter 23

Monday, October 29

“Stop treating me like a baby, Mom,” Amelia said.

Josie was a tired judge listening to her daughter plead her case to be home alone
today. The hearing was held in Amelia’s room. Harry sat on her bed, a sympathetic
jury with wide green eyes.

“I’ll only be alone for an hour,” Amelia said. She pulled off her crochet-stitch hoodie
and hung it in her closet, then dropped her pale pink skinny jeans into her dirty
clothes basket.

Exhibit A that I’m an adult now, Mom, Judge Josie thought. Amelia was a good kid,
but she had a streak of con artist. Josie decided her daughter needed another reminder
of her indiscretions.

“The last time I left you alone—,” she began.

“I totally blew it,” Amelia said quickly, stopping the familiar lecture. She plopped
on her bed and dragged on her old jeans.

“But that was last year when I was a little kid,” she said, pulling her
PEACE
T-shirt over her head. Amelia’s head popped out of the neck like a rabbit out of
a hole. “I’m eleven now. And you’re only going to be, like, what—two miles away?”

“If that,” Josie said.

Amelia sensed the verdict turning in her favor. “Grandma’s getting her hair done on
Manchester,” she said. “I could walk there—she’s that close. She may get home before
you do.”

Josie deliberated. Amelia was acting more mature now. A year ago she would have abandoned
all her clothes on the floor—clean and dirty—to text her friends and play with Harry.

“Please, Mom?” Amelia said. “I’ll work on my science experiment.” Her smile was brilliant
as the afternoon sun, but Josie’s heart felt a twinge of maternal unease. Her head
overruled those feelings and said it was time for trust.

“Science is important for girls,” Amelia said. “I could maybe get a scholarship if
my grades were good enough.”

I should be grateful she’s experimenting with science and not boys, Judge Josie thought,
and delivered her verdict. “All right. I’ll leave you alone, but only if you promise
to work on your science experiment.”

“I will,” Amelia said. “I’ll even clean my bathroom.”

“Don’t get carried away,” Josie said, but she left home lighthearted and hopeful.
Her daughter was growing into a smart, thoughtful young woman. Denise, Molly’s former
boss, might give Josie some information that would shed light on who killed Molly.
Then she and Ted would get married and live happily together with Amelia, two cats,
and a dog.

This afternoon, Josie didn’t mind the picket fence at Denise’s Dreams. The store owner
was exactly the kind of woman she’d expect to have a picket fence, waiting for her
Mad Man to come home from Manhattan.

Denise was petite, with long, wavy brown hair and soulful brown eyes hidden behind
the horn-rimmed glasses sexy spinsters wore in classic movies. Her hot pink heels
and full-skirted print dress looked oddly summery. Her voice was a June breeze.

Josie felt like a modern-day intruder in Denise’s old-fashioned world. She introduced
herself and said, “I’ve been looking at your tiaras.”

Denise smiled. “Rita told me you might be coming back. I’m so sorry we no longer have
the baroque pearl tiara you wanted, but I’ve finished some new ones. Rita said you
like pearls, right?”

“Yes,” Josie said.

“Well, sit yourself down and we’ll get started.” Denise carried a stack of velvet
boxes to the coffee table and carefully arranged her pink-and-lavender print skirt
to cover her knees. She opened a pink box. She had artist’s hands: long fingered and
slender.

“This is a pearl floral design I call my Enchanted Garden,” she said. Her voice was
almost a whisper, as if she were sharing a secret. “See the delicate floral vines
curling around the bedded plants?” She pointed to a vine with a pink-painted fingernail.

Bedded? Josie wondered. Are the plants supposed to be bedded—or me?

She thought about Saturday night with Ted and hoped she didn’t blush.

“This is a magic garden,” Denise said, and gave a summery sigh. “The deeper you go
into it, the more you will become lost in its sensuality. Love is the force that enchants
in this garden, and you’ll carry it in your heart—and on your head on your wedding
day.”

Josie was thinking of other bedded delights. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep
from giggling. There was no way she’d put those profligate pearls on her head.

“I don’t think so,” Josie said.

Denise opened a deep blue velvet box. “I call this Sleeping Beauty,” she said. “It’s
a true princess tiara. When Prince Charming’s warm lips first awakened Sleeping Beauty,
she woke up something in him, too.”

The beast? Josie thought. Oops, wrong fairy tale.

“They lived happily ever after,” Denise said. “I like to think it was love at first
sight, accessories with the perfect hair jewelry.” She smiled dreamily and Josie saw
she was wearing blue eye shadow.

Is Denise telling me a bedtime story? she wondered.

There she was, back in bed again. Josie was desperate to end the tiara talk before
she started laughing uncontrollably. Her future depended on Denise’s help. A picture
of her mother-in-law popped into her mind, and her giggling fit vanished.

“That is lovely,” Josie said. She tried to match Denise’s flowery language. “But I
fell in love with that baroque pearl tiara. It won my heart and I’m sure it would
seal my fiancé’s love forever. I was so sad when I learned it was sold.”

“Sold?” Denise said. The rosy dream clouds fled before her dark frown. “That tiara
wasn’t sold. It was stolen from this shop.”

“That explains why I thought I saw it on eBay,” Josie said.

“You what?” Now Denise’s soft eyes were hard with fury.

“Well, it sure looked like your tiara,” Josie said. “Rita said you never sell your
work online. It’s all unique.”

“It is!” Denise grew more agitated. “And I don’t!”

“I wanted to buy that tiara Sunday,” Josie said. “Rita said you’d sold it Saturday
to another bride.”

“I did nothing of the kind,” Denise said. “I sold two rhinestone tiaras and one crystal
design that day, but no pearls.”

“Maybe I’m wrong,” Josie said. “Would you recognize the tiara if you saw it online?”

“Would a mother know her child?” Denise asked. “I’ll call up eBay on the store computer
and you’ll find it.” It was an order.

Denise almost ran to the computer perched behind the counter. Her fingers stumbled
over the keys, but she found the site. Josie located the tiara in a few clicks.

“There,” she said. “That one. It says, ‘Pink and cranberry pearls with green baroque
pearl leaves. Sure to become a family heirloom.’ The seller isn’t asking for bids.
It’s nine hundred dollars.”

“That’s my design,” Denise said. “I spent sixteen hours working with those pearls
and I know those green leaves down to the last twist and turn. That lying bitch.”
Her anger could have blasted the pretty flowers on her print skirt into ashes.

“Does your store have a shoplifting problem?” Josie asked.

“Problem? I’ll say. If the thief isn’t caught soon, I’ll have to close. I’ve lost
almost ten thousand dollars in merchandise and I couldn’t figure out who was doing
it. Now I know—it’s Rita.”

“You don’t know,” Josie said. She hadn’t realized her ruse would ignite Denise’s fiery
rage. Now she was afraid the shop owner might hurt Rita. She wanted her caught, not
killed.

“Rita’s not listed as the seller,” Josie said. “It could be someone else. It could
be a gang of shoplifters, posing as brides and ripping you off.”

“No, it’s her,” Denise said. “I keep my expensive stock under lock and key in the
back room. I came in Saturday afternoon. I know we didn’t show or sell any pearl tiaras
the rest of the day. You were the last person to see that tiara, and you didn’t steal
it or you wouldn’t be here trying to buy it.

“Rita was the last person to have the tiara. She stole it and now she’s trying to
sell it. If only Molly hadn’t died, I would have stopped these thefts sooner. Molly
was going to tell me.”

“Was she the poor bride shot by that crazy woman from Boca?” Josie asked.

“That was her,” Denise said. “Molly was the sweetest girl. She was crazy about weddings,
which made her a super saleswoman. I miss her so much. She had a real knack for dealing
with customers. When she and Rita were planning their weddings, I gave them generous
discounts on their flowers, veils, and tiaras.

“Then they both had bad luck and had to cancel. I felt so bad for them. I refunded
their flower deposits and took back their tiaras and veils. That’s against my policy,
but the merchandise was in perfect condition. I could still sell them, so I made an
exception.

“Molly didn’t have to worry about money, but she was grateful. She brought me tulips
as a thank-you gift. Rita wrote me a little note. I knew she was in debt and gave
her extra hours so she could earn more money. And that’s how she repaid my generosity—by
stealing.”

“When did you first notice the thefts?” Josie asked.

“Now that I look back, they started about the time Rita’s fiancé broke off their engagement.
At first, small things were missing—a short blusher veil with seed pearls, then a
cathedral-length veil in tulle. Next I noticed some bridal jewelry missing: a silver
bracelet, a little gold necklace, cultured pearl earrings, all mass-produced and under
a hundred dollars.

“Then the losses escalated. My one-of-a-kind designs started disappearing. I had to
keep them locked up in the back. I thought we were being targeted by a gang of shoplifters,
like you suggested. I was at my wit’s end and couldn’t afford to hire a private detective.

“I knew—well, I thought—Rita loved my store as much as Molly. I asked them to be on
the lookout for the shoplifter. I promised a thousand-dollar bonus to whoever found
the thief.

“Molly came to me the night before she was shot, very nervous. She said she knew who
was taking my merchandise. I wanted her to tell me right then, but she said I’d have
to wait until the next day.”

“Was Rita at the shop when Molly told you this?” Josie asked.

“Yes,” Denise said. “I knew Molly seemed on edge, but she hadn’t been herself since
that terrible Dr. Ted. I should have paid more attention to what Molly said. But I
was so eager to get the thief’s name. She refused to tell me until the next day even
though I kept badgering her.

“Rita must have overheard us. We were in the back room, but this is a small shop.
She could have listened at the door.

“Josie, did I send poor Molly to her doom?”