A Blush With Death Page 16

  I nodded, not trusting myself to say too much at this point. As Debra went back to her work, I glanced around the office. It was spacious, I’d give it that much. Bebe had obviously chosen the best suite for herself. The furniture looked tasteful enough on the surface, but when I examined the weave, the craftsmanship proved shoddy and the detail of the floral print was muddy. The tables and desk were covered with veneer, and the art on the walls was random, a floral arrangement here, a waterscape there, with no cohesive theme throughout the room. I had the sense that the place had been thrown together without any planning. Slipshod, just like her products. A pretty package on the outside, but little substance or thought when you opened it up and took a closer look.

  As I waited, I visualized the way I wanted things to go when I met Bebe. I’d spent a week at an evening workshop at the end of June, which was led by one of my students at the Grays Harbor Community College, where I taught a four-week self-defense course for women four times a year.

  Summer quarter had recently ended, but I’d made friends with a woman named Sareena, and she led workshops in visualization, meditation, and goal-setting. Bran had vouched for her, and I’d found the workshop of great help in clarifying to myself just who I was and what I wanted.

  The outer door opened, and another woman—again clad in brilliant yellow—entered the room, carrying a tray. On the tray were two Styrofoam cups. Nonrecyclable. That figured, considering Bebe seemed to take the cheapest route on things. The girl handed me my tea. One whiff told me they’d forgot the lemon, but I wasn’t going to complain.

  I took a sip and grimaced. Bitter, almost as if it had been burnt. As I set down the cup on a plastic coaster, the door to the inner office opened, and Bebe stepped out. She glanced around, frowned, then motioned for me to come in the office.

  Bebe Wilcox, aka Eudora Gallagher, was a formidable woman from a distance, and even more intimidating up close. She was my height, although my stilettos gave me the advantage, but her entire demeanor enveloped the room. Close up, I could tell that Bebe was in her late fifties, and she had a hardened edge below all the makeup plastered on her face. Her eyes were stony, her smile cold, and when she shook my hand, I had the feeling I had just walked into a rattlesnake’s den.

  “Persia, so glad you could make it. Sit down,” she said, shutting the door behind her. I murmured a polite hello and took my seat, expecting the cat-and-mouse dance to go on for a while. Bebe surprised me.

  She sat on the corner of her desk looking down at me. “Let’s cut the crap, Persia. I don’t have time for niceties, and I’m pretty sure you’re a lot like me, from what I hear. Sharon offered you a job. You turned her down. You’ve changed your mind, and the job’s still open. Do you want to work for me or not?”

  Well, she cut right to the chase, that was for sure. “That’s about the size of it,” I said. “I thought about moving back to Seattle, but—”

  “But it takes money to set up house there, and you don’t have any, now that your aunt has slapped your hand out of the cookie jar.” Bebe abruptly stood and returned to her chair behind her desk, where she opened her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping one out. As she lit it and exhaled a ring of smoke, I tried not to cough.

  “So, let’s get right to the point. We still want you. You start tomorrow, working in research and development. But, you must be willing to do whatever it takes to make sure Bebe’s Cosmetics end up in every state, in every purse, in every cosmetics bag, of every woman in this country.”

  Her eyes were too bright, her shoulders too straight. Unsettled, the thought occurred to me that Bebe had the makings of a dictator, and she wouldn’t be satisfied with penny ante followers. I dreaded thinking what working under her would be like, but I was about to find out.

  “What exactly will I be doing?” I asked.

  She smiled knowingly. “Close to the same thing you’ve been doing for Venus Envy. You’ll just be working at a faster pace, and you won’t be playing gardener. We buy all of our ingredients.”

  And their ingredients sucked, I thought, but kept my mouth shut. “I seem to have lost my journal with all my recipes in it,” I said, watching her face.

  She gazed at me, impassive, and I couldn’t tell whether or not I’d struck a mark. “What a shame. I’m sure that must hurt, but don’t worry, you’ll be creating a new one. So it’s settled, you’ll be here at nine tomorrow morning?”

  I took my cue and stood. “Nine sharp.”

  As I started to stand, Bebe stopped me. “A couple more things, just so there aren’t any miscommunications. You do realize that everything you create here at Bebe’s belongs to the company? You won’t be working on any formulas away from the office, you won’t be creating any custom blends for friends on the side. You won’t be claiming any creations as your own. Do I make myself clear?”

  As she spoke, I could see the triumph glowing in her eyes. I wanted to backhand her one, bring her to her knees for all the crap she’d pulled. But I knew that any such action would not only ruin all our plans but land me in jail. I kept calm and collected.

  “Clear as crystal,” I said. I managed to keep my temper in check long enough to negotiate my salary, then, both relieved and anxious, I slipped out the door.

  THE FIRST THING I did when I left Bebe’s was to head for a McDonald’s where I wouldn’t be noticed. As I edged into a parking space, I called Auntie on my cell phone and filled her in on what had happened.

  “I don’t know how much of Bebe I can take. She’s a first-class bitch. Frankly, I think the woman is nuts. She’s got the weirdest stare.” For me to admit that I was nervous around somebody was a sore spot, and Auntie knew it. I could almost always hold my own, and when I couldn’t, I did a pretty good job of bluffing, but when it came to intimidation, Bebe had years of practice under her belt. I’d hate to see what she was like around some of the more timid women who worked for her.

  Auntie sighed. “I’m sorry, Persia.” She paused, then added, “If you want to forget this, just say so. We’ll struggle to keep the shop going. Surely we can figure out a way to pull it off.”

  I thought about it for a moment. “How bad were our losses last month?”

  “Discounting the roses? We were down fifteen percent. That may not seem like a lot, but it’s the second month in a row since Bebe’s Boutique opened that we’ve taken a hit. I’m not sure if we can weather it out until people figure out that she’s selling them a shoddy bill of goods.”

  I stared at the dashboard. Auntie had put a lot of her money and heart into Venus Envy, and she’d taken me in when I had no place to go. We’d served the community, and now we were taking some direct hits. “No, I’ll go through with it. We have to try. I want my journal back, and I want vindication. I love Venus Envy, and I don’t want to go back to Seattle.”

  “Oh honey, you’ll always have a home with me, Venus Envy or not. Never worry about that.”

  The love in her voice made me bite my lip. “Auntie, we’ll fumble through somehow. Give me a few days to see what I find. And won’t Bebe Wilcox rue the day she ever set out to ruin Venus Envy when we get done with her!”

  Auntie laughed then, and it felt good to hear the spark of hope in her voice. “We’ll turn the tables on her, Imp. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

  I clicked the Off button and pocketed my phone. Auntie and I had built a bridge from the past into the present, and I wasn’t about to let anyone or anything knock a chink into it. I eased through the drive-through. Might as well take something home to eat, considering that my refrigerator was the size of a two-drawer filing cabinet.

  THE THUNDERSTORM WAS still building by the time I got back to the apartment, but it looked ready to break. I flipped the top up on my Sebring and raced for the door, beating the big fat raindrops that showered down by less than a minute. A crack of thunder split the air as a flash of blue ripped across the sky, and the rain came streaming down. So much for the dry spell, altho
ugh the heat hadn’t dissipated. It was muggy as hell, and I was sweating, even in my tank top.

  Carlos wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and I took the stairs two at a time, balancing on my stilettos as I bypassed dust bunnies and smears of old gum and—much to my disgust—a used condom. I peeked into the hall. No sign of Andy, thank God. He was probably at work, and with any luck, by the time he got home, I’d be out of the apartment.

  I had barely started in on my second hamburger when there was knock on the door. Frowning, I peeked through the peephole. Kyle! What the heck was he doing here? I opened the door.

  “Come on in.” I moved so he could enter the apartment and watched as his look of disbelief grew as he saw my suitcase and scattered clothes on the bed. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?” I hadn’t decided whether to play it straight with him or not.

  He stood next to the table, planting his feet wide in what I thought of as the typical cop’s stance. I repressed a smile as he sniffed and glanced at my lunch the way Beauty and Beast stared at the dinner table. “What’s this I hear about you moving out of your aunt’s place? What happened? Somebody told me Miss Florence threw you out, but I know better than that.”

  Although his voice held only a mild curiosity, I knew he was fishing for information. I shrugged. “Would you believe me if I told you she blames me for the roses being tampered with?”

  He snorted. “Try again.”

  I smiled. “I wanted a change of pace?” The jig was up, but I wondered how long he’d let me go on. A harmless game of cat and mouse before I gave in and told him what was going on.

  “Lies, all lies. Tell me the truth, Persia. I don’t have all day to stand here and play guessing games.”

  “And just who invited you to play? Why do you care?” I sat down and bit into my burger again.

  He turned one of the dinette chairs around and straddled it. “Okay, okay, you made your point. I’m nosy. But since you’re on my suspects list, I can’t help but wonder just what you’re up to. Truce?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Truce in the same breath as ‘on your suspects list’? That’s a good one.” But I knew I wasn’t going to get out of this without coming clean. “Okay, fine,” I said, setting my hamburger down on the wrapper. “You want the truth? I’ll tell you, but only if you promise to keep your mouth shut. Swear, or I don’t dish.”

  Kyle grinned. “You’re cocky, just like Hoffman. You should have been born a man, Persia.”

  “I take offense at that,” I said, sticking out my tongue. “Since when do women have to be compliant and grovel at your uniformed feet? I play life on my own terms, not on how people think I should.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “At least your tongue isn’t pierced. Okay, okay…I promise—unless it’s against the law, and then I’ll run you in and slap you behind bars. Because I have the feeling you’re up to something dangerous, stubborn woman that you are.”

  “I’m a Capricorn. What do you expect?” I retorted. “We goats butt our heads against anybody standing in our way, and we have to keep climbing those mountains, regardless of how steep the peak is.” I dipped a fry in ketchup.

  “Okay, you want to know what I’m up to? Here’s the deal: I’ve gone to work at Bebe’s in order to find out the truth about my journal. You said you can’t do anything, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to take this lying down. While I’m at it, I’m also keeping my eyes peeled to find out just how Bebe plans on finishing her demolition of Venus Envy. She’s the one behind contaminating our roses. I know it, and I intend to find enough evidence so that you have to step in.”

  Kyle stared at me, mouth open, as he slumped against the back of the seat. “You’re spying on them?”

  “Call it what you like. They stole my journal. They’ve been systematically trying to put us out of business. Consider it ‘gathering evidence,’ and it sounds better.” The look on his face perked up my appetite, and I happily polished off the rest of my burger, then washed my hands at the kitchenette sink.

  “So this is all an elaborate plan that you and your aunt cooked up?”

  “And Winthrop as well, actually,” I said. “I think he enjoys walking on the edge a little. He’s pretty cool for a good ol’ boy lawyer.” I leaned against the counter and waited to see what Kyle would have to say next.

  He stared at me for a moment, then sighed and picked up one of my leftover fries, popping it in his mouth. “Well, you’re not exactly doing anything illegal, even if it does seem a little shady. But you better be careful. Bebe Wilcox has a rap sheet, if you didn’t know—”

  “Yeah, we know all about her scams when she was Eudora Gallagher. So you finally decided she’s a suspect in the case of our roses?” Surprised that he’d checked her out, I thought maybe Kyle was a little more interested in our case than he’d let on, but he blew that idea out of the water.

  “I checked her out because of Sharon. Bebe and Sharon are reported to have had words shortly before Sharon was hurt.”

  I frowned. So Bebe was on the suspect list, too. Killian and I were keeping nefarious company. “If I might ask, what’s the status of your investigation? Do you have any leads at all, besides Killian, me, and Bebe?”

  He shrugged. “You know I can’t discuss the case with you, especially since your alibi isn’t airtight. But we may be on to something. I just want you to promise me to be careful. You’re walking into a viper’s den, Persia, and I don’t want to see you get bit.”

  The look on his face was so serious that I didn’t bother trying to make a joke. Obviously, Kyle knew more than I did, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to tell me just what he knew. I nodded. “I give you my word. I’ll be as careful as I can. But you understand why I have to do this? If you can’t go in for us…well…we have no choice.”

  “Damn it, I wish you had more proof than just those sample cards. There’s no way to really analyze them. We can’t prove a thing.” He slammed his hand on the table. “For what it’s worth, off the record, I think they stole your journal. But don’t you repeat that.”

  I sighed. Auntie and I were on the right track. I knew it. Kyle knew it. But we only had one chance to kick the bastards in the balls. “So what else is going down? I haven’t seen hide nor hair of your cousin Jared in several weeks.” Another sore subject between us, but at this point, I wasn’t interested in censoring myself.

  Kyle cleared his throat. “Jared and I’ve been talking a little more than usual,” he said.

  I perked up. If the two were on speaking terms, they’d made progress. Kyle and his cousin didn’t get along at all, and that made it difficult for me, since Jared and I were good friends, despite some glaringly bad decisions he’d made in his life.

  “Really? That’s a shock, but not an unwelcome one.”

  “Don’t hold your breath. We aren’t friends yet. But I do know that he’s going through a rough patch with his relationship right now. His ma told me last time I saw her. Of course, he can’t go home to talk about it.”

  Jared’s father hated the fact that Jared was gay more than he loved his son, so Jared talked to his mother whenever he got the chance. She visited him at his place but, according to Jared, he hadn’t set foot in his parents’ house since he’d divorced his wife. She’d come home early one day and caught him in bed with a man.

  “Really? What’s going on? I thought he and Rod were doing fine.” I liked Rod; he never made me feel like a fag hag, and he wasn’t jealous of my friendship with Jared.

  Kyle shrugged. “Seven year itch, maybe? Or however many years they’ve been together. I guess Rod is starting to feel antsy. I’m thinking my cousin may be facing what he put his wife through so many years ago. What goes around, comes around, though I really don’t wish him unhappiness.” I knew that Kyle wasn’t entirely comfortable with the gay thing either, but he made an effort. I also knew that he would never wish pain on his cousin, having been wounded in his own heart so deeply.

  With
so many shake-ups this summer; I was beginning to look forward to autumn. Maybe the cool rains would chill down tempers and libidos and backstabbers and rivals. Meanwhile, we’d muddle through the best we could. I’d have to give Jared a call and try to catch him for a long talk. He needed somebody to listen to him and, while life in Gull Harbor was pretty liberal, I was still one of his best friends.

  “Thanks for the news,” I said. Impulsively, I rested my hand lightly on Kyle’s shoulder. “I know you’re still mad at your cousin for what he did, but there are so many horrible things that go on in this world. Maybe it’s time to let it go? Jared should never have married Allison, I agree. But he did, and it was a mistake. There’s nothing he can do to make up for that, but is it enough to keep you at arm’s length for the rest of your life?”

  Kyle caught his breath. “Persia, we’ve talked about this before. You know how I feel. I talked to him—that’s the best I can do for now.”

  I shook my head, matching him almost inch for inch in my Candies. “Okay, I’ll back off,” I said.

  He sighed, then headed toward the door. “I’d better get back to work. Please, again, be careful, and call me if you need anything. I don’t want you to end up like Sharon.” Before he could leave, his cell phone beeped. He stopped to look at the number, then immediately hit Redial. After a few low whispers, he flipped it shut. “Sharon’s taken a turn for the worse. They’re going to call in a priest. Just in case.”

  I swallowed. Sharon’s assault was bad enough, but the thought that it might turn into murder was far, far worse. I scuffed the floor. “I just don’t understand. I know how to kill somebody using my martial arts; but to think of actually using my knowledge, except in self-defense, boggles my mind. That’s why Elliot’s still alive.”

  “I know, Persia.” Kyle gave me a tight smile. “And that’s what separates you from whoever it is that shot Sharon.”