Smokey Eyes Page 3

  “Don’t think my little boat qualifies me to join this yacht club. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your face? You’re a very pretty young lady but you look like you were on the losing end of a bar fight.” He followed it with a chortle that took the insult out of the comment.

  “Actually, it was a boat fight and you can see the boat won.”

  He stuck out his hand. “My name’s Jess. Most days I bring my morning catch to the chef here. He pays me top dollar for it so he can serve the freshest fish around.”

  “My name’s Olive and most days I try to avoid getting on a boat.”

  He peered at my face. “I’d say that’s a good plan you should stick to.”

  We laughed. He continued to his boat and I to my Prius. So much for my suspicious person.

  No need to wait for Lizzy—I wasn’t up to talking. I drove home to my condo on the beach. Kal said to, so I did. I wouldn’t think of defying him.

  A little pink nose greeted me as I turned the key and edged my front door open. I bent and scooped my kitten into my hand. “Puff, you are not going to believe what happened!”

  The white ball of fur struggled to get free. She jumped to the floor, her big blue eyes fixed on me questioningly. I smelled of seawater and fish.

  The warm shower water felt both good and bad. It stung in all the places where I was scraped. Tonight would be the perfect time to test just how magical Nonna’s cold cream was.

  I placed a towel on the bed, anointed myself from head to toe with Nonna’s cream and lay on the terrycloth. The day had taught me a lesson. There wasn’t much I couldn’t handle if I gritted my teeth and hung on.

  “Puff!” I patted my pillow.

  The kitten jumped up, snuggled under my chin, and purred me to sleep.

  Chapter 5

  Lizzy was already setting up the counter display when I made my achy way into Nonna’s Cold Cream shop the following morning. The events at the marina seemed like something I’d seen on the news and not part of real life. But the fire in my shoulders, the throb in my elbows, and creak in my knuckles told me it was all too true.

  “How are you feeling? You don’t look so hot.” Lizzy leaned over the counter. “If you want to stay home for the day, I can handle the shop.”

  “It’s better if I keep moving.” I gingerly put on my black monogrammed smock. “Did the newspaper come yet?”

  “Pull up a stool. You’ll want to be sitting when you read it. I’ll get you a coffee.” Lizzy placed the Starfish Cove Times on the counter, and then stepped into the back room where we kept the coffeemaker.

  I settled in to read the story titled—Murder at the Marina!

  The article wasn’t long and didn’t mention Lizzy or me. Above the fold of the paper was a photo of Brent courtesy of the Starfish Cove Chamber of Commerce. The report described Brent as a local developer and an heir to the Toast Cereal fortune.

  Chip, Jaimie, and Grayson Cod were listed as guests on Brent’s million-dollar speedboat. The police were seeking information on the missing murder weapon—a large knife. Anyone with knowledge was to contact Police Chief Hal Miranda.

  “Can you tell me what you told Kal? Maybe I can work on the whodunit.” Lizzy handed me a cup and two aspirins.

  The old-fashioned bell over the door jingled interrupting my answer. The ringing brought a new customer, a brunette gal somewhere in her forties and looking to shave off a few years. I left Lizzy to work with her while I took the paper and my coffee to the backroom. A murder headline might dampen the brunette’s buying enthusiasm.

  I finished my coffee and trashed the newspaper. The Morris sisters popped in the shop just as I returned to the counter.

  “We’ve come for two jars of your fabulous cream and two lip balms.” Sally Morris said, fiddling with an errant curl. Her salt and pepper hair was the reverse of her sister’s stringy-straight black locks. “Did ‘ya hear about the murder at the Yacht Club?”

  “Did ya’ know that Toast guy?” Sheila Morris asked. “We heard a rumor y’all were at the club yesterday.”

  The sisters had an annoying habit of talking over each other. It was nearly impossible to answer one without being interrupted by the other.

  “We’re giving away free samples of our under-eye cream today!” I patted Sally’s hand. “Let me get you some. Be right back.” It was a diversionary tactic.

  Pleased with the gifts, Sheila and Sally left the shop clutching their goodies and forgetting their questions.

  The bell jingled again.

  Nonna’s friend, Ivy LaVine trotted into the shop holding a small tangerine-colored bag. “Need a private moment with you,” she said, motioning with her head toward the back room.

  Lizzy and I exchanged shrugs. I followed Ivy while Lizzy manned the counter.

  Ivy was a tiny button of a lady with silver hair and luminous skin. I’d inherited her as my neighbor in the Sandy Shores Towers. It was rare for her to stop in the shop when my condo was two floors down from hers. I had become her personal shopper.

  The little lady trotted to the back. Why was she being so mysterious?

  With her birdlike hands she reached into her orange plastic bag and took out two jars of cold cream. She placed them on the worktable.

  “There’s something wrong with your new cream, sweetie! This is one of yours and this is one of your Nonna’s that I kept for rainy days and special dates.”

  My heart fell thudding to the floor. How could I have messed up my grandmother’s secret recipe? Our cold cream shop had been in business for almost a month. We’d sold many jars of the magical stuff. No one had complained—yet. It had to be a mistake on Ivy’s part.

  She removed the lid on one jar. “This cream works just dandy for moisturizing, but it’s not as potent as what your grandmother made. The magic is missing. There’s no fountain of youth in here!” She swirled her finger around the fluffy top.

  I ran my finger over the top and smished a dab between my index finger and thumb. It felt fine.

  “This is Isabella’s cream. Let’s compare them. I’ll demonstrate. Use my cheeks.” Ivy wore no makeup and her hair was held off her face by an elastic hairband.

  I dabbed two fingers’ worth of my version of the cream on her right cheek and patted. It sunk in and left a glow on top of her already radiant skin. Next, we tried Nonna’s magical cream on Ivy’s left cheek.

  The difference in creams was astounding. “Wow! How did I not notice this before? One side of your face looks good. But the other side looks fantastic!”

  She smiled. “I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings. I know how hard you’re trying.”

  I hugged her. “It’s a blessing that you told me. We’ll contact everyone who bought a jar and give them the new batch—as soon as I figure out what I did wrong.” I handed her a jar of under eye cream. “This is for your help.”

  Any fledgling business was bound to have do-overs, but this was humiliating. Three o’clock closing time couldn’t come soon enough. I’d scurry home and go through Nonna’s golden box of secret recipes. What had I missed?

  I walked her to the door. Ivy blew a kiss to Lizzy. I stood outside and watched her scoot to her car that was parked next to mine. She settled behind the wheel of her Lincoln, her tiny head barely visible.

  Without looking behind her, Ivy put the huge black car in reverse and backed out of our parking lot onto the boulevard. She was immediately greeted with a chorus of honking horns and squealing brakes.

  “What was that all about?” Lizzy said.

  “Ivy found a slight problem with the cream. I’ll have it solved by tomorrow.” No need in worrying my partner.

  I remained in the doorway, gazing at the sky. A single cloud in the shape of a heart float by then drifted to pieces. Sorry Nonna!

  Chapter 6

  “Jaimie may have a mean mouth, but I can’t believe her to be a killer.” Lizzy adjusted the tilt-able mirror on the counter top. In between customers we continued to kick around ideas as to
whodunit.

  “Kal didn’t take Jaimie into custody which means he has nothing on her except my statement about overhearing her argument.”

  I placed a sample jar of the not so miracle cream, cotton-tipped sticks, and a box of tissues on a glass tray that rested on the counter. Should we close the shop until I figured out what was wrong with the cream? Closing the shop might look suspicious after the murder at the marina. Plus, our customers counted on us being here Monday through Friday from nine to three.

  Lizzy shrugged. “Chip might be a suspect as he’ll probably inherit his father’s estate now besides his grandmother’s. He’s such a pussycat. I can’t imagine him killing anyone. The guy’s a saint to put up with Jaimie.”

  The bell over the door jingled.

  I muffled a groan. Antoine LePew stood in the doorway in smarmy splendor. He flashed a dazzling white smile that contrasted with his too black hair—amazing what a little shoe polish will do. Would I have taken such an instant dislike to him if he wasn’t Tillie the Terror’s friend? Probably.

  “Olive. Lizzy.” He moved his hand to his head as if tipping a hat he wasn’t wearing. “I was out for a morning walk and found myself in your neighborhood. I had to stop in. Your shop is charming! Love those smocks you’re wearing! Classy logo!”

  His dark eyes hungrily scanned our shelves. “Terrible thing about Brent Toast.” He jumped to the reason for his visit. “As I mentioned yesterday, I’m in cosmetics.”

  “I noticed.” I looked pointedly at his tinted skull and stringy hair.

  “I’d like to buy a jar of your cold cream. I plan on getting more sun while I’m down here. Love to see how it works.” He stroked the tip of his nose. “I’m taking your aunt golfing this afternoon. Probably get sunburned but if it makes Tillie happy.”

  If he wanted to curry my favor by courting my aunt, he was dumber than he looked.

  “I’ll get you a jar from the back. We just prepped a new batch.”

  “Where do you make your creams? Do you have a little brewery?” He chuckled at his pathetic joke. “I’d like to tour it while I’m down here. Professional courtesy.”

  The guy was a snoop. I was certain he wanted to spy on our ingredients. “What’s the name of your cosmetic company? Perhaps I’ve heard of it.”

  “Umm…” then a long pause. The hamsters must have been asleep in his wheel. “It’s called…LePew Cosmetics.”

  Brilliant if you were into dodos. Aunt Tillie deserved to lose whatever he was trying to swindle from her.

  “Wholesale or retail?”

  “Err. Sort of both.” He blushed. It was an ugly blush that looked more like hives. He finally found his words. “I have ladies selling my products door to door. Sort of a franchise thing.”

  “So these women knock on strangers’ doors? Cold calling cold cream?” I said. “In New York City?”

  “That’s it exactly!” He looked relieved. “My salesladies work all five boroughs.”

  I was pretty certain women didn’t sell door to door in New York anymore. Not with the tightening of laws against soliciting. He needed to bring his lies current.

  “Have you known Tillie very long?”

  Again he “Erred” and “Umm’d.” He must have realized I could check with my aunt. “Not long at all. We met on the flight from JFK to Tampa. We just hit it off.”

  “Tillie’s easy that way. I’m constantly hitting it off with her,” I said.

  He smiled as if I’d agreed with him. Dumb as a doorknob.

  “I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything. We like to offer our clients germ-free products.” If he took offense, he took offense. I wasn’t about to let him run off with any of our cosmetics.

  Taking my hint, Lizzy scooped the sample jar, cotton swabs and do-dads from the counter and put them out of his reach inside the display case.

  I dashed to the back room, not wanting to leave my partner alone with him for long.

  We kept a couple of demonstration jars—containers of common department stores creams—for customers to compare our creams with brands they were familiar with. There were three jars on the shelf—Eve Apple, Gaudier, and Olé.

  Feeling a bit wicked, I grabbed one of the Eve Apple jars and then placed one of our empty jars next to it. I filled the Nonna jar with Eve’s day cream and screwed on the lid. He was such a doofus it was too tempting not to mess with his mind.

  Tillie had probably titillated and tantalized him about the fortune to be made from Nonna’s secret recipe. Let’s see how he enjoys Eve’s petroleum cream.

  Antoine took the jar, turning it in his palm. “So this is what all the excitement is about? I can’t wait to try it.”

  “We take cash and credit cards,” Lizzy said.

  “We take all cards.” I was eager to see if his card agreed with his name. I might be able to run a check on him. I was honed in on exposing this yacht club lizard—just for the fun of it.

  “Have you got change for a fifty?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I took his Ulysses S. Grant and left him in a Lincoln for change.

  He looked stunned. “Pricey stuff for a small jar!”

  I sucked in a Zen breath. “Actually, not expensive at all. We could charge a lot more but we like helping people.”

  He turned to leave, and then turned again. “Do the cops have a lead on the guy that killed your friend?”

  “Nothing yet.” I spoke tersely, hoping to usher him out of the store.

  “He wasn’t our friend,” Lizzy added.

  Had Antoine LePew and his jar of counterfeit cream hung around ten minutes longer he would have bumped into Kal Miranda.

  Chapter 7

  Lizzy and I returned our cream and fixings to the counter top.

  “What’s up with your feelings about LaPew? Outside of the fact that he’s a naturally creepy guy.” Lizzy brought a basket of tiny lip gloss jars to the counter.

  “The technical term for it in psychology is a hunch. I see a neon sign over his head blinking—I’m a Con Man. I once counseled a guy who was going to prison for industrial espionage. LePew reminds me of him.”

  “Did he say anything to reinforce your feelings?”

  “Other than claiming he has women knocking on strangers’ doors selling LePew cosmetics?” I positioned the jar of miracle cream and cotton sticks on the glass tray. “Just keep alert for him. He showed too much interest in our business.”

  My years in New York as therapist to Myron Meyers, the semi-senile, maybe-mobster, had left me with a set of trouble-antennas that I couldn’t retract.

  Lizzy smirked. “I know it wasn’t our cream in the jar you sold him. What was it?”

  “A double scoop of Eve Apple day cream.”

  The overhead doorbell jingled cutting into Lizzy’s laughter.

  Kal Miranda strode toward us. He held his hand up before either of us could speak. “Not a social visit. I’m here on business. Need to question you, Olive. Let’s go in the back. Excuse us, Lizzy.”

  The smile faded from my partner’s face. His clipped manner was insulting despite knowing he was on a case. Things must not be going well with the investigation.

  He stepped to the back room as if he owned our shop. I made a funny face at Lizzy and followed him.

  “Any of these manly knife handles look familiar?” Kal spread a catalogue of boat tools on our worktable. It was bookmarked to knives.

  A chuckle escaped my lips. “Manly knives, huh?”

  He didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile. Brent Toast was well connected. His friends must be putting pressure on the police for a quick resolution.

  I thumbed slowly through the pages but none of the handles looked familiar. Once I’d gone from front to back, I reviewed from back to front. “Nothing.”

  “Try this.” He reached in his back pocket and took out a photograph of a knife handle.

  “That’s it! Where did you get it?”

  “This is confidential,” he said in a stern tone. “You’re positive this
knife handle matches the one you saw protruding from the dead man’s chest?”

  I nodded. “I’m positive. Where did this photo come from?”

  “I found a case that should hold four knives. Three identical blades were in the pockets but the fourth was empty. That’s a photo of one of the knives in the set.”

  The bell on the front door jingled twice. I squeezed in one more question before going to help Lizzy with new customers. “You found the case on—?”

  “The case was on the Toast of the Town. It’s looking worse for Jaimie.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say nothing.”

  Voices from the shop carried into the backroom.

  “Favor? Wait here while I occupy the customers. Don’t want them thinking I was canoodling with a copper or that we are under investigation.”

  This time he chuckled. “No back door?”

  “None. Just wait here. Did you park a police car out front?”

  “I’m in my personal car.”

  I stepped out the door and slipped behind the counter. Lizzy was slathering two leather-skinned ladies who sat on the makeover stools. I joined her in helping to smooth the cream on their botoxed kissers.

  The women had virtually no wrinkles but touching their immobile faces was like touching a Barbie doll. The cream would help the surface but not what lay below.

  Lots of people are like that. Hard on the outside—toxic on the inside.

  “You don’t mind if we take up your time? You have so many goodies!” The raven-haired woman said.

  “Do you have samples of your lip gloss?” the second gal asked. Her artificial highlights were admirable. I had to get the name of her hairdresser.

  I couldn’t hold Kal from his duties much longer. “Be right back with those samples. I have to dispatch our handyman.” I winked at my partner. “Lizzy will show you our complete line. It’s on display over there.” I pointed to the shelves on the left side of the shop. Raven and Highlights darted to the display.

  I signaled to Lizzy to keep them busy, then slipped into the back room.