An Uplifting Murder (3 page)

“Good.” Harry looked relieved.

“But you’re asking a busy woman to drop everything at the last minute,” Josie said. “If you’re not going to pay her, I want two bras with matching panties for both of us.”

“You got it,” Harry said. “There’s just one hook.”

“There always is,” Josie said.

“You’ll have to go this morning.”

“That will depend on Alyce’s babysitter,” Josie said.

“Do I have to get her a bra, too?” Harry asked.

Chapter 2

“You’re not using a video camera on this assignment, are you?” Alyce asked.

“While we’re trying on bras?” Josie asked. “Over my dead body. This is an old-fashioned written report, not a porn movie. No hidden cameras and no tape recorders. Thanks for joining me on such short notice.”

“Don’t thank me,” Alyce said. “Thank Justin’s nanny. She came to work even though we had six inches of snow last night. I’m glad the roads are open. Do I really get to keep the fancy bras and panties?”

“You bet,” Josie said.

“That’s so nice. I haven’t pampered myself with pretty lingerie since before Justin was born.”

Alyce rubbed the condensation off Josie’s cold-fogged car window and said, “The driveway into Plaza Venetia has been plowed.”

“Good,” Josie said. “I won’t ruin my suede boots. I’m trying to look upscale.”

Josie wore her rich-lady outfit for today’s mystery-shopping assignment: her good winter coat, dark suede boots, black pants, and a black cashmere sweater. Josie had wanted that luxurious sweater the first time she’d seen it at the store. She’d watched it for three months, carefully hiding it at the bottom of a pile of sweaters. After it had been marked down three times, she could finally afford it.

A fashionista might notice that brown-haired Josie didn’t have an expensive salon cut, but she’d have to look close. Josie had a gift for fitting into places. That made her a good mystery shopper.

Alyce was born rich. She didn’t spend much on her clothes, but money couldn’t buy her confidence. Josie’s best friend was bundled in a blue wool coat that made her pale face look like porcelain. Except for her nose, which was slightly red from the January cold. Her white-blond hair stuck straight out. Alyce brushed it down with a gloved hand and the static electricity crackled.

“Remember when buying a bra was a big deal?” Alyce asked. “Mom and I spent a whole day at the department store picking out my first bra. She took me to tea afterward. I felt so grown-up.”

“I had a different problem,” Josie said. “I didn’t wear a bra until I was fourteen. Even then I didn’t need it.”

“Then why wear one?” Alyce asked. “They’re uncomfortable.”

“Gym class. The mean girls made nasty remarks about me when I was getting dressed. Frankie, the only C-cup in our class, said I should change in the boys’ locker room because I was so flat. Her snotty friends asked if those were mosquito bites on my chest.”

“Ouch,” Alyce said. “That had to hurt.”

“I was in tears but didn’t want Frankie’s clique to see me cry,” Josie said. “Thank goodness I had a nice gym teacher. Mrs. Hayes heard me crying in a shower stall. She called my mother and suggested that she buy me a training bra.”

“How did your mother take that?” Alyce asked.

“Mom understood,” Josie said, “even though she was never flat-chested. Jane calls herself buxom.”

“Most women would sympathize with you,” Alyce said. “Especially your mother.”

“Mom was supportive, if you’ll pardon the pun,” Josie said. “Money was tight after Dad left, but she bought me a training bra. It looked like a bandage with straps, but I was thrilled. Now I wore a bra like all the other girls. Mrs. Hayes found things to do in the locker room for a few days while my class got dressed. The mean girls didn’t dare make fun of me with her there. After a few days, they found someone else to pick on.”

“Girls can be so unkind to one another,” Alyce said.

“It’s over,” Josie said, and shrugged. “I survived.”

Plaza Venetia, with its white pillared rotundas and pointless balconies, looked like a Southern plantation on steroids. Josie parked her gray Honda Accord between a hulking Cadillac Escalade and a mound of plowed snow, and turned up the heat.

“I can’t take my questionnaire into the mall,” she said. “I’d better review it here.”

Most were standard mystery-shopping questions:

Was the store neat and clean?
Were you greeted when you entered the store?
Were the counters, shelves, and display cases free of dust and fingerprints?
Were the sales associates dressed in a professional manner?
Who was your sales associate?
Other questions were special for this assignment:

Was the sales associate familiar with the merchandise?
Could she answer these questions about the product? Designer or country of origin? Price?
Did the sales associate tell you that alterations were free?
Did the sales associate mention the return policy?
Did the sales associate make you feel comfortable during your fitting?
Did the sales associate say anything that embarrassed you?
Was the sales associate’s conversation appropriate?
All reasonable questions. Josie hoped the sales associate behaved herself. She hated turning in bad reports and getting staff fired, but sometimes she had to do it. Josie checked her watch and noted the time: 10:07 a.m. The weather was minus two degrees and overcast.

“What do I need to know about this assignment?” Alyce asked.

“Desiree Lingerie is concerned about an employee named Rosa,” Josie said. “One of us has to ask for her.”

“You could ask for her, and we could share a dressing room,” Alyce said. “I don’t want to be alone when I face a dressing room mirror.”

“Me, either,” Josie said. “Are you warmed up enough to take off your clothes?”

“We really have to do that?” Alyce asked.

“It’s the price we have to pay,” Josie said.

“Let’s go before I lose my nerve,” Alyce said.

The two women ran for the pillared entrance, the wind stinging their faces. Inside, the mall was tropically warm and tastefully beige, except for the Venetian glass chandeliers—great iridescent saucers suspended by heavy silver chains. These gave Plaza Venetia its name.

Fountains trickled quietly. Marble planters sprouted colorful jungles. Wrought iron chairs and tables invited shoppers to rest and snack. Josie and Alyce powered past them.

Desiree Lingerie had a window full of lacy bras and panties displayed on slate blue female forms. Women shoppers studied the lingerie. Men scooted by, eyes averted.

Josie stared at the woman behind the store counter. She was slightly taller than Josie, about fifty-five years old, brown-haired, and chunky. Josie thought she recognized the woman. But that wasn’t possible, was it?

“Josie Marcus, is that you?” the woman said.

“Mrs. Hayes?” Josie said. “Mrs. Laura Lavinia Hayes?”

“Not anymore,” the woman said. “I’ve remarried. Now I’m Laura Lavinia Ferguson.”

Josie tried to hide her surprise. Why was her favorite gym teacher working in retail? she wondered. Josie remembered Mrs. Hayes had left school in the middle of Josie’s junior year, but never knew why. Mrs. Hayes—no, Mrs. Ferguson—had packed on some pounds since her days as a gym teacher.

“I recognized your eyes,” Josie said, then wished she could take back her words.

“At least they haven’t changed. I’m fifty pounds heavier than when I taught you,” Mrs. Ferguson said.

“I meant you had kind eyes,” Josie said, with an uncomfortable flashback to her awkward high school years. “Those haven’t changed. Did you give up teaching?”

“I burned out, like so many other teachers,” Mrs. Ferguson said. “Please, call me Laura. I’ve made a career change, but it wasn’t that big a jump. I’m still in a people profession.”

“I was just talking about you this morning,” Josie said. “I told my friend Alyce how kind you were when the mean girls in my gym class tormented me because I was flat-chested.”

“Those nasty little snips,” Mrs. Ferguson said. “I’m sure their other victims still remember the wounds those girls inflicted. They’re one reason I don’t miss teaching. I guess I still am a teacher. I’m a C-cup counselor. But you didn’t come here to talk about me. How may I help you?”

“We’re lingerie shopping,” Josie said. “This is my friend Alyce. We’re two moms hoping to buy glamorous bras and panties.”

“I’ll be happy to wait on you,” Laura said.

“Uh.” Josie wondered how she could ask for Rosa, since she knew Laura.

Laura had heard her hesitation. “If that would make you feel awkward, I have two other sales associates. That’s Trish.” The thin blonde with the short hair and plump pink lips waved and smiled from behind a carousel of bras. “And the brunette is Rosa.”

Rosa was about the same height as Laura, but curvier.

“You’re right,” Josie said. “We’d probably be more comfortable if we didn’t know our salesperson. We’ll take Rosa.”

The shop bell rang as Josie and Alyce started for the dressing rooms. Josie thought the woman framed in the shop doorway looked vaguely familiar. She was more bosomy than she’d been in high school and thinner. Much thinner. She’d dieted to near starvation and upped her breast size to DDs at least. Were those real? Now she was built like a Popsicle stick with two cantaloupes. Her clothes dripped designer labels. She also wore a mantle of entitlement, as if the world should worship her stylish perfection. She carried a long red dress protected by clear plastic with the tags still on it.

“Francine?” Josie asked.

“Frankie,” she said. “Do I know you?”

“I think we went to high school together,” Josie said.

Frankie looked Josie up and down like a casting director rejecting an untalented actor. “Oh. Right. You’re Josie somebody. I’m younger than you.”

Frankie said that as if being younger were an achievement. She turned to Laura. The former gym teacher was frozen behind the counter. Her hands clutched the countertop.

“You!” Frankie said. There was an ocean of contempt in that one word. She started to walk out of the store.

“Wait!” Mrs. Ferguson said.

“I don’t want you waiting on me,” Frankie said.

“I can get another saleswoman for you,” Laura said.

“One like you?” Frankie asked.

Josie was puzzled by Frankie’s sneery tone and Laura’s odd behavior. Why was Laura deferring to this creature?

“One who is well trained, yes,” Laura said. Her voice was unsteady.

“Well, I’ve looked everywhere. I’m totally exhausted.” Frankie drew out that word as only someone who’d never been exhausted could. “I can’t find a bra for this dress. I guess I have no choice.”

“You always have a choice,” Laura said.

“You should know,” Frankie said.

Josie looked at Alyce and raised an eyebrow.

Frankie turned back to Josie. “I guess you’re here for a padded bra,” she said.

“Oh, no,” Josie said. “One blessing of motherhood is that it improved my cup size. Naturally.” She stared at Frankie’s oversized chest.

Frankie turned on Alyce. “Then I guess you must have a very
large
family.”

“I—” Alyce was interrupted by the chime of the shop bell. A man in a black coat entered this den of femininity. He was no taller than Laura, but gave the impression of being bigger. He had a rugged sunburned face and dark brown hair. The man had a hunted air, as if he expected the police to leap out from behind the racks of panties and arrest him.