An Uplifting Murder (35 page)

“Victoria doesn’t have receipts for those clothes!” Josie said.

“If I walked into your house now, could you produce receipts for everything?”

“No,” Josie said.

“I can check her name,” Officer Norris said. “I can see if this Victoria Malliet has any priors, wants, or warrants. But if we don’t have any arrest warrants on this woman, I can’t bust in and haul her off to jail. No judge will give me a search warrant on your information.”

“Isn’t there any way around this?” Josie asked.

“Maybe if I had permission to enter her house, I could make notes on what I saw,” Officer Norris said. “Then I could tell the property-crimes detectives about her. Maybe she’ll confess.”

Not likely. Josie knew that. Shoplifters like Victoria were cool customers—or in her case an icy one.

Josie made one last try. “Victoria stole Frankie’s red dress and the tennis bracelet off her arm after she was murdered. Victoria sold them both.”

“What dress and bracelet?” Officer Norris asked.

“Frankie carried a red dress with her into Desiree Lingerie. That’s why she was at the lingerie shop. She was looking for a special bra to wear with a dress with a low-cut back. She bought the bra, then left with her purchase and the dress.

“She took them both with her into the handicapped stall. Victoria found the body before I did, but never said anything. Instead, she stole the dress and took Frankie’s diamond tennis bracelet. Victoria sold the dress at her house party and the tennis bracelet at a pawnshop.”

“And you know this how?” Officer Norris asked.

“Victoria told me.”

“And you didn’t tell the law?”

“I made a deal with Victoria. I said I’d leave her alone if she quit shoplifting. She has a sick mother in a nursing home.”

“Oh, does she? That’s original.”

“We called the home and checked,” Josie said. “We promised not to turn her in if she quit shoplifting. She broke her end of the deal when she vandalized my car. Now I think she may be lying about her mother, too.”

Officer Norris’s voice was dangerously low. “I hate amateurs meddling in police business. Hate it.
You
made a deal with a shoplifter.
You
concealed evidence in a homicide. I ought to run
you
in for interfering with a homicide investigation.”

“But can’t you trace the tennis bracelet?” Josie asked.

“Oh, now that
you
finally decide to share the results of your so-called investigation, you want me to do your grunt work? It doesn’t work that way, amateur,” Officer Norris said. It was painful to be on the receiving end of her scorn. Josie was glad the angry officer wasn’t there in person. Her emotions were frightening enough distanced over the phone.

“You forgot a few things when you were meddling in an investigation,” Officer Norris said. “Do you know the name of the pawnshop that this Victoria used?”

“Uh,” Josie stalled.

“Let me guess—no. Since we’re having a guessing festival, let me guess that Victoria took the jewelry to a pawnshop that didn’t ask a lot of questions. If the police show up looking for that bracelet, the shop owner will suffer amnesia—or give us a false description of the seller. I’ll bet my next paycheck the victim’s husband couldn’t identify the tennis bracelet even if we did find it.”

Josie waited for Norris to calm down, then said in a small voice, “Victoria usually comes home at two o’clock. If I get into Victoria’s house and see her, could I call you? Would you at least come over and look at her living room and the boot prints on her lawn?”

“I’m only entering that house if she invites me,” Officer Norris said. “And that invitation had better be engraved.”

Chapter 38

Eleven o’clock.Three hours before Josie could catch Frankie’s killer. If she kept pacing her living room like this, she’d wear a hole in the rug.

She called her friend Alyce. “Officer Norris is angry at me,” Josie said. “But I know Victoria iced my car and I can prove it. I talked the police officer into meeting me at Victoria’s house. I’ll show her the evidence and she’ll arrest Victoria.”

“I hope so,” Alyce said. “But in the meantime, you’re carless.”

“That’s why I called. Do you want to make a quick trip to Plaza Venetia this morning?”

“Sure, but didn’t you say Victoria was the killer?”

“I still think she is, but I want to be sure. Victoria is slippery. She might talk her way out of trouble. And if I’m wrong, I can still investigate Frankie’s murder while I wait to confront her after two. I want to talk to Trish and Rosa. Are you free?”

“Justin’s with his nanny. I have to be home by two. I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes,” Alyce said.

By eleven thirty, Alyce and Josie were at Desiree Lingerie. Amelia’s skull-and-roses lingerie was now on the window models. Josie wondered if Rosa had changed the display models now that she was in charge.

She could see Rosa joking with a woman so lean Josie didn’t think she even needed a bra. Rosa looked up when Alyce and Josie entered the shop, gave them friendly smiles, and said, “Trish should be back in a minute and I’ll be right out as soon as I help this woman.”

“Take your time,” Josie said.

She wandered toward the front of the shop and saw Trish in the alcove behind the escalator. Today, the blond saleswoman’s hair did not look stylishly shaved. It shot up in white-blond spikes like a strange fungus. Trish was arguing with a skeleton in tight leather pants. His pale face was a pincushion of piercings. He had a dirty glamour, like a busted rock star.

Josie could hear them easily. Trish shook the skeleton’s hand off her arm and said, “I told you no, Owen. It’s over.”

“So you hate me.” He had his hands on his hips. His words were a confrontation.

Trish backed away, her tone pleading. “I don’t hate you. But I can’t associate with you anymore. I need to stay away from temptation if I’m going to go straight.”

“Straight where?” he said. “Straight into a boring tickytacky life where you’ll be like everyone else?”

“I want to be like everyone,” Trish said. “I don’t want to go back to your world. I almost died last time. Please, Owen, if you love me, try to understand.”

“I understand,” Owen said. Josie flinched at his bitter voice. “At least I’m a temptation. Good-bye, Trish. I won’t bother you anymore.”

He stormed off. Trish buried her face in her hands and wept.

Josie stepped back from the window and pawed through a rack of bustiers to give Trish privacy. She was examining a hot pink number when Alyce said, “Wow! Are you going to get that one?”

“No, I have everything I need,” Josie said. “It’s time to leave.”

Alyce looked puzzled. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Josie said. “We need to go now.” Trish would be coming back any moment. Josie didn’t want her to know she’d overheard that argument.

“Bye, Rosa!” Josie called through the changing room door. “We have a family emergency. Back later.” She dragged Alyce out the door. Trish was still weeping in the escalator alcove.

“Don’t say anything until we’re in the car,” she said softly to Alyce.

Inside the soft leather luxury of her friend’s Escalade with the heat running and the engine purring, Josie told Alyce about Trish’s tearful scene. “I thought Frankie was blackmailing her. That conversation proves it.”

“Why?” Alyce asked. “Trish didn’t mention Frankie or drugs. She said she didn’t want to see that guy again.”

“He looked like a drug user,” Josie said.

“Doesn’t mean he is one,” Alyce said. “Maybe Trish likes low-life men. It’s not noon yet. Anything else you want to do?”

“Do we have time to stop by Carlson Place?” Josie asked. “I want to find out if Victoria has a mother named Justine Garbull.”

The Carlson Place lobby looked like a luxury hotel with plants, paintings, and a curved reception desk. The receptionist was as polished as the desk.

“Yes, we have a Mrs. Garbull in residence,” the receptionist said. “But she’s not receiving guests today.”

“Is her daughter, Victoria, here?” Josie asked.

“She doesn’t have a daughter,” the receptionist said.

“Victoria Garbull isn’t her daughter?” Alyce asked.

The receptionist looked puzzled. “No.”

“Maybe you know her as Victoria Malliet,” Josie said.

“Victoria Malliet told you that she was Mrs. Garbull’s daughter?” the receptionist asked. “Let me get Mrs. Cassidy, our director of guest services.”

She showed Josie and Alyce into a small blue room. They declined offers of tea. A cool blonde glided into the room and asked delicately probing questions. After ten minutes, Mrs. Cassidy said, “Victoria Malliet is not related to Mrs. Garbull. Ms. Malliet was in our employ, but left at our request.”

“She duped us into calling Carlson Place,” Josie said, “and we believed Mrs. Garbull was her mother.”

“I’m not surprised,” Mrs. Cassidy said. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I must go.”

Alyce drove away from Carlson Place at 1:10. “I can drop you off at Victoria’s house and then I have to go home,” she said. “Are you going to be okay alone?”

“I won’t be alone,” Josie said. “One Buck Chuck will be watching us like pay-per-view TV, and I have Officer Norris on speed dial. I can’t wait till she claps the cuffs on Victoria.”

Alyce stopped at the end of Palmer Avenue. Josie saw Victoria’s yellow Miata parked in front of her house. One Buck Chuck popped out of his red door like a figure out of a cuckoo clock. Josie waved at him as she rang Victoria’s doorbell. Chuck stayed on his porch, watching. He didn’t pretend to be doing any yard chores.

Victoria opened the door. Model slender with a silken waterfall of pale hair, the killer was stunning. No wonder Chuck couldn’t keep his eyes off her, day or night.

“What are you doing here?” Victoria’s harsh voice didn’t match her shimmering exterior.

“I want to talk to you about the ice on my car,” Josie said. “You froze my car so I can’t drive it.”

“I put ice on your car? Mother Nature did that, honey.”

“She didn’t use my garden hose. And those are your boot prints in my yard.”

Victoria gave a hard barroom laugh. “Get out of here, before I call the police.”

Josie stayed planted on Victoria’s doormat. She could see the couch piled high with sweaters, scarves, and skirts. The rack bulged with dresses.

The sight of Victoria’s loot gave Josie the courage needed. “Go ahead.” She waved at the charcoal house. “Hi, Chuck.” Chuck waved back and started to come toward them.

“Invite me in,” Josie said under her breath. “Hurry! Unless you want Chuck over here talking your ear off.” She smiled and waved again at Chuck. He was hurrying toward them.

Victoria glanced over at her neighbor and opened the door. Once Josie was inside, Victoria slammed the front door. Josie speed-dialed Officer Norris and said, “I’m in,” then hung up.

“A police officer is on her way,” Josie said. “You can complain to her.”

Victoria did not invite Josie to sit down. The living room seats were filled with clothes. The two women stood in the vast hallway. Josie ignored the woodwork and art glass windows. She saw a brown wig and a black one on foam stands on the television. Her fingers itched to pull Victoria’s blond hair and see if it was real.

Josie distracted herself by counting the sweaters on the couch. She was at twenty-seven when Officer Doris Ann Norris arrived in her police car. Chuck must have been positively levitating at this exciting spectacle.