The Corpse Wore Cashmere (2 page)

“Nah, A. K. and I can handle it.”

“Thanks, boss.” Debbie cut her eyes at Melanie. “Next time we dress in costume, I’m coming as Elvira. You got hit on so many times you have to be black and blue. I should be so lucky.”

Melanie blushed. “I never knew work could be such fun.”

Susan was glad to see Melanie enjoying herself. Not long ago, her husband had been killed while serving an arrest warrant. Every time Susan thought about that night, her gut wrenched. Left with two children to support, Melanie was forced to find employment, and Susan was eager to do all she could to help her.

The employees gathered up their purses and headed for the front door.

“See y’all tomorrow,” A. K. called after them.

Susan locked the door behind them and flipped the closed sign to face outward. “This shouldn’t take long,” she said, picking up a few costumes that had fallen to the floor. While re-hanging a hula skirt, she paused to smooth the raffia grass. It was then that Susan’s mind drifted again to that day on the river.

She had kept quiet, hoping that what she’d seen had been just her imagination, but the nightmares wouldn’t stop. The woman who owned the scarf kept crying out to her, and she could no longer keep her fears to herself. She had to tell someone, or she’d go crazy. She crossed the store, stopped in front of A. K., and waited until her friend looked up.

“Lorraine’s dead.”

A frown creased A. K.’s brow. “If you’re trying to scare me, you’re succeeding. I had a feeling you shouldn’t have worn that costume.”

“The disguise has nothing to do with it.”

A. K.’s shoulders slumped. “You didn’t hit your head again, did you?”

“No.”

Several months earlier, Susan had suffered a fall, resulting in a hematoma and surgery. While sedated, she’d found herself at the local funeral home, where she’d met Jack Evans, the victim of a pending murder. Later, she’d awakened in the hospital with only days to save him. She’d had a hard time convincing people about the vision, but eventually, both A. K. and Wesley realized she had been telling the truth and the would-be killer was caught before Jack was murdered. Now it seemed she was destined to get caught up in another investigation, whether she wanted to or not.

Taking the scythe from Susan’s hand, A. K. laid it on a table. “After what happened with Jack, I was hoping you had lost your ability to see things. I’d hate to go through something like that again—knowing a killer was out there, not knowing who, and suspecting everyone. My knees grow weak every time I think about it. Even so, I owe you big time for bringing him into my life. He’s…well, I’ve waited a long time for someone like Jack.”

Susan massaged her temples. “I’d give anything for things to be normal again, but I don’t have control over my visions. You can’t imagine how terrifying they can be. Last night, I found myself alone in the river, and something was pulling me down. I woke up gasping for air. You wouldn’t believe how real it felt. I actually checked the bed for water. How do you get something like that out of your mind?”

A. K. slipped her bracelets into a plastic box. “Do me a favor. Keep me out of your visions.”

Susan tucked a long strand of hair behind an ear. “It doesn’t work that way.”

A. K. returned the crystal ball to its box then locked eyes with Susan. “Okay, what exactly did you see that makes you think Lorraine is dead?”

“Would you believe her face beneath the water?” Susan scrunched her face in disgust. “Later, when I reeled in the scarf, I knew something terrible had happened to her. I can still feel that slimy, wet material.” She shivered at the thought. “I don’t know if I can ever handle cashmere again. After Wesley slipped the scarf into a plastic bag, I couldn’t bring myself to look at it. My stomach wrenched, and I thought I was going to throw up.”

“Hey, maybe you got the wrong impression. Maybe Lorraine’s not in trouble at all. She likes to party. Could be her scarf just blew off. I wouldn’t put it past her to be living it up on someone’s boat.”

“I don’t think so. From what I saw, she was in trouble. Her face was twisted in pain, and her mouth opened like she was calling for help.”

“Ooh, that doesn’t sound good. Did you tell Wesley?”

Just the mention of the detective’s name helped to calm Susan’s anxiety. Along with wanting to own a boutique, Wesley was the reason she had left New York for her hometown. They once had something special, but over time, had drifted apart. She was hoping there was still a chance for them. With that in mind, she’d learned all she could about merchandizing and had saved as much money as possible. She’d been eager to escape the turmoil of the big city for the laid-back atmosphere of Palmetto, but Palmetto had turned out to be anything but. Not long after her homecoming, she’d found herself in the middle of the investigation where Jack Evan’s life had hung in the balance. Through it all, Wesley had stood by her.

“I know he would believe me, but I doubt his boss would. Sheriff Smith is a Jack Webb type of guy—just the facts, ma’am. And I’m pretty sure Wesley would prefer I not go public with my visions. People might think I’m nuts, and then my business would go to pot. Besides, Wesley’s on top of things, and the flotilla is dragging the river.”

“Fat chance they’ll find anything. The current is so swift Lorraine’s body could be in the Gulf by now.”

“Maybe.”

A. K. drew her lips together and shook her head. “I know what you’re thinking, but do me a favor—don’t get involved this time. Whatever has happened, it’s not your fault, and you’re not obligated to solve Lorraine’s disappearance.”

Susan gave a forlorn sigh. “That’s not my intention. Between the Bawdy Boutique and the costume shop, I have enough to worry about. But I had to tell someone, and besides Wesley and Jack, you’re the only one who wouldn’t think I was crazy.”

“I should be so lucky.” A. K.’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“We’ve done enough here,” Susan said, glancing around the shop. “What say we call it a night and finish up tomorrow?” Not wanting to dwell further on the subject, Susan slipped an arm around A. K.’s shoulders. “I have to say you were spot on about opening a costume shop. We’re going to do great. There’s only one thing that bothers me.”

“What?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever warm up to the name—Purple Pickle.”

A. K. laughed. “You will when the money starts rolling in.”

There was a knock followed by a familiar voice. “Is it okay to come in?”

“Of course,” Susan said, crossing the shop and unlocking the door. Wesley and his partner, Dylan Powell, shuffled past. Seeing Wesley brought a smile to her lips. “I didn’t hear you drive up.”

“We parked next door. Since the lights were on in the costume shop, I figured that’s where I’d find you.”

Wesley had worked all day at the landing, interviewing everyone. From the look on his face, things weren’t going so well. His hazel eyes lacked their usual sparkle, and the corners of his mouth tugged at his smile.

In the shadows of her mind, Susan heard a bell toll. “They found her, didn’t they?”

Wisps of sandy hair fell across Wesley’s brow as he nodded. “The flotilla recovered what we believe to be Lorraine’s remains, but we’ll have to wait for dental confirmation.”

A. K. gave Susan a quick glance. When she opened her mouth to say something, Susan shook her head, hoping A. K. wouldn’t mention her vision. Her friend apparently got the message. She said nothing and eased down onto a crate.

“It doesn’t seem right,” Susan said. “After years apart, Myrtle’s sister finally comes home, and a week later, she’s dead.”

“Not just dead, murdered. I imagine Myrtle will think about her sister being pulled from that river for a long time,” Wesley said.

Susan’s eyes widened. “Does she know? Is anyone with her?”

Wesley held up his hand as if to slow Susan’s barrage of questions. “We just left Myrtle’s place. The chief delayed talking to the press at the landing so I could tell her before the media blasted the news over the radio and TV. You wouldn’t believe the number of reporters at the landing. We couldn’t turn around without one of them in our faces. Until we know for sure the body is Lorraine’s, all I could tell Myrtle was that the victim was a female, and she should be prepared for the worst. I was glad a few of her friends were with her.”

Wesley didn’t speculate as to a cause of death, and it wasn’t like him to avoid eye contact.

“What are you not telling us?” Susan asked.

His voice lowered, almost to a mumble. “I don’t know how she died. I just hope she didn’t suffer. We…we only recovered a head.”

A. K. sprang to her feet and clutched her arms. “Ew! Sounds like something out of a horror movie.”

“You got that right,” Dylan said. “I’ve seen a lot of gruesome sights, and this ranks right up there.” He rubbed the sides of his neck with both hands. “We’re looking at a real sicko.”

“This is Palmetto. Nothing like that is supposed to happen here,” A. K. said.

“But it did,” Wesley said. “Things have changed, especially after Katrina. The North Shore has seen a great influx of people.” He stared at A.K, but it seemed his mind was elsewhere. “Since we found the remains downstream from where Susan hooked the scarf, my guess is Lorraine met her fate aboard the killer’s boat and under cover of darkness. I doubt anyone saw or heard anything on the river, so I’m going to concentrate on the Rusty Nail. Maybe someone will remember seeing her, and if she was with anyone. Even better if they can put them on a boat.”

“It’s hard to believe,” Susan said. “Lorraine must not have suspected anything. She seemed so happy to be home. I can see her now with her light brown hair and amber eyes. More than anything, she so loved that scarf Myrtle bought her.” Susan paused. “How could anyone butcher another person?” The thought chilled her to the bone. “I hope she was dead long before…before…” She didn’t finish her sentence. Her lips quivered as she stared at Wesley. “You have to catch whoever did this.”

“I’d like nothing better.” Muscles around his mouth twitched as he steeled his face in defiance. “With so many people in and out of the landing, someone must have seen her. Nothing goes unnoticed in Palmetto.”

“That’s for sure,” A. K. said.

“I just hope my witness hasn’t left town.”

Wesley’s voice brought Susan back to the present. “What about Lorraine’s car?” she asked. “Is it still at the landing?”

“It’s been impounded, and so far, the crime lab hasn’t turned up anything.”

Susan unhooked her robe and laid it across the counter. All she could think about was Myrtle and how devastated she must be. “I should go see Myrtle. Maybe there’s something I can do.”

“I was hoping you would,” Wesley said. “It’s always difficult to interview anyone after such a tragedy, but it’s important that we do. I got nowhere with her. Since you two have become friends, you might put her more at ease. She and Lorraine must have talked about things. Maybe Myrtle will recall something that’ll help us. We’re going to need all the leads we can get.”

A. K. cleared her throat and frowned at Susan. “I thought you weren’t going to get involved.”

“I’m not, but Myrtle needs support…and answers. It’s the least I can do.”

A. K. sighed.

Susan didn’t have to be psychic to read A. K.’s thoughts—
Here we go again
.

Myrtle’s friends were leaving when Susan arrived. She recognized a few of them as Myrtle’s sign-carrying protestors, bent on shutting down the Bawdy Boutique. Thank goodness that was over and done with. Standing in the doorway, Myrtle reached out to her with a trembling hand and took Susan’s arm. “I’m so glad you came.”

Susan’s former nemesis appeared frail and somewhat smaller than the feisty woman who a few months ago had been determined to send Susan and her boutique packing. The news of Lorraine’s death had obviously devastated Myrtle. There was no fire in her eyes, no color in her cheeks. She was just a shadow of herself.

“Come, dear. Let’s sit on the sofa,” Myrtle said.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

It was obvious Myrtle was in no condition to be questioned. She just needed someone to be with her, to console her. Susan did the best she could and stayed a long time. Mostly, she sat in silence, listening to Myrtle reminisce about her childhood years with Lorraine. Susan couldn’t help but think about her brother, Edward, and prayed she’d never have to face such a tragedy.

Later in the evening, Myrtle patted Susan’s hand and looked up with watery eyes. “When the chief finishes his dragging operation, I’m going to bury my sister’s remains in the family plot. The funeral will be closed, except for a few close friends. I hope you’ll attend.”

“Of course I’ll be there, and if I can do anything in the meantime, I’m as close as the phone.”

A teary-eyed Susan drove to her Pine Crest apartment. Once inside, she locked the door, leaned against it, and said a little prayer for Myrtle.

Marmalade wobbled down the hall and greeted her with a squeaky meow, the feline’s way of welcoming her. Susan dropped her purse on the sofa and picked up the cat. “How’s my baby?” she said, hugging the cat to her and stroking the calico’s fur. When the doorbell rang, the cat’s back claws dug into Susan’s ribs as she sprang from her arms and bolted down the hall. In a flash, Marmalade scooted out of sight.

“Talk about a coward,” Susan called after the animal, while rubbing her ribs. “You know, I thought about getting a dog.”

Looking through the peephole, she spied Wesley, standing under the entrance light. “Come in,” she said, opening the door. “Are you through for the evening?”

“Unless something else happens. The dragging operation is set to start again at sunrise. I want to be there early to meet any boaters.”

“How much longer will they search?”

“At least a few more days, or until they reach the Gulf. So, how did it go with Myrtle?”

“I can’t help you there. Tonight was not the time for questions.”

“I figured as much, but you never know how people will react.”

Wesley’s cheeks were sunburned from being on the water. Even in March one couldn’t escape the damaging rays, not to mention the glare off the water or the wind. Susan placed a light kiss on his nose and fingered the stubble that shadowed his chin and jaw. She liked his rugged appearance. With broad shoulders and a muscular body, he epitomized the strong, outdoor type, ready to face anything.