All Dressed Up and No Place to Haunt (5 page)

“Now we know that he doesn't really care about that ring,” Charlotte said.

“That's true, or he would have taken better care of it,” Alice added.

I thought back about meeting Nicole. She'd briefly stopped in the store with several other women the other day. One woman—I thought—was her agent, and the other was an assistant. I'd sold Nicole a Dior floor-length blue dress from the seventies that she said she might wear to the premiere of
Moonlight and Magnolias.
I'd been excited because that would have been great publicity for the shop. I wished I'd asked her more questions when I'd had the chance, but I hadn't wanted to bother her. I had wanted her experience in my shop to be a pleasant one so that she could tell others how much she liked it.

I slipped into my store and tucked my purse behind the counter. The ghosts walked in as though they owned the place.

“They were fighting,” Alice said.

“Well, we already know that,” I said as I turned on my computer.

“That just means he had the motive. I wonder why the police haven't arrested him already.”

I straightened a pink Suzy Perette silk gown on its hanger. “I suppose they have their reasons.”

Charlotte moved toward the front of the shop. “I suggest you find out what those reasons are.” She waved and disappeared out the front door.

“Yes, that's exactly it. You have to call the handsome detective and ask him.” Alice tapped her finger against the counter.

After flipping the sign to
OPEN
, I worked on changing the dress on the mannequin in the window. I'd decided on a summer picnic theme in both display areas. This one would be from the fifties and the other window would be from the seventies. My mother had found a pristine condition vintage wicker picnic basket, so I placed it in the window with a red-and-white checkered tablecloth. I also placed small bottles of Coca-Cola next to the basket. I dressed one of the mannequins in red-and-white-checked high-waist cotton capri pants with a white halter that had tiny red flower buttons on the front. The other mannequin wore a handmade blue-and-white polka-dot dress. The neck and hem had red ricrac trim.

Wind Song looked up at me.

“Do you like the dress I picked out for the window?” I asked her.

She meowed, so I took that as a yes.

“You didn't answer me,” Alice said.

“That's because the answer is no. I can't ask the detective any questions.”

“Can't or won't?” she said.

“Both,” I said.

Alice's voice took on a wheedling tone. “I just want to help you and the dearly departed Nicole. She was wearing my dress, for heaven's sake. It's like fate that I should help solve her murder.”

“You have a strange idea about fate,” I said and returned to my work. After several hours, I'd redesigned the windows and placed recently acquired items on the shelves and racks. Only a few customers wandered in, looked around, and wandered out.

When five o'clock finally arrived, I was more than ready to head home. Alice was with me, of course, but Charlotte had disappeared again. Maybe someday she'd tell me where she was going all the time. It had only been a short time ago that she couldn't move away from me; now it seemed she could go where she wanted.

Chapter 8

I had a simple but tasty dinner of breaded baked chicken and sautéed greens. Alice was pacing the living room floor, but at least she was being quiet. I welcomed the chance to do a little work on my blog. Wind Song was sitting in her favorite spot on the back of the sofa again. Her eyes were closed, but I didn't think she was really sleeping.

After blogging about the fun of providing vintage items for the film, I closed my laptop and headed toward my bedroom. It was time to turn in for the night, and I was looking forward to the comfort of my bed. I'd almost made it to the room when my phone rang.

I raced back to the living room and grabbed my cell. I was expecting it to be either my mother or Heather. They were the only people who called me at that time of the night. Why did Dylan pop into my mind? Of course it wouldn't be him calling me.

“Cookie?” the female voice asked when I answered.

“Yes?” I said.

I wasn't sure I recognized the woman.

“This is Shiloh Northcutt. I wanted to discuss returning the clothing when the movie wraps up. Can you meet me at the Plaza Hotel tomorrow morning at nine?”

“Sure, I can be there,” I said.

“Great, I'll see you then. I'm on the fourth floor. Room 408.” Shiloh hung up.

This would make Alice and Charlotte happy. I headed for bed, and Alice followed me into the room. This was becoming her routine. This time I was ready for her though. I'd purchased earplugs, which I hoped would drown out her incessant chatter enough for me to get some rest.

 

 

The next morning, after a much better night's sleep than my previous one, I dressed in a forties taffeta black skirt with a delicate red-and-white floral pattern. My white cotton blouse had a Peter Pan collar and tiny pearl buttons down the front. Red pumps completed my outfit. I grabbed a white purse and was ready for the meeting. I'd drop Wind Song off at the store and then go to the hotel from there. That meant that I would be opening the store a little later than usual.

While I drove, I called Heather and asked if she could open my shop for me. We often looked after each other's businesses.

“Are you kidding?” Heather had asked when I explained why I'd be delayed. “If you're meeting with Shiloh, I'm coming with you. I don't want to miss out on the action. We'll both open late.”

Since I didn't want to disappoint Heather, I said, “I'm on my way to your house.”

I was thankful that I would have another living person coming with me.

After dropping off Wind Song and picking up Heather, I drove us toward the hotel. Alice and Charlotte rode in the backseat. Heather simply wouldn't allow a ghost to call shotgun and make her sit in the backseat. There was something I wanted to ask Alice, so I figured what better time than when I had her in the car.

“Alice, you've never explained how you can move objects.” Her image was still visible to me in the rearview mirror.

“I don't know, it just comes naturally. I think if you want it bad enough it will happen,” she said.

I supposed that made sense.

Charlotte studied the scenery out the window. I knew she wasn't happy that she hadn't mastered that otherworldly talent yet.

The hotel was on the outer edge of town. It had a large lobby with several conference rooms on the first floor. Shiloh had said her room was on the fourth floor. So the four of us stepped on the elevator and headed for her room. I wondered what Alice and Charlotte would have done if the elevator had been full? Would they have floated up to the fourth floor? I wouldn't have been able to ask other passengers to move over because I had two ghosts that needed a ride.

We walked down the hallway and stopped in front of room 408. I knocked on the door.

“I hope she doesn't mind that I came along,” Heather whispered.

“I'm sure she won't care,” I said.

Movement sounded from the other side of the door. Shiloh opened the door wide. She looked at me and then over at Heather.

“Glad you could make it.” She motioned for us to come inside.

“This is my friend Heather.” I gestured.

“Nice to meet you.” Shiloh didn't seem to care one way or the other if Heather was there. Shiloh wore beige dress slacks and a white blouse. Her hair fell to her shoulders in soft waves.

“I guess you can imagine that the set has been chaos since Nicole's death.”

I could imagine. “It is terrible to lose her that way,” I said.

“Ask her what she thinks happened,” Alice pushed.

Shiloh sat in the brown leather chair by the window. “We have to postpone the movie for a few days while we figure out what to do.”

“Well, that's not as long as I thought it would take,” I said.

Shiloh scowled. “It's longer than I have. Time is money.”

I glanced at Heather, but she didn't say anything.

“I don't like this woman,” Charlotte said.

Charlotte probably said what Heather was thinking.

“Does this mean you'll need to keep my vintage costumes longer than we had planned?” I asked. “I'm afraid I would have to charge an extra fee for that.”

“There's just a few more scenes with a couple more outfits and then I can return them,” she said. “Just send your bill to the accounting department.”

I wondered if I would get back the dress that Nicole had worn when she drowned. I guessed not—Dylan would have to keep it as evidence, right? At least I hoped so because I wasn't sure that I wanted it.

Shiloh's phone rang. She looked at the screen and then said, “If you'll excuse me, I need to take this call out in the hallway.”

I nodded. “No problem.”

When she left the room, Heather said, “Wow, she is a bit odd. She doesn't seem to care in the least that Nicole is dead.”

“I'm just ready to get out of here,” I said.

Charlotte walked around the room, taking in the items that Shiloh had sitting around. “I don't see anything unusual,” she said.

“You need to ask a few questions while you're here. Don't let this opportunity go to waste,” Alice said.

The ghosts wanted me to ask questions, but they never gave suggestions on what those questions should be.

“As soon as she comes back, we are out of here,” I said.

Heather agreed. “She gives me a creepy vibe.”

When I glanced over at the other chair by the window, I noticed a dress. But not just any dress. I crossed the room and stepped closer. I was sure I recognized it. I hoped Shiloh didn't come back in the room and catch me looking at her stuff. I reached down and picked up the blue dress. I knew I recognized it. I never forgot a piece of vintage fashion. Especially one that I had sold.

It was the Dior dress that I had sold to Nicole. The one she had said she might wear to the premiere.

“What is it?” Heather asked.

“This is Nicole's dress. I sold it to her the other day before I was on the set.” I studied the blue fabric.

Heather and the ghosts stepped closer to me so that they could get a better look at the dress.

“It's pretty. She would have looked great in it,” Charlotte said.

“How did it get in Shiloh's room since I had just sold it to Nicole right before her murder?” I asked.

“Maybe Nicole decided she didn't want it after all and she gave it to Shiloh?” Heather asked.

I frowned. “Perhaps, but she really seemed to love it. She even tried it on and it fit her perfectly.”

“Everything fit her perfectly. She was like a model,” Alice said.

I placed the dress back on the chair when I thought I heard Shiloh coming back. It must have been someone walking down the hall because she didn't enter and the footsteps continued past the door. My heart was in my throat. Snooping around made me nervous.

“I remember that day on the set, I saw Nicole show the dress to another woman. I didn't hear what they were saying, but once she was done she placed the dress on top of her purse and other belongings. I had to leave the area after that so I don't know what happened to it then.”

“Maybe Shiloh is a kleptomaniac and she had to have that blue dress,” Charlotte said without cracking a smile.

“I doubt that she is a klepto, Charlotte,” I said.

“I can't believe I agree with her, but Charlotte may have a point.” Heather was getting good at inferring what the ghosts said, based on my answers to them.

Charlotte placed her hands on her hips. “Honey, you should agree with me more often. I'm always right. And when I'm wrong, I'm right.”

Alice chuckled.

“Okay, so anything is possible, but I doubt that. Shiloh had a lot of clothing from me and she could have kept any number of the items.”

“You don't have the stuff back yet, how do you know that she hasn't kept some things?” Heather said.

“True. And she does have the dress. So why would she steal it?”

Heather shrugged. “Maybe she simply liked it.”

“Well, one thing is for sure. This definitely adds Shiloh to the suspects list,” I said.

We were all huddled around that chair when Shiloh came back into the room. When I heard the door, I turned around. Heather and I looked in her direction. We probably looked guilty of something. I take that back—I knew we looked guilty of something. Shiloh quirked an eyebrow at us, but she didn't ask what we were doing.

“We were just looking out the window.” I pointed.

“Beautiful room,” Heather added as if we had scripted what we would say.

Shiloh waved her hand. “I hadn't noticed. So anyway, I will have someone deliver the clothing to your shop in about a week.”

I breathed easier. “Sure, that will be fine.”

She could have just given me that information over the phone. I wasn't sure why I'd had to make a special trip to the hotel to see her. But at least I'd seen the blue dress. Heather and I made our way toward the door.

“Thanks, again,” I said as I looked back.

Shiloh was already looking at her iPad. “Yeah, thanks,” she said without looking up.

“That is one rude woman,” Charlotte said.

“I would never treat anyone so ungraciously,” Alice said.

As we walked down the hallway, I asked, “Do you think I should have asked about the dress?”

“Definitely,” they all said in unison.

“I guess it's too late now. Maybe I'll get a chance to talk with her again.”

“That would be torturous, but I guess if you must,” Charlotte said.

After driving back to town, I parked the car between my shop and Heather's.

“Thanks for going with me today.”

“That's what friends are for,” she said. “Besides, I wanted to get a look at Shiloh. She's just as unpleasant as you said she was.”

I'd hoped I had been wrong about her, but clearly I was completely right.

After getting out of the car, Heather headed toward her shop. “I'll call you later.”

 

 

Since I hadn't planned on being back at the shop until later, I decided to go to Glorious Grits for a bite to eat. I'd left a sign on my door that said I'd return at eleven. That would give me plenty of time to enjoy a meal at my friend's café.

Dixie Bryant and I had been friends for quite some time, and she was just like a sister to me. Plus, she made the best apple pie in the state, maybe even in the whole country. It was almost better than my granny's, although I would have never told her that. Signs with cutesy sayings like “Kiss My Grits” adorned the walls. Red-and-white checkered fabric covered the tables. Red leather booths lined the walls, with table and chairs in the middle of the room.

Dixie waved at me when I stepped into the café. She was a petite brunette with more energy than a hummingbird. She wore her usual uniform of white shirt, polka-dot apron, and jeans. The café was crowded, and I didn't see any empty seats in the place.

Dixie had a pot of coffee in one hand and plates in the other. It seemed as if she always had a pot of coffee in her hand.

“Hey, Cookie, are you ready for something good to eat? We have a lot of homemade specials today.” She peered at me through her oversized white-rimmed glasses.

“You know I always am,” I said with a smile. “It looks like I might have to wait for a table for a while. It's jam-packed in here.”