I So Don't Do Makeup (20 page)

“But if we solve this case, you'll have saved Lacey's business and kept a lot of customers safe.”

My mother has a way of always making me feel better.

There's more insistent pounding on the door. “Don't be a selfish jerk. Go talk on your phone somewhere else. This is a
public
restroom.”

“I'm heading over to the station,” Mom says. “I'll catch up with you later.”

“Thanks, Mom. I really mean it.”

“I know, pumpkin.”

And I know she really is distressed about the foreign Academy position going up in smoke. But my mother? She's so not a drama queen. Especially during an ongoing investigation.

“Sherry?” Junie calls out. “Are you okay?”

“That your friend hogging the stall?” a girl snarls. “Tell her to get out.”

I open the door. “Sorry,” I say to the scowling girl on the other side. “Avoid the chicken teriyaki bowl.”

“Amber just texted,” Junie says. “The police think it was Hair-B-Gone.”

I nod. “My mom just told me.” Yay Amber for texting. Now I don't have to come up with an explanation for how I know about the Hair-B-Gone. “I'm dying to watch the tapes.”

We sprint back to the food court.

Nick sits, holding the camera, while the rest of us huddle over him, jostling to see the small playback screen.

“What're we looking for?” Josh asks.

“Anything, anybody,” I say. “Just point out even the smallest thing that strikes you as odd.”

When the tape ends, Junie says, “I didn't see anything weird. Did anyone?”

Nothing but head shakes.

I break into a cold sweat. There has to be a clue on the tapes.

Nick pops in Josh's tape.

I'm staring so hard my eyes are watering. It's like I don't want to blink in case I miss the one little something that turns into the one big something.

And then I spot it!

I
clap and spin in a circle. “That's it! That's it. I saw it!”

“What?” Junie says. “What did you see?”

Josh squeezes my shoulder.

“Way to go, Sherry,” Nick says.

“Give me the camera, Nick, and I'll show you guys.” I reach for the equipment. I hit Rewind, then Play; then I slow it all down.

Lacey lifts the brush and sets it on Grandma's hair. She drags downward. The camera follows the hair as it plops to the ground. And then Josh, my beautiful, wonderful Josh, had the presence of mind to scan the audience.

Everyone's eyes are focused in the same direction. Everyone's mouth hits the ground.

One person smiles.

“Look at her,” I point at the screen. “Just look at her.”

“Crystal!” Junie says, stunned.

Crystal leans forward. Probably to get a better view. A bright yellow bottle begins to slide from her pocket. She shoves it back in.

“Hair-B-Gone,” I say.

“We never even suspected her.” Junie slaps her forehead in frustration.

“When do you think she messed with the hair spritz?” Nick asks.

“This morning, while she was helping Amber get ready for Fantabulous You!, Amber was rushing all over the place, doing a zillion things,” I answer. “For sure, she left Crystal alone. She totally trusts Crystal. So does Lacey.”

“I guess Naked Makeup, with help from Amber, was luring away Crystal's clients.” Junie snaps her fingers. “And remember her talking about getting a huge promotion to Montreal if she kept her sales up? Amber said it was her dream job.”

“And she saw that her sales were dipping all of a sudden, so she must've decided to take control of the situation and shut down Naked Makeup.” Nick leans
over and turns off the camera. “Sherry, we'll make a DVD for you with all the material from both cameras.”

“Thanks, Nick.” Who knew he could be so helpful.

“This isn't enough to go to the cops with, right?” Josh takes a bite of his sandwich.

“Not even close.” I sip from Josh's Sprite.

“We need to find out where Crystal got the Hair-B-Gone,” Junie says. “Because there's a definite pattern to how she's procuring contaminants. And the pattern is they're all from nearby.”

Junie is crazy for patterns. And I'm starting to see how useful they are.

“She could easily have gotten habanero peppers from Will's kiosk for the lip gloss,” Nick says.

“And for the night cream with the extra papaya acid? Crystal's the queen of face peels. Maybe she just grabbed something from her own makeup counter,” I say.

“Probably all she did was yank up a couple of prickly pear cactus plants from the mall garden and shove spines in some of the hand cream bottles.” Josh takes another bite.

“For the sake of argument”—Junie straightens her glasses—“let's assume the Hair-B-Gone comes from nearby. The closest place is the drugstore on the second level.”

“We can go talk to the cashiers.” Nick jumps up.
“Everyone who works at the mall knows everyone else who works here.”

“And she wears a lot of jewelry,” I say, “which makes her easy to recognize.”

“The mall security cameras might've picked her up entering or exiting the drugstore. And it'll be time-stamped.” Josh rolls up the paper that wrapped his sandwich and lobs it into the nearest trash can. “I talked to the security guys yesterday about doing a segment for
Revealing Phoenix
. They were way cool and helpful. Plus, a couple of them played polo in high school, and we really connected. I'll go back and talk with them some more. I bet they let me watch a bunch of their tapes. Who knows what got caught on those.”

Head cocked, I smile at my three friends. “You guys are the best. We're gonna nail her. Crystal doesn't stand a chance against us.” I flutter my fingers in the air. “I'm going after fingerprints. That bottle of Hair-B-Gone is somewhere. Quite possibly in the trash can at the kiosk. She probably got all her contaminants at the mall. I bet she leaves her trash here too. Crystal's a lazy crook. And that really works in our favor.

“We'll keep in touch with our cells.” I stand. “Let's go find some hard evidence!”

Adrenaline rushes through me, filling me with extra energy and speed. I jog toward the Naked Makeup kiosk and its cute pink + butterflies trash can.

Mr. Peabody ordered one of his security guys to stand guard, but Lacey always leaves the trash can in the same place. So I figure I'll just skip around there, fake-drop an earring, and root in the trash while fake-hunting for the earring.

I'm especially optimistic because I'm remembering Amber, Lacey and Crystal complaining about the trash service at the mall and how there's never any pickup.

When I get to the kiosk, the security guard's leaning against an end and texting with one hand. He looks about sixteen. He barely even blinks as I skip close. Unfortunately, he's right by the trash can, but I think I can handle the situation.

I pull out my phone and start chatting with nobody.

“He is so not my type.” I skip past the guard. “Besides which, he's my older brother's best friend's teacher's brother's kid. Even if he asks, I am so not going to the dance with him. Think how embarrassing it would be for everyone if we started dating and then broke up. I can't do that to my family.”

The security guard shoots me a “could you be more stupid” look.

Good. He'll pay less attention to a moron.

I drop to my knees by the trash can and start feeling around the floor with my free hand.

“Excuse me,” he says. “You need to move along. No one's allowed here.”

“My earring just fell out. It was a gift from my fifth-grade Christmas party. Which means sentimental value, if you're wondering. It's the only school souvenir I have from that year.”

“Move along.”

Still slapping the floor, I say into the phone, “No, I'm not talking to you. It's this security guy.” I look at his badge. “His name's Adam. And, yeah, he's cute.”

“I can hear you. I'm standing right here.” Adam waves.

I point to my phone and put my index finger against my lips. “I'm pretty sure he finds me cute too. He won't stop talking to me.”

“No, I don't.” He frowns. “I don't find you cute at all. Anyway, aren't you, like, in middle school?”

“Now he's judging me.” I'm about two inches from the trash. “No, I'm not going to cry.” I gulp loudly. “Seriously, I'm fine.”

Adam throws his arms up in despair and stomps to the other end of the kiosk.

In a flash, I tip the trash can on its side and peek in.

Empty!

I hop up, drop my phone in my purse and take off
running to the department store. There's a good chance Crystal wouldn't be dumb enough to toss the Hair-B-Gone in Lacey's trash. She probably believes no one will ever suspect her in a million years. Which means no one would ever think to check the trash at her counter.

No one except me!

I'm dashing along, cursing under my breath. Why oh why did the janitors choose today to actually empty the trash cans? I cross my fingers, hoping they went for a break and never emptied Crystal's trash.

At the department store, I screech to a halt. Crystal's over at Suze's counter, showing a customer lash curlers.

For the second time in ten minutes, I drop to the floor. Catlike, I crawl next to Crystal's display case and slink around the corner. I keep low and out of sight. It's my pounding heart that might give me away.

I sneak behind the counter, reach into the trash.

Empty!

Foiled again!

I retrace my steps, crawling backward until I'm in the shoe department. I pull myself to my feet and dust off my knees.

The good news: Crystal didn't spot me.

The bad news: My next stop will be the nearest Dumpster.

  I slide the bolt, releasing the Dumpster lid. Then, with two hands, I heave it back and open.

I'm not actually climbing in the Dumpster. The Hair-B-Gone bottle must be in a trash bag very recently chucked in here. I'll just walk my fingers along the top bags and … I can't feel any bags. Everything's too far down.

Yikes! I'm going in.

I curl my fingers around the lip of the Dumpster opening. My beautiful oversized denim purse slips off my shoulder, down my arm and dangles from my wrist, clunking against my hip. I let it drop to the asphalt. Why subject this adorable accessory to the horrors of a Dumpster? Probably it would soak up the trashy smell and attract loud, meowing alley cats for months to come. No, my purse does not need to face humiliation. Bad enough that I'm sacrificing my plaid shorts and scoop-neck top.

Sherry Holmes Baldwin, Dumpster Diver.

A quick check around. No witnesses. The Dumpster's way at the end of the parking lot. There's not a car around.

One. Two. Three.

I haul myself up, throw a leg over the edge, plug my
nose and tumble in. I land on my back. On a bed of bumpy, chunky plastic trash bags. I listen carefully. Nothing. Phew. No rats.

The inside of the Dumpster is rusty. And stinky. But not very full.

This is the absolute grossest thing I have ever done in my entire life. By far. The sooner I get out of here, the better.

I unplug my nose and breathe through my mouth. I'll be faster with two free hands. I start squeezing bags from the outside, feeling for a bottle shape.

I get lucky. I happen upon a trash bag loaded with bottle shapes. I tear it open. Pay dirt! It's full of cosmetic products. From the department store.

And there in the middle, not even attempting to hide from me, is a sunshine yellow bottle of Hair-B-Gone.

How to pick it up without destroying fingerprints?

Using the hem of my T-shirt as a rag, I carefully hold the bottom of the bottle. I don't want to smudge any of Crystal's precious prints.

Unfortunately, climbing out of a Dumpster is harder than climbing in. I'm trying to balance, one-handed, on a slippery bed of bags crammed with irregular shapes. Not working. I need both hands to pull myself up to the lip.

I drop the bottle of Hair-B-Gone outside the Dumpster. It thuds on the ground.

I crouch down low, ready to spring up like a tiger and hoist myself out of the land of stink.

Just as I'm uncoiling, the lid slams shut.

The world goes dark.

The bolt rasps.

I'm trapped.

“H
elp! Help!” I yell. “I'm in here!”

Nothing.

I pound on the sides, scraping my knuckles.

Nothing.

I pound and yell.

Still nothing.

I talk to myself. “Sherry, do not panic. Yes, you are trapped in a rusty, smelly, dark Dumpster where no one hears your pounding and screaming. But, think, think, think—there must be a way out.”

My mom!

The Ziploc bag of espresso coffee beans is in my purse. And I see my purse slipping and sliding down
my arm to a safe haven on the ground, near the Dumpster. I can't call my mother.