Lavender Lipstick Lies: A Mystery of Makeup & Mayhem (2 page)

Chapter 3

While swimmers splashed in the pool
and a seemingly endless parade of slim, stylish men and women passed our table,
Bree and I enjoyed our drinks and relaxed from the flight. As the tension in my
shoulders lessened, I found it easier to sweep away thoughts of Robert’s
betrayal. Since our marriage had been otherwise perfect, the inexplicable twist
of fate that I’d witnessed in our living room was making it even more difficult
to think that my handsome husband could suddenly transform from a loyal, loving
mate into a loathsome, deceitful monster.

“Why are you frowning, hon?”

I glanced up. Bree was leaning
forward in her chair on the far side of the table.

“If you keep it up,” she added,
“not even Splendora’s Wrinkles Away will make a dent in the creases I see on
your forehead right now.”

My lips found the strength to form
a blithe grin. “I’m fine, okay?”

“Are you trying to convince me?” she
asked. “Or yourself?”

I sipped my drink. “I’m sorry,
Bree. I don’t want to be a downer on this trip.”

“No, no!” she gushed. “I’m not
asking for an apology. I just hate seeing you so sad.”

“I’ll second that emotion,” I said,
raising my glass. “Here’s to three days of learning, laughter and—”

“Ladies on the loose!” Emma chimed
in, suddenly appearing between the two potted palms beside our table. She’d
stopped at the bar for a drink and slipped into the chair between Bree and I.
“We’re all checked in, the luggage is upstairs and we have an eight o’clock dinner reservation at the French restaurant on the top of the hotel.”

I glanced up at the glimmering row
of gold-tinted windows thirty floors above the pool. Like all of the other
plush resorts in Las Vegas, our hotel boasted a mouthwatering selection of fine
restaurants along with an expansive casino, three different dance clubs for
late night carousing and a row of exclusive shops offering everything from
designer clothes and shoes to collectible works of art.

“That’s perfect,” I said, smiling
at Emma. “Thank you for taking care of those things.”

“It was my pleasure,” she said,
lightly touching the rim of her hurricane glass against mine and Bree’s.
“Here’s to three hot women having three hot days of fun in the sun!”

For the next hour, we lounged under
the umbrella, sipping our cocktails, taking in the lively poolside action and
chatting about our plans for the weekend. It really was the ideal respite from
the chaos and confusion of the morning. As the sun blazed down from above and
the potted palms danced in the breeze, I felt myself easing into the untroubled
rhythm of the posh resort. Unfortunately, the mood was shattered a moment later
when Bree turned to me with an unexpected query.

“Did I see someone from the hotel
bring you an envelope earlier?” she asked. “I thought I noticed a man talking
to you while I was waiting for our drinks.”

The comment caught me off guard,
and I did my best to appear unruffled even though the inquiry reignited the
jumpy feeling in my stomach.

“It was nothing,” I lied, not
wanting to reveal the contents of the disturbing note. My two friends deserved
a fun getaway weekend, not three days edged with stress and uncertainty. “He
was just being friendly and checking to see if we needed anything.”

Bree frowned. “But I saw him hand
you something,” she said.

I casually rolled my eyes. “Oh,
that! It was just promotional material about the resort.”

Emma shook her head. “Well, that’s
the last thing we need right now!” she said, raising her glass. “We know where
the bar is, where the pool is and where we’re having dinner.”

“That’s right!” I agreed. “As soon
as we find the spa and our meeting rooms, we’ll have the entire weekend scoped
out!”

I gave Bree a sideways glance. She
was studying my face with narrowed eyes, as if she knew that my attempt to
gloss over the curious note was a fib. Before her suspicions could blossom into
another uncomfortable question, I asked her what she thought of the hotel.

“It’s absolutely stunning out
here!” she said, gesturing at the lush landscaping around the massive pool. “I
can’t wait to see our suite next!”

“I’m in favor of doing that right
now,” Emma suggested. “I don’t know about you two, but I could use a little
freshening up after our flight.”

Once we finished our drinks and
collected our things, I followed Emma and Bree across the pool deck and into
the lobby. Our suite was on the twenty-third floor, so we climbed into one of
the glass-encased elevator cars and shot skyward. Between the rum in my daiquiri,
the desert heat and the sudden chill of the air conditioning, I started to feel
woozy as we stepped off the elevator into a stunning corridor lined with
embossed silver wallpaper and dramatic photographs of desert landscapes.

“Here we are!” Emma chirped when we
reached Room 2390. “Are you ladies ready?”

“Open the door, Em!” Bree blurted.
“I’m dying to get out of these clothes, take a shower and maybe relax for a bit
before we start getting ready for dinner.”

Emma slid the keycard into the door
and it opened instantly. We crossed the threshold into a short corridor that
led to a gorgeously decorated living room with one wall fashioned from
floor-to-ceiling windows. The view was incredible; a seemingly endless vista of
shimmering sand and mountains beyond the nearby cluster of glittering hotel
towers.

“Wow!” I exclaimed, rushing across
the room and gazing through the glass. “This is truly dazzling! I don’t think
we’ve ever had such an incredible view of Vegas in all the years we’ve been
coming to the conference.”

Bree kicked off her sandals and
plopped down on one of the overstuffed sofas. “It’s well worth the upcharge for
a suite,” she said, putting her feet on the edge of the coffee table. “We
deserve a little extra pampering, don’t you think?”

Emma put her purse on the curved
marble bar near the soaring wall of windows. “Of course,” she said. “Especially
since our little group includes one of the three nominees for the Achiever
Award.” She glanced over and beamed at me. “Someone who totally deserves to
win, I might add.”

Bree leaned back and closed her
eyes. “Well, maybe that’ll be me next year,” she said with a hint of sadness in
her voice. “I tried my hardest to make it, but I guess Abby’s a better image
consultant than everyone else. It’s just like when we were in school. Remember
that one headline from the local paper after you took top spot at the debate
tournament—‘Miss Abigail Miller Reigns Supreme’? And the home ec recipe
contest? And all the other things that you did better than the other girls?”

The expression on her face was so
flat that I couldn’t tell if she was joking or being serious. I decided to let
it go, but Emma challenged her with a stern glare and sharp rebuke.

“That wasn’t very nice,” she said.
“I hope you’re kidding, Bree.”

The ghost of a smile appeared on
Bree’s face. “Do you even have to ask?” Her eyes popped open and she turned my
way. “I’m proud of you, Abby. You sold more product and enrolled more new
clients than me. Next year, I’ll work harder to do the same.”

Emma sighed and shuffled toward the
three suitcases lined up against one wall. She raised the handle on her bag and
rolled it toward one of the three open bedroom doors.

“If you don’t mind, I think it’s
time for a little siesta,” she said.

Bree jumped up from the sofa. “I
agree. I want to check my email and call home before I take a shower.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said,
walking toward my luggage. “I think that daiquiri went right to my head. A
little nap sounds like a really good idea.”

“And we may be up all night,” Emma
called from the door to her room. “We need to recharge our batteries and get
ready for whatever Vegas has to offer!”

Chapter 4

An hour later, after calling several
clients back home in St. Louis and catching up briefly on the phone with my
mother, I slipped beneath a soothing stream of hot water in the marble-lined
bathroom’s spacious shower. Thick clouds of steam tumbled over the top of the frosted
glass enclosure as I used the lavish collection of complimentary organic shampoos,
body scrubs and fragrant gels to wash away the cares and concerns of the day.

The bathroom smelled like a heady
whirl of coconut, papaya and cinnamon as I swayed under the deluxe rainfall
showerhead. It was the kind of fixture I’d always dreamed about having, even
though Robert and I made due with a standard setup in our modest suburban house.
Luckily
, I thought as the water pulsed against my skin,
I can indulge
in a few extravagances this weekend. Who knows what will be waiting for me when
I get back home?

After rinsing my hair and gently
washing my face with a special micro-exfoliating scrub that smelled like jasmine
and lemongrass, I turned off the water and reached for one of the plush pale
peach bath sheets. My plan was to dry off, climb into the sumptuous bed and
close my eyes for a few minutes of tranquil rest before it was time to leave
for dinner. But as the tips of my fingers touched the soft cotton towel, the bathroom
lights suddenly clicked off and the door slammed shut.

I was plunged into a jet-black
nothingness that was completely—and terrifyingly—impenetrable. I had closed the
heavy room-darkening drapes beside the bed earlier to prepare for my nap. I
couldn’t see a thing, and the sudden plunge into darkness sent a chill through
my body.

“Hello?” I called hesitantly.
“Emma? Bree?”

There was no reply, so I slowly
groped my way to where I remembered seeing one of the hotel’s guest robes
hanging from a hook on the bathroom wall.

Quickly slipping into the plush
white terrycloth dressing gown, I kept my hand on the glass enclosure to
maintain my balance and gingerly placed one foot on the cool marble floor just
outside the shower.

“Is this some kind of joke?” I said
loudly.

As I listened for one of my friends
to respond, I heard a muted sound in the bedroom. It was squelchy and high-pitched,
like balloons being twisted or markers writing on an erasable board.

“Em?”

The sound repeated.

“Bree?”

Narrowing my eyes desperately to
try and detect even a slender slip of light under the door, I moved cautiously
forward in the murky gloom. I pressed one hand against the wall and held the
other directly in front of my face. I had a fairly good idea of the bathroom’s
layout, but it wasn’t something I knew as intimately as my own space at home.

When I finally reached the door, I
quickly turned the knob and walked into my room. It was as dark and foreboding
as a tomb, and I paused briefly to try and get my bearings. As I squinted into
the shadows, I heard a muffled rustle of fabric to my right.

Swiveling my head toward the sound,
I gasped audibly as the door to my room lurched open and a tall figure wearing
a floppy red hat and billowing floral caftan disappeared into the hallway.

Chapter 5

A swarm of fretful thoughts whirled
in my mind.
Call security! Who was that? Are Emma and Bree okay?

Although I wasn’t a world-class
traveler, I’d been on enough trips for my Splendora business to know that
hotels were ripe settings for burglaries and theft. Perhaps someone had entered
our suite with a master passkey to search for jewelry and other valuables.

The longer I stood like a frozen
statue, the more I felt the knot of dread growing in my throat.
Move, Abby!
roared
the voice in my head.
Do something!

After gulping in a breath, I inched
my way forward to the bed. When I felt the supple velvet duvet cover against my
legs, I shifted to my left until I found the bedside table. Switching on the
lamp, I quickly scanned the room. My suitcase was still unopened on the luggage
rack near the closet. My purse, phone and laptop bag were untouched on the bed.

But as I turned to the dressing
table on the far side of the room, a bolt of sheer terror ricocheted through
me. Scrawled on the gold-framed mirror hanging above the table was another
message written in lavender lipstick:

Withdraw from the Achiever
competition—

Or else!!!

The scream that hurtled out of my
mouth was razor-sharp and impossibly loud. It shattered the silence and echoed
through the room as I stared at the ominous warning scrawled on the ornate
mirror.

“Abby!” a voice called from behind
the closed door. “Are you okay?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but
nothing came out. I swallowed and tried again, but the result was a lifeless
whimper.

The door suddenly flew open and
Bree rushed into my room. From the half-finished makeup and tousled hair, it
was obvious she was in the middle of getting ready when she heard my cry for
help.

“Abby?” Her face was contorted with
worry. “Why did you scream?”

Emma appeared in the door a split
second later. Her hair was dripping wet and she was draped in one of the
hotel’s pale peach bath sheets.

“I was in the shower,” she offered
breathlessly. “It sounded like somebody was being murdered in here!”

I raised one arm and pointed at the
menacing lipstick threat.

Bree stumbled back, clutching her
chest. “Oh, my God!”

“What is it?” Emma asked, narrowing
her gaze. “I don’t have my contacts in.”

In a hushed and quivering voice,
Bree read the message that was scribbled on the glass. Hearing the ill-omened
words aloud sent new waves of fear clawing up my spine. I sank to the edge of
the mattress and wrapped my arms around my body in a tight, trembling embrace.

“We’re calling security!” Emma declared,
spinning on her heel and grabbing the hotel phone on the bedside table. “And
we’re going to demand that they find out who did this and how they got into our
suite!”