Lavender Lipstick Lies: A Mystery of Makeup & Mayhem (5 page)

Chapter 12

The morning session flew by in a
flash of dazzling videos, inspiring speeches and boisterous cheers from the
audience. When a thirty-minute break was announced so that everyone could move
to the educational sessions that would include lunch, I told Emma and Bree that
I wanted to go back up to our suite so I could call Robert.

“Are you sure?” Emma asked warily.

“Yeah, Abby,” Bree said. “Maybe a
little time and distance will help you sort through things.”

I thanked them for their concern,
but held to my decision. I wanted to hear my husband’s voice. I wanted to
continue the dialogue about what had happened. And I wanted to get away from
the mad crush of conference attendees for a few minutes of peace and quiet. I
made my way out of the meeting room and up to our suite in no time at all.

“Hi, honey,” Robert said after
answering my call.

“Morning,” I said quietly.

“How are you?” He sounded tentative
and restrained, not the same easygoing man I’d known for so many years. “Is the
meeting going well?”

“It’s okay,” I answered. “I’m a
little distracted, so I’m not sure I’m soaking up all the great information
they’re sharing.”

We were both silent for a moment,
letting the muted quiet buffer the unfamiliar tension between us.

“I love you,” Robert said finally.

My heart trembled in my chest and
the habitual waves of warmth and tenderness swept through my body.

“And I’m sorry about what
happened,” he added. “Everything I told you yesterday is true, babe. I’ve never
seen that woman before in my life.” He paused to see if I’d respond, but I was
pressing the phone against my ear to listen. “And I would
never
do
anything like that, sweetie. I love you too much to hurt you, Abs.”

I swallowed hard and caught my
breath. “I know that, babe. And I know there must be some explanation for…” Images
from the previous morning flashed in my mind: the sexy blonde in the skimpy
lingerie; her red lacquered nails reaching for my husband’s hand; and the icy
glower on her face as she ran from the room.

“Abby?”

“I’m still here,” I said. “I just
wanted to hear your voice, honey. I’m on a break from the conference. I need to
get back downstairs in a second.”

“I’m glad you called. I’ve been
thinking about you nonstop.” He laughed softly and the warm sound brought a
smile to my face. “Hell, I don’t think I slept a wink last night. And we’ve got
a big meeting with a new client this afternoon.”

“Better keep the coffee flowing,” I
suggested.

“I will,” he said. “Oh, remember
that I told you I called Barney with the license number from the convertible
that woman was driving?”

“Oh, right,” I answered. “Did he
find out who she is?”

“Well, not who she is exactly,” my
husband said. “But the car’s registered to Kimberly Woodworth. Does that name
meaning anything to you?”

I thought for a second. I didn’t
remember anyone by that name, but my mind was fairly frazzled so I couldn’t be
certain.

“I don’t think so,” I told my
husband. “Did Barney have anything else to say about her?”

“Not really. He offered to dig into
her background, but I told him to hold off until I’d talked with you.”

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I’ll do whatever will make you
feel better, Abby. I really don’t have a stinking clue who she is or why she
pulled that stunt. But if you want Barney to snoop around, just say the word.”

“Let’s drop it for now,” I said
after a moment. “Unless she shows up on our doorstep again, maybe it was just a
random prank or she got the wrong address.”

Robert laughed warmly. “Maybe some
poor bachelor somewhere was supposed to get an early morning strip-o-gram,” he
said. “And his buddies screwed up the instructions.”

“Anything’s possible, but at this
point we should—”

Someone knocked on the door to the
suite.

“Housekeeping,” a cheery voice
called from the corridor.

“Oh, sweetie,” I said into the
phone. “I should go. They’re here to clean the room, and I should get back downstairs
before the next session starts.”

“You got it,” my husband said. “I
love you, Abby. Thanks for calling so we could talk.”

“I love you right back,” I said.
“Call you tonight when we finish dinner.”

After dropping the phone into my
bag, I hurried across the living room just as the door clicked open. A tall
woman wearing a crisp green uniform was in the entry way with a cart of
cleaning supplies and fresh linen.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, miss.” She
blushed and slid the passkey back into her apron pocket. “I’m from housekeeping.
I knocked, but didn’t hear anyone answer.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I was on
the phone. Please come right in.”

“I can also come back later if you
prefer,” she offered. “But the other woman told me it was okay.”

The smile on her face was so sweet
that I almost felt guilty asking her to repeat what she’d just told me. When
she did, a queasy feeling began to whirl in my stomach.

“What other woman?” I asked.

The attendant shook her head. “I
don’t know, miss. I was getting ready to start cleaning your suite a few
minutes ago when she came to the door. She said she was staying in this suite,
and needed to put something back in her room.”

“What did she look like?”

“Well, she was very pretty,” the
woman answered. “With a red dress and the same kind of name tag you have on
your blouse.” She pointed to my Splendora badge. “And she was very, very kind.
She insisted on giving me an extra tip even though I told her that wasn’t
necessary.”

My mind reeled.
Who had been in
our suite?
Emma was wearing a vivid blue sweater and black skirt. Bree was
dressed entirely in green.
What did she want? What did she do?
The
director of security had moved us to a secure floor, but someone else had
simply pretended to be staying in our suite so she could gain access.

“Is everything okay, miss?” The
housekeeping attendant was studying my expression intently, nervously twisting
the hem of her apron in her hands. “You look unhappy now. Is it something
that—”

“No, you’re fine,” I interrupted.
“I was just thinking about something related to work.”

The frown on her face softened.
“Oh, okay. I just want to make sure you have a wonderful stay here with us.”

“Everything’s fine,” I said, taking
a deep breath. “Thank you again for all that you do.”

She nodded slightly. “I can come
back later to finish,” she offered again. “There are many other rooms I can
work on now if you need privacy.”

“That’s not necessary. I’m going
back downstairs for my meeting. You’re welcome to take care of things right
now.”

“Very well,” the housekeeping
attendant said. “Have a nice day!”

I thanked her again and stepped
aside as she gracefully maneuvered her cart around me. As I glanced back into
the suite, something in Bree’s room caught my eye. Her bedroom door was slightly
ajar and a flash of red was visible through the opening. I hurried across the
living room and walked toward the open doorway. When I got close enough for a
better view, the queasy feeling in my stomach intensified as I gazed upon the
same floppy red hat and billowing floral caftan that the intruder was wearing
the day before when they left the menacing note on my mirror.

Chapter 13

The educational session on social
media marketing was getting ready to start when I peeked into the room. I saw
Bree and Emma sitting beside an empty chair at a table near the front. I gulped
in a breath and moved toward them.

“Hey, stranger!” Emma said. “I was
wondering if you were coming back.”

I managed a smile. “Here I am!”

“Is everything okay?” Bree asked.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Probably just because I ran all
the way here from the elevator,” I said. “You know how they hate it when people
are late to the sessions.”

Bree made a face and patted the
empty chair. “Sit,” she said. “And get ready to learn all there is to know about
how Twitter and Facebook can boost your Splendora business.”

During the next hour, an energetic
woman from the company’s marketing team presented recommendations about using
social media to reach new clients. Her voice was so upbeat and warm that I
actually paid attention throughout her presentation. Despite the whirlwind of
emotions that I’d been on since we left St. Louis, it felt like the
conversations with my husband were helping me regain my footing. I didn’t feel
quite as jittery or befuddled, although the surprise of finding the caftan and
hat in Bree’s room resurfaced a few times during the session.

It was that recurrent image that
made me grab Bree as we left the meeting room.

“I need to talk to you,” I said.

She smiled. “Well, I’m right here.
What’s up?”

I shook my head. “In private,” I suggested.
“After we get back upstairs to the suite.”

One corner of her mouth lifted in a
sideways smirk. “Why the mystery?”

Emma overheard the remark and edged
between us as we walked. “What’s happening now?” she said lightly. “I will not
tolerate dissension among the ranks, ladies. This weekend is a rare chance to enjoy
ourselves without husbands and kids squeaking about what I fixed for dinner.”

“Speak for yourself,” I said,
trying to keep the mood buoyant. “Our only child has four legs and a bottomless
appetite for rawhide chews.”

“Consider yourself lucky for now,”
Bree said. “Once you and Robert have the first one, these trips will be even
more important.”

We walked down a wide corridor
leading from the hotel’s convention area to the main lobby. Every so often,
Bree shot a curious glance in my direction, but I held a smile on my face and
kept the carefree banter going. For a split second, I regretted waiting until
we were in the suite to ask her about the red hat and floral caftan, but then I
dismissed the thought. Even though I couldn’t imagine Bree being involved in
whatever prank was being played, there was no doubt in my mind that the hat and
caftan were identical to the outfit I’d seen on the intruder. I needed to ask
her about them before any more time passed.

“Should we have lunch before we go upstairs?”
Emma suggested as we reached the lobby.

Bree shook her head. “Abby wants to
talk to me in private,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows comically. “Lunch will
have to wait.”

Emma frowned. “What’s up with the
secrecy?” she asked me. “Are you guys going to gossip again about how much I
ate at dinner last night?”

Bree giggled as she punched the
button for the elevator. “That wasn’t gossip,” she said, pinching Emma’s cheek.
“That was fact. I’ve never seen anyone eat so many grilled shrimp in one
sitting.”

A soft chime sounded when the VIP
elevator arrived. An elderly couple stepped out and tottered toward the casino.
Once they were clear of the doors, I followed Emma onto the car, which filled
quickly with other Splendora attendees and hotel guests.

As the two heavy doors began
gliding together, a voice called from the lobby. “Will you hold that, please?”

Before anyone could reach for the
control panel, a slender hand with gleaming crimson nails shot into the
narrowing gap. The door shuddered and lurched before sliding open again.

“Sorry, ladies!” apologized a tall
woman with light brown hair swept into a chic braid down her back. “I hate
waiting for the VIP elevator. It can sometimes take
days
to arrive.”

A few other people muttered in
agreement as we began gliding silently up through the building toward our
floor. I kept my eyes on the lights above the door, silently glowing and
dimming with each passing level. When my stomach growled and I began thinking
about lunch, I heard my phone ring in my bag. I started to instinctively answer
the call, but then decided it would be best to wait until we were back in the
suite. There’s nothing worse than someone blabbing away in a crowded elevator.

“Oh, my God!” the latecomer
suddenly peeped. “Is that you, Bree?”

I glanced up. Bree had been reading
an email on her phone when the woman clambered onto the elevator. At the sound
of her name, she looked over and giggled excitedly.

“Amanda!” She gave the tall woman a
big hug. “I didn’t know you were coming this weekend!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,”
the woman said.

“Are you having a blast?” asked
Bree.

“It’s been great so far,” answered
the other woman. “It would’ve been even more exciting if I’d sold a few extra things
last month. I desperately want to get Achiever of the Year sometime!”

I couldn’t hear Bree’s response to
the woman’s remark before the elevator reached our floor and everyone slowly
stepped into the corridor. I headed to the left toward our suite, when Bree
called my name.

“Hey, Abs!” she said cheerfully.
“Do you know Amanda Woodworth?”

The question ripped a hole in my
heart. I’d heard my husband utter the same last name during our conversation just
two hours earlier.

“Amanda,” Bree continued. “This is
Abby Edison. She and I went to high school together in—”

“Boring!” Emma announced in a
high-pitched tone. “Let’s fast forward to present day and get something to eat!
We have the rest of the afternoon free, ladies. We can talk about ancient
history over cocktails by the pool.”

The tall woman gave Emma a thumbs
up. “Now you’re talking,” she said.

Emma spun around. “I’ve got to
tinkle,” she whispered. “I’ll see you guys in the room.”

When I turned back to Bree and Amanda,
they were discussing the speaker we’d heard during the opening session. Once
they finished, Amanda flashed a big smile at me.

“So,
you’re
the famous Abby Edison!”
she said. “I saw your name right above mine on the final rankings for Achiever
of the Year.”

Bree frowned. “Oh, I wasn’t aware of
that,” she said. “You’re the fourth ranked consultant in the nation?”

Amanda raised one eyebrow. “Unless
Abby or one of the other women drops out,” she said. “Like that sketchy chick
from Chicago. Then maybe I’d have a shot at the award.”

An icy chill tumbled down my spine
as the woman smiled at me before announcing that she was meeting her friends
for lunch.

“That was weird,” Bree said softly
when we were alone again.

“Uh-huh,” I agreed. “But not as
weird as what I saw in your room when I came up during the break.”

Bree’s face fell. “What are you
talking about?”

“Let’s go back to the suite so we
can talk,” I said. “I want to get to the bottom of this before things get any
creepier.”

With Bree a few steps behind, I
walked briskly through the hallway to our suite. Once we were inside and the
door was closed, she took my arm.

“What’s going on, Abby?”

“You tell me,” I said, pulling free
of her hand. “Let’s go take a look at what I saw earlier.”

When we walked into Bree’s room,
the red hat and caftan were still draped across the bed.

“There!” I said, pointing at the
suspicious garments. “That’s
exactly
what the intruder was wearing
yesterday when they left that message on my mirror!”

Bree dropped her purse on the desk
and crossed the room. “Those aren’t mine,” she said anxiously. “I’ve never seen
them before, Abby.”

She twirled around. Her brow was
crumpled and pinched into a mask of confusion.

“Then what are they doing in your
room?” I plucked the caftan from the bed, glancing quickly at the label inside
the neckline. “And why does this have your initials stenciled on the tag?”

Bree hurried to my side, tearing
the billowy sheath from my grasp. She examined the label briefly before
dropping the caftan. It fluttered to the floor like a withering balloon.

“I have no idea where these things
came from,” she exclaimed. “And the last time I wore anything with my initials
inside was fourth grade summer camp!”

“What about
this
?” I grabbed
the tube of Lyrically Luscious Lavender lipstick that I’d noticed earlier on
the dressing table. “It’s what was used to write the note
and
the
message on the mirror!”

Bree smirked. “Oh, come on, Abby!
Aren’t you being a little melodramatic? I told you those clothes aren’t mine,
and I have no clue how they got in here.” She heaved a sigh and sank onto the
edge of the bed. “As for the lipstick,” she continued, “don’t you have a tube
in your makeup bag?”

I felt beads of nervous
perspiration on the back of my neck. “Well, yes, b-b-but what…” I stammered,
pausing for a second to catch my breath. “What about that woman you just saw in
the elevator?”

Bree thought for a moment. “You
mean Amanda?” she asked. “What about her?”

“When I talked to Robert earlier,
he told me that the red convertible we saw in our driveway yesterday is
registered to someone with the same last name!”

“So?” She shrugged and made another
face. “What’s that got to do with how you’re freaking out?”

“I’m
not
freaking out, Bree.
I’m trying to—”

A loud knock sounded from the
doorway.

“What’s all the yelling about?”
Bree and I glanced over as Emma came into the room. “And when are we going to
eat? I’m about to drop dead from hunger.”

She waited for an answer, but Bree
and I were back to staring angrily at one another.

“Oh, what is it now?” Emma
demanded. “You two look like little kids about ready to fight on the
playground.”

In one smooth move, Bree scooped
the caftan from the floor and raised it overhead. “It’s this ugly thing,” she
said. “Abby thinks it’s mine, which somehow makes me the evil prankster behind
the notes she got yesterday.”

Emma considered the caftan before
pointing at the red floppy hat. “Is that yours, too?”

Bree shook her head. “No! These
aren’t mine! You guys both know that red has never been my color. And I would
never
wear a caftan; they remind me of my wicked step-mother!”

The remarks ricocheted through my
jittery mind. Bree was right; as often as we went shopping together, I suddenly
felt horrible that I didn’t remember how much she disliked any shade of red.

“Okay, so I…” My mind wobbled as I
tried to find the words to apologize. “Look, can we just move on?” I asked. “I
haven’t really been myself since the whole thing with Robert yesterday.”

“You’re fine,” Bree said. “Don’t
worry about it. Just try to remember that both Emma and I are on your side,
okay?”

“But I don’t want you to think that
I’ve gone totally off the deep end,” I said. “There’s a very good reason for me
being suspicious.”

Emma laughed. “Actually, there’s a
good reason for all three of us to be wary.”

“True,” Bree said. “After all, we
were in our suite when the threat was left on your mirror, Abs. Maybe that was
a random thing and they didn’t know who was staying in that particular
bedroom.”

“Anything’s possible,” I agreed.
“But that doesn’t explain the note I got at the pool yesterday. That envelope
was addressed to me, except they used my maiden name.”

“Which would suggest it might be
someone from your past,” Emma said solemnly.

I actually laughed in response.
“Seriously? You think this is, what—a high school grudge or something?”

Bree groaned softly. “Oh, brother,”
she said. “I think that’s pretty much a stretch.”

“You said it yourself,” Emma
reminded me. “Anything’s possible.”

“Here’s what we’re going to do,”
Bree announced in an authoritative tone. “We’re going to call that handsome
hotel detective and ask his opinion. After that, we’re going downstairs to
enjoy a nice, leisurely lunch.”