Lavender Lipstick Lies: A Mystery of Makeup & Mayhem (6 page)

Chapter 14

Twenty minutes later, Trevor Cole
stood in the living room of our suite, tapping his iPad and looking at us with
the same cool, calm expression we saw the day before.

“Your safety and comfort are at the
top of our list,” he said. “I want to assure each of you that my team and I are
here to make sure you enjoy your stay.”

“Can you do something about my
losing streak in the casino?” Bree asked.

The security director chuckled.
“Unfortunately, that’s outside of our jurisdiction, although I’ve had the same
request from plenty of other guests over the years.”

“How long have you been with the
hotel?” I asked.

“Twenty years with the company,”
Cole answered. “Five here in Las Vegas at this property and another one that
the company owns. Before that, I was in Miami and New York City.”

“You must’ve seen quite a few weird
scenarios in your career,” Bree said.

Cole shrugged. “Depends on how you
define ‘weird.’”

“How about threats written with
lipstick?” asked Bree.

“Or mysterious intruders coming
into a VIP suite?” I added.

Cole’s face registered instant
distress. “What was that?”

“This morning when I stopped by
briefly after our meeting,” I told him, “I discovered that someone had entered
our suite while the housekeeper was cleaning.”

“Did you receive another message?”
he asked.

I shook my head. “No, but they left
a floppy red hat and floral caftan in Bree’s room.”

He glanced at Bree. “Do you still
have the items?”

She nodded. “They’re in my room
where we left them.”

Trevor Cole frowned and looked at
his iPad. He swiped, tapped and swiped again. Then he held up the tablet so we
could all see the screen. It revealed a slightly grainy image of someone
wearing the red hat and billowing caftan.

“Are these the items in question?”
he said.

“Yes,” I replied. “Is that from
yesterday when they entered our original suite?”

Cole nodded. “Yes, it’s stamped and
dated from yesterday at the exact time that you said you were in the shower,
Ms. Edison.”

“Does it show their face?” asked
Bree.

“I’m afraid not,” the security
chief said. “The hat is so floppy and they hold their head in such a way that
none of our surveillance cameras ever got a clear image of the perpetrator.”

“What good does that do?” I asked.

“We actually used footage from
several cameras to follow them into the elevator after they left your suite,”
Cole told us in a slow, somber voice. “They went down to the lobby, through the
shopping gallery and into a restroom.”

“And then?” Bree said.

“That’s all we have,” Cole
explained. “It was a particularly busy time in the hotel, and there were dozens
of women in and out of the restroom. We checked the footage very carefully and
the woman wearing the red hat and flowery coverup must’ve removed those items
in the restroom and tucked them into her satchel or handbag.”

I muttered under my breath.

“What was that, Abs?” asked Emma.

“Nothing,” I said. “It just feels
like we’re grasping at straws.”

“We’re going to keep an eye on
you,” Trevor Cole said. “I’ve alerted all of the hotel’s security guards and
maintenance personnel to be on the lookout for any suspicious activity on your
floor or near the meeting rooms that your group is using this weekend.”

“Well, that didn’t do much good
earlier,” I said. “The housekeeper let the person come right in.”

“I’ll check with the head of housekeeping,”
Cole offered. “My guess is the person who came in claimed to be staying in your
suite. They probably also flashed a keycard. That’s happened a time or two.
Otherwise, all of our housekeeping staff is well aware of our standard policies
regarding unauthorized access. Theft and burglaries are rampant in the hotel
industry, and some people feel that Las Vegas properties are even more
vulnerable due to the party atmosphere that pervades the Strip.”

“Thank you for being so helpful,” I
said as Cole tucked his iPad under one arm. “We really appreciate how nice
you’re being about all of this.”

“Right back to you,” he said.
“We’re grateful that you ladies have been so calm and understanding about the
situation. We don’t have much to go on, but we’ll keep an extra close eye on
your group.”

“Just in case?” Emma said.

Cole smiled. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“Just in case.”

Chapter 15

In spite of all the inexplicable
events and baffling threats, I was determined to enjoy our visit to Las Vegas.
After Trevor Cole left and we had a few minutes to process the developments of
the day, Emma suggested that we have a quick lunch and go shopping for a couple
of hours.

“It’ll lift your spirits, Abby,”
she said, jumping up from the chaise where she’d been lounging. “We can hit as
many places as our feet can handle. Then we can come back here and have another
fabulous night doing whatever we feel like!”

Bree giggled with delight. “I think
that’s a perfect idea, Em. Let me just go and touch up my face and I’ll be
ready to go.”

As soon as we were alone, Emma
walked over and sat beside me on the sofa.

“Do you think Bree’s been acting
kind of strange?” she asked.

I raised one eyebrow. “During the
trip?”

Emma nodded.

“Why do you ask?”

“I feel terrible even talking about
her, but there’s something different about her whole vibe.”

A bubbly laugh popped out of my
mouth. “Her whole
vibe
?” I giggled. “I think you’re going to have to be
more specific, Em. Vibe could mean so many different things, don’t you think?”

She smiled and flopped against the
back of the sofa. “I guess so,” she said in a hazy voice. “I just noticed in
the past few days that Bree was being kind of…” She closed her eyes and hummed
softly. “Oh, I don’t know,” she went on, “kind of aloof and chilly. And for
Bree, that’s just not her normal personality.”

“When did you first notice it?”

Emma lifted her head and looked
over. “The day I saw her having lunch with Amanda,” she answered.

“Amanda Woodworth?”

Thinking of the name again sent
daggers into my heart. My husband had explained the bizarre early morning visit
by the blonde. And his friend Barney had potentially identified the woman as
someone also named Woodworth. But that didn’t stop my mind from instantly
replaying the shocking sight of Robert in our living room with a shapely stranger
wearing next to nothing.

“Yes,” Emma said.

“I just met her in the hallway as
we came upstairs,” I explained.

Emma frowned. “Then why do have
that look on your face?”

I shut my eyes and took in a deep
breath. “Because the woman who showed up at my house yesterday was driving a
red convertible registered to someone with the same last name.”

A light, frothy laugh trickled from
Emma. “And so
what
?” she said in a perplexed tone. “You think Bree’s
friend is somehow connected to whatever the heck that blonde was doing with
your husband?”

My reply was a low moan. “I don’t
know,” I said. “And that is what’s driving me nuts right now.” I sat up and
squared my shoulders. “I just think something really strange is going on.
Between the threatening notes and the clothes left in Bree’s room, I can’t
figure out the reason someone would want to mess with my head.”

Emma reached over and patted my
hand. “Oh, sweetie. It’s really pretty obvious.”

I looked at her, waiting for the
rest of her explanation.

“It’s a silly attempt to intimidate
you,” she said.

“Intimidate me?”

She gave my hand a big squeeze.
“Yes, they want you to step down from being one of the top three Achiever
candidates so they can either move up themselves or help one of their friends
become a nominee. It’s happened a few times in the past; for whatever reason,
someone removes themselves as a nominee and the image consultant with the next
highest sales performance ranking becomes a nominee.”

The clarification suddenly
crystallized the suspicious thoughts that had been fluttering in the back of my
mind. But even though I’d suspected as much, it seemed absolutely ludicrous to
hear my friend say it aloud.

“Don’t you get it, Abby?”

An icy quiver ran down my back as I
nodded. “I guess so,” I murmured. “But I didn’t want to believe that someone
could be so hateful when it came to something so trifling. I mean, Achiever of
the Year at Splendora isn’t exactly the President of the United States or
anything.”

Emma chuckled. “Well, uh…” She
shifted on the seat to face me. “That’s absolutely correct, Abs. It isn’t
President. Or anything even close. But it’s a very prestigious honor within our
organization, right?”

I shrugged. “Of course, but why
would someone go to so much trouble to scare me out of the running?”

Emma lifted one hand and rubbed her
thumb and forefinger together. “Money, money, money, sweetie!” She giggled
lightly. “Most Achiever of the Year recipients see their Splendora business
increase significantly after they receive the award. Not to mention that four
of the last eight winners have taken high-paying jobs in the corporate office.”

Listening to Emma’s justification
for the subterfuge and trickery made complete sense. I’d been so inundated with
thoughts about my husband’s seemingly blatant infidelity that I hadn’t
considered the very tangible reasons someone would fight tooth and nail to
become a nominee for Achiever of the Year.

“What do you know about Amanda
Woodworth?” I asked.

“Nothing really,” she answered.
“Bree introduced us when I ran into them at Café Avalon last week. I guess she
started with Splendora last fall or something.”

“Does she drive a red convertible?”

Emma laughed. “Now, how would I know
that?”

“I don’t know. I guess maybe I
thought…” I realized that I was drifting toward histrionic worry again, so I
reeled myself back from the edge. “Oh, just skip it,” I added. “I’m going to
try and forget all about what happened.”

“What are you going to forget?”
Bree asked, coming back into the living room. “What’d I miss?”

Emma gave her a little wave. “As
usual,” she said. “You missed all the good stuff!”

“What?” Bree squealed. “Why didn’t
you guys wait for me?”

“She’s joking,” I offered. “We were
just talking about the conference and what we’ve learned so far.”

Bree shot me a look. “Oh,
really
?
If that’s true, why would you want to forget it then?”

For a brief moment, there was a
very palpable tension between us. But then Bree flipped her hair to the side,
rolled her eyes and patted the purse hanging from her shoulder. “Who’s ready
for lunch and some retail therapy?” she giggled. “I heard there are some killer
sandals at the Tory Burch store in The Forum Shops.”

Emma leapt up. “I’m ready!” She
held one hand out. “C’mon, Achiever nominee! Let’s get this train on the
tracks.”

For the next hour, as we enjoyed a
quick bite to eat and wandered along the Strip toward Caesar’s Palace, the
conversation was light and frothy. Emma talked about a conversation she’d had
during the break with a woman from Boston. Bree asked for our advice about a
little tiff she was having with her husband about redecorating their house. And
I inserted a few idle remarks about the weather and our options for Friday
night fun.

“I’m still holding out for the
Chippendales revue at the Rio!” Emma gushed. “You know what they say, right?”

“What happens in Vegas stays in
Vegas?” I guessed.

Emma nodded. “And the other thing
is ‘when in Rome,’” she said.

“What are we supposed to do when in
Rome?” asked Bree. “Go stare at a bunch of hot guys jiggling their junk?”

“Couldn’t hurt!” Emma said in a
sultry voice. “Maybe it’ll give us a few ideas to share with our men once we’re
back home.”

Bree tittered from behind her hand.
“My hubby tried putting on a show for me once,” she said. “It was our
anniversary night, and he’d been hitting the hooch pretty hard.”

“How was it?” Emma asked.

“Yeah,” I chimed in. “Was it as
good as Chippendales?”

“Heavens, no!” Bree blurted. “He
tripped over his pants when he was taking them off and cracked his head on the
dresser.” Her face went red as she laughed and slapped her thigh. “I mean, can
you imagine? It’s our anniversary and I end up with the first aid kit and my
man bleeding from a gash across his forehead?”

“Not very romantic,” I said. “But
definitely memorable.”

Emma and I agreed that the
Chippendales revue was still in the running for our evening escapades before
launching into a raucous discussion about dinner. Emma lobbied hard for a
Chinese place at Mandalay Bay because she’d read a glowing review in a hotel
guide. I voted for an Italian restaurant at the Wynn that another Splendora
consultant had recommended on her Facebook page.

“Well, those both sound awesome,”
Bree said. “But I made plans to have dinner with Amanda. And she told me that
Chippendales was sold out anyway.”

I felt my jaw tighten. “Oh, Amanda
Woodworth?” I said the name as casually as I could manage.

Bree nodded. “She wanted my advice
about something. I hope you guys don’t mind.”

Emma shot me a quick look. “That’s
cool, sweetie,” she told Bree. “Abby and I can flip a coin and go with either
Chinese or Italian. And if the Chippendales show really is sold out, we there
are a million other things we can do instead.”

Bree was smiling and nodding, but
it didn’t look genuine. It seemed like she was hiding something again; as if
she was harboring a secret that neither Emma nor I could hear.

I kept my eyes on her and she
giggled lightly when she realized I was staring.

“What?” she said in a singsong voice.
“Isn’t it okay if I have my own dinner plans tonight?”

I smiled. “Of course, it’s okay.
We’re not Siamese triplets or anything. You can do whatever you choose.”