Murder Unmentionable (13 page)

A piece of carpeting gave way, sending Emma plummeting to the floor on her backside.

“Whoa, careful there.”

Brian walked over to where Emma was sprawled and stuck out a hand.

She grabbed it and he pulled her to her feet. Suddenly she became conscious of what a wreck she must look—her clothes all dusty and dirty, her hair rumpled from running her hands through it and goodness only knew how many smudges and smears on her face.

She found herself standing toe-to-toe with Brian, and her breath caught in her throat. She could feel telltale heat rising to her cheeks, and she looked down hoping he wouldn’t
notice. Why did she always feel like an awkward teenager around him?

She took a quick step backward and turned partially to the side. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Emma glanced out of the corner of her eye to see Brian smiling at her. The heat in her cheeks intensified.

“Want to go out to dinner tonight?” Brian asked. “We deserve it after all this hard work.”

“Sure.” It was the last thing Emma expected. Of course Brian was probably just thinking they’d grab a bite when they finished with the carpet. It wasn’t a date or anything like that. Just two friends getting something to eat together after a job well done.

“Great. I’ll make a reservation at L’Etoile. Would seven o’clock be okay?”

Emma gulped. L’Etoile! Was Brian actually considering this a…a…date? There was nothing casual about dinner at L’Etoile. Her mind immediately raced ahead. What would she wear? She looked up to find Brian staring at her expectantly.

“Oh, yes, that would be great. Great.” She turned away before the burning in her cheeks reached the boiling point.

FOR the rest of the afternoon, Emma kept her head down, hardly daring to glance at Brian for fear of starting the flames of fire in her face all over again. By four o’clock, all the carpet had been pulled up and cut in sections.

Brian straightened from where he was yanking up the last bit of pea-green shag and put a hand to his back. “Finished,” he declared triumphantly. He looked down at his jeans, which were covered with bits and pieces of jute backing and carpet fibers. He brushed at them rather ineffectively. “Boy, I’m a mess.”

The grin he gave Emma made her face flame up again. She wanted to tell him that he looked eminently desirable in spite of the dust and dirt, but she held her tongue and settled for grinning back.

“Me, too, I guess.”

Arabella looked around at the shop now stripped of its 1970s green shag. “What a difference. It’s hard to believe.” She smiled at Emma. “I’m glad you talked me into getting something new. And now that you’re done,” she said, retrieving her purse from behind the counter, “I guess I’ll go home and rescue poor Pierre. He must be feeling quite abandoned by now.”

“Shall we get this nasty old rug out to the Dumpster?” Brian picked up a piece and held it aloft.

They carried it out, section by section, to the enormous metal container that had been left for that purpose in the alley. At one point, Emma staggered under the weight of the discarded rug, and Brian immediately rushed to her side.

“Here, let me do this. You can hold the door open.”

Emma wanted to protest, but she realized that she was tired, and the carpet was indeed very heavy. She gratefully took her post by the door and leaned against it, propping it open.

Brian dragged the last piece of 1970s shag out of Sweet Nothings and was heaving it into the Dumpster with a showman’s flourish when Emma heard a faint ping. She looked around but didn’t immediately see anything. Suddenly Brian moved, and the sun lit on a small piece of gold metal lying to the side of the garbage bin.

“What’s this?” Emma bent down and picked it up. It was an earring. The design was very unusual—it didn’t look like something you would find in a store at the mall. It looked more handmade—in a good way. Perhaps it was Aunt Arabella’s? She had a large collection of unusual pieces.

Brian peered over Emma’s shoulder. “It looks expensive.”

Emma held the earring up to the light. The stone was very unusual—a deep bluish green like the sea, with gold and tan veins running through it. The stone was round, and Emma thought the colors made it look like a tiny representation of the earth. A band of gold ran around it, looking much like the ring around Saturn. “I’ll check with Aunt Arabella and see if it belongs to her.”

She was putting the earring in her pocket when Arabella appeared at the back door.

She had a strange look on her face that Emma couldn’t quite read. She cleared her throat. “Someone is here to see you, Emma.”

EMMA followed Arabella back into the shop. She made some ineffectual moves toward straightening her hair and brushing off her clothes, but whoever had come to see her was going to have to take her as she was. She couldn’t imagine who had shown up at the end of the workday to say hello. An old friend from school, perhaps, who had gotten wind of her return?

A woman had her back to them and was browsing through the few garments Emma had already placed in the glass-fronted cupboards Brian had built. She was strikingly tall and thin with hair that nearly brushed her waist. Pierre was watching her carefully, his ears twitching as if tuning into psychic waves, his upper lip pulled back and ready to growl if need be. Emma felt herself stiffen. She had come to trust Pierre’s instincts.

The woman turned around. She had Arabella’s Fischer nightgown in her hand.

“I want this. How much is it?”

It was Nikki St. Clair. Emma stifled her surprise and pasted a smile on her face. “Welcome to Sweet Nothings.”

Nikki smiled—a smile that didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “It’s Emma, isn’t it?”

Emma nodded warily.

“This place is charming.” Nikki waved a hand around the shop, pointedly ignoring Pierre who was sticking to her like hair on a biscuit. “May I try this on?” She brandished the pink chiffon gown.

“I don’t know. We’re not really open at the moment…” Emma looked around for Arabella.

“What is it, dear?” Arabella emerged from the back room with her usual tray and pitcher of sweet tea. She placed them on the counter and poured out four glasses. “Where has Brian gotten to? I’m sure he could use a nice cold drink to wet his whistle.”

At the sound of Brian’s name, Nikki perked up. She took a glass of tea with one hand and shook the nightgown with the other. “Can I try this on?”

“I told her we’re not officially open yet—”

Arabella tut-tutted. “It’s okay, dear. We might as well make a sale while we can.”

Arabella took the gown from Nikki and led her toward the dressing rooms. She hung the Fischer nightgown on the hook and pulled the curtain closed in back of Nikki. She went over to where Emma was standing behind the counter. “Do I dare charge four hundred dollars for the gown? My sources tell me that’s what it’s worth,” she said in a low voice.

“Why not? If anyone can afford it, Nikki can.”

“Is she that model who tried to steal your boyfriend?”

Emma nodded. Thinking of Nikki and Guy was like picking at a scab.

“If you’d rather I didn’t sell it to her…”

“Don’t be silly.” Emma smiled. “But let’s stick it to her. Tell her it’s five hundred dollars.”

Arabella giggled. “Done.”

Nikki was certainly taking her time, Emma thought, as they waited for her to emerge from the dressing room. Suddenly she remembered the earring she and Brian had found outside. She took it from her pocket. “Is this yours?” She showed it to Arabella.

Arabella held it up to the light. “No, it’s not, but it’s lovely. Where did you find it?”

“It fell out of the carpet as we were tossing it into the Dumpster.”

“We’ll keep it just in case someone comes back for it, but it might have been in the carpet for decades.”

They heard a sound and turned to find Nikki had emerged from the dressing room and was admiring herself in the large gold mirror in the corner.

Emma wondered how long she had been standing there. Had she overheard her and Arabella talking?

“It’s divine. I must have it.” Nikki turned around.

“It certainly leaves nothing to the imagination,” Arabella whispered to Emma.

“I heard there was some of your delicious sweet tea to be had.” Brian came in from outside, stopping abruptly at the sight of Nikki posing in front of the mirror in the sheer gown.

Emma expected Nikki to make the most of it, but after a brief nod, she retreated hastily to the dressing room.

“Our first customer?” Brian took off his work gloves and tossed them on the counter. “This looks delicious.” He picked up the glass Arabella had filled for him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Did you show your aunt that earring we found?”

“Yes,” Emma whispered with a nod toward the dressing room Nikki had just disappeared into. “It’s not hers.”

Nikki reemerged from the dressing room in street clothes—a short, strapless sundress that barely hid more
than the chiffon nightgown had. She didn’t balk when Arabella quoted the five-hundred-dollar price.

“We should get together sometime,” she said to Emma as she put her wallet back in her Louis Vuitton purse. “Why don’t you give me your cell number? We could have a drink or grab a bite to eat. The police have insisted I stay in town, and I’m getting bored all by myself.” She pouted prettily.

The phrase “when hell freezes over” ran through Emma’s mind, but she just smiled and picked up one of the Sweet Nothings business cards that were out on the counter. She scribbled her number on the back. She would be very surprised if Nikki ever did call her.

“So the police are still investigating?” Emma said. Chuck Reilly hadn’t been around to bother her in several days, although he still haunted her dreams, where she imagined him carting her off to jail in handcuffs.

Nikki stiffened. “I was questioned by the most obnoxious detective. It was terrible.” She shivered.

That would be Chuck
, Emma thought. She wondered if he’d now put Nikki at the top of his suspect list. The thought gave her a brief moment of satisfaction as she closed the door behind Nikki.

Emma glanced at her watch. She’d better get upstairs and start getting cleaned up for her dinner with Brian. She had a feeling it was going to take a good, long scrub to get rid of all the day’s dirt and grime.

LATER, with a tall glass of well-iced tea in hand, Emma stood in front of her closet and moaned. She had nothing to wear. All the years she’d spent in the fashion industry scoring outfits at bargain basement prices or with drop-dead discounts had been for naught. She still had absolutely nothing to wear!

She shifted through the dresses in her closet. She’d
already worn the black sheath, her favorite go-to dress. The silk was too fancy, even for L’Etoile, and especially on a weeknight. She didn’t think the prints struck the right note, the sundresses were too bare and her old office dresses weren’t bare enough. If only she’d had time to go shopping!

Emma went through the hangers again, one by one. Her fingers closed over an unfamiliar fabric, and she pulled the hanger from the back of the closet. She’d forgotten all about this dress! She’d only worn it once for fear of dirtying it—New Yorkers tended to wear black for a reason. It was a cream-colored silk sheath shot through with gold threads and cinched at the waist with a gold rope belt. It was perfect. Dressy and elegant but not overboard. Bare enough without being too bare. She’d wear it with her high-heeled, strappy gold sandals.

Emma laid the dress on the bed and went to turn on the shower. She thought she heard the phone over the running water and stuck her head out of the bathroom. Her cell trilled from the depths of her purse where she’d left it. She managed to grab it on the fifth ring.

“Hello?” She frowned. “Hello?”

A voice came over the line, muffled and raspy. “Stop investigating now,” the person said in a near whisper, “and maybe then no one will get hurt.”

“Who are you?” Emma demanded.

The line went dead.

Emma shivered. Someone was trying to scare her.

Was it the same person who had stuck the note to the front window of Sweet Nothings?

“I don’t like it,” Brian frowned when Emma told him about the telephone call. “It sounds like someone is getting desperate. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

They were walking toward the parking lot when he
stopped abruptly and put his hands on Emma’s shoulders. “I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

Emma attempted a brave smile. “I’ll be careful. Don’t worry.”

Brian was wearing gray slacks, a navy blazer, a blue shirt and a striped tie. Emma couldn’t remember ever having seen him so dressed up before. She was suddenly very conscious of the way he towered over her, the width of his shoulders, his firm grip.

She took a deep breath. And reminded herself that she was finished with men for the moment. Done, done, done.

Brian led her toward a station wagon that looked suspiciously like Liz’s. He gave a wry smile. “I’ve borrowed Liz’s car for the evening. I didn’t think you’d appreciate vaulting into the truck when you’re all dressed up.”

Emma smiled in the darkness as they headed toward L’Etoile. Brian had thought of everything. This was going to be a wonderful evening.