“This is who I am now,” she mutters. “Someone who listens to color-coordinated intimate apparel being described like a wine menu.”
“Look on the bright side,” I whisper. “At least the ghosts seem entertained.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”There aren’t any real ghosts here, are there?She shudders with the thought.
Diva moves to her next display, featuring items that would make not only Santa blush, but ever elf in the North Pole. “And these pieces from our ‘Naughty or Nice’ collection are perfect for those special holiday moments when you want to be... well, both.”
“Now this is what I call Christmas shopping,” Hillary announces, appearing suddenly with her arms full of merchandise. “I may not have time for murder investigating, but I always have time for educational enhancement.”
“Since when do you have educational needs?” Kick asks, juggling her phone and a strategically placed bow. “Aren’t you between husbands right now?”
“Exactly.” Hillary grins. “I’m stocking up for the next one. Preparation is key.”Who needs a husband? Kick really does act as if this is 1956.
While my family and friends continue their descent into educational madness, I notice Vivienne Velour and Millie Ashford hovering near the edge of the disaster. Vivienne looks like she’s calculating profit margins, while Millie hides behind a Christmas tree that may or may not be decorated with G-strings.
“This is quite the turnout,” I say, approaching them withPeyton still attached to my side like a very well-dressed shadow. “Are you both customers or competitors this afternoon?”
Vivienne, the lingerie designer, flashes a lethal smile my way. “Oh, I’m just here for moral support. And to see how the other half lives.” Her eyes glitter with something that might be amusement or might be something more dangerous. “Though I have to admit, the quality is impressive.”
“It’s certainly educational,” Millie adds nervously, clutching a very small shopping bag. Her baked goods are such a hit, I might be moved to look the other way if she’s the killer. “I never knew there were so many options.”
“You and me both,” I mutter, looking around at things that masquerade as both so-called toys and educational products.
She’s been taking notes the entire time.I catch from Vivienne’s thoughts as she takes a moment to glare at Diva then at the tables filled with lingerie.She’s probably planning to copy everything she sees of mine. Just like this so-called baker copied those recipes. Some people have no original ideas whatsoever.
That was harsh.
“Speaking of education,” Peyton interjects with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, “I understand you all had some interesting interactions with our recently deceased blogger friend.”
The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees, despite the supernatural fireplace crackling merrily away.
“Seraphina was memorable,” Vivienne says carefully. “She had very strong opinions about everything.”
“Especially about other people’s business practices,” Millie adds, then immediately looks like she regrets speaking.
“What business practices?” I ask, my detective instincts finally kicking in despite the surreal surroundings.
Before either of them can answer, Diva claps her hands together, commanding attention like a very glamorous drill sergeant.
“Ladies! Before we continue our educational journey, I want to share something special with you.” Her voice carries across the salon the way only a trained diva’s can. “Many of you may have seen the recent social media coverage of our little demonstration yesterday. Well, I’m thrilled to announce that thanks to that exposure, we’ve seen a 300% increase in online orders!”
The crowd breaks into spontaneous applause, while Peyton makes a sound like she’s being strangled by invisible Christmas lights. Ironic, I know.
“In fact,” Diva continues, “that wonderful blogger, may she rest in peace, may have done us the greatest favor of our careers. Sometimes negative publicity really is the best publicity!”
The applause falters slightly as the implications of that statement sink in.
Well, that’s not suspicious at all,Cricket says dryly from her dessert surveillance position.Nothing says I didn’t commit murder like celebrating the victim’s contribution to your business success.
Should we be taking notes?Rookie asks hopefully while maintaining his optimal treat-catching stance.Because I think that lady just confessed to something. Also, someone just dropped a pink macaron and I’m calling dibs.
I catch Peyton’s eye, and for the first time since this educational nightmare began, we’re in complete agreement.
“Holiday,” Peyton hisses under her breath, “what are you waiting for? We need to grill the Diva! She just basically confessed to profiting from murder!”
“I know,” I whisper back, “but we can’t exactly arrest her in the middle of her sales pitch.”
“Why not? I’ve got handcuffs.”
