How does she know about private financial arrangements?Cricket asks the question I’m thinking.
“Not to mention,” Vivienne continues, apparently on a roll now, “there were accusations of stolen client lists. Diva’s educational accessories business,” she makes air quotes that somehow manage to be both French and sarcastic, “it might not be her only source of income, if you understand my meaning.”
I don’t, actually, but I nod like I do because sometimes that’s how you get people to keep talking. I hope.
Rookie touches his paw to my thigh.I need a nap and a snack.
Cricket sighs just hearing it.Why did we bring the big oaf again?
“And then there’s Millie Ashford from the North Pole Confectionery,” Vivienne adds, apparently determined to throw every possible suspect under the bus.
“The baker?” Peyton asks. “What could she possibly have against a society columnist?”
Vivienne’s smile turns sharp. “Ah, their rivalry was not so sweet. Recipe theft accusations, you see. Millie claimed Seraphina stole her grandmother’s secret cookie formula and published it in some food blog. Very bitter dispute.”
Why does she know so many secrets about everyone?Cricket wonders.This level of gossip knowledge is suspicious in itself.
“Plus, Millie’s bakery is struggling financially,” Vivienne continues, apparently unaware that she’s revealing more thanshe should. “Christmas cookies are not the only thing crumbling around her, if you know what I mean.”
“How do you know that?” Peyton snips it out like a threat.
“In my line of work, you hear things,” Vivienne says quickly. “Women talk when they feel comfortable, and lingerie shopping—let’s just say, it makes them very chatty.”
“Well, I’ll be!” From across the shop, Peggy’s voice rises in excitement. “Clarabelle, look at this contraption! It’s got more buttons than my television remote!”
Clarabelle’s response is mercifully muffled, but I catch something about “instructions in three languages.”
This is more entertaining than the Nature Channel,Cricket says.Though considerably more embarrassing for everyone involved.
“So do you think any of these women could have killed Seraphina?” I ask, trying to stay on track.
Vivienne shrugs and her earrings sparkle like tiny jags of lightning. “People kill for money, for revenge, for secrets. And Seraphina certainly knew many secrets.”
“Well, those were certainly some secrets you shared,” I tell her.
“Oh, there were many more and they were much darker than that.” Vivienne waves her hand. “Affairs, financial troubles, family scandals. She had what you Americans call dirt on everyone.”
It makes her sound like she was an expert in the art of blackmail,Cricket notes.
It does indeed.
“Dirt,” Peyton repeats as if it were a four-letter word, which it is. “Are you saying Seraphina was blackmailing people?”
“I did not say that,” Vivienne backpedals with a wink. “I simply meant she was very well-informed about her social circle.”
It’s clear she wants us to read between the blackmailing lines.
Poor Seraphina really did make enemies everywhere she went,Vivienne thinks with what seems like genuine sympathy.I hope these women can find some answers. Such a terrible way to die.
A crowd migrates toward the registers and Vivienne perks up. “I should get back to my customers. It was lovely speaking to you, ladies. Please, anything you like, I’ll give you a fifteen percent discount. My treat.”They both look like they need a good man and considerably less clothing,Vivienne thinks.My two favorite problems to solve.
“Well,” Peyton says, “that was certainly informative.”
“Very informative,” I agree. “It sounds like Seraphina was no saint.”
I bet she knows more than she’s letting on,Rookie says with a soft woof.Plus, she never offered us any treats, which is always suspicious.
As we head toward the door, passing Peggy and Clarabelle still debating the merits of various educational devices, one name keeps circling back. Millie Ashford. Stolen recipes, a failing bakery, and a dead gossip blogger who apparently couldn’t keep her nose out of other people’s cookie jars.
