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Then again, Josie and Archie maintained an armed neutrality at best. Two strong personalities clashing, I supposed, although I had a feeling some of Josie’s animosity had to do with the way Archie always managed to deftly evade any questions she might pose on the subject of his past…and the way she would then try to pry that same information out of me.
I always just said that I didn’t know all that much, either, because my father had never been a part of my life while I was growing up, and I’d only contacted that side of the family after I was an adult. The story I always put forth was that Archie and I had hit it off at a party for one of my younger half-sisters during one of my infrequent visits to California, and he’d been entranced by the idea of getting out of the L.A. rat race and moving someplace where the pace of life was a lot slower.
No one else appeared to have much of a problem with that narrative, but Josie seemed determined to poke holes in it. She possessed very keen instincts about people — a talent I guessed she’d developed through all her years working in the real estate industry — and it seemed she could tell there was something a little off about my story. I had a feeling the only reason she hadn’t really tried to grill me more about Archie was that Victoria was clearly besotted with him, and therefore, he must have plenty of sterling qualities…even if Josie might not see them.
“Yes, I’m perfectly aware of their wedding date,” I said, knowing that a faint edge had crept into my tone. “But Victoria’s out on bail, so it shouldn’t really affect any of her plans.”
Except for our girls’ spa day in Gilbert, that is. The judge had said she needed to stay in town, and she hadn’t protested, even though she must have known, just as I did, that we had a full day booked at the same spa we’d all gone to before my own wedding.
Well, there were worse things to worry about other than missing out on a mani/pedi. I’d make a few calls and see if I could get us into one of the nail salons here in town. It wouldn’t be as high-end an experience, but the nail technicians here were perfectly competent, and it should all turn out just fine. Luckily, the hair and makeup artists had already planned to travel here for the wedding prep, so the only true casualty of this current mess was our fun day in Gilbert.
And there was also the little problem of Victoria and Archie’s honeymoon in Sonoma and Napa. If the actual killer didn’t present himself before then, those plans would be canceled as well.
Don’t borrow trouble, I told myself. You’ve still got a week.
Right then, seven days didn’t seem nearly long enough to get all this figured out.
“What if the judge revokes bail?” Josie said darkly, and I frowned.
“Why in the world would he do that?” I countered. “Victoria’s a model citizen, and she’s going to abide by the rules he gave her. Yes, she might have to postpone her honeymoon, but we’ll figure out a way to reschedule it if necessary. The really important thing is that she and Archie get married, right?”
And I sent Josie a very direct look, challenging her to argue with me on that point.
She must have gotten the message, because she glanced away, saying, “Yes, of course. I’m just worried.”
So am I, I thought, although I kept that sentiment to myself. “Right now, the most important thing is for us to provide a united front in showing support for the two of them. So let’s keep our chins up, okay?”
“Okay,” Josie said, sounding uncharacteristically meek, although that could have been the bells on the shop’s front door jingling as it opened.
Melanie appeared then, holding a to-go cup of latte in one hand and a paper bag — presumably containing a sandwich — in the other. I straightened, saying, “Josie, this is Melanie Knowles, my new assistant. She’s training right now so she can take over when I go on leave next year.”
Josie put on one of her brisk smiles and extended a hand. “Very nice to meet you, Melanie,” she said. “I’m Josie Woodrow, the mayor.”
My assistant looked a little surprised that the store’s latest visitor was someone so high-profile, but she gamely set the bag containing her sandwich down on the counter and shook Josie’s proffered one. “It’s very nice to meet you, too.”
“Well, I won’t keep you,” Josie said, addressing those words to me. “Just keep me posted if there are any developments.”
And she tilted her head at both of us and sailed out, leaving a faint drift of Chanel No. 5 in her wake.
“‘Developments’?” Melanie echoed, now looking puzzled.
“Oh, we were just getting caught up about what happened in Victoria’s studio this morning,” I said hastily. “Josie doesn’t like to miss out on any of the town gossip.”
This explanation seemed sufficient, because Melanie didn’t ask any further questions, but simply nodded and took her cup of coffee and sandwich with her back to the stockroom. I had a small table and two chairs set up back there for the times when I wanted to eat quietly alone, and it seemed my assistant wished to do that same thing. Maybe Cloud Coffee had been crowded and there hadn’t been anywhere available to sit, or maybe she’d simply needed some time alone.
Whatever the reason, I was glad I was on my own in the shop for now.
I’d been purposely vague about what had happened upstairs, for obvious reasons, and yet I knew that eventually, Melanie would hear the whole truth about the situation, that Victoria was currently the primary suspect in her visitor’s murder. All the same, I hadn’t wanted to volunteer that information, and was currently just glad that Josie’s and my conversation had been pretty much over by the time my assistant came back from her trip to Cloud Coffee.
A more pressing issue was that Josie obviously expected me to come striding in and save the day, and I honestly didn’t know whether I was even capable of doing such a thing at the moment. I was all too aware of time weighing down on me, the depressing knowledge that I had a scant seven days to miraculously come up with both a perpetrator and a motive in Globe’s latest murder.
Well, I couldn’t do much about it right now. I had a shift to finish, and about all I could hope was that sooner rather than later, I’d have more information to work with.
“Jeffrey Sellers,” Calvin told me over dinner that night, and I blinked at him.
“Excuse me?”
“Jeffrey Sellers is the name of the man who died in Victoria’s studio this morning,” my husband replied. “Ever heard of him?”
