A Devious Lot (Antiques & Collectibles Mysteries Book 5) (20 page)

“Speaking of hair,” Clara said as they sat down to eat. “I’d like to make a hair appointment at Beauty Chic.”

“Boyle wants me to go over there today to talk to one of the stylists,” Molly said. “But why do you need to get your hair done? It looks perfect.”

“Perfect?” Clara laughed. “The grays are coming in fast and furious. I need a touchup. I’ll give the salon a call after breakfast. If I can get an appointment, we could go together.”

Molly poured milk into her cereal bowl. “Tessa, do you know Cecil Carter? He’s the stylist Boyle wants me to see.”

Tessa nodded. “I taught him at school years ago. He must be well into his forties by now. Nice boy, polite. I’d be happy to drop you both off. I have a physical therapy appointment at ten thirty.”

Clara said, “We could do some shopping, if we go early.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Molly said.

After they ate, Clara called the salon and was able to book an appointment at eleven. Tessa dropped them off an hour early at the village center, and Molly and Clara explored the shops. At the Wooley Beast, Molly bought a wool cap for Matt and a wool cape for herself, and Clara purchased a multicolored throw blanket for those snowy Vermont evenings she was so eagerly awaiting. As they stepped out on the sidewalk, Clara pointed across the street to Bits & Pieces.

“Is that Brenda Adair’s shop?” Clara asked.

“Yep. You want to see if it’s open?”

“It looks dark, but let’s check.”

As they crossed the street, Molly said, “She has some beautiful pieces for sale, but be forewarned, her shop is bursting at the seams. Be careful you don’t knock something over and break it. She’d make you pay.”

The door opened easily, and Molly wondered again if the whole sticking door thing was made up. Inside, the lights were off, but Clara moved between the furniture and tables gracefully, a consummate shopper who knew her way around even the most disorganized store. As her expert eye took everything in, Molly tried not to feel like a bull in a china shop as she weaved her way around the disjointed aisles. She had the sudden crazy idea that Brenda and Giles had forgot to lock up the night before and the shop had stood open all night. She was about to mention it to her mother, when Brenda suddenly emerged from a back room, a plastic smile fixed on her plastic face. The smile faded the moment she saw Molly.

“Hello, Brenda,” Molly said cheerfully.

Brenda pursed her lips. “Hello, Molly. Have you come to apologize to Giles, because if you have, he’s not here.”

“Apologize for what?”

“I’m surprised you have to ask,” Brenda said. “I’m quite displeased with your behavior. You had no right to talk to him so rudely the other day.” Molly wanted to argue that it was Giles who’d started off their conversation rudely, but Brenda went on. “Hasn’t he suffered enough? He told me you practically accused Penelope of killing Tiffany.”

“Well, he got it all wrong,” Molly said, thinking fast. “I could see he was suffering in silence, and I thought if I pushed him a little, it would help him open up and deal with his emotions.”

Brenda looked skeptical. Molly didn’t blame her. It was total B.S. “You should still apologize,” she said. “What you said was unkind.”

Molly bit her lip. There was no way in the entire universe she was ever going to apologize to Giles.

“I’ve brought my mother to see your lovely store,” she said.

Clara appeared at Molly’s side and reached out a manicured hand to Brenda. “Clara Appleby. It’s so nice to meet you, Brenda,” she said sweetly. “Molly’s told me all about your magnificent Channing Hall, and I absolutely adore your shop. You have some gorgeous antiques.”

Brenda’s face softened. “Thank you,” she said. “Tessa told me you were coming to see her.”

“I got in yesterday,” Clara said. “Molly and I will stay with her for a while. With everything going on, she’s feeling out of sorts.”

“Yes, aren’t we all,” Brenda said. Her hawk-like eyes swept over Clara’s figure. “I love your outfit,” she said in a friendly tone.

Molly couldn’t believe it. Brenda was actually smiling a real smile. She liked her mother, which, when she thought about it, wasn’t all that surprising. They were both stylish women and Brenda had recognized Clara as a kindred spirit, a member of that mysterious fashionable women’s club to which Molly would never belong.

“I love your blouse,” Clara said. “Armani?”

“I bought the blouse at Harrods, in London,” Brenda said.

“It’s so elegant. I haven’t seen that pattern before.”

“It’s part of the new winter collection.”

“I’ll have to look for it.”

Molly restrained herself and didn’t roll her eyes. Instead, she cleared her throat. “Excuse me, ladies. Brenda, did you forget to turn on the lights?”

Brenda’s eyes widened. “Oh. I did forget. Thank you, Molly.” She went behind the register and flipped a switch on the wall. Bright lights blinked on overhead. “I’ve been so preoccupied lately. I hardly know what day it is.”

Clara said, “You have a lot on your mind. What with Tiffany being murdered, Penelope missing, and your son so distraught. I’m amazed you were feeling well enough to open the shop at all.”

Brenda nodded. “Penelope running off the way she did has struck a hard blow to Giles,” she said. “Personally, I’m shocked by her lack of manners. It’s very rude, don’t you think?”

“Yes, and immature,” Clara said.

“I can understand why she left,” Brenda said. “She’s put up with Tiffany’s antics for months, and it was a great burden on her. But to leave the way she did, without telling Giles where she was going or how long she planned to be gone, is inexcusable.”

Clara said, “It’s very unfair, not only to Giles, but to you. And with you losing your husband recently, she should have been more considerate of your feelings.”

“Thank you,” Brenda said. “It’s been a difficult time for us, but we’re coping as best we can.”

“Tiffany’s death must be particularly hard,” Clara said. “You must feel as if you’ve lost a member of your family.”

Brenda stared at her. “Tiffany was never a part of our family,” she said flatly.

“Really? After so many years together, I would have thought she was like a daughter to you,” Clara said.

Brenda frowned. “Tiffany was a troubled young woman. Unstable, prone to outbursts, highly emotional.” She lowered her voice as if sharing a secret. “I told Giles I wouldn’t be surprised if she took her own life.” Molly felt her blood instantly boil. Giles had gotten his ridiculous theory about suicide from his batty mother. “She couldn’t accept her relationship with Giles was over,” Brenda went on. “It was pathetic, the way she was going round the village, stalking them, trying to garner sympathy. I told her to go back to London before she became a complete laughingstock.”

Molly asked, “When did you have that conversation?”

Brenda waved a hand dismissively. “Who knows? I’ve lost count of all the times I tried to reason with her,” she said. “I offered her sound advice, but Tiffany was a stubborn girl.”

The door opened, and Alice Wilson walked into the shop. She was wearing the same old crotched hippie poncho she had on when Molly had met her at the Lion’s Head Pub.

“You’re an hour late,” Brenda snapped.

Alice shrugged and made her way around the tables and furniture. When she saw Molly, she scowled. “I know you,” she said. “You were at Troy’s, asking questions about Tiffany.”

Molly felt Brenda’s gaze land on her. She wanted to slap her hand over Alice’s mouth and shut her up. Brenda didn’t need to know she was asking questions about Tiffany.

“What are you doing here?” Molly asked.

“I came to work,” Alice said.

Brenda said, “I’ve hired Alice temporarily to work part-time, at least until Penelope returns.”

Alice looked around the shop. “Is Giles here?”

“He’ll be along later,” Brenda said. Alice’s face flushed red, and Molly realized she was right about the girl. She had a crush on him, and it probably went back to when they were children. Yet another reason for her to hate Tiffany. “Go behind the register,” Brenda told her. “I’ll show you how to work it.” Then she turned back to Clara. “It was a pleasure meeting you,” she said. “I have to admit, I’m pleasantly surprised. I had no idea Molly’s mother would be so refined, there’s so little resemblance between the two of you.” Molly clenched her jaw to keep from saying something nasty in reply. Talk about insulting! Clara looked calm and cool and didn’t say a word. “She mentioned you’re a dealer in Southern pottery,” Brenda continued. “Of course, I don’t have anything like that in my shop, but I do have some very nice English earthenware that might interest you.”

Clara said, “I’d love to see it sometime. But right now, we must go. I have a hair appointment at Beauty Chic and I don’t want to be late.”

Molly glanced at Alice. She stood behind the register, pulling at her hair nervously. Molly was surprised Brenda was taking the risk of hiring her, even part-time, given what Troy and Tessa had told her about her work habits. She wondered what customer would get insulted first, and what collectible she’d break.

When they were back out on the sidewalk, Clara said angrily, “Well, I never!” She took long strides, and Molly had to fast-walk to keep up with her. “What a horrible woman. Why is Tessa friends with her? I’m going to have a talk with her about that.”

“Brenda’s not everyone’s cup of tea, that’s for sure,” Molly said. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mother so angry.

“I’m not surprised she ran her over with a golf cart. Did she ever say she was sorry?”

“I don’t know,” Molly said.

“If it’s ever proven Giles killed Tiffany, I have no doubt she’ll try to find someone else to pin it on. If Tiffany had been my daughter, I’d have yanked her out of that relationship with Giles so fast her feet wouldn’t have touched the ground.”

“She loved him, not his mother,” Molly said.

“She was a fool,” Clara said.

Molly was shocked by her harsh tone. Her mother rarely, if ever, judged anyone’s intentions or the decisions they made. She was a big believer in live and let live. “As far as I know, there’s no evidence connecting Giles to her murder,” Molly said.

“Then who did it, Penelope, Reggie?”

They’d reached the door of the salon, and Molly held her mother back. “I don’t know yet, but I’m working on it, and so are the police.” She wondered if Boyle had interviewed Alice. The girl looked jittery, and she had issues with Tiffany and Giles.

Clara took a deep breath and let it out. “Sorry. I have to calm down,” she said. “Is there steam coming out of my ears?”

Molly grinned. “Only a little, it’s not too noticeable.”

Clara shook her head. “I have to shake off Brenda,” she said. “But oh, dear! That horrible woman.”

Chapter 23

Beauty Chic wasn’t as swanky as the Mia Kara Salon, but it was busy. There were six workstations, and four of them were occupied. Molly thought the receptionist wasn’t the best first impression. She looked like she was barely eighteen, and as Clara gave her her name, she snapped her chewing gum and kept her eyes glued to her phone as she texted. Her skill at multitasking was impressive, but she could have used a class in business etiquette. When she finished texting, she leaned over the partition that separated the waiting area from the floor of the salon and bellowed, “Beth! Your eleven o’clock is here.”

Clara sighed and Molly sat beside her on a fake leather sofa that was cracked and peeling. A young woman appeared from the back and introduced herself as Beth. She escorted Clara to the sinks to wash her hair. No one offered wine or juice, or even a glass of water. At least Beth was prompt.

Molly noted there was only one male hairstylist. He was fit, middle-aged, and wore a loose pink shirt over tight black jeans. She assumed this was Cecil. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, and as he dried his client’s hair, the muscles in his arms bulged. The station next to his was covered in cards and flowers, all in memory of Tiffany. He finished the woman’s hair and unsnapped the gown at her neck, shaking it off. She thanked him and made her way to the receptionist to pay. That got the receptionist’s attention. She even put her phone down to take her credit card.

The man took a broom from a closet and began to sweep the floor around his chair. Molly decided to let him clean up before approaching him. She took her phone out and checked her messages. She’d talked to Matt the night before to give him an update on everything, and he’d promised to tell Lombardi what was going on, but she hadn’t heard from either of them. She put her phone away, and hoped she might find out something useful from Cecil. She was still trying to figure out the best way to talk to him in a room full of people he worked with, when he made it easy for her. He slipped on a black leather jacket and headed to the door.

“I’m off to lunch, Gigi,” he told the receptionist. “I’ll be back for Mrs. Ballard at twelve thirty.”

Gigi snapped her gum, her eyes on her phone. “See you, Cecil,” she said.

Clara was on her way to Beth’s chair. Molly waved to get her attention and pointed to the door. She mouthed, “I’ll be back,” and Clara nodded.

When she stepped outside, she saw that Cecil had already crossed the street. She hoped his lunch plans didn’t include jumping into a car and driving off somewhere she couldn’t follow. She crossed the road after him and was relieved when he turned and walked into the Lion’s Head Pub. By the time she got there, he was already seated at the bar talking to Troy. Molly took the stool next to him.

Troy smiled at her. “Hello, Molly. Nice to see you again.”

“Hi, Troy,” she said. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks.” His eyes shifted curiously from her to Cecil. “Can I get you both menus?”

“Sure,” Molly said.

Cecil smiled. “I don’t need one, Troy. I’ll have the special and a coffee. I’m in desperate need of a caffeine fix.”

“Coming right up,” Troy said. “How about you, Molly?”

“I’ll have the same thing,” she said, having no idea what she’d just ordered.

Troy went off and Cecil stuck his hand out. “I know your name is Molly. I’m Cecil.”