Lulu asked, “Did you say that Steffi was packing her things?”
Marlowe spread some of the dip on her melba toast and took a big bite. “She is. I hope that’s okay?” She paused in midbite, as if that were a scenario she hadn’t thought of. “I really appreciate your taking Steffi in for me. She and I have always been close.... I hate that I was out of town when she needed a place to go. Thanks so much for being there for her.”
“Oh, I was happy to help her out,” said Lulu quickly, “and of course she should be with you now that you’re home—especially until everything gets straightened out with Tristan’s house.”
Marlowe nodded. “I’m sure Tristan must have left all her things to Steffi. It’s a matter of the will being settled, I guess.”
“There was no one else that Tristan would have willed her property to?” asked Lulu.
Marlowe took a big sip of milk, then said, “No one else. Our parents have been long dead; she couldn’t stand her ex-husband, and they’ve been divorced for fifteen years, anyway. And, as I mentioned, she and I weren’t even on speaking terms.”
Lulu had learned that sometimes she got more information from people if she didn’t say anything—just nodded and waited. Sure enough, Marlowe kept talking.
“It always was that way,” she said sadly. “It used to really bother me that she and I couldn’t get along. Seemed like every time I turned on the TV there was a sappy greeting-card commercial featuring sisters as best friends. But she was always trying to get the better of me—even back in high school. She sabotaged my cheerleading tryout by mixing a laxative into my soda, and I spent the whole tryout in the restroom. She always flirted with my boyfriends and always managed to steal them away from me. You know her ex-husband? He was my boyfriend first.”
Marlowe looked reflective. “The worst, though, was when Dad died. He’d willed the bottling company to both of us. It was a disaster from day one. Tristan kept pulling funds from the company for her living expenses—and we needed that capital for the business. A couple of weeks ago, she decided that we should sell the company. I hadn’t spoken to her for ages, when she suddenly called me out of the blue and tried to browbeat me into agreeing with her. Sure, now that she’s run the business totally into the ground she wants to sell it. Dad poured his lifeblood into that company—I wasn’t going to let her unload it for a fraction of what it should have been worth. And what about all the employees who’d worked there practically their entire lives?” Marlowe’s face was flushed.
“So what’s going to happen to the business now?” asked Lulu slowly. “Will Tristan’s share go to Steffi?”
Marlowe said, “Who knows? I’d imagine it would go to either Steffi or me. Thinking about it, I’m sure Tristan’s share in the business would go to Steffi, since Tristan liked nothing better than to totally stymie me at every turn. She was furious that she had to consult me for things related to the company. But working with Steffi wouldn’t be a problem at all.”
Steffi walked into the room with a couple of bags on her shoulders. “A problem with what?” she asked, a frown creasing her face.
Marlowe waved a hand. “With the bottling company. I was talking about how difficult it was to deal with your mother with the business.”
Steffi made a face. “I’m not going to have to deal with the business, am I? I don’t know anything about it, and I don’t want to.”
“We have time to figure that out,” said Marlowe soothingly, “but, of course, at some point soon we’ll need to make some decisions to get the company on track again.”
Steffi said anxiously, “I’d rather you handle all that, Marlowe. That sounds like something else to worry about, and I’m already overloaded.”
“We’ll see how things are listed in the will. If you end up with ownership, I can give you advice on what I think is the best course of action for the company,” said Marlowe. “Every decision I’ve made for the bottling company is with your grandfather’s dreams for the business in mind.”
“Deal!” said Steffi, with obvious relief, as she shifted the bags on her shoulders. Marlowe stood up, “Here, Steffi, let me help you with that.” As they started packing up the cars, Lulu cleaned up the kitchen and couldn’t help thinking that Tristan Pembroke’s death meant that life sure was a lot easier for Marlowe Walters.
Had
she still been out of town at the time of the murder? Could anyone vouch for her?
“Cherry,” said Lulu the next morning, “I need your help.”
“
Do
you?” asked Cherry. She yawned into the phone. “Right now? It’s so early.”
Lulu frowned and craned to see the kitchen clock. “Is my clock wrong? It looks like nine o’clock to me.”
“You restaurant folks are such
early
birds,” said Cherry sleepily.
“I’m sorry, Cherry! I thought you’d be up by now. Isn’t today your Graceland day? I thought you’d be all set to spend your day with the King.”
Cherry was one of a group of the restaurant’s regulars called the Graces because they were Graceland docents. In fact, Graceland had actually had to start the docent program there because of Cherry and the other ladies—they were at the mansion so frequently and knew so much trivia that they were giving mini tours even without Graceland’s blessing. They figured they couldn’t beat them, so they might as well join them.
“Sure, it’s my day at Graceland, but that’s at one o’clock. So I usually don’t even get up until ten. Just for future reference, you know.” Cherry gave another yawn. “Don’t worry; I’m going to get myself fixed up with some coffee. What can I help you with today?”
Lulu said, “I want to do some poking around. I thought you could be my partner in crime.”
“Cool! So—this is industrial espionage or something?” Cherry sounded more alert. “Are we going to try to find the secret sauce recipe for Three Little Pigs Barbeque?”
Lulu clucked, “Oh no. The Aunt Pat’s secret sauce is
much
better than the Three Little Pigs Barbeque sauce.”
“Good point. So a different kind of snooping then? Let me guess—you want to take a crack at this new case. We’re going to have to start calling you Detective Lulu soon.”
“Pooh. No you won’t, either. I’ll admit to enjoying a little mental stimulation, but this time I have other motivation. I want to clear Sara from any kind of involvement.”
“What? Nobody thinks Sara murdered Tristan Pembroke, Lulu. For heaven’s sake. Just because Sara had this big blowup with Tristan over that portrait and just because Sara’s feelings were hurt, and just because no one could find her for a couple of hours.... Oh.” Cherry paused. “So what’s today’s mission?” Lulu could hear the sound of cereal hitting the bottom of a bowl.
“That day when I was shopping at Dee Dee’s boutique? Tristan and Dee Dee had some kind of scurrilous business deal going on. I’m pretty sure it had something to do with the pageants—it sounded like Dee Dee was giving Tristan insider information on what some of her clients were wearing and what their talent was. I think Tristan was actually
paying
Dee Dee for those tips. Then Tristan, who coached these girls, would get her client to pick a talent that would blow away the other girl’s. Dee Dee kept consulting this big binder of a notebook, and I want to take a look inside the notebook and see what I can find out.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” said Cherry. “How do I figure into it?” She was talking around a mouthful of food, but Lulu managed to make out the garbled parts.
“Distract Dee Dee for me. I’m going to take you in there and say you’re wanting to change your look and I thought that Dee Dee would be just the boutique to handle your style makeover.”
There was a spitting noise on the other end of the phone. “That’d be a makeover all right! No offense, Lulu, but Dee Dee’s shop is all floral prints and froufrou, girly-looking stuff. There’s not a flashy or cool-looking garment in that whole place.”
“Which is
exactly
why you’ll need so much help,” explained Lulu.
“I won’t have to buy a dress, will I?” Now Cherry really did sound pitiful.
“I think you could have a sudden change of heart in the dressing room,” said Lulu judiciously. “You could tell her you need to sleep on it—that such enormous wardrobe makeovers need careful thinking out. I’ll give you a signal when I’ve looked at the book and found out whatever I need to know. Let’s see—what’s a good signal for us?”
“Ooh! Ooh! I want to come up with the signal! That’s the coolest part of the whole thing—acting like real spies,” said Cherry. “Let’s see. You could say . . .” There was a long pause on the phone while Cherry tried to wake up enough to come up with a signal. “Oh, I know! You could say ‘Uh-oh! I think it looks like rain.’”
Lulu blinked. For someone as wildly uninhibited and colorful as Cherry, it was a strangely humdrum code for her to come up with. She’d expected something a lot more creative. “That’s the signal?”
“Well,” said Cherry with a sniff, “it’s a good thing for
you
to say. If it were
me
giving the signal, then it would have to be something a lot more exotic.”
Lulu thought a moment. “Actually, Cherry, it would be a good plan for
you
to have a signal, too. Just in case Dee Dee suddenly gets suspicious or makes any sudden moves toward the register. It would be a warning to me to stop snooping around.”
“Good idea!” said Cherry. “My signal will be something to do with Elvis. Let’s see. I’ll ask Dee Dee if she knew that Elvis met Priscilla in Germany. Because who would guess that? It’s such an amazing bit of Elvis trivia! Then maybe she’ll be so interested to hear how they happened to meet in Germany that the signal won’t even be necessary because she’d get distracted. Elvis will be like our guardian angel.” Cherry’s excitement was palpable.
Lulu’s head started hurting.
Dee Dee smiled when Lulu walked through the dress shop door, but then looked none too pleased to see Cherry follow her. And Cherry had certainly not been thrilled to be there, either.
“Lulu,” she’d said to Lulu sadly, before they’d walked into the shop, “you know now that I’d do anything for you. And I love that we’re doing this spying. But it gives me the heebie-jeebies to even think about shopping for clothes at Dee Dee’s Darling Dress Shoppe. It goes against my personal credo to ever shop at a place with ‘shop’ spelled with a p-p-e. It means that the store owner is trying to be
cute
. You know I fight
cuteness
with every atom of my being.”
Fortunately, Lulu had been able to rally her troop and remind Cherry of the mission. That cheered Cherry up enough to be able to go inside. However, she did look around a couple of times to make sure no one saw her walk in.
Dee Dee quickly became all business as soon as she realized that Cherry apparently had every intention of redoing her entire look and wardrobe—apparently courtesy of Dee Dee’s Darling Dress Shoppe.
Lulu said, “Yes, Dee Dee, when Cherry told me that she was ready to make a new start to her life and she wanted to display this change with a new wardrobe, I told her I knew just the place.”
“This transformation was all of a sudden, wasn’t it?” said Dee Dee, still a little grumbly about Cherry’s reaction to the clothes days ago.
“Yes!” said Cherry quickly. “Yes, it was really sudden. Actually—I found God. Yes, I did. It was,” Cherry’s voice dropped down low as if the store was full of interested eavesdroppers, “Tristan’s murder. She didn’t even get a chance to redeem herself of all her sinfulness before suddenly meeting her Maker. I’m done with shopping at the Hipster Honey, with all their trashy clothing. With my newfound need to spend my spare time in the church, I really need a whole new wardrobe—of floral dresses. Just like Lulu.” Lulu saw Cherry gulp as if the words were hard for her to say.
Dee Dee looked doubtfully at Cherry—garbed in a fluorescent-pink top, lime-green miniskirt, and wrist-to-elbow plastic bangles in a rainbow of colors. She gave a little shrug. “So, you’re looking to tone down your look a little,” she said slowly.
“Yes,” said Cherry, and Lulu hid a smile at the bravery in Cherry’s voice. It sounded like Cherry was steeling herself for a firing squad. “I want to tone it down a little.”
Dee Dee said, “I’ll get you fixed up, no worries. Yeah, Tristan’s death came as a big shock. Quite a party, wasn’t it? Uh . . . could you take that helmet off? That way I can get some ideas what goes well with your hair and eyes.”
Lulu had a feeling that
nothing
really went well with Cherry’s hair, which was a startling henna red. But Dee Dee seemed set to give it a try.
After a few minutes of pulling some dresses and tops and slacks off the racks, Dee Dee said, “Ready to try some things on, Cherry?”
Lulu quickly assessed the number of clothes that Dee Dee was holding. It probably wasn’t enough for her to do excessive snooping. It might be enough to get her
started
, but...
“Could we find a few more things?” asked Cherry, who must have come to the same conclusion. “When I try on clothes, I want to try
everything
on. I don’t want to put my street clothes back on, then find
more
clothes, then have to change
again
.” She made a face as if the whole idea of changing clothes was distasteful to her.
They found a few more outfits, and then Dee Dee put everything in a changing room. “All right, Cherry. Let me know if you need another size or another color of something.” She walked toward the cash register as if she were planning on waiting there. Lulu figured she was probably going to try to sell Lulu on a couple of things. Dee Dee knew that Lulu was an easy target for a sale—ordinarily.
Cherry said quickly, “Oh, that’s not going to work, Dee Dee. You see, I’m used to a little more help.”
“Help?” Dee Dee scowled before she managed to pull her face into a more ambivalent expression.
“Yes. Over at the Hipster Honey, they
assist
with the trying-on process. It’s a collaborative event—sort of like you’re being styled by a stylist. I’ve never picked out my own clothes before.” Cherry blinked innocently at Dee Dee.