A Secondhand Murder Read Free Page B

poked her head around me.
    PI Montgomery took a step backward. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’m not passing judgment on the quality of your inventory. Just wondering why someone who could afford everything new and haute couture would drive sixty miles through rural Florida to buy her dinner dance gowns when she could have her chauffeur take her to City Place.”
    â€œ We don’t ask our customers why they shop here,” I said. “We’re just happy they do.”
    â€œ Pleased they bring their clothes here for us to sell, too,” Madeleine added, breaking into one of her high wattage smiles.
    â€œ The current economic downtown has been a leveling factor for the wealthy. We took advantage of that to open this place. I can’t see how interrogating us about Mrs. Sanders’ reasons for doing business here helps your client, whoever he or she is.” I wasn’t sure why I wanted this guy to understand our business philosophy, but I did.
    As much as I didn’t want to chase this hunk off, I wasn’t too happy with his questions about our customers. Some of them were eavesdropping and, apparently dismayed at the direction the conversation was taking, had hung their items back on the racks and were sidling toward the door. I knew that several of them had driven over from West Palm and didn’t want it revealed that they did their shopping in a cowboy town in rural Florida.
    â€œ Yeah, but why come here when there are dozens of high-end consignment shops on the coast?”
    I knew the reason why, but I’d be hung by my acrylic nails from the nearest Sabal palm before I blabbed these matrons’ rationale in the middle of my shop.
    I grabbed the PI by the arm and steered him toward the office. Madeleine followed so close in his tracks she seemed to be Velcroed to his leg. I turned on her.
    â€œ Get back out there and smooth some ruffled feathers. You’re better at that than I am.”
    â€œ But I want to—”
    â€œ No, you don’t. You want to sell dresses, shirts, pants and jewelry. You fall into things. I get in trouble because of my mouth. That’s the way it is, and we might as well play to our strengths.” I dragged Mr. Montgomery into the office and slammed the door behind us. He was smiling.
    â€œ You’re really something.” His smile went from friendly to seductive. “How about we have dinner tonight?”
    â€œ Yes. I mean, no. At least not until you get something straight. Women shop here because they don’t want their friends knowing their income has taken a plunge and that they can no longer afford the finer stores. They don’t want to chance running into their society friends in a consignment store on the coast because they know their friends are in the same boat.” I paused to catch my breath.
    â€œ But—”
    â€œ I know what you’re going to say, that eventually they’ll run into someone they know here, but they find it easier to make up a good excuse for being here than in a thrift shop in West Palm.”
    â€œ Like what?” The smile was gone from his face. He seemed interested.
    â€œ Like, they’re slumming, or looking for the real Florida, trying to find Florida as it used to be or they’re into cowboys.”
    â€œ Interesting.” He paused. “Are you into cowboys?”
    Was I? I thought about it. I’d been here for only three months. I liked going to the local cowboy bars with Madeleine and dancing up a storm with a lean, tanned guy in jeans and a Stetson. I looked at my private eye. No cowboy there. Chinos and a knit golf shirt. What could be less Western?
    â€œ I don’t know a lot of cowboys. Obviously not many come in here.”
    â€œ So where does one meet them?”
    I couldn’t see where he was going with this.
    â€œ Uh, in a bar maybe?”
    â€œ So, take me to a bar tonight after dinner. I’ll see if I can keep up with the