Half-Price Homicide Read Free

fastened it on her wrist as her husband shut the door in Helen’s face. She caught snatches of their argument over the store’s low background music.
    “What do you mean, am I cheating on you?” Danny said.
    “I saw the way you stared at her last night!” Chrissy said.
    “I wasn’t looking at her designer dress, that’s for sure.”
    “No, you were looking at her fake tits,” Chrissy said. “Mine are real. So are my designer dresses. She wore a knockoff and everyone knew it.”
    “And none of the men cared,” her husband taunted.
    “You don’t love me anymore,” Chrissy said. “You want rid of me. That’s why you’re following me around. You want a divorce.”
    “Cut the melodrama,” Danny said. “If I wanted you gone, your ass would be out the door. Gone. Over and out. Understand?”
     

Helen didn’t want to hear another ugly word. She moved toward the front to wipe down the sunglasses rack and tried to block out Danny and Chrissy’s argument. Vera turned up the background music a notch, then loudly welcomed her new customer. “Loretta Stranahan. How nice to see the best-dressed woman on the county board of commissioners.”
    Helen nearly dropped the spray bottle. Loretta could have been Chrissy’s twin sister. Her blond hair was a shade or two yellower, but she was as small, creamy and curvy as Danny’s wife. And as well dressed in black Moschino and polka-dot heels. She looked about thirty and dangerous. No one would ever call her “little Loretta.”
    “Broward County has lots of women commissioners,” Loretta said. “But I like the competition. I came by to see if you got in more suits from Glenn Close.”
    “Sorry,” Vera said. “Glenn hasn’t made a delivery lately.”
    “Is she hanging on to her suits longer now?” Loretta asked.
    “Even the rich have money problems,” Vera said. “Men who never noticed the price of laundry now want their shirts on hangers instead of in boxes. You know why? Shirts are seventy-five cents cheaper on hangers. Seventy-five cents! These are the same men who used to leave their change on the counter because it made holes in their pants pockets. Now they count every freaking penny.”
    “Please, let’s not go there,” Loretta said. “I’ve had endless meetings about budget cuts. With the picketers, postcard campaigns and petitions, I’m about to snap.”
    “Let me show you my new arrivals in the back,” Vera said.
    “Watch the store, Helen,” Vera whispered. “I have to make sure Loretta doesn’t run into Danny.”
    Loretta trailed Vera through the store. Helen could hear Vera say, “I have a Chanel suit in your size.”
    “Too expensive-looking,” Loretta said. “My constituents will think I’m on the take.”
    “A black Ferragamo, then,” Vera said. “That’s rich-looking but not rich.”
    “Vera, honey, I have a hundred black suits. They all look alike.”
    “I’ll find you a new blouse,” Vera said. “A touch of color would freshen a suit. I have some hand-painted scarves. They’d look good on television.”
    “Well, I could look. That wouldn’t cost anything.” Loretta was weakening.
    Helen heard a small surprised shriek. “Why, Danny,” Loretta said. “You’re the last person I expected to see here.”
    “I’m shopping with my wife,” Danny the bully said. Helen saw no sign the couple had been arguing, except maybe Chrissy’s slightly strained smile.
    Helen watched the drama unfold in the overhead security mirror. Chrissy and Loretta had squared off. Chrissy’s back was arched like an angry cat’s. Danny loomed above the blondes like a dark mountain.
    “That’s right,” Chrissy said. “He has a wife. I’m Mrs. Danny Martlet.” She wrapped her arm protectively around Danny’s.
    “Trust me, honey, I’m not interested in your husband,” Loretta said.
    “Then why do you call him a hundred times a day?” “It’s business,” Loretta said. “Until midnight?” Chrissy asked.
    “Important