The Lanvin Murders (Vintage Clothing Mysteries) Read Free

Can’t blame me for trying. If you change your mind, give me a call. Don't worry too much about Marnie. I'm sure she's fine.”
    As Joanna pulled a lemon-yellow Emma Domb crinolined gown from the rack, her thoughts stayed with Marnie. She had been so determined to get the coat back, and Joanna had never known her to wait around when someone owed her cash.  
    “What size shoes do you wear?” Joanna asked the daughter. “You really should try the dress with heels, see where the hem hits your calf.”
    “An eight,” said the daughter.
    “Not too high, though,” the mother said.
    Joanna grabbed a pair of silver evening sandals by their ankle straps. Maybe Apple was right. Marnie was probably fine, and Joanna was making too big a deal about it. She helped the daughter zip up her dress. Yellow was a trying color, but it suited the girl’s porcelain complexion and crow-black hair.  
    She’d try calling Marnie again tonight, from home. Yes, that’s what she’d do. Maybe this time she’d answer.
    ***
    The next morning, Joanna prepared for work. When exactly four minutes were up, she plunged the handle on the French press and poured her morning coffee into a thermos. She wrapped a Spode teacup in a linen napkin embroidered with bees and tucked both the cup and thermos into a tote bag. The opera length black gloves from Gilda stuck in her mind. If she could get her hands on a few pairs, they’d sell like hotcakes.
    The tote bounced gently against her hips as Joanna walked the scant five minutes to Tallulah’s Closet. She needed the extra boost of caffeine. After watching the movie, she’d stayed up past midnight reading. Marnie hadn’t answered her calls. Joanna had toyed with the idea of somehow finding her house and visiting her in person, but Marnie was a private person and wouldn’t appreciate an unannounced drop in, anyway. Or so Joanna had convinced herself.
    The morning was dim, and it was still raining off and on. People ducked in and out of the corner café, but the other businesses along Clinton Street wouldn’t open for another hour, when the lunch trade began. Joanna rounded the corner, raised her head to take in the view of Tallulah’s Closet’s front window, and halted in her tracks.  
    Where was the Lanvin coat?  
    The front window’s mannequin stood slightly turned, the bottom half of its silk slip reflecting light from the street. Surely she’d left the coat on the mannequin at the end of the day. She was a stickler for making sure the window always looked good. But maybe a customer had tried it on and left it near the dressing rooms. Maybe.
    Frowning, Joanna unlocked the door and flicked on the front light switches. She set her tote on the store’s center bench and glanced toward the dressing rooms at the rear. No coat there. Panic rose. Could it have been stolen? She rushed to the tiki bar to look for the cash box and let out a sigh of relief. The Lanvin coat lay heaped on the floor. She must have forgotten that she’d put it on the rack behind the counter, and at some point during the night it slipped off its hanger. She grasped the heavy coat by its shoulders to fold over her arm then instantly let it fall to the ground behind her.
    Under the coat lay Marnie, face up, eyes open. Dead.

CHAPTER THREE

    Joanna grabbed the edge of the jewelry counter for support. Breathe deeply, she told herself. Stay calm. She took a shuddering breath and stepped again behind the tiki bar. Her heart clutched. Yes, definitely Marnie.  
    The skin on the older woman’s face was clean and translucent white, and her open eyes, glassy, stared to the left. Thin wisps of hair clung to her scalp. She hadn't ever seen Marnie without a wig or makeup. She looked so small, vulnerable. Hands trembling, Joanna stepped away. She didn't have a lot of experience with death. Once on a high school choir trip the school bus passed an accident, and she had seen a man's body hanging out the driver's side of a car. Then, of