Murder Wears a Little Black Dress Read online

  Kelly pushed herself away from her desk and walked to the table. She crossed her arms over her chest and then wondered what type of body language she was conveying to the detective. No doubt Nora Wolman was scrutinizing every nuance of Kelly’s reaction and speech pattern and how she moved her body. She uncrossed her arms. She had nothing to hide or be defensive about. “I really don’t see how that relates to Maxine’s murder.”

  “I’m the detective. Let me be the judge of what relates and what doesn’t.”

  “Fine. Bernadette’s vision was of a man being murdered. She said the dress was connected to the murder.”

  The detective’s lips started to form a smile but stopped short. “You went to see Mrs. Singer to ask her if she murdered her husband wearing the dress in question?”

  “Something like that. Detective Wolman, I didn’t kill Maxine. I didn’t have anything against her.”

  Wolman stood. “But you had something against Bernadette Rydell?”

  “No, I never said I had anything against Bernadette.”

  “But do you?”

  “No!”

  “The two women were similar-looking. Miss Rydell is costing you business. I’ve heard some of the talk. You could’ve mistaken Miss Lemoyne for her cousin when you snuck in.”

  “I didn’t sneak in. I was asked to come over, and the door was unlocked. I didn’t kill Maxine…”

  Books by Debra Sennefelder

  A Resale Boutique Mystery

  Murder Wears A Little Black Dress

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Murder Wears A Little Black Dress

  A Resale Boutique Mystery

  Debra Sennefelder

  LYRICAL PRESS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Contents

  Books by Debra Sennefelder

  Murder Wears A Little Black Dress

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Meet the Author

  Copyright

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  LYRICAL UNDERGROUND BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2019 by Debra Sennefelder

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.

  Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Attn. Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

  Lyrical Underground and Lyrical Underground logo Reg. US Pat. & TM Off.

  First Electronic Edition: January 2019

  eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0893-0

  eISBN-10: 1-5161-0893-0

  First Print Edition: January 2019

  ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0896-1

  ISBN-10: 1-5161-0896-5

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For my niece Jennifer Ciombor who always keeps it fashionable.

  Chapter 1

  “How do you explain this? The tag says my dress has been marked down by seventy-five percent. There appears to be a mistake.”

  Kelly Quinn turned her head to the raised voice of the woman standing at the sales counter. She held a midi-length floral dress with cap sleeves in one hand while her other was propped on her hip.

  “Irene, you know the store’s policy on markdowns,” Pepper Donovan answered with a smile. She always had a smile, except for when Kelly announced she was making changes to the consignment shop.

  “How on earth am I supposed to earn any money? Martha never put merchandise on sale,” Floral Dress Lady countered.

  As Kelly made her way across the shop, she was well aware her grandmother didn’t do a lot of things, and that was why, in the past few years, the shop’s earnings had steadily declined.

  “Good morning. I’m Kelly Quinn.” She extended her hand, but it was received with an intense glare. She pulled her hand back and braced herself for an unpleasant conversation. “What seems to be the problem?”

  “Seems? Dear child, there doesn’t seem to be a problem. There is a problem. My dress has been marked down to an unreasonable amount of money. Please explain to me the reason for your decision.”

  Kelly bristled at being called a child. She’d just celebrated her twenty-sixth birthday three months ago and, up until forty-five days ago, she had a full-time job with a well-laid-out career path and her own apartment, albeit it tiny, in the West Village of New York City. How many children could say that?

  “I was just reminding Irene of the store’s pricing policy.” No doubt Pepper was trying to remind her new boss about the agreement every consignee signed. She was younger than Kelly’s late granny but still old enough to feel she should be in charge.

  Kelly didn’t need to be reminded. She was familiar with the document, as well as many other documents pertaining to the shop. The past few weeks had been filled with reviewing papers, meeting with lawyers, and sleepless nights because of her new acquisition.

  “When you consigned your clothing, you signed an agreement, which stated how merchandise is priced. After seven weeks, merchandise is marked down by seventy-five percent,” Kelly said.

  “I see.” Floral Dress Lady stretched out her arm, and the dress dangled from its hanger while she admired it. “So, this lovely dress that cost me way more than the original consigned price is now a mere ten dollars?” Her brows arched, and her glare intensified.

  This isn’t good.

  “It’s important to keep turning over merchandise. Especially out-of-season clothing.” When Kelly had gone painstakingly through every item in inventory, she found a bunch of spring/summer clothing that should have been cleared out months ago. “When customers see new stuff, they tend to buy more. This translates into money for our consignees.” Kelly hoped the explanation would appease the woman.

  “Except for this consignee. Why don’t you do a better job of selling your merchandise so it doesn’t become old?”

  No appeasement there.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Kelly, this is Irene Singer.” Pepper jumped back into the conversation. “She’s been consigning with
us for a while.”

  Irene Singer gave Kelly a stern nod as if her name should have meant something. It didn’t.

  The bell over the front door chimed, prompting Kelly to glance over her shoulder. More shoppers. She needed to wrap up this dispute over the pricing.

  “Ms. Singer, unfortunately I can’t change the price on the dress as per our policy to mark down accordingly based on length of time in inventory, but I’m going to give the dress back to you.” Phew. She managed to say all that in one breath, and it actually sounded like she knew what she was saying. “Let me just snip off the price tag.”

  Irene Singer’s eyes widened. “I don’t have a use for this dress, which is why I consigned it.”

  There wasn’t going to be any appeasement with the woman whatsoever. Frustration bubbled in Kelly. She hadn’t worked a sales floor since fashion school, and after graduating, she didn’t think she’d ever be back to arranging displays, restocking inventory, or handling cranky customers. Yet, there she was. The new owner of the Lucky Cove Consignment Shop soon to be renamed Curated by Kelly Resale Boutique. The name change reflected Kelly’s vision for a trendy consignment shop for locals and tourists.

  “Irene, look, you consigned with us to get some cash. Let us sell the dress. After all, you did say you have no use for it,” Pepper said.

  Kelly admired Pepper’s genius in using Irene’s own words to try to bring the woman around to reason. Her years of experience working in the shop shone, and Kelly was grateful to have her on her team. Her team of two.

  Irene was silent for a moment. “Fine. A little extra cash will come in handy.” She dropped the dress on the counter and, without as much as a goodbye, she marched out of the shop.

  Kelly exhaled a relieved breath. “Thanks for your help.”

  “No problem.” Pepper’s gaze drifted to a spreadsheet Kelly had created with a list of items in the home furnishings department to be marked down. Her head shook as she scanned the list of every item stuffed into the small addition of the building. No doubt, she was second-guessing Kelly’s decision to stop selling home items and focus solely on fashion and accessories.

  “She’s wound kind of tight.”

  Pepper looked up from the spreadsheet. “You’ll learn how to handle the tough ones. You’re right about Irene. But she wasn’t always like that.”

  Before Kelly could ask what happened to turn Irene bitter, Pepper reached her hand over the counter and touched Kelly’s arm. “We didn’t finish our conversation earlier.”

  Kelly’s stomach constricted. They’d been having a lot of conversations, and none of them were easy.

  Pepper gave her new boss a pointed look over the rim of her glasses. “I still don’t understand why you need to change the name. It’s been Lucky Cove Consignment since the day your granny opened the shop.”

  Kelly had been on the receiving end of that look, which she dubbed the “Pepper glare,” since she made the decision to stay in Lucky Cove and keep her late granny’s consignment shop. She broke eye contact and considered how to tell Pepper one more time the reason for the name change.

  “Granny did her thing and now it’s my turn.”

  When would the explanation sink in for Pepper? She hoped soon. Kelly gave her granny props because she knew what her thing was. Kelly? She didn’t have a clue anymore. Her life plan went right out the window the day she carried a cardboard box out of the buying offices of Bishop’s Department Store. At least she’d had the foresight to wear a Rebecca Taylor floral dress she had scored for sixty percent off and Marc Fisher’s lace-up sandals she found for seventy percent off. Yes, on her last day at Bishop’s, she had looked as good as she did the working girl’s walk of shame—the trek from desk to exit for the last time with her entire career stuffed in a box.

  Kelly’s heart seized when she thought about that morning. Everything she’d worked for was gone. Poof. Just like that.

  “You can do your thing without changing the shop’s name,” Pepper countered.

  Kelly sighed. She now understood how hamsters felt on their wheels. Around and around and around and nothing changed.

  “I have muffins!” Liv Moretti announced as she breezed by the sales counter on her way to the office.

  Kelly’s nose wriggled. Pumpkin spice muffins. Her favorite. She stepped back from the counter, releasing herself from Pepper’s hold, and followed her best friend to the back of the store.

  They entered the staff room, which used to be the original kitchen in the colonial house before it was transformed into the clothing store. Granny turned the kitchen into a multipurpose space for meal breaks and office work. A desk was tucked into a corner, and a file cabinet stood where a hutch used to be. The tile floor was dull with chips and cracks from years of use, and there was a draft around the sink window. Definitely not a pretty space, but it was functional.

  Liv opened the pastry box. The heavenly aroma of freshly baked muffins turned Kelly’s souring mood bright again. Liv was a genius in the kitchen. Good baking genes ran in the Moretti family, while good eating genes ran in Kelly’s family. She grabbed a muffin and sank her teeth into the moist, tasty treat and savored unapologetically.

  For the past week, Liv had been coming to help mark down merchandise and always brought treats from her family’s bakery. Kelly should’ve had more resolve, because the skinny jeans she pulled on at the crack of dawn were already a little tight around her waist, thanks to her overindulging. She attributed it to stress eating, and once she settled into her new role as a shop owner, she’d be more in control. At least, she hoped so.

  “You know, this is kind of fun.” Liv reached into the box and plucked out a muffin. She took a bite as Kelly watched in amazement. Somehow Liv managed to stay lean, despite the fact she was surrounded by cakes, cookies, and cupcakes all day long. At nearly five seven, her lithe frame was reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn. Her dark auburn hair was styled in a pixie cut, and she favored skinny pants with bateau neckline tops. Good thing she was Kelly’s bestie or else Kelly would’ve hated her.

  “Fun?” Now it was Kelly’s turn to give a look to Liv. Fun was bargain hunting in the city. Fun was meeting up with friends for cocktails. Fun was sleeping in. Kelly had been doing none of those things.

  She’d been operating on limited sleep since Granny’s funeral. She was used to working long hours at Bishop’s, especially during Fashion Week when she had to keep up with her buyer as they crisscrossed New York City to attend shows. But owning a retail store? That was a whole new level of sleep deprivation.

  “You’ll see. Once you’re all settled, you’ll see for yourself how much fun it is to own your own business.”

  Kelly took another bite of her muffin while she tried to identify the “fun” part of owning a business. So far she hadn’t come across anything remotely considered fun, only a lot of hard work.

  “I guess the upside is no one can fire me.” Kelly walked to the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water. She handed one to Liv before opening her bottle. “The downside is there will be no customers.”

  “Stop! You’re going to have customers. There are a whole bunch out there now.” Liv gestured to the swinging door that led to the shop.

  “What if the regulars hate what I’ve planned for the shop? Pepper does. What if I can’t get enough new customers? What if I let Granny down?” Kelly’s mind raced with every negative scenario that could possibly play out. She took a long drink of water to cool her jets. She needed to remain calm and confident. What was the old saying? Don’t let them see you sweat.

  “Hey, you. I’m sure your grandmother would approve of what you’re doing.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I had a run-in with Irene Singer. Do you know her?”

  Liv gave an exaggerated nod. “Everyone knows Irene Singer.”

  “What’s
her deal?”

  “Her husband died and she took it hard.” After another swig of water, Liv screwed on the lid and set the bottle down. “I’m here to help with the sale. I better get out there. And you should too.”

  “Bossy much?” Kelly glanced at her fitness tracker, which doubled as a watch, and, given the number of sugary sweets she’d been eating, she should revert the tracker back to its basic function—counting her calories and steps—or her skinny jeans would never fit.

  Liv chuckled. “Habit.”

  Kelly led the way out of the staff room. The shop’s layout was choppy. None of the original walls were removed when the residence was turned into a retail store. Liv and Kelly arrived in the area that used to be the living room.

  “Who’s that woman?” Kelly asked.

  A tall, willowy blonde stood beside a circular rack. Her golden hair cascaded down her back, skimming the Victorian-inspired tiered maxi dress with lace inserts and delicate flutter sleeves in creamy white she wore. Her skin was porcelain, and her gaze was fixated on the black lace dress she held. She was a woman who could wear lace and not look dowdy.

  “Bernadette Rydell. Lucky Cove’s resident psychic.” Liv’s tone was cynical, and she usually didn’t do cynical. “She talks to dead people.”

  “Seriously?” Kelly swung her head around to look at her friend.

  “She does readings out of her cottage on Gull Drive. My aunt Eloisa gave me a gift certificate for one last Christmas,” Liv said.

  Kelly’s mouth gaped open. The Morettis were all about holy water, rosary beads, and fish on Fridays. They didn’t do psychics. “No!”

  “My mother almost had a stroke when I opened the envelope. You know how she is. She sees psychics as the devil’s handmaidens.”

  “I know. What was her sister thinking?”

  Liv shrugged. “Eloisa has always been out there on the fringe. I think she wanted to push my mother’s buttons.”

  Kelly laughed. She enjoyed Liv’s family. When Eloisa and Geovanna, Liv’s mother, got together, they were a hoot. They were sisters who loved big and fought even bigger. But, at the end of the day, they always had each other’s backs. A twinge of sadness flicked inside of Kelly. She doubted she’d ever experience that type of relationship with her own sister again.