Mascara and Murder (Murder In Style Book 3) Read online

  “Jenna, stop gabbing,” my mother called from the shoe section. “We got a new shipment of shoes this morning, and I need your help organizing them. Well, after one other thing.”

  “Allie spilled the beans,” I said. “How did you manage to get me an appointment already? And why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Angela Dewey was going to tell you,” my mother said with a shrug. “I mean, I figured you’d hear about it. Word gets around fast.”

  “Calendars!” I raised my hands. “People, calendars!”

  “Angela is better than a calendar. She comes equipped with her own opinions. Google is so impersonal.”

  “Who’s the appointment with?” I asked with a sigh. “I’m here now, so let’s get moving.”

  Judging by the look of discomfort on my mother’s face, I wasn’t going to be happy with her answer.

  “Mom...” I said warningly. “What did you get me into?”

  “It just sort of happened,” my mother explained apologetically. “I didn’t plan it. I swear.”

  My eyebrow inched higher than I thought was possible.

  “It’s too late to do anything about it,” my mother continued, “so just go in the back and get started already. I put him up in a dressing room.”

  “How about a few details? Is this client looking for something specific?”

  “Possibly a date.”

  I halted in my tracks. “Excuse me?”

  “You know, a casual wedding date.” My mother heaved a sigh at my angry eyebrows. “Don’t be mad at me, Jenna. Chief Dear was invited to a wedding next weekend, and I heard him talking about it at June’s café this morning. I invited him to the store because we got in a few new suits. He’d been complaining about how he didn’t have anything to wear, how he’d have to get dressed up, how he hated weddings, and I couldn’t bear it anymore. Not to mention how he didn’t have anyone to go with, the poor guy.”

  “Mother.”

  “I just thought you could maybe help with one thing,” my mother said slyly. “Or both. But that’s not my decision to make.”

  “No, it’s not,” I said. “I’ll help him with the styling. That’s it.”

  “Are you talking about Cooper needing a date to the wedding?” Allie made her way over to the shoe section of the store and flipped a pair of sparkly boots out of their box. She admired them for a long moment. Then she slipped her feet into them. “These are amazing.”

  I sized up Allie’s outfit. She meant well, but her sense of fashion was a bit... hazardous to the general public’s eyes. She wore striped green and black pants that looked like they’d time-traveled out of the seventies, a purple velour turtleneck, and a Pocahontas-like headband in her hair that had feathers dripping down her back. She’d added leg warmers despite the rising temperatures. None of it matched the sparkling boots.

  “Don’t these look great?” Allie pressed. She did a tap dance, preening one leg before us in a little shuffle. “I think in another life I should have been a dancer. Or maybe a singer. Definitely something in the entertainment industry.”

  “Right, well...” I looked at my mother, who supportively clapped in Allie’s direction. “Since I’m a professional here, I should get to work. Also, Mother, please don’t schedule any surprise appointments for tomorrow because I’m taking the day off.”

  “I don’t remember giving you the day off,” my mother said. “Did I give you the day off?”

  “If you had a calendar,” I said pointedly, “you’d know the answer to that.”

  “Doing something fun?” Allie stumbled toward me in her gigantic boots, following me to the back of the store. “I have the day off tomorrow, too, you know. It’s a slow day on Tuesdays. If you need help having fun, I’m your gal.”

  I gave a glance at Allie’s boots. “I don’t doubt that. Though you might be a little too much fun for me.”

  Oblivious to my sarcasm, Allie leaned in conspiratorially. “I’ll teach you how to have a good time.”

  Luckily, I was saved from having to answer Allie because the door to the dressing room opened at that very moment. In the silence, Allie started to say something, but when she looked up at the sight before us, she stopped mid-sentence.

  “Oh,” she said.

  That was about all there was to say.

  Blueberry Lake is a small town. It might be without many modern amenities—we don’t have a Burberry storefront or one-day shipping from Amazon Prime. We don’t even have a basic skinny vanilla latte from Starbucks. Despite these shortcomings, the one thing Blueberry Lake has going for it is an impressive-looking chief of police.

  For some reason, he was even more impressive on this Monday morning. Maybe it was because he didn’t have half the buttons on his shirt buttoned. Or maybe it was because his hair was all mussed from trying on a shirt that was the wrong size. Or maybe it was the hint of amusement in his eyes as he met my gaze.

  Whatever it was, Cooper Dear looked straight out of central casting—like the lead male in a rom-com. When Allie muttered something under her breath about the view being delicious, I found it hard to disagree. But I would rather be caught dead than agree with her out loud, so instead, I raised my hand to shield my vision as if staring directly at the sun.

  “Cripes,” I said. “This is a public space! Have some decency, Chief. Put a shirt on. It’s not exactly like I can call the cops on you for indecent exposure. That would give us a conflict of interest.”

  “Oh, honey.” Allie fanned herself. “There’s nothing indecent about that.”

  “Allie. You’re not helping.”

  “Just casting my vote to say I’m fine with this,” Allie said with a shrug. “Just the chief of police showing off his guns. You got a license for those, Cooper?”

  “I have to agree with Allie on this,” Mrs. Beasley chirped from the nightgown section of the store. She must have been hiding out somewhere all along, probably because my mother’s store had a better view of the street than her own. “He’s doing his civic duty protecting the town with those... guns.”

  Mrs. Beasley is an older woman who runs the knitting club and spends most of her time sitting in the storefront across the street watching my mother’s storefront in hopes of picking up the latest gossip. Gossip in Blueberry Lake is currency. The more you have, the richer you are, the more popular you will forever be.

  “Am I the only one with any sense with professional decency around here?” I remarked to no one in particular.

  Cooper looked the slightest bit chastised. But he quickly recovered, turning a blush of embarrassment into his standard look of annoyance. I wasn’t sure if it was me who caused him to always look annoyed or if that was just his general state. Either way, I got that look from him a lot.

  “I’m trying to get a shirt on,” Cooper said. “That’s the problem. I think I have the wrong size.”

  “No,” I said, examining him closer. “It’s actually supposed to fit like that. It’s a slim-fit shirt. It’s supposed to be tight.”

  “Amen,” Allie contributed unhelpfully.

  “This is more spandex-fit than slim-fit,” Chief Dear said. “I’ll have to eat nothing but lettuce for a week if I want to fit into this thing.”

  “You’ve got too much buttoned,” I said, leaning forward and releasing some of the pressure from Cooper’s chest. “You’re supposed to wear it like this.”

  “I agree,” Allie added. “Lose the buttons.”

  “The more the merrier,” Mrs. Beasley said. “Keep unbuttoning, honey.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I’m not doing this,” Cooper said, glancing at himself in the mirror. “I look like an idiot.”

  “That’s not the shirt’s fault,” I said.

  “Why have any buttons at all?” Mrs. Beasley called, still hung up on the mathematics behind Cooper’s shirt. “You’ll feel a lot better set free like that. All Superman with your chest just busting right out.”

  “Come here,” I demanded. “Let me finish showi
ng you how this works.”

  Before I knew what was happening, my hands were on Cooper’s chest. I was buttoning his shirt buttons, collaring his collar, and wiping away fake lint off his shoulder as a finishing touch. It wasn’t until I completed my styling ritual, that I realized my hands were still on Cooper’s chest.

  “You can take a picture if you like,” he said softly enough for my ears only.

  I felt my face flame red. I yanked my hands away, swatting his shoulder in the process. “I charge extra for comments like that.”

  There was a twinkle in his eye as Cooper rested both of his hands on his hips. “Now that wasn’t so hard,” he said, turning to once more look at himself in the mirror. “Was it?”

  “Your chest?” I asked, then backtracked as my cheeks turned neon. “Oh, you meant the buttons.”

  “How about both?” Allie called. “I bet you’ve touched a lot of chests. How does Cooper’s compare to the rest?”

  My mother, Cooper, and Mrs. Beasley—along with the other three women perusing the store—all turned to stare at me.

  “What do you mean?” I asked warily. “Why would I be touching chests on a regular basis?”

  “Because you styled all those people out in Los Angeles,” Allie said matter-of-factly. “Are you telling me you never laid your hands on Danny Sloan’s chest?”

  “Well, that’s true,” I admitted. Then I turned back to Cooper. “What do you think?”

  He shrugged. “It’s fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “I’m not going to be able to replicate this for the wedding,” Cooper said, turning to me with a suspicious gleam in his eye. “Any chance you want to accompany me to the wedding? In a professional capacity only, of course.”

  “You’re hiring your stylist to go with you to a wedding because you can’t button your own shirt?”

  “Name your fee.” Cooper gave a good-natured clap of his hands. “I’ll pay it.”

  “You’re preposterous,” I said. “And those pants do not match your shirt. As for the shoes, you can put them straight into the trash. I’ll get you some new ones.”

  Cooper barked a laugh. He glanced over my shoulder to my mother and raised his eyebrows. “You were right. Your daughter doesn’t pull any punches.”

  “Sorry,” my mother offered.

  “I’m right here,” I said. “I can hear you both.”

  “Jenna, a moment?” my mother asked. “In private, please.”

  I followed my mother over behind the cash register. Allie crept suspiciously close, organizing a stack of hair ties that were perfectly organized before she touched them.

  “For the sake of our business,” my mother said, “I must insist you accompany Cooper Dear to the wedding.”

  “Our business? You mean your business.”

  “I’m open to making it a family business,” my mother said easily. “The keyword being family.”

  “You’re just trying to set me up on a date and disguising it as an appointment.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t all setup,” my mother said. “Poor Cooper legitimately had no clue what to wear to the wedding. In a true, neighborly fashion, I offered help from the only person I knew who could help him.”

  “Fine,” I said. “For the sake of our store, I will dress Cooper for the wedding, but I’m not going with him as a date.”

  “I suppose that’s a start.”

  I made my way back to the changing room, leaving my mother to stare at me. When I got to Cooper’s room, I raised a hand and knocked twice.

  “Cooper,” I called out as the door swung open. “I have to apologize for my mother’s—oh, my. You are naked. I’m so naked. I mean—I’m sorry. You’re naked. Sorry. I didn’t see anything.”

  “Jenna!” Cooper looked up in surprise.

  I stomped my foot. “Haven’t you ever heard of locking the door?”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of installing functioning locks?” Cooper shot back. “The door was locked. Or I thought it was.”

  “Yeah, that one’s been broken for ages,” Allie called unhelpfully. “Forgot to get that one fixed.”

  Cooper Dear stood in the changing room, naked from the waist up as I’d so kindly observed. From the waist down, he wore only a pair of black boxer shorts. At least, that’s what I thought he was wearing—before I slapped a hand across my eyes to shield them from the view at hand.

  “You can leave now,” Cooper said, looking amused. “We can start over. Once I get my pants on.”

  I backed out of the dressing room, tripping over my own feet before knocking a mannequin into the lingerie. Flustered, I righted both the mannequin and myself and worked on my deep breathing.

  “Relax,” Allie said, coming to stand next to me. “He wasn’t showing any more skin than you do in a bathing suit.”

  “It’s different,” I argued. “He’s the chief of police.”

  “He’s also your client,” she pointed out. “Don’t stylists see their clients in various states of undress all the time? You were just doing your job. What a sacrifice, am I right?”

  She had something of a point, but somehow, this time around felt different. When I was employed in Hollywood, working with movie stars and actresses, it was part of the territory to pin and tape and hike up outfits into place. I’d put tape on boobies and glue places I didn’t dare name. Nudity was a part of the job. I’d just never had to tape things onto a real-life chief of police. One who happened to have a very, very personal interest in me.

  “I’ll tell you what.” I called through the changing room door to Cooper. “I’m running up to the Mall of America tomorrow to go shopping for the day with my friend. I’ll find you something to wear there. No payment necessary. On the house.”

  “But—” Cooper began before Allie cut him off.

  “I’ll come with you,” Allie said. “As your assistant.”

  “Can’t you find him something here?” my mother said. “That’s... sort of the point.”

  “Just...” I sighed. “Fine. Yes. I’ll pick out something later. I need to go get a coffee. I’ll be back.”

  “Honey!” My mother called after me as I headed to the front door. “Your shift doesn’t end for another several hours. Plus, we’re going to be busy today. We’ve got the best seats in the house to watch as they get set up for filming.”

  “I’ll bring you all back a coffee,” I said. “Tell Cooper to set up another appointment, and I’ll prepare a few more things in advance.”

  My stomping lasted all the way to Blueberry Café—a quaint little coffee shop owned by Matt Bridge’s grandmother. I toned down my stomping as I pulled open the front door and called my order to a waiting, smiling June.

  “I need a coffee, stat,” I said, collapsing onto the counter. “Black. Strong. As strong as you can make it. And a couple of other coffees to go for my mom and Allie.”

  “Rough day?” she asked kindly.

  “Don’t get me started,” I said. “I don’t know how to recover. I’m not sure I’ll ever recover. I’m not sure it’s possible to recover.” Another image of Cooper shirtless flooded my thoughts. “I’m scarred for life.”

  Chapter 3

  The next morning found me awake much earlier than I’d been in a long, long time. I danced my way out of bed and pliéd into my newest pair of Jenny Hope shoes. I knew everyone would say they were impractical for a day spent walking around the Mall of America, but I didn’t care. Today was a shopping day. Shopping days were cause for celebration.

  I tied my hair back into a quick and easy topknot, then added a flourish with a violet floral scarf. The one thing I didn’t have time to mess with was hair in my face while I was on the prowl for a bargain. A girl could only focus on so many things at one time, and it wouldn’t be on my hair getting stuck to my lip gloss.

  I added a cute pair of jeans and a ruffled tank top that had plenty of stretch to it. I needed to be able to reach high and low, left and right, forward and backward. I added a touch-up of nail po
lish to my toes until a happy shade of pink poked through my peep-toe heels. I’d gotten a manicure at Butternut Babes salon the night before after my shift had ended. I was as ready as I’d ever be.

  I hopped downstairs, humming a song that had no actual tune to it. No pitch for that matter, either. It was impossible to keep my excitement under wraps. After months living in Blueberry Lake, I was finally making it up to the famed Mall of America.

  Some might be surprised by the fact that I hadn’t been to the mall yet, but I had a plethora of good excuses. First off, I’d only recently secured a car, and therefore my freedom. Then there was the fact that most of my waking moments thus far had been dedicated to the two murder cases I’d found myself wrapped up in since my arrival from LA. Helping get my mother’s store get back on track had also needed to be fitted in there. Last, but definitely not least, was the whole teensy fact that I didn’t have money.

  I still didn’t have a ton of money, but it wasn’t exactly my choice to go to the mall. If a girl got called to show another girl around the mall, it would just be rude to say no. And I was becoming Minnesota Nice. I was practically under contract to show Cassidy a good time.

  Once downstairs, I pretended to scrounge through my kitchen cupboards in search of coffee, knowing I wouldn’t find anything of the sort. I snatched a darling purse with cute yellow ruffles along the side and a bright orange shoulder strap that added a nice contrasting pop of color as well as functionality. Nobody was going to get that purse off my shoulder, and it left me hands free. Safety and style.

  Making my way to the front door, I peeped out the windows and found an unfamiliar car parked on the street. Actually, that part was a lie. The car wasn’t exactly unfamiliar, I just didn’t want it to be there. A purple monstrosity purchased from the only car dealer who would sell bullet-riddled vehicles in the State of Minnesota. I knew this because I’d purchased my car from the very same guy.

  That vehicle could only ever possibly belong to one person. However, that person was nowhere to be seen. I glanced around, but I couldn’t find Allie. I wondered if she’d gone across the street to visit her living and breathing calendar, Angela Dewey.