Murder at the Makeover Read online

  Murder at the Makeover

  A Pet Portraits Cozy Mystery

  Book #6

  Sandi Scott

  Copyright © 2018 Sandi Scott and Gratice Press

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at [email protected]

  Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction

  Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To friends of all kinds...Casey, a real friend to us kids, and my husband Manuel, my best friend, best confidant, best love.

  Kathleen

  Contents

  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

  Letter from the Author

  About the Book Cover

  PREVIEW: Madeleine Murder

  Recipe: Brownie Croissant

  Recipe: Decadent Chocolate Coconut Flour Brownies

  RECIPE: Chocolate Coconut Balls

  Murder at the Makeover

  Chapter 1

  “What is all that?” Aleta asked as she scratched her head and yawned.

  “My mail. I forgot to get it yesterday,” Georgie Kaye replied to her twin sister before yawning in kind. “Let me in before someone sees me in my bathrobe.”

  “Since when does that matter? Are there any letters in there? It looks like it’s all magazines. Why are you on so many mailing lists?” Aleta began the usual morning ritual of grabbing two cups, filling them with strong coffee, and presenting her sister with something sweet for breakfast. Today, it was a raspberry coffee cake drizzled with icing along with some margarine to spread, if they wanted to be especially decadent.

  “You can’t just walk into a store and buy the kind of clothes I like.” Georgie pouted. “These are specialty stores. You should take a look. Buy yourself something that doesn’t look like librarian clothing!”

  “Why would I buy anything like that when I can just walk next door and raid your closet?” Aleta took her seat and began to cut the coffee cake. “That is—if I wanted to look like a peacock that survived an explosion in a neon paint factory!”

  Georgie harrumphed.

  “Look at this: pay bill, pay bill, irrigate lawn, get car insurance, find a new dentist. Does anyone ever mail a letter just to say hi? A card even? What a world!” Georgie grabbed the cake Aleta had placed in front of her and slathered it with margarine before taking a big bite. “Oh, this is good!”

  “We haven’t had coffee cake in a while. I thought it would be a nice change,” Aleta said dabbing the corners of her mouth with a paper napkin.

  “Tomorrow, you come to my house.” Georgie nodded.

  “I thought you had a couple of paintings to finish. You have the tendency to spread out when you are working on more than one.”

  Georgie had been bombarded with pet portrait orders, all coming due within the next couple of weeks.

  “When it rains, it pours. I’m almost finished with the beagle, Sloopy. There is also the tuxedo cat, Phil, that I just started painting last night even though I told Mr. Kearns I was halfway done with it. On the other hand, I’m having trouble with Genghis and Khan.”

  “Why? What breed of dogs are they?”

  “They aren’t dogs.” Georgie wrinkled her nose. “They are rats.”

  “You didn’t tell me you were painting rats.”

  “Their joint portrait is a special present from Mr. and Mrs. Creele to their son, Bryan, who is going off to college and not taking the little critters with him.”

  “That mother should be presented for sainthood. Had Emily ever wanted rats, I would have told her she could go sleep in an alley over on Madison Avenue and Paulina Street.”

  “The rats are in a glass case on my sun porch, kicking around in sawdust and pooping everywhere with their whiskers twitching—and they’ve got those bony feet that look like skeleton hands! They creep me out!” Georgie shivered.

  “Look for the beauty, Georgie. You’ll make those little vermin look like the snuggly, sweet balls of fur Bryan loves.” Aleta laughed and took a big bite of coffee cake.

  Georgie patted her sister’s hand. “Here, would you like to pick something out of Midnight Velvet? They have some really beautiful outfits. Most of them have hats that match.”

  “That sounds like an adult film company.”

  “I guess you’d know about those things, Aleta. I have no such knowledge.” Georgie raised her chin high as she continued looking down at her stack of mail. “Oh, what’s this?”

  Georgie held up an elaborately designed envelope that was addressed to her in a rolling, elegant script. “It looks like an invitation,” Aleta said.

  “Do we know anyone who might be getting married?” Georgie tapped her chin. “I can’t think of anyone.”

  “You know how you can find out?” Aleta leaned on the table while cutting two more slices of coffee cake. “You can open the envelope.”

  “Aren’t you smart!” Georgie tore open the letter and mumbled at her sister something Aleta couldn’t quite hear. “You aren’t going to believe this. It’s an invitation all right—from Clara Lu!”

  “Clara Lu? What in the world does she want?” Aleta almost yelled.

  “I see your feelings for her haven’t changed.” Georgie chuckled.

  “Why would they? She made high school a nightmare.”

  “What are you talking about? You loved high school, a sure sign of insanity in my opinion, but you always talk about how much fun it was.” Georgie wiped her own mouth with a napkin. “You were a cheerleader and on the debating team, and didn’t you do a couple of plays in between?”

  “I was never in any plays,” Aleta said with certainty.

  “Right. That was me. I get us confused sometimes.” Georgie giggled and pulled the fresh piece of coffee cake closer.

  “Clara Lu was also on the debating team and in cheerleading. Whatever I was doing, it was like Clara had to do it, too. Every time I turned around, she was there like a sinister shadow.”

  “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” Georgie enjoyed needling her sister.

  “Whoever said that was trying to legitimize emulating someone else,” Aleta said firmly. “Clara Lu wasn’t just imitating me, either. She had a bee in her bonnet and had to best me at everything.”

  “Right. Aleta Kaye was never competitive. How many blue ribbons for debating did you have? I think you had a few for spelling bees, or was that me, too?”

  “You? Blue ribbons for spelling? Maybe, if it was for the most creative ways to misspell words!” Aleta teased.

  Georgie couldn’t help but laugh with Aleta. Georgie was the complete opposite of her sister when it came to studies. Where Aleta loved and understood advanced algebra, Georgie struggled with basic long division. But where Georgie could look at a person and sketch their image almost
exactly, Aleta’s stick figures were monumentally bad.

  “What is the reason old Clara Lu is sending you a letter?” Having taken a sip of coffee, Aleta almost started to choke. “Tell me she isn’t arranging a class reunion.”

  “She isn’t arranging a class reunion per se. But, she is requesting our company at a bruncheon. From the sound of it, there will be a couple of gals there from our class—a celebration of women our age. I think that sounds nice.”

  “Ugh.”

  “You aren’t the least bit interested in seeing some of the people from high school?” Georgie was incredulous, “You’ve got every reason to go! You had a successful marriage to a wonderful guy. Your business did so well you retired early and passed it along to your one and only beautiful daughter. You’re the type of person people love to hate at reunions.”

  “I didn’t get an invitation.” Aleta sipped her coffee.

  “Ha! Clara says right here at the bottom, ‘Hope that you and Aleta can come. Would love to see you both and catch up. Love, C.L.’”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Georgie held up the card and pointed to the cursive handwriting at the bottom of the card, which was as stylish as the calligraphy printed on the card.

  Aleta read the words but still rolled her eyes.

  “Let’s go.”

  “You’re out of your mind.” Aleta chuckled.

  “It will be fun.”

  “No.”

  “I’ll be there with you.” Georgie looked at the card. “Look—food and lively discussions—I think this will be a nice break from our everyday humdrum. Say you’ll go.”

  “No.”

  “Just come and say hi to the people you do like, maybe make some new friends.”

  “Uhm, no.”

  “Then do it for me. I don’t want to go alone. You know we’ll have fun. We always do. As your older sister, I am telling you that you have to go!”

  “Not again with the older sister bit! You are only a couple of minutes older, Georgie—minutes!” Georgie was always trying to pull rank on her twin sister because Georgie had beat Aleta down the birth canal. She was never going to let Aleta forget that tiny, but important, fact. Aleta watched Georgie fold her arms and rearrange her face into a frown before relenting, “Fine. When is it?”

  “Friday. The day after tomorrow.” Georgie’s face instantly lit up and she bounced in her seat. “We should go shopping for something new to wear!”

  “I have plenty of clothes,” Aleta said.

  “Yes, but you might want to buy something nice that doesn’t look like it’s meant for Mrs. Frump McFrumpster.” Georgie chuckled a little as she stood to get herself more coffee.

  “Aren’t you funny. Okay, I’ll go. But I am only staying for an hour—just enough time to say hello, eat, and say goodbye.”

  “I’ll take it.” Georgie picked up another magazine. “Here you go. Pick an outfit from this. White Rhino is a fabulous catalog.”

  “The woman on the cover is wearing a feather boa and vinyl pants.”

  “And?”

  “This is like a high-end Frederick’s of Hollywood.” Aleta tossed the catalog back on the pile.

  “No, it isn’t. But I think I have one of those in here, too, somewhere.”

  “Planning on getting back with Stan? That’s what that magazine is for, if you catch my meaning. Wait until I tell him you’re getting that magazine! He’s going to shower, shave, and douse himself in Aqua Velva!”

  Georgie shook her head but didn’t reply.

  “What’s this? No reply? Are you seriously considering getting back with him? Did I say something wrong?” Aleta was curious; Georgie was not usually this quiet about her ex-husband.

  “No, you didn’t say anything wrong. And no, I’m not getting back with Stan. In fact, I just got a note from Obby.”

  “You did? What did he want?”

  “He wants me to go to the movies with him.”

  “Well, that sounds harmless enough.” Aleta leaned closer to her sister. “You don’t want to go?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to go. I have a great time when I’m out with him. We have so much in common, and he can really tell a story. I love listening to him talk. But, I think he wants things to progress further than I’m ready to go.”

  “Like .... second base?” Aleta asked leaning forward with wide, shocked eyes.

  “No, he’s a total gentleman. Really, he is.”

  “That’s disappointing to you?”

  “No, spaz.” Georgie’s shoulders slumped.

  “I’m teasing you, and I’m sorry. Go ahead. I’m listening.” Aleta was instantly sorry for her comments.

  “We have a lovely time when we go out. He is a gentleman and fascinating. If I had met him earlier, maybe I’d be more willing to make him a serious part of my life, but right now, I’m enjoying my independence too much.”

  Aleta nodded. That was one thing about Georgie that she admired immensely: Georgie was not afraid to be by herself. Aleta couldn’t say the same. It terrified her that there might come a day when strangers were living in the house next door, and Georgie’s new address was Our Lady of Sorrows Cemetery.

  “Have you told him this? That it isn’t him, but that you like your ‘me’ time?”

  “I’ve told him, but he keeps telling me that he’s not going anywhere and that he’s never abandoned a quest, especially of something he considers of great beauty.”

  “He did not say that!” Aleta laughed.

  “I swear.” Georgie crossed her heart.

  “Boy, if you could bottle whatever it is that Obby got a whiff of, you’d be a billionaire.” Aleta looked at her watch. “Yikes! Would you look at the time? Would you like to come to the office with me?”

  “Don’t tell me you are working at the office with Emily again? She’s fully capable of running that place, Aleta.”

  “Of course, Emily is, but I told her that I’d help her with a few things while she tended to the details of moving. Packing up an office for a new location is one hundred times more tedious than moving a house.”

  “I wouldn’t know, but I’ll bet you’re right. Yes, I’ll come with you. Let me go home and change and take Bodhi out. Then, we can discuss where you’d like to go shopping for a new outfit for Clara Lu’s bruncheon.”

  “Are you sure I said I was going?”

  “Your eyes said yes.” Georgie stood, picked up her stack of mail and magazines, and shuffled out of the house in her bathrobe, crossing the lawn to her almost identical brick bungalow house.

  As Georgie stepped in the door, Bodhi, her proud, fawn-colored pug, barked happily, wagging his curled, doughnut-shaped tail and snorting his salutation.

  “Hello, puppy.” Georgie fussed over the pooch as she always did. After a quick walk and a sniff of the air, Bodhi was ready to rest for the remainder of the morning while Georgie got dressed and hurried back to pick up Aleta.

  “I’m driving,” Aleta commanded.

  “What? No, I’m driving. I just cleaned Pablo inside and out. He smells wonderful. I put a new air freshener inside—Tropical Musk,” Georgie boasted. Her orange vintage VW Bug was one of her most prized possessions. She loved the chug-chug-chug of the engine in the trunk and the black and white houndstooth patterned upholstery.

  “Eww, that doesn’t sound like it would smell good!”

  “It’s delightful. It smells like mango and leather.”

  “Like I said, we’re taking my car.”

  Chapter 2

  “You can pretend you don’t like my car all you want, Georgie, but I can tell you are enjoying yourself,” Aleta said. “Admit it. You like my Mercedes.”

  Georgie pursed her lips and rolled the electric window down and then up again. “It’s all right.” She sighed. “I was thinking of where we should go to do a little window shopping for the bruncheon. How about we go to Chinos? I love their stuff. Or Felicia’s Closet. That’s a good one, too—very boho.”

  “You sou
nd like you are speaking a different language.”

  Aleta pulled into the parking lot in front of the office building where the accounting firm she had run with her husband William for many years was located. It was now in the hands of their daughter Emily and, due to business being good, Emily was moving the business to a new office.

  “It is going to be so weird not walking into this building anymore,” Aleta said as she got out of the car. “The new office is beautiful and has a lot of windows, so it will be bright, and the layout is very modern. It suits Emily’s taste perfectly. This was more my style.”

  Georgie liked the old building, too. She had many memories of the sisters having lunch together talking about everything from being new brides to being new mothers and all their children’s ‘firsts’. Aleta becoming a widow and Georgie joining the ranks of the divorced were also topics the ladies wore out over endless cups of coffee. But, in between carrying the heavy crosses of reality, there was laughter—lots of laughter. The Kaye sisters had a way of attending to one another. There were never any strings attached, never any debts to repay. It was what sisters did, especially twins. To do any less would be as foreign to them as speaking Swahili.

  “We have shared a lot in this building,” Aleta said, getting a little choked up. Georgie knew what was coming.

  “Aleta, don’t!”

  “I can’t help it. It was the last thing you told me about before I retired.”

  “You should be remembering your retirement and not my cancer scare. And that’s all it was. I got scared. Then, I got the medicine, and I got the treatment, and now I’m still here.”

  Georgie’s cancer scare was more than a scare, but she hated to see her sister so worried. Downplaying the whole incident was all Georgie could ever think to do as it prevented them both from bursting into tears.

  “Your cancer doctor’s office was right down the street a couple blocks,” Aleta said pointing north. She wanted to distract Georgie’s eyes from her own that were now glazed with tears.