Dior or Die (Joanna Hayworth Vintage Clothing Mysteries Book 2) by Angela M. Sanders
Authors: Angela M. Sanders
Tags: Mystery
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smelled of clean cotton and wood. Damned Eve.
"I don't want to take your money, but how would you feel about doing some work for some nuns? One of them seems to have a knack for web design. I bet she'd finish the Tallulah’s Closet website for me if you helped shore up the convent a bit."
"The nuns you saw today?"
"They're a quirky group. I think you'll like them." She filled him in on the Mother Superior’s offer to trade the dresses for information on Vivienne’s death.
Paul pulled a wavy section of hair gently and released it. "I could do that. At least give them an idea of how much work needs to get done."
"What are you going to do about the police investigation?" he asked.
Joanna felt his arms tense. She leaned into him. "I don't know. I guess I'll call Helena Schuyler North, Vivienne's daughter-in-law. She was friendly. The police must keep her up to date with what's going on."
"All you’re doing is asking, right? And telling the nun? No digging around on your own." He strung his fingers in her hair. "Remember last year," he murmured. "How dangerous it was."
"I know," she whispered. God, she was lucky to have him. "I’m just passing along information. That’s all."
His arms relaxed. "Helena Schuyler North. What a name for a rich lady. Too perfect."
"Mm-hmm." Joanna only half heard him. Crisis averted. For the moment, at least.
CHAPTER NINE
"It's so nice of you to come down to the store." Joanna rose from behind the bamboo-fronted tiki bar that served as the cashier’s table at Tallulah's Closet.
Helena closed the door behind her. "I enjoyed talking with you yesterday. Besides, I was having lunch just up the street and thought it would be nicer to stop by rather than just return your call. I wanted to see your boutique, too."
Her blunt-cut bob and earth-toned ensemble contrasted with the rack of pastel cocktail dresses beside her. Her diamond wedding ring caught the light from the front window and flashed watery brilliance on the opposite wall. "I’ve never been in a vintage clothing store. It’s fabulous."
"Thank you. Against that wall are all the black cocktail and evening dresses. In the middle, in front of the bench, is casual wear—mostly house dresses and cotton sundresses—and over here are the color cocktail dresses. The dressing rooms are in the back."
"What are you doing there?" She pointed toward the tiki bar, covered in papers.
Joanna had been making a list, and some of the papers had half-sketched dresses on them. "Oh, counting my chickens before they hatch, I guess. If the police ever release Vivienne's clothes I want to have a fashion show, invite the press and some of my regulars. These" —she tapped her pen on a drawing— "are some ideas for an invitation."
The sunlight into the store darkened for a moment as a familiar figure passed the front window. He paused for a moment and looked in, then seemed to think the better of it. "Was that Clary?" Joanna asked.
Helena turned to follow Joanna's gaze. "Yes, I think it was. I had lunch with him just now."
She placed her purse on the glass-topped jewelry case and fingered a pair of crystal Eisenberg earrings. "You said on the phone you wanted to talk about Vivienne." She unclipped one of the earrings from its post and held it up to her ear, turning her face to the mirror.
A girl, not more than twelve years old, strode into the store. Wearing designer jeans and sandals with heels, she was dressed more like a co-ed than the middle-school student she must be. Joanna glanced behind the girl to see if her mother followed, but she was alone.
Joanna waved. "Let me know if I can help you find anything."
"Just looking, thanks." The girl’s heels clicked toward a display of reptile box bags from the 1930s.
Joanna returned her attention to Helena. "I'm sorry to bring up Vivienne again. I know it can't be easy for you." Helena nodded but turned toward the girl. "I went to the convent, like you suggested, to see if the nuns
"I don't want to take your money, but how would you feel about doing some work for some nuns? One of them seems to have a knack for web design. I bet she'd finish the Tallulah’s Closet website for me if you helped shore up the convent a bit."
"The nuns you saw today?"
"They're a quirky group. I think you'll like them." She filled him in on the Mother Superior’s offer to trade the dresses for information on Vivienne’s death.
Paul pulled a wavy section of hair gently and released it. "I could do that. At least give them an idea of how much work needs to get done."
"What are you going to do about the police investigation?" he asked.
Joanna felt his arms tense. She leaned into him. "I don't know. I guess I'll call Helena Schuyler North, Vivienne's daughter-in-law. She was friendly. The police must keep her up to date with what's going on."
"All you’re doing is asking, right? And telling the nun? No digging around on your own." He strung his fingers in her hair. "Remember last year," he murmured. "How dangerous it was."
"I know," she whispered. God, she was lucky to have him. "I’m just passing along information. That’s all."
His arms relaxed. "Helena Schuyler North. What a name for a rich lady. Too perfect."
"Mm-hmm." Joanna only half heard him. Crisis averted. For the moment, at least.
CHAPTER NINE
"It's so nice of you to come down to the store." Joanna rose from behind the bamboo-fronted tiki bar that served as the cashier’s table at Tallulah's Closet.
Helena closed the door behind her. "I enjoyed talking with you yesterday. Besides, I was having lunch just up the street and thought it would be nicer to stop by rather than just return your call. I wanted to see your boutique, too."
Her blunt-cut bob and earth-toned ensemble contrasted with the rack of pastel cocktail dresses beside her. Her diamond wedding ring caught the light from the front window and flashed watery brilliance on the opposite wall. "I’ve never been in a vintage clothing store. It’s fabulous."
"Thank you. Against that wall are all the black cocktail and evening dresses. In the middle, in front of the bench, is casual wear—mostly house dresses and cotton sundresses—and over here are the color cocktail dresses. The dressing rooms are in the back."
"What are you doing there?" She pointed toward the tiki bar, covered in papers.
Joanna had been making a list, and some of the papers had half-sketched dresses on them. "Oh, counting my chickens before they hatch, I guess. If the police ever release Vivienne's clothes I want to have a fashion show, invite the press and some of my regulars. These" —she tapped her pen on a drawing— "are some ideas for an invitation."
The sunlight into the store darkened for a moment as a familiar figure passed the front window. He paused for a moment and looked in, then seemed to think the better of it. "Was that Clary?" Joanna asked.
Helena turned to follow Joanna's gaze. "Yes, I think it was. I had lunch with him just now."
She placed her purse on the glass-topped jewelry case and fingered a pair of crystal Eisenberg earrings. "You said on the phone you wanted to talk about Vivienne." She unclipped one of the earrings from its post and held it up to her ear, turning her face to the mirror.
A girl, not more than twelve years old, strode into the store. Wearing designer jeans and sandals with heels, she was dressed more like a co-ed than the middle-school student she must be. Joanna glanced behind the girl to see if her mother followed, but she was alone.
Joanna waved. "Let me know if I can help you find anything."
"Just looking, thanks." The girl’s heels clicked toward a display of reptile box bags from the 1930s.
Joanna returned her attention to Helena. "I'm sorry to bring up Vivienne again. I know it can't be easy for you." Helena nodded but turned toward the girl. "I went to the convent, like you suggested, to see if the nuns
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