Lavender Lipstick Lies: A Mystery of Makeup & Mayhem by Mary Maxwell

Despite the whirlwind of
emotions that I’d been on since we left St. Louis, it felt like the
conversations with my husband were helping me regain my footing. I didn’t feel
quite as jittery or befuddled, although the surprise of finding the caftan and
hat in Bree’s room resurfaced a few times during the session.
    It was that recurrent image that
made me grab Bree as we left the meeting room.
    “I need to talk to you,” I said.
    She smiled. “Well, I’m right here.
What’s up?”
    I shook my head. “In private,” I suggested.
“After we get back upstairs to the suite.”
    One corner of her mouth lifted in a
sideways smirk. “Why the mystery?”
    Emma overheard the remark and edged
between us as we walked. “What’s happening now?” she said lightly. “I will not
tolerate dissension among the ranks, ladies. This weekend is a rare chance to enjoy
ourselves without husbands and kids squeaking about what I fixed for dinner.”
    “Speak for yourself,” I said,
trying to keep the mood buoyant. “Our only child has four legs and a bottomless
appetite for rawhide chews.”
    “Consider yourself lucky for now,”
Bree said. “Once you and Robert have the first one, these trips will be even
more important.”
    We walked down a wide corridor
leading from the hotel’s convention area to the main lobby. Every so often,
Bree shot a curious glance in my direction, but I held a smile on my face and
kept the carefree banter going. For a split second, I regretted waiting until
we were in the suite to ask her about the red hat and floral caftan, but then I
dismissed the thought. Even though I couldn’t imagine Bree being involved in
whatever prank was being played, there was no doubt in my mind that the hat and
caftan were identical to the outfit I’d seen on the intruder. I needed to ask
her about them before any more time passed.
    “Should we have lunch before we go upstairs?”
Emma suggested as we reached the lobby.
    Bree shook her head. “Abby wants to
talk to me in private,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows comically. “Lunch will
have to wait.”
    Emma frowned. “What’s up with the
secrecy?” she asked me. “Are you guys going to gossip again about how much I
ate at dinner last night?”
    Bree giggled as she punched the
button for the elevator. “That wasn’t gossip,” she said, pinching Emma’s cheek.
“That was fact. I’ve never seen anyone eat so many grilled shrimp in one
sitting.”
    A soft chime sounded when the VIP
elevator arrived. An elderly couple stepped out and tottered toward the casino.
Once they were clear of the doors, I followed Emma onto the car, which filled
quickly with other Splendora attendees and hotel guests.
    As the two heavy doors began
gliding together, a voice called from the lobby. “Will you hold that, please?”
    Before anyone could reach for the
control panel, a slender hand with gleaming crimson nails shot into the
narrowing gap. The door shuddered and lurched before sliding open again.
    “Sorry, ladies!” apologized a tall
woman with light brown hair swept into a chic braid down her back. “I hate
waiting for the VIP elevator. It can sometimes take days to arrive.”
    A few other people muttered in
agreement as we began gliding silently up through the building toward our
floor. I kept my eyes on the lights above the door, silently glowing and
dimming with each passing level. When my stomach growled and I began thinking
about lunch, I heard my phone ring in my bag. I started to instinctively answer
the call, but then decided it would be best to wait until we were back in the
suite. There’s nothing worse than someone blabbing away in a crowded elevator.
    “Oh, my God!” the latecomer
suddenly peeped. “Is that you, Bree?”
    I glanced up. Bree had been reading
an email on her phone when the woman clambered onto the elevator. At the sound
of her name, she looked over and giggled excitedly.
    “Amanda!” She gave the tall woman a
big hug. “I didn’t know you