Chapter 15
Bernie was not happy. It had been a bad morning and a worse early afternoon.
First there had been the burnt scones, then she’d tripped and spilled a pot of coffee on the floor, and she wasn’t even going to think of the half-moldy raspberries she’d taken delivery of.
And having to shop for clothes wasn’t putting her in a better mood. Far from it. Even though Bernie was trying, she couldn’t help dwelling on the clothes she’d been forced to leave behind in L.A. Especially her red leather skirt. And her Jimmy Choo’s.
She’d never be able to afford to replace them. The thought of their sitting around in the Salvation Army gave her an actual pain. At least Joe could have had the decency to take them to an upscale consignment shop. She should have killed him when she had the chance, she decided.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, here she was reduced to finding something to wear in Longely. In Cara’s Dress Shoppe, for heaven’s sake. She hated places that had names that included words like Olde and Shoppe. They should be purged by the cuteness brigade.
At least back in L.A., Bernie thought as she walked towards Cara’s, finding something wearable wasn’t a problem. Unlike here in the land of soccer moms and elastic waists and pastel colors.
All Bernie was asking for was a plain black or white T-shirt and a pair of low-slung, slightly bell-bottom jeans. They had to have something like that, right? And then on Thursday she’d take Metro North down to the city and do some real shopping.
But when Bernie opened the door, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Everything had changed. The place could have been in Brentwood or SoHo.
Bernie’s eyes widened as Nigel’s girlfriend, Janet, came out from behind the counter to greet her. She was decked out in a prairie skirt, T-shirt, and a knotted leather and turquoise belt that could have come straight out of the pages of Elle. The orange suede sandals she was wearing weren’t bad either.
“You work here?” Bernie asked.
“I own it,” Janet replied. “Libby didn’t tell you?”
“Maybe she did and I wasn’t listening.”
Something that happened more than she was willing to admit.
Janet indicated the store with a sweep of her hand.
“Nice, isn’t it?” she said to Bernie.
“Nice? It’s fantastic. Where’s Cara?”
“She got married and moved up to Alaska. I bought the place from her last year.”
“Good change,” Bernie said appreciatively. “Very good indeed.”
“I like to think so.” Janet tucked a curl of dark brown hair behind her ear. “I sold all the old merchandise and brought in new lines. Now I’ve got Prada, I’ve got Harrari and Nicole Rozan, Dolce and Gabbana. I’ve got Robert Clergerie shoes, Carol Little sweaters, Lisa Jenks jewelry.”
“How come?”
“I decided to stock stuff like this?”
Bernie nodded.
“I saw an opportunity to fill a niche.” Janet gave the word the French pronunciation. “We’re getting a lot of Japanese families moving into town and they have—ah, how should I put this—more sophisticated tastes and the money to back them up. This way they don’t have to go into the city to shop. It’s all right here. Anyway, two boutiques carrying soccer mom clothing in one town are enough. We don’t need three. I was thinking of changing the name to Chrysalis.”
“Emerging from a cocoon. I like it.”
“It doesn’t sound too . . . exotic?”
“Not really. Or,” Bernie suggested, “you could use the word chrysos, the Greek word for gold from which chrysalis is derived.”
“How do you know that?” Janet asked.
“What can I say? I read dictionaries in my spare time,” Bernie said as she took in the store’s brick walls, polished cement floor, and exposed air ducts, its silk-covered chairs and pots full of Johnny jump-ups and forget-me-nots and Shasta daisies spilling out onto the floor.
“Dictionaries?”
“I’ve always loved words,” Bernie explained. “You know,” she continued, “this is a wonderful space and I love the stuff you have,” she told Janet. “But I don’t think I can afford you. My ex-boyfriend threw out my clothes. I’m starting from scratch.”
“I’d kill him.”
“I would if I were there.”
Janet retied her belt.
“Nigel would never do anything like that.”
Bernie sighed.
“I didn’t think Joe would either.”
“Men are such a pain in the ass,” Janet observed. “Speaking of which, how’s your sister doing now that Orion’s back in town?”
Bernie groaned. “They went out for a drink.”
“That’s too bad. I’d hate to see her getting hurt all over again.”
“I know. I’m trying to get her interested in Marvin.”
“Marvin’s a nice guy. She could use someone like him.”
“We all could,” Bernie observed, thinking of Joe.
Janet laughed and changed the subject. “You should check out the back room,” she told Bernie. “I’ve got great sale stuff. If I were you I’d buy a few really nice pieces and fill in the rest at Old Navy.”
Bernie nodded and walked towards the back. A couple of moments later, she returned with an armload of clothes.
“Any dressing room?”
“Whichever one you like. So,” Janet said as Bernie closed the door and began to strip, “would you consider staying here permanently?”
Bernie wiggled into a black spandex dress with little holes cut in the side.
“I really don’t know.”
Nope. Too weird. She took it off and tried on a pair of black straight-cut pants. Yes. These were better. She slipped on a vermilion T-shirt with a heart in the center and the words Havana written across them and came out.
“Not bad,” Janet said as Bernie looked at herself in the mirror.
“I don’t know. The pants make my ass look too big.”
“Men like women with big butts, but if it bothers you, wear a longer shirt.” And Janet went to get one. “Here,” she said, handing Bernie a white shirt. “Try this on. I bet Libby’s happy you’re here.”
Bernie slipped the shirt over the T-shirt.
“I’m not so sure she is.”
“Why? This way she can take some time off. You can help out with your dad and the store.”
“That’s the problem. She says she wants help, but I’m not sure she really does. I don’t think she would know what to do with free time if she had it.”
“That’s true of a lot of people,” Janet observed.
“Not me.” Bernie looked at herself in the mirror again. Then she inspected the price tag. “It’s a little high.”
“Get the shirt,” Janet urged. “You can wear it with everything.” She moved closer to Bernie. “So who do you think did it?”
“Did what?”
“Poisoned Lionel, of course. Nigel says he thinks Lydia did it. What do you think?”
Bernie frowned.
“I don’t know. Why does Nigel say Lydia did it?”
“Two reasons. One, she got him the water.”
“Everyone had access to the water,” Bernie protested.
“But Nigel overheard Lydia and Lionel fighting downstairs just before they drove off to the dinner.”
“What were they fighting about?”
Janet lowered her voice and looked around even though no one else was in the store.
“Lionel threatened to turn Lydia in to the authorities.”
“For what?”
“Nigel doesn’t know. He didn’t hear the rest of the conversation.”
“Did Nigel tell the police what he heard?”
“It’s just his word. And he and Lydia aren’t exactly friends. He’s afraid they’ll think he’s trying to railroad her.”
“How come?”
Janet waved her hand in the air. “It’s a long, complicated story.”
“Even so. He should tell them anyway.”
“That’s what I keep saying to him, but he won’t listen. He thinks he’s got a line straight to God. I can’t tell you what a pain in the ass he’s being since Lionel died.”
Bernie clicked her tongue against her teeth while she thought. Finally she said, “I’ll take the shirt and the T-shirt. I’m still thinking about the pants.”
“Marked down from three hundred dollars to fifty,” Janet said. “You’re not going to do better than that.”
“You’re right. I’ll take them too,” Bernie told Janet.
She picked up a large bag. It was yellow canvas in front, leather in back, with the words Italia Postale stenciled on it. “How much?”
“Six hundred. It is great, isn’t it? I got it in Milan.”
Bernie nodded and handed the bag back to Janet.
“Who knows,” Janet said as she put it back where it had been. “Maybe you’ll win the lottery.” Janet straightened up. “Anyway, from what I heard, Lydia and Lionel were always fighting.”
“Then why did she work for him?”
Janet shrugged. “I imagine the money was good.”
“I don’t know.” Bernie picked up the bag again and slung it over her shoulder. “Sometimes famous people pay worse than anyone else,” she said, thinking of the time she’d worked for a famous chef. “They think it’s a privilege to work for them. What I’m wondering about is what was Lydia doing in Lionel’s room.”
“She said she wanted to show us Lionel’s fangs. Did you know she’s planning on selling them and his capes on eBay?”
Janet shook her head as Bernie handed the bag back to her.
“I don’t know who’s worse,” Bernie said as Libby walked through the door. “The people selling or the people buying.”