Frosted Shadow, a Toni Diamond Mystery: Toni Diamond Mysteries (7 page)

She walked to the kitchenette, her boots clacking when she hit the linoleum, and poured three mugs, putting cream and sugar into pots decorated either with ducks or geese, it was hard to tell which. The artist hadn’t been much of an ornithologist.

“You want coffee, Tiff?”

“I won’t be responsible for deforesting South America and enslaving the people on coffee plantations.”

“Guess that’s a no.”

“I’ll get some herbal tea in a minute,” Tiffany said, and he thought there was a shred of sheepishness in her tone.

“Looks like some interesting books,” he said to her. “You taking summer school?”

“No. I like to read.”

“Tiffany’s practically a genius,” Linda said proudly. “Reads all the time and goes to a gifted class. She knows all kinds of strange things.”

The girl slumped lower. If she’d been a turtle she’d have pulled her head all the way into her shell.

“What did you have for breakfast, honey?” Toni asked her daughter.

“I offered her eggs and bacon, but—”

“I’m a vegan.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “You can’t be a vegan in Texas. It’s against the constitution.”

“I had an organic apple in my bag. I ate that.”

Linda offered him cream and sugar, both of which he declined. “One of her nicknames is “The Iron Butterfly”, you know -- Dolly Parton. She’s a very shrewd businesswoman. She’s the secret to my own modest success as a Lady Bianca representative.” He noticed now that the big necklace resting on her ample chest was a butterfly. “Why, whenever I’m stuck on something, I just think,” here the other two joined in so in three-part harmony he heard, “what would Dolly do?”

The only quote he could recall from Dolly Parton was, “It takes a lot of money to look this cheap.” Somehow, he didn’t think this was the right moment to bring that up.

While he drank coffee, and Tiffany tapped away at her computer, the two older women opened the boxes of cosmetics supplies and checked off the items inside with a master list. Linda wrote a check, which she gave to her daughter.

When they started carting the stuff down the narrow hallway, he rose and said, “Let me help you with that,” -- not entirely to be chivalrous but because he wanted to see more of the business first hand.

“Such a gentleman,” Linda said. Not to him, it appeared, but to her daughter. She led them to a bedroom in the mobile home that was lined with deep storage cupboards, all neatly labeled.
Advertising and Marketing Materials
, he read on one,
Eyes
,
Lips, Cheeks, Skin Care
. She opened a cupboard and started placing eye shadows in custom made compartments with the speed of a seasoned Mahjong player.

“I’m planning to focus on lips tomorrow night,” Linda told her daughter.

“Good idea. Start them off with the lip conditioner with SPF 15 and conditioning oils. It’s amazing how many women forget to put sunscreen or any kind of moisturizer on their lips. And think how much work they do.”

Based on the way these gals could talk, he figured their mouths ought to be worn out by now.

“Then, don’t forget the make-up artist’s insider tip about putting your foundation on your lips as well as your face. Evens out the tones and provides a nice base for the product to adhere to.”

They’d finished with the eye products and were now packing pencils, tubes and little plastic pots in individual compartments within her lip cupboard.

“Right, I remember. And then outline the lip with pencil.”

“Mmm-hmm. Same color as the lipstick you’re going to choose. Then fill in with the lipstick, and you can highlight the center of the lower lip with a swipe of glittery gloss, or go over the entire lip with one of the sheer shimmering glosses.”

“How many is that?”

Toni grinned. “Five products for one pair of lips. Not bad. And your gals will look so gorgeous they’ll have to buy them all.”

“Plus some of the girls already told me they’re running low on the eye products from my last party.”

“Good. Make sure you display all the new eye colors. The palette for fall is really pretty.”

He started opening cabinets and found each of them packed with stuff. “I thought you were short on stock.”

“I was.”

“How many women are you expecting at this party of yours? There’s a ton of stuff in here.”

“But not in every color. The secret is to be well stocked so that when a client needs a raspberry sherbet lip gloss you have one. What always happens to me is that I’ve got a dozen strawberry shortcake lip glosses but I’m fresh out of the raspberry. You see, Detective, I operate like a store, only without the expense of rent and staff.

“My customers don’t want to wait for me to order their products; they want me to have items available for them at any time. That’s why I needed Toni to stock me up before my
Love your Lips
party tomorrow night.” She turned to Toni. “Wait ‘til I show you the invitations. They’re shaped like kisses. When I saw them I knew I had to have the party. It was a sign.”

“Stevie next door wanted to know why I was throwing a Valentine’s party in July. If brains were grease she wouldn’t have enough to slick the head of a pin.”

He recalled the check writing. “And you have to buy all this stuff up front?”

“Exactly like a store. I buy at wholesale and sell at retail, which gives me a very nice fifty percent profit on all my sales.”

He opened all the cupboards except the one marked
Men
because, frankly, he didn’t want to know.

“Where are the sample packs you give out when you do a makeover?”

“
Advertising and Marketing
.”

He opened the cupboard. Inside, along with poster board glossies of faces that looked as though they belonged at a display booth, and boxes of brochures, business cards and catalogs, he found four varieties of the same sample pack that had been beside the dead woman when she’d been found.

Toni left what she was doing and came up beside him. “Here’s what I was talking about. We’ve got sample packs in different shades to complement a client’s coloring. These are the ones for this year.” She raised her voice, “Mama, do you have any of the sample packs from last year?”

“Goodness, no, honey. Why would I have those? They’re no good anymore.”

Toni raised her eyebrows at him. “See? No rep with an ounce of integrity is going to give out old ones.”

He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the plastic package. Even mass produced, they had to cost a buck or two a pop. “Do the reps have to buy those?”

“Of course.”

“Marketing must cost a ton.”

“Cost of doing business, Detective. You get out of an enterprise what you put into it.”

Or invested your hard-earned money in a lot of colored junk you couldn’t sell. He supposed it was, as Toni would no doubt tell him, all about attitude.

The three of them headed back down the hallway to the main living area.

“How about staying for lunch, honey? I’ve got some fruit salad and I can rustle up –”

“We can’t stay. I’m going to miss a session as it is, and Detective Marciano has a murder to solve.”

“Murder?” Her mother suddenly dropped the happy face, and he saw Toni’s lips move, no doubt as she swore silently at herself. He didn’t think she’d intended to tell her mom there’d been a murder -- though she was being naïve if she thought it wouldn’t be in all the papers and on the local TV.

“Who was murdered?” Linda Plotnik glanced at him, “And what does Toni have to do with it?”

“Nothing, Mama. It’s nothing to do with me. The woman had had a Lady Bianca makeover that’s all, and the police want to know all about our business in case there’s a connection.” She turned to him. “Even though there isn’t one.”

Linda Plotnik did not look relieved. “I never watch the news or read the papers if I can help; it. Too negative. But—“ She put a hand to her chest. “Oh, my. A woman involved in Lady Bianca was murdered? I hope you’re looking after my girl, Detective.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She turned to Toni, a worried expression pulling her eyebrows together. “And don’t you go putting your nose in things that are none of your business.”

“I won’t.”

Ignoring her daughter, she turned back to Luke. “She does, you know. Nosy. That’s what she is. Always has been from the time she was no bigger than a June bug.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Are you a married man, Detective?”

“Not that!”

“Well, it’s the other subject I’m interested in.”

“Mother,” Toni said in a warning tone. “Detective Marciano is here on business.”

Those baby blue doll’s eyes widened. “I’m thinking about business. He could have a wife, girlfriend, mother, sisters, all kinds of future Lady Bianca customers. You don’t know until you ask.”

Luke felt sizzles of emotion running through the atmosphere. Toni’s cheeks were pink with embarrassment. Linda, unabashed, was clearly checking him out. And from the kid he picked up pure, unadulterated humiliation to be stuck in this trailer with these people.

“I’m divorced,” he finally said. “And I don’t think I’ll be buying my ex-wife make up any time soon. Sisters and mother live too far away. But thanks.”

“Toni’s divorced, too.”

“Mama!”

“In case you were wondering.”

“Did you bring my eyeliners?” Tiffany asked her mother.

“Yes. Glad you reminded me.” She hefted her purse and pulled out a quartet of black pencils.

“Cool.”

“And be good for Grandma. She’s really excited about you helping with the party tomorrow.”

“Whatever.”

While Toni had a few words with her daughter, the mother sidled up to him not looking at all abashed at being caught out in some of the most heavy-handed match making he’d ever witnessed. “Don’t mind me. I want to see her happy, is all.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I have no patience for subtlety.” Like that was news. He had a shrewd idea she bullied her friends into buying makeup.

She looked at him with eyes that reminded him of Toni’s. “You’re a good man. I can tell these things. I’m a lot smarter than I look, you know.”

“I know.” He leaned closer, so he could see each individual platinum curl and the smell of hairspray caught in the back of his throat. “So’s your daughter.”

She laughed aloud at that and patted him on the shoulder. “I hope I see you again.”

“Good-bye, Mother,” Toni said, before he could answer. Which he figured was just as well.

“Sorry about that,” Toni said as soon as they were back on the road. “I thought you being a cop might intimidate my mama. Seems I was wrong.”

“Don’t be hard on her. I like your mom.”

“Truth is, I like her too.” She sighed. “And one day, I hope, my daughter will like me again.” She glanced over at him. “Do you have kids?”

“No. Never got around to it.”

They were silent for a few minutes as the highway rolled beneath them. “You told Mama you’ve got a mom and sisters, is that true?”

“Sure. I grew up in a big, Italian, Catholic family. I’m the baby with three older sisters who all bossed me around.”

“Wow, you seem so tough to be from an all girl family.”

“Having three older sisters is what made me tough.”

She laughed. “What about your father?”

“He’s been gone three years, now. He was an auto mechanic. Took the business over from his father and wanted me to take over from him. But I knew from way back I wanted to be a cop.”

“So, the business closed?”

He shook his head, looking amused. “
Marciano & Sons
is now run by Maria Marciano, the oldest. He got such a kick out of that.”

“You help her out sometimes?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Your hands. You’ve got a trace of grease under your nails and the skin is cracking, from harsh cleaners, I bet.”

He glanced down at his hands ruefully. “I remodel old trucks. It’s a hobby, specially when I can’t sleep. I was working on one last night.”

“Lady Bianca has a nice cuticle cream that should help with the dry skin and prevent that cracking.”

He chuckled. “You never give up, do you?”

“Don’t worry. I promise not to sell you anything. This is a present.”

She could feel him looking at her. “I want to ask you something and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” Marciano said to her.

She glanced up at him. “Whoa. Now I’m on my guard. Is this how you interrogate your prisoners? ‘I’m going to ask you some tough questions but I don’t want you to take them the wrong way?’”

He met her gaze. “Depends on the prisoner.”

The highway rolled beneath them with a shushing sound.

“So, what do you want to ask me that I might take the wrong way?”

“You’re smart. What are you doing shilling makeup door to door?”

“And here I thought you were going to ask me about my political affiliations or my religious beliefs.” She sighed. “This is not the first time I’ve been asked this question. I love what I do. I like helping a woman bring out her unique beauty. Every face is a new possibility. A blank canvas if you like.”

“Hope you’re more of a Gainsborough than a Picasso,” he muttered, making her snort with laughter.

“I thought you of all people would understand.”

“You thought I would understand selling makeup?”

“In a way, we’re in the same business you and I.”

“Come again?” If she’d grabbed his revolver and shot him with it he couldn’t have looked more shocked.

“Think about it. We both try to clean up the world’s ugliness and make it a better place.”

He hit her with his steeliest glance. “I’m a cop. I fight crime.”

“How much of your day is spent on paperwork and bureaucracy? Boring meetings and community relations?”

“More than I’d like,” he admitted. “But that’s got nothing to do with my question.”

He was so serious looking and yet there was a sizzle of something behind his eyes that suggested this man strapped on his tough cop persona every morning along with his gun holster. She knew all about assuming an identity. She did it every morning, too.

“You know that expression ‘dirt poor’?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I lived it. My daddy was a two-bit rodeo rider when he met Mama. By the time I was born he was already out west trying to break into the movies. He had a bit part in a Spaghetti Western and I guess he thought he was headed for the big time. But Westerns were in decline and he was a bowlegged country boy who didn’t know how to do much but talk Texan and ride a bronco. He stuck it out for a while, doing stunts and eking out a living. But not enough to send us any money. So we lived with my mom’s folks and let me tell you, a Pentecostal preacher in a town where folks were poor was even poorer. If somebody gave him a few dollars for marrying them or something, you know what he’d do?”