Lavender Lipstick Lies: A Mystery of Makeup & Mayhem Page 3

  I did my best to smile and seem confident, but my stomach was twisting and turning in an endless loop of anxiety and insecurity. It was like I’d somehow been transported from the planned and predictable arrangements of our weekend getaway into a Hollywood horror movie with unnamed villains and whispered threats.

  “Do you want anything to drink?” asked Bree. “There’s coconut water and chilled wine in the mini-bar? It might help you relax a little.”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. I just want whatever this is to be over.”

  We sat and waited quietly until Emma and the hotel’s security chief came back into the living room.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  Trevor Cole nodded thoughtfully. “Very curious,” he said. “Is that lipstick sold by your company?”

  “Yes,” Bree offered. “It’s Splendora’s most popular shade and all image consultants receive a Lyrically Luscious Collection every year at the holiday party.”

  “So that would mean everyone attending the conference could potentially have a tube of that lipstick in their possession?”

  Bree shrugged. “I suppose so.”

  “Not to mention customers of the brand,” Cole said. “Which doesn’t help narrow the list of suspects very much.”

  I released Bree’s hand and stood. “Has anything like this been reported by anyone else attending the conference?”

  “No, and I’m very sorry that it’s happened to you,” Cole said. “But I do see two things immediately that are possibly telling clues.”

  “What?” Bree asked, sitting forward in her seat. “Maybe we’ll be able to help find out who’s doing this?”

  “The most obvious thing is that they used lipstick or a similar implement to write the notes,” he said.

  “It’s Lyrically Luscious Lavender!” I offered. “Besides being incredibly popular, it was also the first product Splendora ever developed. It’s still one of the company’s best-sellers every year.”

  Trevor Cole made a note in his pad. “Very well,” he said. “That’s definitely an interesting choice made by the individual or individuals responsible for the notes.”

  “You think more than one person is involved?” asked Bree.

  “It’s too soon to know,” answered the security director. “Whenever we conduct an investigation, we have to keep an open mind. This could be the handiwork of one person. Or it’s also possible that two or more people are doing this.”

  Emma pressed her lips into a frown. “Abby, do you have any ideas?”

  I shook my head. “I’m completely at a loss,” I said. “After what happened this morning, my mind can barely process any of this.”

  Trevor Cole’s face shifted into a look of deep interest. “What happened this morning?” he asked. “Was it another note similar to what’s written on the mirror?”

  I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t anything like that. And it didn’t happen here in Las Vegas. It was…” My face flushed bright red as the startling image of Robert in our living room jumped into my mind again. “It didn’t have anything to do with this,” I continued. “It was a…” I glanced at Emma and Bree, but they were waiting patiently just like Trevor Cole. “I’ll just tell you that it was a personal matter unrelated to the conference.”

  Emma suddenly gasped. “Wait a sec,” she said. “What if it is somehow connected?”

  The possibility sent tremors through my heart. “How could it be?” I asked. “What would my husband’s attempted infidelity have to do with someone warning me about the Achiever Award?”

  I glanced at the security director. His face was blank; I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He reminded me of the police detectives in the movies: stoic, strong and watchful.

  “Well, Mr. Cole?” I asked. “What do we do next?”

  “First of all, I’d like to move you three to our VIP floor for greater security and privacy,” Cole said. “There are actually a few other conference attendees on that floor already. You should keep that in mind since we don’t know yet who is behind the threats. After you’ve moved to a new suite, I’ll get my full team involved. We have a forensics expert on the staff, and I’ll ask her to sweep this suite for any additional clues. I’ll have our surveillance consultant review all of the footage from the CCTV cameras in the hallway and elevators to see if we can identify whoever entered your suite. And the last thing we can do is check the digitized records to see if we can determine which passkey was used to gain entry.”

  “What good does that do?” Bree said.

  “Every employee with authorized clearance is issued a unique passkey,” explained the security director. “Whenever they enter a room or unlock a door anywhere in the resort, the computerized system documents the key’s serial number.”

  “And that would identify who came into our suite?” I asked.

  “It will let us know which passkey was used,” Cole answered. “Now, do you agree with my proposal to move to another suite?”

  Emma and Bree looked at me. I shrugged and waited. Finally, Trevor Cole suggested we let him decide.

  “I know this hotel,” he explained. “And I believe you’ll feel more secure on the VIP level.”

  “I suppose that’s a good idea,” I agreed. “At this point, I’m feeling pretty shaky and uneasy. I don’t really want to risk going through anything like what just happened again while we’re here.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” Emma offered. “I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you, Abby. How terrifying to see a stranger run out of your room!”

  “And finding that horrible message!” Bree added. “That gives me shivers just thinking about it.”

  Trevor Cole pulled out his phone and made a quick call to the front desk. He filled them in on our move, but didn’t give any specifics. When he finished, he explained that members of his security team would be up in a half hour to help us move our luggage to the new suite. He added that someone had already checked the digitized records and determined that a master passkey stolen from the front desk had been used to gain entry to our suite.

  “That’s a rare breach in our security,” Cole added. “But, luckily, another guest found the passkey a few minutes ago and returned it to the front desk.”

  “That’s good,” said Emma. “Although it’s pretty disturbing that they were able to steal it in the first place.”

  Cole nodded. “I don’t disagree,” he said. “And you can rest assured that I’ll be looking into the stolen passkey situation as well.”

  “Thank you so much,” I offered. “We really appreciate your help with all of this.”

  “You’re more than welcome,” Cole said, turning for the door. “And I’d like to apologize again for this unsettling episode. I want you to know that my team and I will work diligently to identify and apprehend whoever is responsible for this unfortunate incident.”

  Chapter 8

  Moving from our original suite to new accommodations on the VIP floor took less than an hour. The hotel sent three female security guards to help us with the process. Luckily, we hadn’t fully unpacked our luggage, so it was relatively easy to collect everything and transfer the bags. Once we were settled in the new suite and Trevor Cole fully explained the additional security features associated with the exclusive level of the hotel, I suggested we head for dinner and a night in the casino. Besides giving each of us his private phone number, the hotel security director had promised to keep in touch as he conducted a thorough investigation into the intrusion. Knowing that he was on the case, I felt a bit less anxious about going forward with our weekend plans.

  “Should we try again?” Emma said after the security director had left. “Let’s see if we can finish getting ready without another scary interruption.”

  Bree patted my arm. “Are you okay, Abby?”

  I nodded and put on a brave face even though the nervous jitters were still twisting around in my stomach.

  “Okay then,” Emma said brightly. “O
ur dinner reservation is in an hour. That gives us time to get ready and swing through the casino on the way. I’m feeling pretty lucky now that we’re officially VIPs!”

  Bree giggled and I managed a weak smile before heading for my room. The curtains were open and I turned to admire the fading sunlight and glittering panorama that stretched from our hotel toward the horizon. In the distance, I saw the jagged ridge of mountains against the glowing orange sky. It was a magical sight; one of my favorite things about visiting Las Vegas was experiencing the natural beauty of the desert. On our last trip, we’d used one of our afternoon leisure sessions to tour the Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area.

  For a brief moment, I stood at the windows and conjured a vision of that seemingly long ago carefree afternoon. I pictured Bree and Emma hiking along one of the dusty desert trails, laughing and joking without a care in the world. Although the past few hours had been the exact opposite of such lighthearted moments, I was going to do my best to whisk away the nagging fears and make our first night in Vegas as memorable as possible.

  “Are you just about ready?” Bree called through the door.

  I glanced at the clock beside the bed. “Give me ten more minutes,” I answered. “I was admiring the view, but I’ll kick into gear now.”

  “Take your time,” she replied. “Emma already called the restaurant. They had a cancellation, so we moved our reservation back by a half hour.”

  The additional time would give me a chance to freshen my makeup and check my hair before slipping into one of the new dresses I bought for the weekend. As I crossed the room toward where I’d left my makeup bag, my phone buzzed on the desk. I retraced my steps, grabbed the droning device and looked at the screen. It was my husband. Again. He’d called nearly a dozen times since we left St. Louis that morning, but I’d ignored the messages he left.

  Knowing that he’d keep it up if I didn’t talk to him, I anxiously clicked onto the call.

  “Hello, Robert,” I said in a cool, clipped voice.

  “You’re okay!” he gushed in a breathless tone. “I’ve been worried sick about you, Abby!”

  After six years of marriage, I could tell that he was being sincere. There was a deep timber to Robert’s voice whenever he was concerned or troubled about something. I heard it the time I was in a minor car accident. I heard it when his brother was involved in a bowling alley brawl in Chicago. And I was hearing it now as he flooded the phone with an endless monologue about how sorry he was for the strange interlude that morning.

  “I don’t want to talk about this now,” I said when he finally paused to take a breath. “I’m here in Las Vegas for business meetings and some frivolous fun with the girls. I saw what I saw this morning, Robert. There’s no way you can deny that a scantily-clad woman was in our house with you.”

  “I’m not trying to deny that,” he said. “I’m trying to tell you that I have no idea who she was!”

  I blurted out a laugh in response. “Oh, come on! You’ve got to do better than that. She was gazing at you like a woman in—”

  “Please, Abby! I’m begging you! I have no clue who that was. After you left for the airport, I went back to the kitchen to have another cup of coffee. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. I figured it was a delivery or one of the neighbors, so I opened the door. That’s when the blonde pushed past me, went into the living room and took off her coat.”

  I detected the same serious tone in Robert’s voice as he described the events of the morning. But there was also something ludicrous about the explanation. Why would a stranger wearing nothing but lingerie suddenly appear on our doorstep? Why would she barge into our home? And why was she leering at me mischievously when I came back to retrieve our airline tickets?

  “I’m sorry, Robert,” I said. “I find your story very hard to believe.”

  He groaned softly. “Don’t you think I know that?” he implored. “I don’t even believe that it happened and I was there!”

  “I need to go,” I said. “The girls are—”

  “She knew things about your past,” he suddenly announced. “She knew your maiden name, Abby. And where your parents lived. And the stuff you did when you were in school—debate club and theater and all of those things.”

  “Oh, c’mon, Robert. Now you’re really pouring it on a little too thick. Do you even hear yourself? Do you know how ridiculous you sound?”

  “But, sweetheart,” he protested. “It’s the absolute truth! I got the license number from the convertible she was driving. I gave it to Barney and asked him to see if he can identify her.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked. “You’re dragging your private detective friend into this charade?”

  “It’s not a charade,” Robert implored. “It’s the truth! I don’t know who that woman is. I didn’t invite her over to our house. And I would never cheat on you in a million years, Abby. I love you, honey. I know how special you are—the most beautiful and loving woman a man could ever hope to meet. I made a vow to be faithful and that will never change.”

  I held the phone to my chest and thought about Robert’s impassioned plea. He sounded so sincere and remorseful. The more I reflected on the bizarre situation from the morning and my husband’s heartfelt words, the more I began to think that I should consider that he was telling the truth. After all, sometimes things aren’t what they seem to be on first glance.

  “Abby?” Robert called. “Are you still there?”

  I pressed the phone to my ear.

  “I love you,” he said. “I’ve always loved you. And I always will.”

  I took a deep breath and counted to ten. “Maybe I just need some time to think,” I said slowly.

  “I understand that,” my husband said. “I keep replaying the whole thing through your eyes, honey. I get why you’d be upset. I mean, you come through the door and there I am with some half-dressed stranger. I know it looked bad. And I was so tongue-tied that I probably sounded like the world’s biggest idiot. But it most definitely was not what it appeared to be.”

  A loud knock on my bedroom door startled me so much that I jumped.

  “Abby!” Bree yelled. “Are you done making yourself gorgeous?”

  “Be right there,” I answered. “I just need to finish a couple of things.”

  “Are you and the girls going out?” Robert asked.

  I didn’t feel like answering his question, so I simply reminded him that I would think about what he’d told me.

  “I would never hurt you, Abby.” His voice quivered with a gloomy sadness. “And I want to do whatever I can to make this right. Can we talk later tonight?”

  “I don’t know. I need time to process all of this.”

  Robert sighed. “I get that,” he said. “And I understand. I’ll be ready when you are, babe.”

  After he told me that he loved me, I disconnected the call and dropped the phone in my purse. Then I put on my highest heels, fluffed my hair a final time and headed for a night of fun with my two best friends.

  Chapter 9

  “Your outfit and makeup say that you’re ready to party,” Emma announced when I joined them in the living room. “But the look on your face is screaming sad, sad, sad!”

  She followed the comment with a chorus of high-pitched laughter, but the words hit home. I turned and looked at my reflection in a gilt-framed mirror hanging on the wall. Emma was right; I needed to shake it off if we were really going to have a blast. The longer I stared at myself, the more I realized it was time to stop fretting. We were on a protected floor. The hotel’s security director was working to identify the intruder from earlier. And we’d be surrounded by thousands of people when we went downstairs to the casino.

  “Are you sure you’re up for it?” asked Emma caringly. “We could also just order room service and watch a movie.”

  I shook my head and jokingly stomped one foot. “There is absolutely no way I’m going to spend our first night in Vegas in the room!” I did a little dance and
waved both arms in the air. “I want good food, good music and a few good cocktails!”

  Bree surrounded me in a warm hug and Emma snapped her fingers and spun around. “I’m ready,” she exclaimed. “Laissez les bons temps rouler!”

  “Isn’t that what they say in New Orleans?” Bree asked.

  Emma laughed. “Yeah, but you can say it anywhere,” she cheered. “Laissez les bons temps rouler! Let the good times roll!”

  “Good times,” I said, giving Emma a high five. “And hot dice! Tonight’s gonna be our night, ladies! And the first round of drinks and dinner are on me!”

  After gathering our purses and passkeys, we stepped into the hallway.

  “Let’s triple check to make sure the room is locked,” Bree suggested, tugging on the doorknob. “I do not want to come back up here in a few hours and find another freaky message scrawled on the mirror.”

  “Laissez les bons temps rouler!” Emma sang as she led the way to the elevator. “Let’s get this party started!”

  When the elevator doors opened onto the lobby a few seconds later, we stepped into a whirlwind of hotel guests, tourists, resort employees and Splendora consultants. I waved at a few women that I recognized from previous conferences, and said hello to one of the senior executives from the company’s management team. She’d served as my mentor when I was first getting started as an image consultant.

  “You look stunning, Abby,” she said cheerfully. “Everything must be going really well for you.”

  I kept the smile on my face and nodded. “Everything’s great, Kathleen. I’ll be starting my sixth year with Splendora in a couple of months.”

  “And you’re nominated for Achiever of the Year,” she said, raising one eyebrow. “I heard it was a very close margin between your total sales volume and a couple of other consultants.”

  I shrugged and bit my lower lip. “I’m just grateful for all of my loyal clients,” I said, not wanting to engage in a discussion about the competition. “And for the amazing support you offer to everyone throughout the year.”