Lavender Lipstick Lies: A Mystery of Makeup & Mayhem Page 5

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, miss.” She blushed and slid the passkey back into her apron pocket. “I’m from housekeeping. I knocked, but didn’t hear anyone answer.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I was on the phone. Please come right in.”

  “I can also come back later if you prefer,” she offered. “But the other woman told me it was okay.”

  The smile on her face was so sweet that I almost felt guilty asking her to repeat what she’d just told me. When she did, a queasy feeling began to whirl in my stomach.

  “What other woman?” I asked.

  The attendant shook her head. “I don’t know, miss. I was getting ready to start cleaning your suite a few minutes ago when she came to the door. She said she was staying in this suite, and needed to put something back in her room.”

  “What did she look like?”

  “Well, she was very pretty,” the woman answered. “With a red dress and the same kind of name tag you have on your blouse.” She pointed to my Splendora badge. “And she was very, very kind. She insisted on giving me an extra tip even though I told her that wasn’t necessary.”

  My mind reeled. Who had been in our suite? Emma was wearing a vivid blue sweater and black skirt. Bree was dressed entirely in green. What did she want? What did she do? The director of security had moved us to a secure floor, but someone else had simply pretended to be staying in our suite so she could gain access.

  “Is everything okay, miss?” The housekeeping attendant was studying my expression intently, nervously twisting the hem of her apron in her hands. “You look unhappy now. Is it something that—”

  “No, you’re fine,” I interrupted. “I was just thinking about something related to work.”

  The frown on her face softened. “Oh, okay. I just want to make sure you have a wonderful stay here with us.”

  “Everything’s fine,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Thank you again for all that you do.”

  She nodded slightly. “I can come back later to finish,” she offered again. “There are many other rooms I can work on now if you need privacy.”

  “That’s not necessary. I’m going back downstairs for my meeting. You’re welcome to take care of things right now.”

  “Very well,” the housekeeping attendant said. “Have a nice day!”

  I thanked her again and stepped aside as she gracefully maneuvered her cart around me. As I glanced back into the suite, something in Bree’s room caught my eye. Her bedroom door was slightly ajar and a flash of red was visible through the opening. I hurried across the living room and walked toward the open doorway. When I got close enough for a better view, the queasy feeling in my stomach intensified as I gazed upon the same floppy red hat and billowing floral caftan that the intruder was wearing the day before when they left the menacing note on my mirror.

  Chapter 13

  The educational session on social media marketing was getting ready to start when I peeked into the room. I saw Bree and Emma sitting beside an empty chair at a table near the front. I gulped in a breath and moved toward them.

  “Hey, stranger!” Emma said. “I was wondering if you were coming back.”

  I managed a smile. “Here I am!”

  “Is everything okay?” Bree asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Probably just because I ran all the way here from the elevator,” I said. “You know how they hate it when people are late to the sessions.”

  Bree made a face and patted the empty chair. “Sit,” she said. “And get ready to learn all there is to know about how Twitter and Facebook can boost your Splendora business.”

  During the next hour, an energetic woman from the company’s marketing team presented recommendations about using social media to reach new clients. Her voice was so upbeat and warm that I actually paid attention throughout her presentation. 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 were coming this weekend!”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” the woman said.

  “Are you having a blast?” asked Bree.

  “It’s been great so far,” answered the other woman. “It would’ve been even more exci
ting if I’d sold a few extra things last month. I desperately want to get Achiever of the Year sometime!”

  I couldn’t hear Bree’s response to the woman’s remark before the elevator reached our floor and everyone slowly stepped into the corridor. I headed to the left toward our suite, when Bree called my name.

  “Hey, Abs!” she said cheerfully. “Do you know Amanda Woodworth?”

  The question ripped a hole in my heart. I’d heard my husband utter the same last name during our conversation just two hours earlier.

  “Amanda,” Bree continued. “This is Abby Edison. She and I went to high school together in—”

  “Boring!” Emma announced in a high-pitched tone. “Let’s fast forward to present day and get something to eat! We have the rest of the afternoon free, ladies. We can talk about ancient history over cocktails by the pool.”

  The tall woman gave Emma a thumbs up. “Now you’re talking,” she said.

  Emma spun around. “I’ve got to tinkle,” she whispered. “I’ll see you guys in the room.”

  When I turned back to Bree and Amanda, they were discussing the speaker we’d heard during the opening session. Once they finished, Amanda flashed a big smile at me.

  “So, you’re the famous Abby Edison!” she said. “I saw your name right above mine on the final rankings for Achiever of the Year.”

  Bree frowned. “Oh, I wasn’t aware of that,” she said. “You’re the fourth ranked consultant in the nation?”

  Amanda raised one eyebrow. “Unless Abby or one of the other women drops out,” she said. “Like that sketchy chick from Chicago. Then maybe I’d have a shot at the award.”

  An icy chill tumbled down my spine as the woman smiled at me before announcing that she was meeting her friends for lunch.

  “That was weird,” Bree said softly when we were alone again.

  “Uh-huh,” I agreed. “But not as weird as what I saw in your room when I came up during the break.”

  Bree’s face fell. “What are you talking about?”

  “Let’s go back to the suite so we can talk,” I said. “I want to get to the bottom of this before things get any creepier.”

  With Bree a few steps behind, I walked briskly through the hallway to our suite. Once we were inside and the door was closed, she took my arm.

  “What’s going on, Abby?”

  “You tell me,” I said, pulling free of her hand. “Let’s go take a look at what I saw earlier.”

  When we walked into Bree’s room, the red hat and caftan were still draped across the bed.

  “There!” I said, pointing at the suspicious garments. “That’s exactly what the intruder was wearing yesterday when they left that message on my mirror!”

  Bree dropped her purse on the desk and crossed the room. “Those aren’t mine,” she said anxiously. “I’ve never seen them before, Abby.”

  She twirled around. Her brow was crumpled and pinched into a mask of confusion.

  “Then what are they doing in your room?” I plucked the caftan from the bed, glancing quickly at the label inside the neckline. “And why does this have your initials stenciled on the tag?”

  Bree hurried to my side, tearing the billowy sheath from my grasp. She examined the label briefly before dropping the caftan. It fluttered to the floor like a withering balloon.

  “I have no idea where these things came from,” she exclaimed. “And the last time I wore anything with my initials inside was fourth grade summer camp!”

  “What about this?” I grabbed the tube of Lyrically Luscious Lavender lipstick that I’d noticed earlier on the dressing table. “It’s what was used to write the note and the message on the mirror!”

  Bree smirked. “Oh, come on, Abby! Aren’t you being a little melodramatic? I told you those clothes aren’t mine, and I have no clue how they got in here.” She heaved a sigh and sank onto the edge of the bed. “As for the lipstick,” she continued, “don’t you have a tube in your makeup bag?”

  I felt beads of nervous perspiration on the back of my neck. “Well, yes, b-b-but what…” I stammered, pausing for a second to catch my breath. “What about that woman you just saw in the elevator?”

  Bree thought for a moment. “You mean Amanda?” she asked. “What about her?”

  “When I talked to Robert earlier, he told me that the red convertible we saw in our driveway yesterday is registered to someone with the same last name!”

  “So?” She shrugged and made another face. “What’s that got to do with how you’re freaking out?”

  “I’m not freaking out, Bree. I’m trying to—”

  A loud knock sounded from the doorway.

  “What’s all the yelling about?” Bree and I glanced over as Emma came into the room. “And when are we going to eat? I’m about to drop dead from hunger.”

  She waited for an answer, but Bree and I were back to staring angrily at one another.

  “Oh, what is it now?” Emma demanded. “You two look like little kids about ready to fight on the playground.”

  In one smooth move, Bree scooped the caftan from the floor and raised it overhead. “It’s this ugly thing,” she said. “Abby thinks it’s mine, which somehow makes me the evil prankster behind the notes she got yesterday.”

  Emma considered the caftan before pointing at the red floppy hat. “Is that yours, too?”

  Bree shook her head. “No! These aren’t mine! You guys both know that red has never been my color. And I would never wear a caftan; they remind me of my wicked step-mother!”

  The remarks ricocheted through my jittery mind. Bree was right; as often as we went shopping together, I suddenly felt horrible that I didn’t remember how much she disliked any shade of red.

  “Okay, so I…” My mind wobbled as I tried to find the words to apologize. “Look, can we just move on?” I asked. “I haven’t really been myself since the whole thing with Robert yesterday.”

  “You’re fine,” Bree said. “Don’t worry about it. Just try to remember that both Emma and I are on your side, okay?”

  “But I don’t want you to think that I’ve gone totally off the deep end,” I said. “There’s a very good reason for me being suspicious.”

  Emma laughed. “Actually, there’s a good reason for all three of us to be wary.”

  “True,” Bree said. “After all, we were in our suite when the threat was left on your mirror, Abs. Maybe that was a random thing and they didn’t know who was staying in that particular bedroom.”

  “Anything’s possible,” I agreed. “But that doesn’t explain the note I got at the pool yesterday. That envelope was addressed to me, except they used my maiden name.”

  “Which would suggest it might be someone from your past,” Emma said solemnly.

  I actually laughed in response. “Seriously? You think this is, what—a high school grudge or something?”

  Bree groaned softly. “Oh, brother,” she said. “I think that’s pretty much a stretch.”

  “You said it yourself,” Emma reminded me. “Anything’s possible.”

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Bree announced in an authoritative tone. “We’re going to call that handsome hotel detective and ask his opinion. After that, we’re going downstairs to enjoy a nice, leisurely lunch.”

  Chapter 14

  Twenty minutes later, Trevor Cole stood in the living room of our suite, tapping his iPad and looking at us with the same cool, calm expression we saw the day before.

  “Your safety and comfort are at the top of our list,” he said. “I want to assure each of you that my team and I are here to make sure you enjoy your stay.”

  “Can you do something about my losing streak in the casino?” Bree asked.

  The security director chuckled. “Unfortunately, that’s outside of our jurisdiction, although I’ve had the same request from plenty of other guests over the years.”

  “How long have you been with the hotel?” I asked.

  “Twenty years with the company,” Cole an
swered. “Five here in Las Vegas at this property and another one that the company owns. Before that, I was in Miami and New York City.”

  “You must’ve seen quite a few weird scenarios in your career,” Bree said.

  Cole shrugged. “Depends on how you define ‘weird.’”

  “How about threats written with lipstick?” asked Bree.

  “Or mysterious intruders coming into a VIP suite?” I added.

  Cole’s face registered instant distress. “What was that?”

  “This morning when I stopped by briefly after our meeting,” I told him, “I discovered that someone had entered our suite while the housekeeper was cleaning.”

  “Did you receive another message?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No, but they left a floppy red hat and floral caftan in Bree’s room.”

  He glanced at Bree. “Do you still have the items?”

  She nodded. “They’re in my room where we left them.”

  Trevor Cole frowned and looked at his iPad. He swiped, tapped and swiped again. Then he held up the tablet so we could all see the screen. It revealed a slightly grainy image of someone wearing the red hat and billowing caftan.

  “Are these the items in question?” he said.

  “Yes,” I replied. “Is that from yesterday when they entered our original suite?”

  Cole nodded. “Yes, it’s stamped and dated from yesterday at the exact time that you said you were in the shower, Ms. Edison.”

  “Does it show their face?” asked Bree.

  “I’m afraid not,” the security chief said. “The hat is so floppy and they hold their head in such a way that none of our surveillance cameras ever got a clear image of the perpetrator.”

  “What good does that do?” I asked.

  “We actually used footage from several cameras to follow them into the elevator after they left your suite,” Cole told us in a slow, somber voice. “They went down to the lobby, through the shopping gallery and into a restroom.”

  “And then?” Bree said.

  “That’s all we have,” Cole explained. “It was a particularly busy time in the hotel, and there were dozens of women in and out of the restroom. We checked the footage very carefully and the woman wearing the red hat and flowery coverup must’ve removed those items in the restroom and tucked them into her satchel or handbag.”