Lavender Lipstick Lies: A Mystery of Makeup & Mayhem Read online

  I muttered under my breath.

  “What was that, Abs?” asked Emma.

  “Nothing,” I said. “It just feels like we’re grasping at straws.”

  “We’re going to keep an eye on you,” Trevor Cole said. “I’ve alerted all of the hotel’s security guards and maintenance personnel to be on the lookout for any suspicious activity on your floor or near the meeting rooms that your group is using this weekend.”

  “Well, that didn’t do much good earlier,” I said. “The housekeeper let the person come right in.”

  “I’ll check with the head of housekeeping,” Cole offered. “My guess is the person who came in claimed to be staying in your suite. They probably also flashed a keycard. That’s happened a time or two. Otherwise, all of our housekeeping staff is well aware of our standard policies regarding unauthorized access. Theft and burglaries are rampant in the hotel industry, and some people feel that Las Vegas properties are even more vulnerable due to the party atmosphere that pervades the Strip.”

  “Thank you for being so helpful,” I said as Cole tucked his iPad under one arm. “We really appreciate how nice you’re being about all of this.”

  “Right back to you,” he said. “We’re grateful that you ladies have been so calm and understanding about the situation. We don’t have much to go on, but we’ll keep an extra close eye on your group.”

  “Just in case?” Emma said.

  Cole smiled. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Just in case.”

  Chapter 15

  In spite of all the inexplicable events and baffling threats, I was determined to enjoy our visit to Las Vegas. After Trevor Cole left and we had a few minutes to process the developments of the day, Emma suggested that we have a quick lunch and go shopping for a couple of hours.

  “It’ll lift your spirits, Abby,” she said, jumping up from the chaise where she’d been lounging. “We can hit as many places as our feet can handle. Then we can come back here and have another fabulous night doing whatever we feel like!”

  Bree giggled with delight. “I think that’s a perfect idea, Em. Let me just go and touch up my face and I’ll be ready to go.”

  As soon as we were alone, Emma walked over and sat beside me on the sofa.

  “Do you think Bree’s been acting kind of strange?” she asked.

  I raised one eyebrow. “During the trip?”

  Emma nodded.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I feel terrible even talking about her, but there’s something different about her whole vibe.”

  A bubbly laugh popped out of my mouth. “Her whole vibe?” I giggled. “I think you’re going to have to be more specific, Em. Vibe could mean so many different things, don’t you think?”

  She smiled and flopped against the back of the sofa. “I guess so,” she said in a hazy voice. “I just noticed in the past few days that Bree was being kind of…” She closed her eyes and hummed softly. “Oh, I don’t know,” she went on, “kind of aloof and chilly. And for Bree, that’s just not her normal personality.”

  “When did you first notice it?”

  Emma lifted her head and looked over. “The day I saw her having lunch with Amanda,” she answered.

  “Amanda Woodworth?”

  Thinking of the name again sent daggers into my heart. My husband had explained the bizarre early morning visit by the blonde. And his friend Barney had potentially identified the woman as someone also named Woodworth. But that didn’t stop my mind from instantly replaying the shocking sight of Robert in our living room with a shapely stranger wearing next to nothing.

  “Yes,” Emma said.

  “I just met her in the hallway as we came upstairs,” I explained.

  Emma frowned. “Then why do have that look on your face?”

  I shut my eyes and took in a deep breath. “Because the woman who showed up at my house yesterday was driving a red convertible registered to someone with the same last name.”

  A light, frothy laugh trickled from Emma. “And so what?” she said in a perplexed tone. “You think Bree’s friend is somehow connected to whatever the heck that blonde was doing with your husband?”

  My reply was a low moan. “I don’t know,” I said. “And that is what’s driving me nuts right now.” I sat up and squared my shoulders. “I just think something really strange is going on. Between the threatening notes and the clothes left in Bree’s room, I can’t figure out the reason someone would want to mess with my head.”

  Emma reached over and patted my hand. “Oh, sweetie. It’s really pretty obvious.”

  I looked at her, waiting for the rest of her explanation.

  “It’s a silly attempt to intimidate you,” she said.

  “Intimidate me?”

  She gave my hand a big squeeze. “Yes, they want you to step down from being one of the top three Achiever candidates so they can either move up themselves or help one of their friends become a nominee. It’s happened a few times in the past; for whatever reason, someone removes themselves as a nominee and the image consultant with the next highest sales performance ranking becomes a nominee.”

  The clarification suddenly crystallized the suspicious thoughts that had been fluttering in the back of my mind. But even though I’d suspected as much, it seemed absolutely ludicrous to hear my friend say it aloud.

  “Don’t you get it, Abby?”

  An icy quiver ran down my back as I nodded. “I guess so,” I murmured. “But I didn’t want to believe that someone could be so hateful when it came to something so trifling. I mean, Achiever of the Year at Splendora isn’t exactly the President of the United States or anything.”

  Emma chuckled. “Well, uh…” She shifted on the seat to face me. “That’s absolutely correct, Abs. It isn’t President. Or anything even close. But it’s a very prestigious honor within our organization, right?”

  I shrugged. “Of course, but why would someone go to so much trouble to scare me out of the running?”

  Emma lifted one hand and rubbed her thumb and forefinger together. “Money, money, money, sweetie!” She giggled lightly. “Most Achiever of the Year recipients see their Splendora business increase significantly after they receive the award. Not to mention that four of the last eight winners have taken high-paying jobs in the corporate office.”

  Listening to Emma’s justification for the subterfuge and trickery made complete sense. I’d been so inundated with thoughts about my husband’s seemingly blatant infidelity that I hadn’t considered the very tangible reasons someone would fight tooth and nail to become a nominee for Achiever of the Year.

  “What do you know about Amanda Woodworth?” I asked.

  “Nothing really,” she answered. “Bree introduced us when I ran into them at Café Avalon last week. I guess she started with Splendora last fall or something.”

  “Does she drive a red convertible?”

  Emma laughed. “Now, how would I know that?”

  “I don’t know. I guess maybe I thought…” I realized that I was drifting toward histrionic worry again, so I reeled myself back from the edge. “Oh, just skip it,” I added. “I’m going to try and forget all about what happened.”

  “What are you going to forget?” Bree asked, coming back into the living room. “What’d I miss?”

  Emma gave her a little wave. “As usual,” she said. “You missed all the good stuff!”

  “What?” Bree squealed. “Why didn’t you guys wait for me?”

  “She’s joking,” I offered. “We were just talking about the conference and what we’ve learned so far.”

  Bree shot me a look. “Oh, really? If that’s true, why would you want to forget it then?”

  For a brief moment, there was a very palpable tension between us. But then Bree flipped her hair to the side, rolled her eyes and patted the purse hanging from her shoulder. “Who’s ready for lunch and some retail therapy?” she giggled. “I heard there are some killer sandals at the Tory Burch store in The Forum Shops.”
/>   Emma leapt up. “I’m ready!” She held one hand out. “C’mon, Achiever nominee! Let’s get this train on the tracks.”

  For the next hour, as we enjoyed a quick bite to eat and wandered along the Strip toward Caesar’s Palace, the conversation was light and frothy. Emma talked about a conversation she’d had during the break with a woman from Boston. Bree asked for our advice about a little tiff she was having with her husband about redecorating their house. And I inserted a few idle remarks about the weather and our options for Friday night fun.

  “I’m still holding out for the Chippendales revue at the Rio!” Emma gushed. “You know what they say, right?”

  “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?” I guessed.

  Emma nodded. “And the other thing is ‘when in Rome,’” she said.

  “What are we supposed to do when in Rome?” asked Bree. “Go stare at a bunch of hot guys jiggling their junk?”

  “Couldn’t hurt!” Emma said in a sultry voice. “Maybe it’ll give us a few ideas to share with our men once we’re back home.”

  Bree tittered from behind her hand. “My hubby tried putting on a show for me once,” she said. “It was our anniversary night, and he’d been hitting the hooch pretty hard.”

  “How was it?” Emma asked.

  “Yeah,” I chimed in. “Was it as good as Chippendales?”

  “Heavens, no!” Bree blurted. “He tripped over his pants when he was taking them off and cracked his head on the dresser.” Her face went red as she laughed and slapped her thigh. “I mean, can you imagine? It’s our anniversary and I end up with the first aid kit and my man bleeding from a gash across his forehead?”

  “Not very romantic,” I said. “But definitely memorable.”

  Emma and I agreed that the Chippendales revue was still in the running for our evening escapades before launching into a raucous discussion about dinner. Emma lobbied hard for a Chinese place at Mandalay Bay because she’d read a glowing review in a hotel guide. I voted for an Italian restaurant at the Wynn that another Splendora consultant had recommended on her Facebook page.

  “Well, those both sound awesome,” Bree said. “But I made plans to have dinner with Amanda. And she told me that Chippendales was sold out anyway.”

  I felt my jaw tighten. “Oh, Amanda Woodworth?” I said the name as casually as I could manage.

  Bree nodded. “She wanted my advice about something. I hope you guys don’t mind.”

  Emma shot me a quick look. “That’s cool, sweetie,” she told Bree. “Abby and I can flip a coin and go with either Chinese or Italian. And if the Chippendales show really is sold out, we there are a million other things we can do instead.”

  Bree was smiling and nodding, but it didn’t look genuine. It seemed like she was hiding something again; as if she was harboring a secret that neither Emma nor I could hear.

  I kept my eyes on her and she giggled lightly when she realized I was staring.

  “What?” she said in a singsong voice. “Isn’t it okay if I have my own dinner plans tonight?”

  I smiled. “Of course, it’s okay. We’re not Siamese triplets or anything. You can do whatever you choose.”

  Chapter 16

  As we strolled through The Forum Shops and mused about the incredible fashions in the boutique windows, I replayed the encounter earlier in the corridor outside our suite with Bree and Amanda Woodworth. Did I miss any clues in their body language? Was anything said that could hint at a shared scheme to frighten me into dropping out of the Achiever competition? Why did I have such a creepy feeling in my gut about them?

  On one hand, it felt like we were back in school; jealous, judgmental teenagers trading secrets and rumors. I hated that kind of thing when I was younger. And I certainly disliked it now as an adult. But I wasn’t naïve; some women can be just as vindictive and spiteful later in life as they are during adolescence.

  Although I’d known Bree for more than a decade, anything was possible. Maybe I was unaware of something going on in her personal life. Maybe she was angry with me for a slight that I hadn’t detected; an offhand comment or casual glance that had struck her the wrong way at the wrong time. People could be fickle. Friendships could be fleeting. I always believed that we were best friends, but maybe I was in the dark about something.

  “Do you guys want to check out the new lingerie line at La Perla?” Bree asked as we entered the large open area surrounding the Fountain of the Gods.

  “You go ahead,” Emma said. “I want to walk down and see the animatronic statues by the Cheesecake Factory. They’re supposed to be pretty cool.”

  “They are,” Bree agreed. “I saw them last time we were here.”

  “You did?” Emma frowned. “I don’t remember that.”

  “It was the morning after you drank all the tequila with your friend from New Orleans,” Bree explained, glancing at me. “Remember, Abs? You went to the spa for a facial?”

  I nodded. “I do remember that.” I gave Emma a gentle elbow to the ribs. “And I also remember that you were in pretty awful shape that day.”

  Emma made a face. “Oh, don’t remind me! Tiffany insisted we do shots to celebrate her second place finish in Achiever of the Year.”

  “Right,” I said. “Except you were the one who took top prize in Hangover of the Year.”

  With an exaggerated wave of her hand, Emma pleaded with us to drop the subject. “It’ll bring back too many painful memories,” she complained. “I haven’t been that sloppy drunk since then. Now that you brought it up, I’m having flashbacks of how many times I got sick throughout that night.”

  Bree squealed. “Change the subject, please!” She wobbled her head dramatically. “Nobody needs to hear that kind of stuff, Em. It might foreshadow something horrible that might happen to one of us.”

  I caught her eyes as they flashed in my direction briefly. It was the same mysterious way she’d looked at me a time or two before, especially when she introduced me to her friend Amanda Woodworth earlier.

  “Listen, you guys,” Emma said. “I want to catch the Festival Fountain show, okay? I’m going to head over there now.” She smiled at both Bree and me. “So, Abby, you’re welcome to join me. Or you can go overspend on skimpy undies with Bree.”

  The mention of sexy lingerie instantly reminded me of the scene with my husband and the mysterious blonde. Emma saw me flinch and apologized immediately.

  “That’s ancient history by now,” Bree said. “If Robert told you there was nothing going on, I guess you should believe him.” She narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. “Although men can be dogs sometimes,” she added. “Even someone as wholesome and honest as your husband, Abby.”

  With that final pronouncement, she gave us a little wave and promised to find us later during the fountain show. I’d heard it was a spectacular display of lights, sound effects and animated statues, so I decided to join Emma.

  As we strolled down the corridor, I asked if she’d noticed the odd comment from Bree.

  “You mean the one about your husband possibly being a secret cheat?”

  I nodded. “It was pretty obvious, wasn’t it?”

  Emma stopped and put one hand on her hip. “Are you kidding me?” she demanded in a lighthearted way. “Bree is obviously up to something. Since you mentioned it, I’ve been watching her and listening to her tone. I can’t put my finger on it yet, but that girl is definitely acting weird.”

  I felt a wave of relief wash over me. “Thank you for saying that,” I told Emma. “I was starting to think that I was losing my mind.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. You’re not losing your mind. I totally could tell that Bree isn’t the same cheery girl. Actually, like I already told you, I detected something different when I ran into her last week.”

  “When she was with Amanda?”

  Emma nodded. “Yes, when they were having lunch. And, to be honest, there were a couple of times lately when Bree seemed to be short with me.”

  “How d
o you mean?”

  “Oh, you know,” Emma answered, turning to continue our walk. “Just when I asked her a couple of questions and she snapped. Or when she sounded curt on the phone. That’s so not Bree.”

  We walked without talking for a few minutes, drifting slowly through the crowd. There were hordes of tourists, chattering and taking selfies and comparing their recent purchases. At Sephora, I stopped briefly and gazed through the window at the displays of cosmetics before Emma grabbed my arm.

  “Don’t even think about going in there,” she said cautiously. “You wouldn’t want any of the other Splendora consultants seeing you snooping around the competition!”

  We giggled our way past the rest of the shops, arriving in the Great Hall as artificial lightning sparked across the ceiling and the loudspeakers boomed with thunderous sound effects.

  “Okay, keep your eyes on the statues,” Emma said, nearly shouting above the cacophony. “They’re going to—” And the center statue began to speak in a deep voice as he spun around in a swirl of fog. “—well, they’re going to start moving,” Emma finished. “I guess I should shut up now.”

  We stood together in the crush of shoppers and tourists as the show continued in a chorus of theatrical music, voices and effects. It reminded me of things I’d seen at Disney World in Orlando, except those were U.S. Presidents and comical bears instead of Roman gods proclaiming loudly with quasi-British accents.

  “This is killing my neck,” Emma whined, gazing at the flashes of light and color across the ceiling. “Do you want to stay for the rest of it?”

  “I’m okay either way,” I said.

  She grabbed my hand. “Great! Let’s go back to the shops and spend some money!”

  Chapter 17