A Custom Fit Crime Read Online Free PDF

anything like it,” I said. The chirimen crepe was rayon and looked almost wrinkle free. Different flowers, all stenciled, lay on top of one another on the rose-colored background. “Lovely.” I looked more closely, noticing something I hadn’t at the first quick glance. Hummingbirds hid behind the flowers, playing peekaboo, lending a playfulness to the pattern.
    “I will figure it out,” she said, nodding. She set it aside as Orphie returned from depositing her suitcase upstairs and Beaulieu returned from the bathroom. Another woman, who I immediately recognized as Beaulieu’s assistant, stumbled inside, an overloaded garment bag in her arms. She headed for the love seat, ready to drop her heavy load.
    “No, Jeanette,” Beaulieu snapped, and pointed. “Over there.” He paused and his eyes strayed to the kitchen. Then he said to her, “Water. Get me some water.”
    From under her burden, Jeanette nodded. She detoured around the love seat and set the bag on the red settee and headed to the kitchen, but Mama beat her to it, pouring a glass of water and handing it to Beaulieu.
    She and Nana disappeared again into the kitchen, leaving the chaos behind. I wanted to go with them, but this was my shop, my photo shoot, and my chance to show off Buttons & Bows. I wasn’t going anywhere.
    Beaulieu stood off to one side, tapping his foot, his arms crossed over his chest, while Jeanette lifted garments from the bags and Midori carried in a modern-looking dress form and arranged a strapless tiered ruffled dress in a floral print. They’d each brought samples for their models to wear. Quinton had said he wanted to do a series of outside shots, again, to show the dichotomy of fashion in the country, and he wanted his photographs to represent each of us and the Texas perspective.
    I still had to bring out my collection, but I’d seen both Beaulieu and Midori shoot wayward glances at my mother’s wedding dress. Next to their upscale designs, the quirky lacy white dress looked like a throwback from The Beverly Hillbillies .
    I quickly grabbed the dress form with the wedding dress on it and hauled it from the front room through the French doors and into the workroom. I pushed it against the wall, out of sight, and took a quick moment to stand still and breathe. “Don’t let them get to you,” I muttered to myself. I could hold my own against Midori and Michel Ralph Beaulieu. I was proud of my designs, and that was all that mattered
    The hemline of Mama’s dress fluttered and from somewhere in the house, pipes suddenly creaked, sounding an awful lot to my mind like someone saying, “It’s all good, it’s all good, it’s all good.”
    Meemaw. My great-grandmother always knew how to make me feel a little better, even from the hereafter.
    I grabbed the three garment bags that stored my new collection, bringing them into the front room and draping them over the back of the green paisley couch, trying to block out the annoying chatter. Michel muttered to the still shell-shocked Jeanette. His gaze darted around my shop. “The whole town is straight out of an old western movie. All that’s missing is John Wayne.”
    Hoss McClaine was more Sam Shepard than the Duke, but he was as country as a country sheriff could get. Somehow I didn’t think mentioning any of this would ease Beaulieu’s mind.
    I turned to Midori, but she was intent on setting up her headless mannequins, draping silk red, black, and cream-colored scarves around the stubbed necks, straightening the bust of the first dress, standing back to survey the look, then moving forward again to make another adjustment.
    Her designs had a sleek, polished look to them, plus unusual design elements like enormously wide hems and exceptional closures, and I wanted to get a better look. “It’s good to see you again,” I said, coming up beside her. “I studied your work when I was in school.” She’d been held up as a designer with a unique perspective, and with a