Half-Price Homicide Read Online Free PDF Page B

wanted from him. That’s when Loretta Stranahan walked in.”
    “The county commissioner?” Detective McNally said. “She was here, too?” Helen nodded.
    “What a cluster fu—mess this is,” he said.
    “Vera wanted Danny and Chrissy to leave. Instead Danny hauled Chrissy to the back dressing room to continue their argument. He gripped her arm hard. I saw the bruises. Those are his fingerprints on her arm.”
    “What were you doing while they were fighting?” McNally asked.
    “I was working. I wiped down that display case,” Helen said.
    “Where you could hear every word,” McNally said.
    “It would be hard to miss what they were saying.” Helen said. “Danny and Chrissy were yelling loud enough you could hear them all over the store.”
    “Were they still arguing about money?” McNally said.
    “No. Chrissy accused Danny of being unfaithful, of staring at another woman’s uh … chest. Then Commissioner Loretta Stran-ahan walked back and saw Danny and his wife. The women seemed to know each other, but I don’t think Chrissy liked the commissioner. Chrissy made a remark about Loretta calling her husband too often. Loretta said Chrissy was too stupid to understand they were discussing business.
    “That’s when Vera stepped in. She showed Danny some Bruno Magli shoes, sent Chrissy to the back dressing room to try on a summer dress and took Loretta to her office to see some blouses she hadn’t put on the racks yet.”
    “Those Bruno Maglis, is that the brand O. J. wore?” McNally asked.
    “I think so. O. J. called the shoes cheap, but they weren’t. Anyway, Vera separated everyone and the store was quiet. That’s when Jordan came in, wanting some of Paris Hilton’s cocktail dresses.”
    “Paris Hilton sells her used clothes here?” McNally asked.
    “No, Vera gives her regular sellers code names that sort of match their personalities. They all have regular buyers. Vera’s Paris Hilton is a rich, young woman who likes to party, sort of like the real celebrity. Loretta likes Glenn Close’s suits.”
    “Does this seller woman look like Glenn Close?” McNally asked.
    “No, she’s a brunette businesswoman who likes married men,” Helen said. “Vera knows she can’t sell clothes to women who run in the same circles. They would be embarrassed to be seen in a friend’s cast-off dress. She shows them to people they’ll never meet. Jordan lives at my apartment complex. She’s safe to sell to because there aren’t any rich party girls hanging around the Coronado Tropic Apartments. Jordan wanted to try on two Paris Hilton cocktail dresses. She ran into Danny and he was rude to her. He was rude to me, too. He threw the shoes on the floor and walked out.”
    “What time was that?” McNally said. “Around eleven fifteen.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”
    “Vera and I took a breather and she looked at the clock. Then she went back to the dressing room to ask Chrissy about the pony-hair purse and found her dead.”
    Helen stopped. This was the bad part. The cheerful clutter of the store seemed to close in on her. She gulped, afraid she might cry, and grabbed the edge of the counter. She didn’t want to show any weakness around McNally.
    “Do you want some water, Ms. Hawthorne?” Detective McNally asked.
    “I have a bottle here under the counter,” she said. She took a sip of water and felt a little better. The relentless questioning had stopped for a moment.
    “You said Vera found the body,” McNally prompted.
    “I heard Vera screaming and I ran to the back,” Helen said. She felt calmer now. “Jordan was in the front dressing room trying on a cocktail dress. She came out of the room in a half-zipped pink satin dress. Vera called 911. That’s all I remember.”
    She left out their debate about whether Chrissy’s death was murder or suicide.
    Helen stared out the window. Heat waves rose from the sidewalks. The relentless sun was bleaching the brightly painted