I changed back into my ragtag combination, dismayed at the transformation from princess back to pauper. No wonder the salesladies hadn’t paid any attention to me when I walked in the door.

I brought the fantastic duo to the counter, and with a hard swallow, wrote the check.

Beehive Woman gave the document a thorough inspection, glancing first at the lettering, then at me.

“I see you’re not related to Sandra Jones,” she said.

I waved my hand and flashed a smile. “Heavens, no. But I gather from crowd response that we could be sisters.”

“Twins. You could be twins.” She squinted at me. “Well, Sandra does have thinner brows. And her eyes are brown, not green, like yours.” The woman sighed, fussing and folding my purchase. She tucked it in a burgundy bag with a twine handle. “Sandra was one of our best customers. Shopped here since high school.”

“Well, I hope she didn’t buy this same outfit. Wouldn’t that be tacky?” I clicked my fingertips on the counter hoping the woman would just stick to the task and get me out of here in time for my three o’clock at the Beauty Boutique.

Blonde Beehive gripped the bag, apparently determined I would hear her out. “Sandra hasn’t been in here for a good year now. What a shame about her and Martin.”

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, I felt like saying.

“Yeah. I heard she jilted him, poor guy,” I said.

“After what he did to her, no one blames her. Wasn’t that a mess?”

I leaned forward against the counter, suddenly intrigued by news of Martin Dietz’s shortcomings. “Sounds serious. What did he do to her?”

“Well”—the woman’s voice lowered to gossip level—“he wanted that big county position. Which one was it, Rita?” She turned to the woman behind her.

“Commissioner,” Rita said.

“Yes. Well, he put Sandra in charge of the campaign and she would have won it for him.”

“But?” I asked, thanking God Martin Dietz hadn’t ended up in county-level government.

“But she decided to run for it herself. And she would have won too.”

“What happened?”

“That nasty Mr. Dietz ripped her character to shreds. She left town before the election was over. Haven’t seen her since.”

The door jangled open behind me, and a cold gust of wind blew in along with a customer.

The woman at the counter clammed up as she glanced past me toward the door. She shoved my bag at me and pasted a smile on her face.

I was sorry to have my investigation cut short, but glad to get to the Beauty Boutique.

I turned to go, and bumped into the broad, solid form of Martin Dietz.

18

Dietz glared down at me, his eyes shot through with jagged blood vessels.

“Ms. Amble,” he said with a terse nod. “Just the person I’m looking for.” A faint odor of pipe tobacco emanated from his clothing.

“I dispatched your denial letter this morning,” Dietz said. His hat moved up and down with his clenching jaw.

At his words, my own teeth clamped together in defiance. Sandra Jones may have been easy prey for a bully like Martin Dietz, but he’d find I wasn’t one to trifle with. The more he pushed, the harder I’d fight back.

“The meeting isn’t until next week. How can I have been denied already?” I forced the words through taut lips. Behind me, I heard scuttling, and I figured the biddies were running for cover.

Dietz nodded with cruel satisfaction. “I knew your project had a timetable and I didn’t want to be the one holding things up. So last night, I called a special meeting of the Historical Committee. Your plan to demolish the cistern was rejected. In fact, they even rejected your plan to wall it in. Seems it’s the only one of its kind in Rawlings, and they want to protect it for posterity.”

His leer grew more vicious with every detail. “I guess you’ll have to give up your basement renovation plans altogether.”

My lip started to quiver, whether from impending defeat or sheer terror, I couldn’t yet tell.

A snide comeback was formulating in the back of my mind. But I reminded myself that Dietz carried more clout in the community than some nameless newcomer. If possible, I needed to get him over to my team.

I smiled a sweet, submissive smile.

“Wow. Thanks for pushing that request through for me. That really helps solidify things.”

His chin tilted and his shoulders dropped into a less-guarded pose. “No problem.”

I kept my face neutral as I squeezed past him to the door. I clutched the bag with the fuzzy sweater and silky pants to my chest, grateful I’d finished the transaction before Dietz had shown up.

I hit the cold November air, then turned up the street toward the Beauty Boutique. Martin Dietz might think he had just pulled one over on me, but I’d figure out a way to get my project through, with or without him.

I entered the Beauty Boutique and saw Tammy sitting at her nail station. She waited with slumped shoulders and head resting on her palm. Wads of white tissue peeked through the cracks of her fingers.

“Fighting a cold?” I asked in greeting.

She looked up at me with a blotchy face. She caught a nose drip with the tissue ball. “No. I’m crying my eyes out. A good friend of mine died yesterday.”

“Was it Casey from down the street?” I asked.

I thought of Coffee Girl and tried to imagine her and Tammy as friends.

“Yeah.” She drew a rasping breath. “Sorry I’m such a mess. Let’s get you started.”

She wiped tissue along the bottom of her eyes, diminishing the dark circles of mascara that had puddled there. She straightened her shirt, scooted her chair, then invited me with an open hand to sit across from her.

“I’m really sorry,” I said, sinking into the floral upholstery. “I understand Casey’s death comes as quite a shock.”

Tammy opened the bottle of adhesive and painted a layer on my three bare nails.

She shook her head. “Arsenic poisoning. That’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard. I’m guessing the founding fathers are just using Casey’s death to get the village water filter system pushed through.”

Tammy pressed my replacement nails, almost bruising my fingertips with her barely controlled anger. I knew how frustrated Tammy must feel. I remember the multitude of villains I held responsible for my mother’s death.

The mixer beads in the bottle of Flamingo Pink polish clicked like mini maracas. Tammy unscrewed the top and painted my nails, starting with the new ones.

“Casey was an amazing person. You wouldn’t believe the girls she influenced in a positive way at our church’s youth group.” Tammy painted furiously, talking more to herself than to me. “She didn’t deserve to die.”

Her brows knit into deep lines. She finished the last nail, then started the process over again. “Maybe she didn’t dress the greatest. So what if she had face jewelry. God looks at what’s inside. And so should the rest of this town. If it had been someone like Rebecca Ramsey, there’d be a better explanation. Everyone hates Rebecca, but she’s somehow more worthy because of her money and class.”

Job done, Tammy slammed the nail polish down on the table. She rubbed absently at the crescent-shaped dent left by the bottle. “I’m sorry to go on a rampage. But I can’t figure it out. Life can be so unfair.”

“I know how you feel.” What more could I say?

She looked at me for the first time. “Thanks for listening. Sorry I brought up Rebecca. I know tonight’s your big date with David. I don’t mean to put a damper on things for you.”

“Not at all. I guess it doesn’t hurt to know a few things about David’s ex-wife before we go out.”

“Ex-wife? I didn’t think she’d ever get around to divorcing him. Sorry to have been snotty at the supermarket that day. I just wanted to make sure you knew he was tagged. Guess it wasn’t necessary.”

“He told me last week he’d gotten the papers in the mail.”

“Maybe she met someone out in California. Some richer-than-mud millionaire who meets her high standards. I mean, the Metropolitan Magazine Woman of the Year deserves better than a computer dweeb husband, right?”

“If you say so.” David didn’t strike me as a dweeb of any sort. I’d rarely seen a man more handsome than he. As far as manners and character went, both seemed impeccable. And from what I could tell, he made a lucrative living. His drop-dead gorgeous Greek Revival home said all there was on the subject of monetary success. The thing must have cost a fortune to renovate.

Anyway, I couldn’t help but be awed by a man who could spearhead a project like that one. The thought processes that supported that kind of vision were rare indeed. I looked forward to dinner tonight when I could get David’s insights on my own renovation project.

There would be no time for talk of Rebecca.

I followed Tammy up to the register and paid for my touch-up.

“Thanks for fitting me in on short notice,” I said.

“Glad you came. I needed to vent. That’s the other thing about you that reminds me of your twin. You’re a good listener. I sure miss doing her nails. Toward the end, she could have passed for my therapist.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that,” I commented. “I got the impression the other day that you two were rivals from way back.”

Tammy looked at her hands resting on the counter. “Yeah. I guess we were. But about six months before she left town, she started helping me with the church youth group. We actually got to be pretty close. And the girls loved her. She used her background as an image consultant to build these girls into confident young women.”