Dressed To Kill (A Tourist Trap Mystery, #4)
Lynn Cahoon
To my mother for teaching me to follow my own path.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The last few years have been crazy busy with a lot of learning and growing as an author and as a person. When I look back at my life, I’ve realized that all my years have led me right to where I belong. Every decision, every mistake, every trial in some part has made me the person who I am today. My mom is one of those people who taught me to always believe in myself.
Big thanks as always to the Kensington/Lyrical crew who believed in South Cove and Jill’s adventures. Especially Esi Sogah, my editor, and Ellen Chan who helped me understand the world of book promotion.
CHAPTER 1
Sometimes what you see is not what you get. The small building had its doors flung open, looking more like a gaping mouth posed to devour us than the entrance into South Cove’s newest and only clothing business, Vintage Duds. Pots of flowers lined the sidewalk, giving the store what should have been a homey look. My aunt nudged me, and I took one halting step closer. I, Jill Gardner, owner of Coffee, Books, and More and South Cove’s business community liaison to the city council, knew a trap when I saw it. And this tastefully decorated store selling upscale designer clothing at a ridiculous price for used threads was definitely a snare.
“What is wrong with you?” Aunt Jackie snapped. “Just because Greg was married to the woman doesn’t mean the two of you have to be sworn enemies.”
Yep, the new store owner was my boy toy’s ex. Small towns are alike. You have to learn to forgive and forget because the person you fight with—or divorce—just doesn’t move away. It’s more than likely you’ll run into them at the grocery, or the diner, or even at a meeting you’re running. Life is messy that way. I turned away from the door, ready to sprint back to my shop down the street. “Maybe I don’t have to attend every Business-to-Business meeting. You could say I was sick.”
Jackie gently turned me around, linking her arm in mine. “You can do this. It’s just a two-hour meeting. You can do anything for two hours.”
As soon as we entered the store, I knew my aunt was dead wrong.
A hostess greeted us and gave us a swag bag. Aunt Jackie cooed and opened the silk ties. “A scarf, bubble bath beads, a coupon for a free glass of wine at Darla’s winery, and”—she pulled out one last item—“jewelry.”
The high school student grinned. “Keep digging. There’s a little something from every store in South Cove.”
“Except ours. Total waste of marketing money. You’re preaching to the choir with this group,” I muttered. Aunt Jackie quickly closed her bag and grabbed mine, as well, tucking them both into her purse.
“We’ll save those for later.” She smiled at our greeter and led me deeper into the store. Two chair-massage technicians had their area set up against the wall next to an eight-foot-square portrait of Marilyn Monroe. People lined up for their turn.
Bill Sullivan, our meeting chair, waved us over to where he waited in line. Bill was a member of the city council along with running South Cove Bed-and-Breakfast with his wife, Mary. “Great meeting, don’t you think? Sherry went all-out.”
“Is this a meeting or a party?” I waved away another high school student who had a plate of black caviar on crackers.
“Relax, Jill. We have plenty of time to get through the agenda.” He glanced at the now empty chair. “Looks like it’s my turn. You should get in line. You could use a massage.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I started to follow him, but again, I felt my aunt’s hand on my arm.
“Leave it alone. There are enough rumors going on about you and Sherry. Can’t you just pretend to enjoy yourself for a few hours?” my aunt asked, her voice low.
I took a deep breath. Jackie was right. No use getting upset. Sherry had been nice enough to volunteer to host this month’s Business-to-Business meeting. Of course, when she’d offered, I’d expected her to serve cookies and coffee and for a freaking meeting to actually happen instead of this cocktail party. Apparently, I’d been delusional.