Read Online Grave Endings by Rochelle Krich - Free Book Online

French maid costume when my cell phone rang. It was Zack.
    â€œHow about grabbing lunch?” he said. “I’m working on the expense report for the board and my eyes are glazing.”
    â€œIt’s two-thirty. Kind of late for that,” I told him, though my stomach said otherwise. Since leaving Gloria Lamont, I’d been snacking on Hershey’s Kisses and I craved something substantial.
    â€œA cup of coffee, then. Water. Anything.” He lowered his voice. “I miss you.”
    Even over the phone, he made me all tingly. “I miss you, too. But I’m kind of tied up right now.”
    â€œLiterally or figuratively? With any other woman, I wouldn’t ask.”
    â€œHa, ha.”
    â€œSo where are you? Looking at carpet samples? I could join you.”
    â€œFrederick’s of Hollywood.”
    â€œMaybe not.” Zack laughed. “Frederick’s, huh? Somehow I pictured you in Christian Dior or Vera Wang.”
    â€œThey have some nice things here. And costumes.” I described a few. “Maybe I should get one for the shul’s Purim party.”
    â€œYou’d definitely make a statement. So what
are
you doing there?”
    I hesitated, then told him. “And before you say anything, I’m not getting my hopes up that the sister will have any answers for me.”
    â€œYou already have, or you wouldn’t be there.”
    â€œDon’t be so damn smart.” I fingered a black teddy. “As long as I’m here, I may try on a few things, get something special for our honeymoon. Shmuley Boteach would approve.” The author of
Kosher Sex.
    â€œThat’s because he doesn’t have a report to finish. If it’s full of mistakes, I’ll blame you.
How
many days till the wedding?”
    â€œFifteen.” I pictured him at his desk, shirtsleeves rolled up, tie loosened, top button undone, black suede yarmulke off center the way it always is.
    â€œToo long,” he said.
    â€œ
Way
too long. Any preferences?”
    â€œAnything with you in it.”
    I hung up the phone, smiling. Trina was still with her customer. I strolled to the back of the store and stopped in front of a large glass display case that featured celebrity lingerie. A pink, fur-trimmed sheer nightie from an Austin Powers movie. A purple nightgown from Naomi Judd. The green boxer shorts Tom Hanks wore in
Forrest
Gump.
I still think
Shawshank
should have won.
    To the right of the display case was a short flight of gray-and-white marble stairs that led to the museum. Here the items were more sedate: Frederick’s of Hollywood catalogs dating back decades. The bra worn by Tony Curtis in
Some Like It Hot.
Judy Garland’s nightgown from
Presenting Lily Mars.
Greta Garbo’s black slip from
Camille.
    I was examining a black bustier with strategically placed gold tassels when Trina appeared at my side. Five-inch stiletto black heels made her a touch taller than me.
    â€œThat’s the second bustier Madonna donated,” she told me. “The first one was purple, from her
Who’s That
Girl?
tour. It was stolen during the Rodney King riots.”
    Up close I could see freckles peeking through her pancake foundation. “Really?”
    â€œFrederick’s had to donate ten thousand dollars to Madonna’s charity, the one that gives poor women free mammograms. My favorites are the crinoline from
Seven
Brides for Seven Brothers
and Ava Gardner’s slip from
Showboat.
That’s my e-mail screen name. Ava Gardner.” She smiled. “I’m Trina. Jonnie said you were asking for me?”
    Her blues eyes were measuring my chest, and I found myself standing straighter and squaring my shoulders. “Molly Blume. I’m—”
    â€œThirty-six C, right?”
    â€œB.” They always flatter you.
    â€œWe have an Extreme Cleavage bra that’s real popular. We also have a vinyl bustier that’s really cool. Well,