me before she died. She blamed a fellow employee.”
“I wouldn’t put it past Popo to have some sticky fingers herself.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I dunno. Even with her Christmas bonuses, how could she afford that wardrobe of hers, let alone the money she gave me to look after?”
“She had some cash put away for a rainy day?”
“You bet. For a monsoon, in fact.”
Lexie didn’t talk to me about her clients unless they were dead. Still, I knew I was expected to be discreet.
“Maybe Popo had a sugar daddy?” I asked.
“Who would be attracted to the likes of her? Hell, she was more prickly than I am!”
“I know plenty of men who are attracted to you, babycakes.”
She tossed the napkin down. “Keep the list to yourself, sweetie. Oh, here’s Evie.”
Evie Aquinas pressed a glass of very good pinot noir into my hands and engaged Lexie in a conversation about buying jewelry. Lexie glanced surreptitiously at me and rolled her eyes.
I eased away to sip my wine and make small talk among the other guests. Writing mental notes, I composed my newspaper piece in my mind. Trenton Aquinas had revived a small historical society, and the members were pleased to be invited into his home for their first annual holiday gathering. The crowd was mostly university professors. I saw a few friends, met a newcomer or two, and tried to make an early escape once I had a rough draft of a story in my head.
“Nora!” Evie Aquinas caught me in the foyer. “Lexie tells me you’re interested in Popo Prentiss’s death. Are you as shocked as the rest of us?”
Why hadn’t I thought of Evie sooner? Of course, she had probably been one of Popo’s most frequent clients.
“I’m very shocked,” I assured Evie.
“She was practically my best friend,” Evie said quietly. A sparkle of tears welled up in her eyes. “I could always call her just to talk when I was feeling down. I don’t know what I’ll do about my spring clothes. Popo planned to order everything for me in the next few weeks.”
“Maybe Darwin can help.”
Evie winced. “Or maybe I’ll try another store. Darwin’s not exactly my type. He doesn’t have Popo’s joie de vivre.”
“Or,” I suggested, taking a chance, “her access to the best merchandise?”
Evie laughed awkwardly. “Oh, you know Popo. She always had a few little treats tucked away. For special clients. She called them her small investments.”
“Investments?”
Tears forgotten, Evie started to blush. “To tell the truth, I suspected she bought the things herself for later resale. Why, last summer she suddenly realized she had some of those Hermès ties that were so hard to find months earlier—the ones with the sailboats? Just in time for Trenton’s birthday. I feel certain she kept them just for me.”
“But you think they came from Popo, not the store? From some kind of special stash?”
“Well, that was my suspicion.” Evie began to look distressed. “She hand-delivered personally. Come to think of it, she didn’t provide store receipts either. I wanted those ties so badly that I never—”
“Evie, this is important or I wouldn’t ask. Do you think Popo might have stolen the ties from the store?”
“Of course not!” Evie mustered some indignation. “No, I think she purchased the treats with her own money and simply resold the ties to me later. She really went the extra mile for special clients. We were friends, honestly.”
“Do you know where Popo kept her little treats?” I asked. “The things she held back for her pals?”
“Not at the store,” Evie said slowly. “Last May she invited me to an after-hours sale at her apartment. I was so flattered to be asked. Popo has a condo in Rittenhouse Square. In fact, it might be the same building you lived in before your husband— I mean, before now. She gave us caviar and a tour of the things she wanted to sell. Some of it was out-of-date, but she had a lot of new merchandise, too. I bought a
“I wouldn’t put it past Popo to have some sticky fingers herself.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I dunno. Even with her Christmas bonuses, how could she afford that wardrobe of hers, let alone the money she gave me to look after?”
“She had some cash put away for a rainy day?”
“You bet. For a monsoon, in fact.”
Lexie didn’t talk to me about her clients unless they were dead. Still, I knew I was expected to be discreet.
“Maybe Popo had a sugar daddy?” I asked.
“Who would be attracted to the likes of her? Hell, she was more prickly than I am!”
“I know plenty of men who are attracted to you, babycakes.”
She tossed the napkin down. “Keep the list to yourself, sweetie. Oh, here’s Evie.”
Evie Aquinas pressed a glass of very good pinot noir into my hands and engaged Lexie in a conversation about buying jewelry. Lexie glanced surreptitiously at me and rolled her eyes.
I eased away to sip my wine and make small talk among the other guests. Writing mental notes, I composed my newspaper piece in my mind. Trenton Aquinas had revived a small historical society, and the members were pleased to be invited into his home for their first annual holiday gathering. The crowd was mostly university professors. I saw a few friends, met a newcomer or two, and tried to make an early escape once I had a rough draft of a story in my head.
“Nora!” Evie Aquinas caught me in the foyer. “Lexie tells me you’re interested in Popo Prentiss’s death. Are you as shocked as the rest of us?”
Why hadn’t I thought of Evie sooner? Of course, she had probably been one of Popo’s most frequent clients.
“I’m very shocked,” I assured Evie.
“She was practically my best friend,” Evie said quietly. A sparkle of tears welled up in her eyes. “I could always call her just to talk when I was feeling down. I don’t know what I’ll do about my spring clothes. Popo planned to order everything for me in the next few weeks.”
“Maybe Darwin can help.”
Evie winced. “Or maybe I’ll try another store. Darwin’s not exactly my type. He doesn’t have Popo’s joie de vivre.”
“Or,” I suggested, taking a chance, “her access to the best merchandise?”
Evie laughed awkwardly. “Oh, you know Popo. She always had a few little treats tucked away. For special clients. She called them her small investments.”
“Investments?”
Tears forgotten, Evie started to blush. “To tell the truth, I suspected she bought the things herself for later resale. Why, last summer she suddenly realized she had some of those Hermès ties that were so hard to find months earlier—the ones with the sailboats? Just in time for Trenton’s birthday. I feel certain she kept them just for me.”
“But you think they came from Popo, not the store? From some kind of special stash?”
“Well, that was my suspicion.” Evie began to look distressed. “She hand-delivered personally. Come to think of it, she didn’t provide store receipts either. I wanted those ties so badly that I never—”
“Evie, this is important or I wouldn’t ask. Do you think Popo might have stolen the ties from the store?”
“Of course not!” Evie mustered some indignation. “No, I think she purchased the treats with her own money and simply resold the ties to me later. She really went the extra mile for special clients. We were friends, honestly.”
“Do you know where Popo kept her little treats?” I asked. “The things she held back for her pals?”
“Not at the store,” Evie said slowly. “Last May she invited me to an after-hours sale at her apartment. I was so flattered to be asked. Popo has a condo in Rittenhouse Square. In fact, it might be the same building you lived in before your husband— I mean, before now. She gave us caviar and a tour of the things she wanted to sell. Some of it was out-of-date, but she had a lot of new merchandise, too. I bought a
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