The Lanvin Murders (Vintage Clothing Mysteries) by Angela M. Sanders Read Free Book Online

broasted chicken, too.”  
    He laughed, then hesitated. Should she say something more? They stood a moment, looking at each other.  
    “I guess I’d better be going,” he said at last. “Wait.” He stooped to the sidewalk and picked something up. “We must have dropped this.”
    It was a frayed silk rose from the Carmen wardrobe. As she reached for its green wire stem, her fingers brushed his. Electricity shivered through her body. Crazy. Just like the movies.
    He set the rose on the car and gently moved his other hand to her back. His lips slowly and softly met hers. His lower lip slid to her cheek as it lifted.  
    “Joanna,” he said. “I'd like to see you again.”
    “I…” Adrenalin rattled her bloodstream. For such a chaste kiss, she could hardly breathe. Say yes, say yes, she told herself. Her lips froze.
    The streetlight cut across his face, highlighting the curve of his lower lip. “You're probably already seeing someone.”  
    No. No, she wasn’t. Tell him, idiot. She still couldn’t speak. Between fight and flight, flight always won.
    “I see. Well, thanks for the evening,” he said. “I should be able to finish up the painting tomorrow or the next day, at the latest.”
    She wanted to say something to keep him there, to try to explain, but she wasn’t sure she could.  
    “Do you need a ride?” she finally managed to get out.
    “No. I don't live far.” He met her eyes. “Bye.” He walked to the end of the block and turned the corner.

CHAPTER SEVEN

    The next morning Joanna rose with a sense of purpose. Paul had been right: finding Marnie's friends and family and telling them about her death was something concrete she could do. What she’d tell them, she didn’t know. That Marnie had somehow materialized at Tallulah’s Closet dressed for an evening in front of the television and died? That she had no idea why Marnie was there or even what had killed her?
    As Joanna put the kettle on to boil, the shock of finding Marnie returned, this time mingled with unease. She still hadn’t heard from the police about the autopsy. Detective Crisp’s business card lay on the dining room table. Should she call? No. The police could do their job, and she’d do hers. But she’d slip the card in her purse just in case. In the bottom of her purse her fingers touched the silk rose.  
    “What is this, Auntie V? I mean, honestly. A silk rose. Could it get any cornier?” Joanna asked the portrait. “Besides, it’s not like it was some steamy kiss.” Joanna swallowed as she remembered the tremor that had passed through her when they touched. “He probably kisses everyone goodbye like that.” Like that brunette at the Reel M’Inn. She tossed the rose on the table. Well, no chance of anything happening anyway. She’d scared him off for good.
    As for Marnie, the first step was to find her friends. She knew Marnie had danced at Mary's Club and that she'd even had a bit of celebrity in her time. Another potential lead was that an old lover had given Marnie her house. She’d heard the story from Marnie more than once. It was a long shot, but maybe the ex had still been in touch with Marnie or would at least know how to contact her family. Joanna could put her legal research skills to use. Public records should show who owned the house before it was transferred to Marnie, if it actually had been. She could go to the courthouse and try to figure it out, but it was Saturday. She’d have to wait two full days. Or, the computer. Surely that sort of information was online now.
    She wrapped her silk kimono closer and brought a cup of coffee to the second bedroom she used as an office. She pushed aside the stack of dry cleaning receipts covering her computer and narrowed her eyes at the closed laptop. Apple had insisted she get one to keep track of expenses, but after one frustrating session with a spreadsheet program she gave it up and returned to her ledger book. To the shock of her professors, she’d