“Let’s just say she strikes me as ‘hinky.’ Anyway, so you’re saying we’re no closer to figuring out Dupree’s killer.”
“Every step is a step closer. At the very least, this new information may be enough to get the murder charge against Sailor dropped. Unless the DA wants to claim he was responsible for the poisoning as well—but that would be quite a stretch, and an obvious source of reasonable doubt.”
Speaking of doubt, self-doubt shot through me. I felt like I was betraying Carlos by not telling him what I knew about the ersatz “Sailor” asking for amanita mushrooms at the Lucky Moon. But on the other hand . . . I couldn’t bring myself to betray Sailor by spilling the beans. Besides, what purpose would be served by helping to frame an innocent man?
“The ME estimates several hours elapsed between when Dupree consumed the poison and when he died,” Carlos continued. “So at the moment, at least, it’s looking like the worst-case scenario for Sailor is a charge of assault and battery.”
“Which is an improvement, but not exactly what I was hoping for.”
“Baby steps, Lily. Baby steps.”
Chapter 23
I was late getting back to Aunt Cora’s Closet, but luckily Bronwyn and Duke had already arrived and opened the doors for business. Even though weekday mornings were slow, I liked to open on time. One never knew when a customer would be in a mad rush to find just the right dress.
Also, we’d be closed tomorrow to prep the shop for the Magical Match Tea on Sunday. So today was the last day for customers to find true vintage matching outfits in time for the event, and we still had a few outfits up for grabs.
“Maya and her cousin Kareem are due to arrive within the hour,” Bronwyn said. “So please don’t worry; you do whatever you need to do, and we’ll be just fine and look after the place.”
The bell over the front door tinkled as Selena walked in.
“Hi, Selena,” I said, though in truth my stomach dropped. I had hoped she would stay clear of the shop for a while—at least until things were settled. “What are you doing here?”
“School’s off. And I still don’t have a bridesmaid’s dress. You left yesterday, ’member?”
“Yes, right. Of course. Good idea. Let’s get you outfitted.”
I turned to the “Dressy Dresses” rack and started rummaging through it with gusto. There was one thing in this life I was still good at: finding the right dress. If I couldn’t do it for myself, the very least I could do was to come through for Selena.
As usual, Selena gravitated toward rather garish flounces, but I convinced her to take a few of my choices into the dressing room as well.
The first was a late-1950s claret red sleeveless number with a wide skirt and charcoal gray fabric roses peppered along the neckline, down to the waist, and over the straps. The next dress was a simple ice-blue tea-length A-line chiffon, with a sweetheart neckline and a swishy skirt. The last was a true antique, a genuine flapper-era dress. The top was made of the palest blush silk with satin ribbon and lace details, and a vintage lace sash. The long skirt was made of ashes-of-roses cotton embellished with appliqués and overlaid with a pink cut silk velvet overskirt, with pink tulle and lace trim at the hem. It was finished with a large pink satin rose at the waist. Unfortunately, the last dress, in particular, hung rather limp and uninspiring on the hanger.
“I’m telling you as a professional, Selena: Not many women can wear true vintage from the twenties. You should try it on, see if you like it.”
“I guess,” she said with a shrug. “Want to try on your wedding dress again? We could use the big dressing room, together.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’d love to.”
We passed the next forty-five minutes trying on dresses, laughing as Bronwyn added more items to our rack, urging us to try on silly items from the sixties, seventies, and eighties. We had the shop to ourselves this morning, so it was like playing dress-up. I reveled in such a relaxed, unguarded, normal time with Selena.
As I had predicted, the twenties ensemble was exactly right for Selena. It needed to be taken in a bit here and there, and the cotton skirt was much too long, but otherwise, it was perfect.
She emerged from the dressing room to show Bronwyn and Duke, delighted and blushing as they made a fuss over her.
“I do look pretty good, don’t I?” she asked shyly, observing herself in the three-way mirror.
“So good I’m going to have to keep up my search,” I declared. “Otherwise you’ll outshine me at my own wedding!”
She grinned, and light danced around her.
I had put on the dress Wind Spirit brought again, because Selena asked me to, though I had already decided no amount of alteration would transform it into what I wanted. I considered several of the fancy dresses in the shop—who said I had to wear an actual wedding gown? In the old days, people simply wore a nice dress that they could wear again and again for special occasions.
As we were changing into our everyday clothes—a few customers had arrived, so it was time to get back to work—Selena wrinkled her nose.
“That wedding dress smells kind of funny.”
“It does?” I sniffed, but didn’t pick up on anything. “My sense of smell is terrible these days. What does it smell like?”
“Like . . . musty, sort of. And kind of like cupcakes? But in a bad way. Burned cupcakes.”
“Like the ones in your drawings?” I asked, concerned.
“How did you know they were burned?”
“I saw some burned cupcakes recently, and they reminded me of the ones you drew. I just can’t figure out what it means. Do you have any thoughts about it?”
“I
