So who knew where she liked her purse to be? And was there a way I could find out who the designer of the purse was…and if I did, would they tell me if they’d made more than one?
I decided to gather Livingston and Jeff and head home for some quiet time before family dinner. I had some research to do.
Because whether Tansy and the DA wanted to call it or not, this was a murder investigation.
“Trixie?”
“Uh-huh?” I was eyeball deep in my laptop on the couch at the guesthouse—soon to be our house (that still made me feel such pride). First, I’d watched video of Mitzy’s entrance to the stage after she took a quick break. Someone had gotten some terrific footage of her seconds before she fell and she neither looked flustered or even a little disturbed.
And no one had touched her. No one in the crowd, no one on the stage. So if the peanut allergy was the cause of death, someone backstage could be responsible—or at the very least, they put something backstage they knew Mitzy would touch.
I’d also watched video after video of Mitzy and her makeup, just to find out who’d made her purse. Coop had recognized it instantly, and I’d wanted to know how she knew it was Mitzy’s, but she’d been in deep with a client and I hadn’t wanted to disturb her, and honestly, I had nothing else to investigate.
So I’d decided to watch all of Mitzy’s videos and see if maybe she’d talked about the designer of the purse. Call it beating a dead horse because I’d come up dry, but I can tell you this, were I better at applying makeup, I’d be aces at my technique. I’d learned a lot from watching her, I just hadn’t learned anything useful to the actual investigation.
An investigation I wasn’t invited to participate in. Yet, the purse was the only clue I had worthy of my attention at this point.
“Trixie!” Jeff howled at me, nudging me with his head.
My gaze flew to Jeff’s face, his chocolate-brown eyes imploring me to pay attention. “What’s up, buddy?”
“I’m beggin’ ya, no more Glitzy Mitzy videos, m’kay? If I have to hear that squeee one more time, I’m gonna go wicked mad!”
I chuckled and shook my head. “It is a little abrasive, huh?”
Livingston tsked from his perch on the armchair in the living room. “Abrasive, lass? It’s ear piercing, and if I never hear it again, I shan’t feel a shred of sorrow.”
Untucking my leg from beneath me, I repositioned myself on the couch, pulling a blanket from the back of it to snuggle into. “Sorry, guys. I just thought I might be able to find out who made Mitzy’s purple purse. I’ll put my headphones on.”
“Trixie?” I heard Higgs call from outside the front door, rapping his knuckles against the solid wood.
“Come on in!” I yelled as Jeff made a beeline for the entryway, almost knocking over a tall vase filled with cottonwood stems.
He really had developed a deep bond with Higgs since they’d been able to communicate. They were “bro-ing” in a way I didn’t anticipate, but was relieved to see. It made everything so much easier when I didn’t have to fib to Higgs about how I knew exactly what Jeff wanted.
“Jeffie!” Higgs yelped, patting his chest to encourage Jeff to jump into his arms. “How are ya, bud? I missed you, man.”
Jeff made the leap with ease, launching himself into Higgs’s strong arms and licking his face. “Did ya bring me somethin’ to eat? A treat?”
Higgs ruffled the fur on Jeff’s head and set him down, smiling adoringly at him. “Did I bring you a treat? Silly boy. Are the Red Sox a wicked baseball team? Do the Bruins play hockey?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pig ear, Jeff’s favorite.
Jeff dropped to the floor and sat at Higgs’s feet like the well-mannered, trained dog he’d become. “Thanks, man. You’re the best!”
He took the treat with a gentle nip and scurried off to the corner by the fireplace, where his bed was, to enjoy his treat.
After giving Livingston a quick stroke on the head, Higgs came to stand over me with a smile. “So, Sister Trixie Lavender, I suppose you’re looking for sketch pads at bulk prices, not fishing around online for clues to the death of one Mitzy Glitzy, right?”
I patted the couch next to me and groaned. “It’s Glitzy Mitzy, and you know me so well. Yes, I’m poking around, but really all that poking amounts to is watching videos of Mitzy in the hopes I’ll find out who made her purse. Oh, and reading the ninety million or so comments to see if I can find anything suspicious.”
I explained to him about the two purses, but he appeared to already know. Draping his arm around my shoulder, he brushed my hair from my face.
“Tansy told me you were a little upset with her.”
I turned to face him. “I’m not really upset, per se. Just disappointed. I’d hoped she’d include me in the investigation and instead, she’s locking me out. Though, I understand why she’s doing it.”
“She’s really worried about your safety, Trixie. What happened with Emile upset her far more than you’ll ever know. She was a nervous wreck while you were healing.”
I closed the laptop, figuring I might as well let this go until at least after dinner. “But she had nothing to do with that. It was just wrong place, wrong time. You know that. I didn’t actively seek him out—he found me at the church.”
Higgs bounced his head in agreement. “Yep, I know that and you know that, but Tansy’s not your average detective who’ll accept that as an answer. She also knows you would have actively investigated him if you had known he was a
