Read Demise in Denim for Free Online Page A

hatchback named Blueberry. Hollis got the Lexus because he sold real estate and he insisted he had to look successful to be successful. Blueberry got great gas mileage and was cheap to insure and a breeze to park even in the tightest of places, but in the ten minutes that it took me to drive from the police station to my house the Chevy got more attention than little ol’ Blueberry ever did. I locked the garage, and BW and I strutted ourselves inside to get the Prissy Fox ready for the day.
    I pulled on my usual shop garb of black capris and a white blouse, clipped my hair back, and swiped on some mascara and lip gloss as BW watched me from his new favorite spot out in the hall. We went downstairs and I got the cash from the safe, also known as the rocky road icecream container in the freezer. I transferred the money to the cash register—also known as the Godiva chocolate box sans chocolate, but it still smelled great when I made a sale.
    I flipped the lights on and turned on my little radio to WRHQWR105, the quality rock station, hoping to hear more Adam Levine. I kept the volume low as background music and then opened the front door.
    â€œâ€™Bout time,” a blonde gal in Saks’ finest huffed as she and her clone bustled inside the shop. “You know how long I’ve been waiting out there on that miserable porch with the hole in the roof? Ten whole minutes. What kind of shop is this?”
    One that doesn’t open till ten and right now it’s nine thirty
, I thought to myself. Not that I said that out loud, as the customer is always right . . . even if they can’t tell time or read the hours posted on the door. “Are you shopping for something in particular that I can help with?” I asked in my sweet-shop-owner voice.
    Four eyes rounded and clone one gasped, “You think
we
shop at a secondhand store?” They exchanged looks, sighs, and shoulder rolls all at the same time, as if rehearsed. Clone two thrust a list at me. “We’re here on business. There are a lot of men’s clothes here, nice ones. How much will I get for them, and I’ll need them sold right quick.”
    â€œThese are good brands, but men’s clothes don’t move as fast as women’s. It will take a month, maybe two.”
    â€œSee, Anna,” clone two said to clone one as she hitched her Prada bag up onto her shoulder. “I told you so. This isn’t going to work. You need something else to tide you over till the lawyers settle the estate and you get the money free and clear.”
    Clone one tapped her foot. “That means I’ll just have to live off the credit cards? But a girl needs cash; it’s not proper for her not to have cash in hand. What will people think if I have to fork over a credit card all the time? This is a disgrace, Bella. What am I going to do?”
    Anna? Bella? The gold-digger sisters?
    â€œI’m so sorry about your husband’s passing,” I offered.
    â€œOh, honey,” Bella huffed. “He’s not dead . . . yet. But a girl’s got to be prepared for these things if they should come her way unexpected-like. I’m just getting affairs in order for when the time comes sooner or later.”
    â€œAnd we are so hoping and praying for the sooner part,” Anna added.
    â€œFact is, we’re off to see Odilia right now on how we can hurry the situation along a bit,” Bella said.
    â€œHe’s critical and you don’t want him to suffer?”
    â€œThings are critical all right, and I’m doing the suffering.” Anna tsked, her face pulling into a frown. “I cannot believe that Walker Boone person tried to convince our husbands to change their wills like he did and make our inheritance proportional to years married. Of all the nerve! What if they go and do such a thing? How dare that man stick his nose into our business? He so deserves to be behind bars.”
    Two customers