Free Raiders of the Lost Corset by Ellen Byerrum

air.
    She had only Magda’s word for how she died, though that dying word was “poison.” Lacey had learned the hard way that anything she told Stella would soon be broadcast wider and faster than CNN could ever do it. Even more distressing, Stella would take any of Lacey’s half-formed speculations as the absolute truth.
    “Um, the police came. It was a pretty confusing scene. I don’t think there’s an official determination yet.”
    “Poor Magda. I’m so sorry you had to find the body, Lacey. As you are all too aware, I know exactly what that’s like,” Stella said, wiping a single tear away with one daggerlike fingernail. They were silent for a moment, remembering poor murdered Angie Woods, the hairstylist Stella had found dead in her own salon last spring. “Wow, we’re like totally maudlin here. Tell a joke or something.”
    “Sorry, Stel, I can never remember the punch lines.” Lacey paused for a moment, studying the pretty glass of blue liquid.
    “Stella, did Magda have any enemies?”
    “Nah. She was a doll. You know what a sweet old lady she was.”
    “But some of her clients were a little, um, weird.” Lacey sipped her champagne.
    “You talking about the leather lads or the high-priced hookers?”
    “Both. And anyone else unusual you can think of. I need to know everything interesting about her. For my story. You know.”
    “Don’t think so.” The slim and handsome waiter returned with Stella’s third Pink Lady and set it down. “You know those guys who are into the kinky underwear? When they go crazy, they just kill each other.”
    “Don’t I know it, honey!” the waiter interjected, and winked before moving off.
    “What about the call girls and the hookers?” Lacey asked.
    “Anybody dangerous there? Haven’t they’ve all been arrested one time or another?”
    “Some of ’em. Cost of doing business,” Stella said. “Sweet girls, the call girls, once you get to know ’em. In fact, Jolene, the really pretty blonde, did you ever meet her? No? She’s a client of mine, I do her highlights. She’s the one who introduced me to Magda. And her girlfriend Sylvania. They wouldn’t hurt Magda, they all love her! Besides, hookers only want to kill their johns. Or their pimps.” She slurped more of her Pink Lady and then choked on it. “Whoa! Wait a minute, Lacey! Are you saying what I think you’re saying? That some bastard knocked her off?!”
    “I don’t know yet, Stel! Like I said, the police haven’t made a determination.” Stella gave her a look that demanded the truth.
    Lacey looked away. “But yes, it’s probably murder.”
    “Oh, God. But why? Why Magda?” Lacey had no answer for her. “Damn it. Damn it all to hell. Well, don’t you worry, Lacey.”
    Stella’s voice rose and Lacey put her finger to her lips. Stella lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “Don’t worry, ’cause I’m going to help you this time. I’m going to help you catch the bastard.”
    “No, Stella. I’m not getting involved this time.” Lacey put down a bill to pay for the drinks and slipped her jacket on. Not again , she thought, never again. Besides, Magda didn’t ask Lacey to find the killer, only the corset. “Let the police handle it. There’s no way they can call this one a suicide. Let them do their job, Stella, we are not detectives.”
    “Broken record. Like it’s your number-one hit song. ‘Not gonna do it, not gonna do it, not gonna do it.’ ” Stella smiled.
    “That’s what you always say. And then you do it anyway. You know you’re gonna. And I’m gonna be there with you. Just remember, this is Stella you’re talking to. I’m your stylist. I know all your secrets.”
    That was exactly what Lacey was afraid of.
     

Chapter 7
    Brass buckles clicked beneath her fingers as Lacey opened what she considered her greatest treasure: Aunt Mimi’s trunk. The leather bands were beginning to stiffen and crack, even though Lacey tried to keep them well oiled. The trunk