Free Death by Tiara by Laura Levine

Tex Turner, the auto dealer. Something told me she and Tex were more than just fellow judges.
    “Hi, there!” she said, flashing me her Ultra Brite smile. “Are you here with the pageant?”
    “Sort of. I’m helping one of the contestants prepare for the talent show.”
    “Really?” she replied, eyeing me with pity. “Better stock up on tranquilizers.”
    Then, no doubt realizing she wasn’t living up to her image as Teen Queen spokesperson, she quickly added, “Only kidding, of course. Pageants are such an exciting part of a girl’s life! I remember the year I won,” she gushed, launching into what sounded like a speech she’d given many times before. “What a thrill. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, that’s for sure. I’ve met so many wonderful people and done so many wonderful things. I’m just so darn grateful to Candace and her fabulous team!”
    Another twinkly smile.
    “Gosh, the elevator’s slow, isn’t it?” she said, her smile now straining at the edges.
    She gave the button a vicious stab with a neon pink nail, and at last we heard the elevator ding. The doors opened to reveal Candace and Tex Turner. Both of whom sprang apart hastily at the sight of us.
    Candace’s hair was mussed, her bright red lipstick smeared, and I couldn’t help but notice a vivid swipe of that lipstick on Tex’s cowboy shirt.
    Clearly we’d just interrupted a smooch session.
    Bethenny stared at them, fire in her eyes, as we got on the elevator.
    Tex had the good grace to blush, but Candace eyed us coolly, as if she’d been up to nothing more than checking the schedule on her clipboard.
    “Hello, you two!” she chirped brightly. “Ready for today’s exciting contests?”
    “Um, sure,” I managed to say, holding up my end of the conversation.
    But Bethenny just stood there, glaring at Candace.
    I could easily picture those neon nails of hers gouging the pageant director’s face to ribbons.
    It seemed like a small eternity, but at long last we reached the lobby.
    Tex and Candace hurried out the elevator, but Bethenny seemed frozen to the spot.
    “I can’t believe Tex is cheating on me with that tramp of a pageant director,” she hissed.
    “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, gently leading her out into the lobby.
    “Yeah, I’m fine. But Candace won’t be when I get my hands on her.”
    Uh-oh. Looked like more trouble in pageant paradise.

Chapter 9
    B ack at the buffet, I scarfed down a highly nutritious breakfast of coffee and a sticky bun, checking my cell every few minutes for a text from Scott. Alas, there were none. By the time I’d licked the last of the sticky bun from my fingers, I was pretty much convinced I’d never hear from Scott again, thanks to that god-awful dinner at his parents’ house.
    And so it was with heavy heart that I opened my emails and read the latest missives from my parents. Daddy was right, of course. It was only a matter of time before Mom would be begging him for a treat from the freezer. Poor thing. Dieting doesn’t come easy to her.
    Thinking how much Mom would enjoy it, I helped myself to another sticky bun and headed off for the swimsuit competition.
    The less said about the contest, the better. All in all, it was a most depressing affair—so many perfect young bodies parading around, tummies flat as washboards, skin sleek as silk.
    How come I never looked that good when I was sixteen? Oh, well. I only hoped a few of the lithe lovelies were hiding zits under their makeup.
    Up on stage, Eddie, sporting a freshly teased toupee, was doing his idea of comic patter. (“Welcome, everyone, to the Miss Teen Queen America Contest, where a raving beauty is the girl who comes in last, haha.”)
    The three judges sat at a table facing the stage, supposedly making notes on the contestants.
    But Dr. Fletcher wasn’t paying much attention to the bevvy of beauties before him. Instead he was shooting desperate glances at Candace, who sat at a separate table