Free Died with a Bow by Grace Carroll Page B

yellow crime scene tape and, once inside, to see the floor looked freshly scrubbed and waxed. So those crime scene cleaners had done a good job. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I entered the great room, stepping gingerly over the place where I’d last seen Vienna’s body.
    “Good morning,” a voice from the next room said.
    I almost jumped out of my skin. It didn’t sound like Dolce. In fact it was Detective Ramirez, who I knew used to be Jack Wall’s assistant or whatever you call a detective that’s beneath you in rank. She came walking toward me from the rear of the house, dressed, as usual, in an outfit all wrong for her figure. She was not in uniform, which might have covered her ample figure and given her some gravitas, which I assumed all officers of the law aimed for. Instead, she was wearing a pair of short shorts with tough boots and a striped surfer-inspired hoodie.
    I knew it wasn’t polite, but I simply stood there in the middle of the great room staring at this vision, a portly policewoman wearing a trendy outfit that accented her wide hips and stocky legs.
    “Detective Ramirez,” I said when I finally found my voice. “I hardly recognized you.”
    “Why not? Because I wear street clothes when I’m on duty and also when I’m not?” she said.
    “That’s right,” I replied, not wishing to get into an argument over what she wore or didn’t wear. “What brings you to the boutique so early this Monday morning?” And how did she get in?
    As if I didn’t know why she was here. She was surely at the boutique to grill both Dolce and me about the murder of our former salesgirl. But why her? Why now? And why didn’t Jack tell me he was sending her?
    “Your boss let me in,” she said. “She said she’d be with me shortly.”
    “In the meantime, what can I do for you?” I asked pleasantly. I decided to assume she was there on personal business and treat her as if she were a regular customer. “A newbag? A pleated skirt? We just got some girly skirts in that look great with oversize sweaters in neutral colors.” I don’t believe in forcing styles on our customers. Instead I try my best to find them something they like whether I think it’s appropriate for their body type or not. Which is why I thought, based on the detective’s taste in clothing, that she’d go for one of our new skirts and sweaters. My job was to help everyone, whether wraith-like or chubby, find what they wanted and if they felt good about themselves, all the better for them.
    “Not today,” she said. “Actually this is my day off. As you see, I am dressed even more casually than usual. This is just an informal courtesy call. I’ve recently been reassigned to your neighborhood.”
    “Really?” I said, though I wanted to ask, “How recently? Just today?” Instead, I said, “So does your assignment have anything to do with the um…death of Vienna Fairchild over the weekend?”
    “It could,” she said. “I want you to know that even though I’m off duty, I’m available for consultation any time of night or day. Our goal at the SFPD is to cut down on violent crime in the area.”
    “I second that. Crime in the area is not good for business.” I paused for a second. Enough pussy-footing around. “So do you have any suspects in the Fairchild murder? Any clues?” I asked. I didn’t think she’d answer, but why not push the envelope? She’d never liked me, so why pretend otherwise?
    She looked surprised at my audacity. What nerve I had asking direct questions. I decided if Jack had sent her here, I was going to let go of my inhibitions and ask her anything I felt like. Even if she wasn’t on duty. Even if she refused toanswer. This was my chance to ask anything I wouldn’t ask Jack for fear of setting him off on a tangent. She could say no and that would be that. I was used to being turned down. I was also used to taking chances.
    “That’s for me to ask you, Ms. Jewel,” she said. “In