I knew Mayburn needed information about the products and the pricing to determine whether Josie was involved in anything shady. I looked over my shoulder to make sure Josie was still in the front, took a notebook out of my purse and then scribbled as fast as I could the names of lingerie items, the makers, the cost, the markup.

I heard the front door chime once or twice, followed by the sound of Josie’s voice greeting a customer, the murmur of conversation as she helped them.

But now the door chimed again and the store was soon filled with the loud chatter of women who had obviously stopped for drinks on their way over. The bridal party, I thought. I straightened my suit and headed out of the back room.

There were eight women buzzing about the place, all shrieking and pointing and holding up negligees. Their joy was palpable and innocent, and I felt a kind of envy I hadn’t experienced before-a feeling that I might never again have such unencumbered joy.

I’m the same Izzy I always was, I told myself. But as I stood in the doorway, gazing at a bunch of women a few years younger than me, I knew that no matter what happened from here on-with the cops, with Jane’s death, with Trial TV, with Sam, with Theo, with Grady-I was different because of what I’d done and seen over the last year; because of what I’d done and seen over the last week.

Still, I was there for a job. I put on my anchorwoman face-the calm, confident one that I’d learned from watching Jane-and I began to walk toward the pack of women.

But then I froze. I could tell who the bride was now-she was at the center of a knot of women who were holding out every piece of white lingerie we had. “Look at this one!” they were saying. “No, this one is perfect!”

The bride laughed and swung around, gazing at everything with big eyes. “I can’t decide, you guys. My wedding night will be the most important night of my life.”

Josie stood to the side, and I could see her hiding a grimace. She turned and looked at me, giving me a glance that said, Can you believe this piece of work?

The good employee in me wanted to charge in and take over, helping the bride the way I’d been asked to do. But there was one very big problem. I knew the bride. I knew the asymmetrical cut of her shiny black hair. It was Faith Lowe, the producer from Trial TV.

37

J osie found me in the back, furiously steaming cashmere pajamas, trying to hide behind a cloud of vapor.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she said in a fierce whisper. “I need you out there.”

I struggled for something to say. I couldn’t exactly tell her that I knew Faith from Trial TV.

“I know that girl,” I said.

“Who?”

“Faith. The bride. She’s a lawyer, right?” I remembered that Jane told me Faith was one of the Trial TV employees who also had legal experience.

“I don’t know,” Josie said, irritated. “I’m just trying to sell her a lot of merchandise, and I told you to handle her. I run this store, Lexi.”

“I know.” I bit my lip, trying to come up with something to sway her, some reason I could stay hidden in the back. I quickly reviewed all my dealings with Josie. The only time I’d seen her frosty exterior melt even a little bit was earlier tonight when I’d told her about my fiancé taking off.

“She’s the one,” I said, at the same time sending a silent apology to Faith for the fact that I was about to trash her name.

“The one what?”

“The one who my fiancé was involved with when he dumped me.”

Josie drew in a quick breath. “Are you serious?” But then she made a face. “I thought you said he left town.”

“He did. With her.”

A gasp. “So she’s here because she’s about to marry your fiancé?”

Hmm. Tricky. “Well, no. She dumped my fiancé and then she got with someone else. So really she broke two hearts.”

“The bitch!”

“I know.” Sorry, Faith. “So, I really can’t help her.”

Josie huffed and looked at me sympathetically. “Of course you can’t.”

I gestured at the stock. “I’m going to get all this done, though.”

Josie nodded. “I’ll handle the bridal party.” She grunted. “And all those negligees that were on sale up front? They are not on sale any longer. Not for that girl.”

“Thanks, Josie.” I felt the first bond with her, and then guilt for having engineered it.

She stomped back to the front, and I could hear her addressing Faith in a saccharine voice.

I pulled the notebook from my purse again and wrote for Mayburn, Will raise prices when doesn’t like a customer. Then I went back to work on the stock, attacking it with a vengeance, determined, at least, to do a good job for Josie.

A minute later-bam, bam, bam-a knock came from the door that led to the alley.

There was a little window cut into the door. I peered out and saw a guy in a black baseball cap holding a large cardboard box, almost like a big pizza box. Behind him was a white van. More stock?

I was about to open the door, when Josie rushed into the back room. “Got it,” she said breathlessly.

She opened the door. “Hey, Steve.”

Steve, a mean-looking guy with black oily hair and a meager beard, grunted and held out the cardboard box. He stopped short for a second when he saw me. He dragged his eyes up and down my body, smiled slightly. He was probably my age, in his late twenties, but he was one of those people who looked as if life had treated him hard. Or maybe he had treated life hard.

“This is my new clerk,” Josie said.

Steve nodded, leered in my direction.

Josie took the box and held the door open so he could leave. But Steve wasn’t moving. He was still staring at me, a weird, twisted kind of smirk on his face.

“Thanks, Steve.” Josie’s words were loud. “See you later.” She shut the door so he had no choice but to step back. When he was outside, she locked it. Then she opened the box. Inside were smaller black boxes, like the one she’d sold to Nina a few days ago.

“More pearl thongs?” I said.

“Yeah.”

“If you want to give me the key, I’ll put them up there.” I gestured to the locked box on the high shelf. “That way you can get back out front.”

“No, I’ve got it.” She sighed. “That evil woman has her girls trying on fifteen different nude bras. They’re never going to get out of here.”

Out came the step stool and the keys. She quickly arranged the pearl-thong boxes in the lockbox, tucked her keys in her pocket and then shot back into the front room.

I stood there for a moment, thinking. Why not just let me take the delivery of the pearl thongs? Why not let me put them away? She trusted me with the rest of the merchandise, even the more pricey pieces. And then there was the fact that she kept the thongs locked up.

I hustled to the back door and peered through the window. Steve was sitting in his van, using his steering wheel as a writing desk, making some kind of notation. Then he started the van and pulled down the alley. I opened the door and watched his taillights trail away in the dark night. He kept heading down the alleyway, clearly one of those Chicagoans who knew how to avoid the traffic on the main streets. Just like I did.

My scooter was sitting right there. I watched that van, still making its way down the long alley that ran perpendicular to Racine Avenue.

I thought of what Mayburn had told me when he’d gotten me on this case. Pay attention to everything. Pay attention to anything that seems off. Even a little bit. I just need you to collect the pieces.

And then I thought of another thing Mayburn had said to me-Don’t plan. Improvise.

I rushed to my coat and put it on with my helmet. Then I grabbed my scooter keys and phone from my purse and tucked them in a pocket. It sounded as though Josie would be with Faith and her friends for at least another fifteen to twenty minutes, maybe longer.