Reservation for Murder by June Wright

Author:June Wright
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Verse Chorus Press
Published: 2020-10-24T19:18:26+00:00

Six

I

The salon of Stephanie et Cie, where Lorraine Lawrence was employed, was tucked away in an exclusive high-rental arcade. I approached it diffidently at first, having heard that it was frequented only by expensive females who did not know the meaning of budgeting. Then the knowledge of my capacity as a secret investigator stimulated a mad, childish streak, and I rehearsed a swift, crazy role. If Lorraine could be the daughter of a wealthy grazier, so could I. I was down in town on a shopping spree—helping Daddy spend his wool cheque. My new cherished suit was no longer my best outfit, but a little country tailleur in which I had made the trip.

There was a dress show in progress when I swung nonchalantly over the peerless threshold, and the salon was packed with synthetic-looking women and a scattering of men with pouches under their eyes and paunches under their waistcoats. The crowd and the cigarette smoke and the parakeet babble gave me time to sight not only Lorraine and her employer, but a beautiful young man in a pale grey suit with a lavender satin cravat under his dimpled chin whom I guessed was Rupert Garland—Clare’s object of derision. He was floating around after the models describing the clothes they displayed in a choir-boy voice, and calling the clients ‘darling’ when they addressed him.

Then the old-faced woman with the incredibly youthful figure and henna-lacquered hair, whom I took to be Stephanie, saw me. She gave a swift assessing up-and-down look and spoke to a still unconscious Lorraine.

Slim and lovely in black with her semi-business, semi-social smile pinned on, Lorraine was moving through the crowd ready to greet another customer when she suddenly realized who it was. The smile went out like a fused light and she had to force herself forward. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded, in a fierce whisper.

Borrowing a touch of Fenella’s brashness, I went right into my role. ‘I say, are you Stephanie? Bobo Cavendish told me I simply must come to you. In fact, she absolutely insisted. She always buys her things here. Acksherly’—I had heard one of the expensive ladies pronounce the word that way—‘I usually shop in Sydney—do you know Clauderine’s over there?—but Daddy wanted to see his wool broker here, so he flew our plane down this morning. I warned the sweet that I hadn’t a rag to my back, and that Bobo had told me of the most marvellous place—I say, you do know Lady Cavendish, don’t you? I haven’t come to the wrong shop? How frightfully funny if I’ve got the names mixed.’

Poor Lorraine could only stand and gape, but Stephanie was alongside in a flash. She knew that no one so ordinarily dressed would have the nerve to enter her salon unless their poor taste was backed up by a substantial bank balance. ‘I am Stephanie!’ she announced, revealing an elegant set of dentures in a glittering smile. ‘I heard you mention dear Lady Cavendish. Of course we know her well here.

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