What the heck had they been doing in Tiffany’s? Buying a ring? After twentysomething years, was the engagement back on?

I ducked behind a popcorn kiosk and watched the lovebirds as they headed toward Bloomingdale’s. And here’s the interesting part. After Hal kissed her goodbye, Ginny walked straight past the employee’s entrance and headed back into the store through the customers’ door.

So that’s how she could’ve slipped away and murdered SueEllen without anyone knowing. No need to clock in and out. Just use the customers’ entrance. With the dearth of sales help in department stores nowadays, no one would even know she’d been gone.

Chapter Eighteen

An hour later, I was standing in my living room in my bra and panties, humiliated beyond belief as Larkspur O’Leary circled around me, examining my body from all angles. Prozac sat on the sofa, licking her privates and taking in the scene.

“I always like to get a good look at my client’s physiology,” Larkspur explained, opening the window so the sun could highlight every nook and cranny of my cellulite.

I squirmed uncomfortably, cursing myself for eating those damn bagels. The cream cheese had already taken up permanent residence in my thighs.

“I have a special massage technique that breaks down cellulite,” Larkspur said. “That’s why I’m so popular.”

She stared at my thighs appraisingly, her delicate brows furrowed in what I can only assume was disgust.

“I see we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

I could just hear her now, talking with her fellow masseuses. I couldn’t believe my eyes. She had cellulite the size of large-curd cottage cheese!

Then she rummaged through her tote bag and took out a thermos.

“I’ve brewed you a special tea,” she said, pouring me a cup. “I make it for all my clients. It’s very relaxing. Drink it while I set up the massage table.”

I took a sip. It tasted like rancid tree bark. Not that I know what rancid tree bark tastes like. I’m guessing.

“Drink every drop,” she said, as she deftly opened the heavy massage table. For such a tiny thing, she was awfully strong. Strong enough, I wondered, to overpower SueEllen and force her into a deadly bathtub?

I smiled weakly and forced myself to drink the tree bark.

Larkspur spread a fresh sheet on top of the table, and plopped a cassette into a boom box she’d brought with her. Strains of tinkly sitar music filled the air. I don’t know about you, but I for one am not a tinkly sitar music fan.

“It’s a relaxation tape,” she said.

“Very soothing,” I lied.

“Now hop on board,” she said, patting the massage table.

Easier said than done. After a few futile attempts at hoisting myself up, I finally did it.

Prozac giggled from her perch on the sofa. Okay, so she didn’t exactly giggle, but I know she was enjoying this whole humiliating scene.

“You know,” Larskpur said, running her finger along my thigh, “you really should avoid dairy products. They’re regular cellulite magnets.”