The Lanvin Murders (Vintage Clothing Mysteries) by Angela M. Sanders Page B

nodded. A “little” older being close to thirty years. The congressman had to be near seventy. A well-preserved seventy, but not exactly in the first blush of youth.
    “And, naturally, he had a past. He was a bachelor for a long time, you know. He has to spend a lot of time away from home. So people talk.”
    “He was a bachelor for a long time, but he married you. That should tell people something.” The intimacy of trying on clothes had sparked discussion of everything from stretch marks to fears of eternal spinsterhood, but Joanna never thought she’d be talking to the wife of a congressman about her insecurities.
    Laura picked up her purse. “Sorry for going on and on. I’d better be leaving.”
    “I'll wrap these up for you. I'm so glad you found a few things you like.” Selling the Pucci would pay the store's rent for a few weeks. Laura hadn't even glanced at its price tag.  
    Joanna pulled a sheet of hot pink tissue and laid it on the counter. “How did you hear about the store?”
    “From my husband's chief of staff in town. I understand you know him.”  
    “Yes, Andrew.”  
    “With the polls so close, we’ve stepped up the functions, and I really needed to boost my wardrobe.”
    She wrapped the Pucci then slid the second dress off its hanger. “Did you get the chance to try this on?” She held up the black cocktail dress. “Sometimes they fit differently.”
    “I'm sure it will fit fine.” Her voice had reverted to the confident, indifferent tone of someone who is always pleasant without really being engaged. She smiled, showing perfectly aligned, china white teeth. She tapped her credit card on the counter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

    After Laura Remmick and Kevin left, Joanna returned to the broken bathroom window. She moved the cardboard to the side, and, using a hand towel, carefully pushed the window the rest of the way open. She brushed shards of glass to the floor and lifted her skirt to step up on the toilet and look outside. There was just enough clearance for her shoulders. If a bigger person had tried to come in, he wouldn't have had much room to maneuver.  
    She leaned out further and looked down the narrow alley. Tallulah’s Closet didn't have a back door. To the right, dumpsters hulked. To the left, light shone between the buildings.  
    Joanna’s imagination replayed the scene. The intruder would have parked a few blocks away, then, without drawing attention to himself, slipped into the alley behind the video rental store. Keeping close to the buildings, he’d be less conspicuous. Dot’s closed at two in the morning. Maybe he waited until then. She swallowed hard.
    “Hello?” said a man’s voice close behind her. She pulled back into the store so quickly that she bumped her head against the window frame. A piece of glass knocked loose and clinked to the floor.
    Paul stood outside the bathroom. “Are you all right?”
    She rubbed her skull where it throbbed from hitting the sash. “I'm fine. Don't you ever knock?”
    “You didn’t hear the doorbell? The landlord called and said you'd left him a message that someone broke in, this time through a window. He wanted me to come over and replace the glass. He didn't tell me to bring a first aid kit.”  
    Joanna felt her face redden. “Sorry. I guess I was distracted.”
    Paul took a paper towel from behind the counter and wet it in the sink. “Here, let me get this.”
    He put a hand under Joanna's chin to steady her, then with his other hand lifted the hair from the side of her head. “It's bleeding a little. Looks like you scraped it.” A freckle flecked the iris of one eye. He smelled of soap and wood.
    He started to dab the paper towel to her head, but Joanna snatched it from his hand, controlling her breath. “Thank you, but I'm fine.”
    He stepped back and looked at her for a few seconds while she held the paper towel to her head.  
    “Aren't you here for something?” she asked.  
    “Yes, I am. Unless you'd