She decided that the only way to confront Camille was to catch her off guard. She slipped into the alley two stores over, and made her way along the narrow street. Darling’s had a back entrance, from the days it was still a liquor store. Locals boozers used to hang out back there, waiting for Kinnard Daym, who ran the store back in the day, to supply them with their favorite hard liquor in brown paper bags, blithely ignoring their wives’ vetoes.
She tried the metal door, and found it neither guarded by Feds nor locked. She entered the store, and saw she was in a small storeroom. This was where Marina, Darling’s Dress Code’s current owner, kept her stock.
She opened the door connecting to the store, passed through a corridor which held the staff lavatory, and reached a painted chipboard door. She heard voices. One of them was Camille’s. She pushed the door open and peeked in. No FBI and no bodyguards. Great. She stepped inside.
Marina was the first one to react. She was a stern-faced middle-aged woman with platinum hair and an unnaturally smooth brow. She’d actually gone to school with Odelia’s mother, though Marina looked a decade younger. Her blue eyes cut to Odelia. “I’m sorry, honey. We’re closed for business right now.” She gestured to Camille, who stood holding a backless black gown in front of a full-length mirror, and whispered, “Private client viewing.”
“Actually it’s your client I’d like a word with.”
Camille spotted her. Her face clouded. “You again. What do you want?”
“I need a word in private, Camille. It’s about your daughter’s murder.”
Camille rolled her eyes. "Not again with the baseless accusations. I told you already. My family is the target of a terrorist plot. The FBI is handling things." She pointed an accusing finger at Odelia. "You tried to catch the killer and you failed. So you're done, missy. You're through."
“Just give me five minutes, and I’ll tell you who killed Shana.”
Camille stared at her, debating whether to call in the troops, or to give Odelia her five minutes. In the end, she said, “Start talking. And you,” she added, pointing at Marina. “Get out. I’ll call you when I need you.”
“Yes, Mrs. Kenspeckle,” Marina muttered, and hurried out.
“Shana wasn’t murdered by a terrorist,” Odelia said the moment they were alone. In a few words, she told Camille who the killer was, and why.
Camille looked at her thoughtfully. “And you know this how, exactly?”
“An anonymous witness came forward. She saw everything.” It probably wasn’t a good idea to mention this witness was in fact Clarice.
“You have a witness? Why didn’t you say so before? This changes everything.”
“The problem is that… the witness isn’t available to testify.”
She nodded. “A stalker, huh? Afraid to be prosecuted. Well, I’m certainly willing to make a deal. I won’t come after her if she’s willing to testify.”
“She’s not a stalker. She’s… let’s just say her testimony isn’t admissible.”
Camille threw up her hands. “So now what? We know who did it but we can’t prove it.”
“That’s where you come in. We need to force a confession.”
She explained her plan, hoping Camille would go along with it. To her surprise, the reality star didn’t hesitate one moment. She gave Odelia a hug. “You found my daughter’s killer, Miss Poole. How can I ever repay you?”
“Let’s first get that confession,” she said, awkwardly returning the hug. “And you don’t have to repay me. My reward is seeing justice done.”
Camille placed her phone to her ear, and made the call.
Laurelle walked in, looking anxious. “You wanted to see me, Camille?”
Camille gave her one of her rare smiles. “I wanted to talk to you alone, Laurelle. Away from the cameras and the police. Just the two of us. And this seemed like the only place I could do that. There’s been a break in the case.”
“A break? What do you mean?”
“I just got a call from one of the police officers working on the case. A witness has come forward, Laurelle. A witness who saw Shana’s murder.”
Laurelle’s already pale face became even paler. “A-a witness?”
“An eyewitness who… saw you in Shana’s room that night.”
The stylist’s eyes went wide. “But that’s impossible. I wasn’t anywhere near Shana’s room that night. I told the police already. I was in bed.”
“Someone was watching, Laurelle,” said Camille. “Someone was watching through the window. They saw you murder my daughter.”
“That’s just crazy! How can this witness have seen me? The killer wore a mask. Whoever this is, they’re lying, Camille. I would never kill Shana!”
“That’s what I first thought. The thing is, the dog didn’t bark, Laurelle.”
Laurelle looked at Camille as if she was crazy. “The dog didn’t bark?”
“That’s right. You know Kane. That stupid mutt barks at everything and everyone. But that night he didn’t bark when the killer attacked Shana.”
“So? That doesn’t prove anything.”
“It proves everything. You gave that dog to Shana. You’re the only one he never barks at, because you’re his owner and he knows that.”
“The killer could have drugged Kane, like he drugged everyone else.”
Camille shook her head decidedly. “I believe you killed Shana, Laurelle.”
“But, Camille—”
“The police also told me you used to work at your uncle’s butcher shop until you left your hometown to become a stylist in LA. They told me you were very handy with the meat cleaver. In fact your uncle told them you were an ace. That for a girl of your size and build you packed quite a punch.”
“I… I don’t know what to say. This is just… ridiculous.”
Camille fixed her with an implacable look. “Why did you do it? Was it because of that silly sex tape? Yes, Shana told me all about that. How that tape was your claim to fame. She even sent me a copy of the silly thing.”
Laurelle’s lips tightened and she went still. “You saw my tape?”
“Of course I saw your tape. Everybody did. We all had a good laugh. The thing was hilarious. Did you really think it would make you famous?”
“That tape wasn’t Shana’s to distribute. I gave it to her in confidence.”
“It’s a sex tape, Laurelle. If you didn’t want people to see it, why did you make it in the first place?”
Laurelle shook her head. She’d moved back, and twin dots of crimson had appeared on her cheeks. Out of nowhere, a knife suddenly manifested in her hand. “You’re just as bad as your asshole daughter, Camille. I should have taken care of you and your family a long time ago.”
Camille eyed the knife nervously. “What are you doing?”
Laurelle’s lips curled up into a cruel smile. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m going to put my carving skills to good use. This time without a witness.”
“You won’t get away with this. Everyone will know it was you.”
The stylist shrugged. “I’ll just cut myself. Tell the cops the terrorist struck again and I barely escaped with my life. I’ll even throw in a full description this time. Only for you, help will come too late, of course. You’ll be dead.”
“Why did you do it, Laurelle? Why did you kill my daughter?”
“For the same reason I’m going to kill you. Because you deserve it,” she spat. “You think you’re so high and mighty. Sitting on your throne of money and fame and power. You think you can mock and ridicule everyone else. Well, no more. I deserve a spot in the limelight, just like you, and I’m going to get it. That tape was supposed to put me out there, but your daughter sabotaged everything. She didn’t want the competition. She could have made me part of her inner circle but instead she chose to keep me down.”
“You’re crazy,” said Camille. “No silly sex tape could have made you famous. It would simply have made you the laughing stock of the world.”