I So Don't Do Makeup Page 9

  Amber bounces the tips of her fake nails off each other, thinking. “I can’t remember anyone strange, can you, Lacey?”

  Lacey shakes her head. “It was busy, so there were lots of customers.”

  “Any shockingly plain customers? Like the Janes?” I ask.

  “We often sell to girls who are buying makeup for the first time,” Amber says. “So it’s not unusual to have people hanging around with no makeup on.”

  I describe Kim, with her perfect oval face. “She’s a Jane who was at my slumber party and refused to use the Nite Sprite Creme. Maybe because she’d secretly doctored it up when the rest of us weren’t paying attention. Or maybe a bunch of Janes were here and distracted you guys while one of them messed with the cream.”

  Lacey’s as white as the glue on my hand.

  “How about Will?” Junie asks.

  “Will’s always here,” Lacey says. “He eats at the food court every day.”

  “It’s not just Will either,” Amber says. “Lots of mall employees stop by to say hi or buy something when they’re on break or at lunch. Almost everyone hits the food court at some point during the day.”

  “Well, it seems to me that we have five possible suspects so far.” I hold up a white finger. “Wacko Will, who might be next in line for your kiosk.” I hold up two white fingers. “Kim or even a gang of Janes with their ridiculous hatred for makeup.” I wiggle three white fingers. “Someone we haven’t even thought of yet.” And then I raise four fingers. “Eve, an ex-employee who left in a bad frame of mind.” I wiggle all five fingers. “Someone in shipping and receiving at Discount Mart.” My white hand’s in the air like a creepy clown’s glove. “I know you don’t want to include anyone at Discount Mart, Lacey, but we have to cover all the bases.”

  “What happens at night here?” Junie asks.

  “We lock up,” Lacey says.

  I pick at the flaky glue on my hand. “As in, secure?” I get an edge and pull. Yay. This white glue is the best medical invention since bubble-gum-flavored antibiotics.

  “Yeah, it’s secure. Like everybody’s. Watch, I’ll show you.” Lacey points to where a thin metal wall rolls down from the top of the kiosk. “See this lock? I have a key for that. And the product stays behind the barrier.”

  Junie jiggles the barrier.

  We exchange looks. “Someone could break in pretty easily,” I say.

  “They lock up the mall about an hour after closing time,” Lacey says.

  “So we need to add that hour to the potential tampering time,” Junie says.

  A couple of guys in oversized Chaparral High School T-shirts saunter up. Hands in the pockets of their sagging shorts, they stand, shuffling their feet. His eyes fixed on a row of packages of fake lashes and nails, one of them says, “Hey, like, it’s our girlfriends’ birthdays. And they, like, sorta want some makeup from here.”

  Lacey and Amber morph into selling mode with questions about hair and eye color and clothing choices. You couldn’t tell by watching them that they’re in the middle of a cosmetics crisis with an investigation that’s going round and round like a Halloween corn maze. Well, maybe you could tell if you looked closely at Lacey, who’s paler and less focused than usual, with a wrinkle that’s starting to make itself at home on her forehead.

  I finish stripping the dregs of glue from between my fingers, then retrieve my backpack and denim purse. “Wanna go see what Crystal has to say about Eve?” Junie never did get to check out Eve earlier, thanks to my disaster with the basket of lotion + a pair of wedge sandals.

  “Sure, but I don’t have long. Nick and his mom are meeting me at the food court. She’s going to drive us to the Upscale Coffee Shop to catch the Detours playing.”

  Nick likes the Detours? Very weird. They’re one of my favorite bands.

  Arm in arm, Junie and I tramp up the stairs to the department store.

  At the department store, Crystal’s in charge of four different counters, each featuring a different brand of makeup. All the girls who work there are parttime, except for Crystal. The part-time girls handle sales at a couple of the counters, but Crystal allowed Amber to work all the counters. Because Amber is that good; she can sell to anyone.

  When we get there, Crystal’s on the phone with her back to us. But Suze, who works part-time at the Guy Mardi counter, spots us and waves us over.

  Everything about Suze is short: her height, her hair, her skirt. According to Amber, Suze was pretty devastated when Amber quit to work at Naked Makeup. Even though they can easily meet in the food court for lunch. Anyway, Suze’s always friendly to Junie and me and generous with samples. “Hi, guys, how’s Amber doing?”

  “Good,” we say.

  Probably she’s asking because Crystal told her about Naked Makeup’s sad scenario. Given how tight the makeup world is and all.

  From beneath her counter, Suze pulls out a bunch of little packets. “The Guy Mardi rep came by yesterday. We have a brand-new line, Automne, coming out in the fall. Gorgeous colors. Here’s some eye shadow and gloss.” She scoots the packets toward us.

  Junie and I look at each other. Normally we would’ve jumped on those samples like a half-off sale at Sequin’s, but we’re both sort of spooked by cosmetics at the moment. Yikes. We’re becoming Janes by default.

  “Oh, uh, thanks,” I say, sweeping them into my purse, where they’ll disappear into the black hole of blue denim.

  “We want to talk with Crystal,” Junie says.

  “She should be off the phone soon. She’s been talking to the head office in Montreal for a while. Sounds like she’s trying to arrange a trip up there.”

  “Ooh la la.” I like to toss out a little French whenever I can.

  “Montreal’s in Canada,” Suze says. “Where they speak Eskimo.”

  “French Canada.” Junie rocks at geography.

  Junie taps her watch and raises her eyebrows at me. To Suze, she says, “We’re looking for a girl named Eve. She came for a job interview today.”

  Suze’s leaning on the glass counter, filing her thumbnail.

  “She didn’t end up coming in.” Suze blows nail dust into the air. “She got a job at Pets Galore.”

  Junie and I gallop out of Crystal’s makeup department before she even realizes we were there.

  Junie skips off merrily to the food court to meet up with Nick and his mom.

  I give The Ruler a quick call to let her know I’m okay. Then I’m headed to Pets Galore to track down the mysterious Eve.

  chapter

  nineteen

  Pushing open the heavy glass door, I exit the fateful main entrance of the mall, take the sidewalk to the street, cross at the light, then wend my way through the parking lot to one of my fave stores of all time, Pets Galore.

  Ahhh. I inhale deeply. Pets Galore is a happy place, filled with a delightful smell of fish food + dog grooming + birds. I could spend hours here.

  Troy, the cashier, is an older guy of at least twenty-five. Tattoos of sea animals swim up and down his arms. All bright and cheerful, he says, “Hi, Sherry. How’re Cindy and Prince?”

  “Great. Zipping around their tank like crazy.” I hike my backpack and my purse up onto my shoulder. I am heavily laden today. “Hey, Troy, did a girl named Eve just start working here?”

  “Yeah.” He’s slotting the new pet magazines in the rack. “She’s here now.”

  And then I smell something else. An odor that so does not belong in a pet shop. Cinnabon rolls. It’s getting stronger and sweeter. It’s Mrs. Howard. She’s checking up on me.

  My only advantage is that she doesn’t know I can smell her. Which means she doesn’t know that I know she’s there. My foot midair, I do an about-face, stick my hands casually in my pockets and smile like a typical shopper, not a detective. By the time she knows about this mystery, it’ll be signed, sealed and delivered to her at Dairy Queen.

  “So, Troy, remember the castle I bought here that you recommended? Prince and Cindy love, love, love it.
Got any new aquarium stuff?”

  “A few plastic plants. Not sure they’re your style, though.” Now he’s hanging little bags of catnip. “We just got a new bridge. Your fish might like that.”

  “I bet they would. Cindy and Prince don’t have anything bridgelike. Thanks.” I meander over to the fish aisle.

  The Cinnabon smell trails after me.

  I spot the new plants stacked on a shelf. Troy’s right. They aren’t worth saving up for. But I take my time examining them, turning them this way and that, holding them up close, then at arm’s length. I move to the middle of the aisle and find the bridge. It’s übercute. For a sec, I forget about the mystery and Mrs. Howard following me around and imagine Cindy and Prince darting under this little ceramic bridge. Until I turn it over and see the price tag. Ouchie mama! It’s more than two weeks’ allowance!

  Mrs. Howard materializes beside me, big and round and hazy.

  My hand on my heart, I stumble backward in fake shock. I swivel my head back and forth, making sure no one’s around. “Mrs. Howard?” I whisper.

  “Sorry to startle you, honey,” she whispers back. Which she doesn’t need to do since no one can hear her but me.

  “Is my mom okay?”

  “Honey, your mama’s just grand. And making everyone real proud with the way she’s focusing and learning. By everyone, I mean us and the prestigious foreign Academy. If things keep on progressing this a-way, your mama will get an exciting assignment, and we’ll get to borrow one of their members.”

  Voices! And they’re getting louder! A girl employee strides toward where I’m standing. A woman follows her.

  “We have a pretty good selection of aquarium decorations.” The girl stops right beside me.

  I look at her badge. Eve!

  Mrs. Howard drifts to the ceiling.

  The woman’s gazing at the various castles and treasure chests and colored pebbles. “He doesn’t have anything in his aquarium yet.” She looks at Eve. “What’s your best seller? I have no idea what to buy.”

  She hesitates. Because she’s brand-new, she can’t offer much aquarium assistance!

  My natural helpfulness kicks in. “A lot of people go for this castle.” I point to a medieval castle with a few turrets. “But, personally, I prefer this castle.” I hand the merchandise to the customer. “Yes, it’s two dollars more. But see how it’s got bigger swim-through chambers? My fish are constantly playing tag because of them.”

  “Swim-through chambers. I never would’ve thought of that.” She holds the castle up to the light. “This’ll be perfect.”

  “Eve, customer at crickets,” the loudspeaker cuts in. “Eve, you’re needed at crickets.”

  “That’s for me. Is there anything else?” Eve looks at the woman, who shakes her head. “Thanks,” Eve says to me, then jogs down the aisle.

  As soon as we’re alone again, Mrs. Howard descends. “Sherry, you can be such a polite, helpful young lady.”

  “Yeah, well, I am into fish.”

  “How gratifying to see you exhibiting exemplary behavior.” Mrs. Howard floats close to my ear. “I want to pass along a little insider info I received from a snitch. The foreign Academy will be nosing around this week, watching your behavior, making sure you aren’t a potential embarrassment either to our Academy or to your mother. Please be more than extra careful with your conduct…”

  I give her a thumbs-up. “No worries, Mrs. H.”

  And poof, she and her Cinnabon smell are gone.

  I shake my head. So, a bunch of foreign ghosts will be spying on me. How creepy is that? But it makes me more determined than ever to get to the bottom of the makeup tampering so I can prove that I deserve a special assignment with my mom. And Real Time too.

  I jaunt over to the crickets.

  “Twenty-five, right?” I hear Eve’s voice before I see her.

  Rounding the corner, I see a blond boy about Sam’s age, his head bobbing as Eve taps crickets from a tube into a clear plastic bag.

  “Yeah. They’re for my veiled chameleon, Frank. He’s eating a lot. Probably getting ready to shed.”

  Holding the bag closed at the top, Eve starts counting under her breath. She shakes her head and starts over. Finally, she shrugs, blows air into the bag, then knots it shut. “I’m sure there are a few extra.” She hands the bag to the boy, then turns to me, “Oh, hi. Something I can help you with?”

  I wait till the boy’s out of sight, then frown like I’m trying to place her. “You look familiar. Did you used to work at the mall or something?”

  “For like a month. At Naked Makeup.”

  “That is trippy makeup.”

  “Seriously.”

  “So, you worked for Lacey?” I glance in the cricket box, acting all nonchalant.

  “You know her?”

  “Kinda. I just had a makeover slumber party. And I got a bunch of makeup from her.” Now I’m examining the reptile lamps. “I wish I could work there. Except I’m only thirteen.”

  “It’s a good job.” She pops open the lid to the cricket container and spoons in some orange jellylike food. “Depending on what you want to do in life.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like I want to work with animals, so Pets Galore’ll look better on my résumé. My parents and I just visited Tucson over the weekend to look at the pre-vet program there and the profs liked that I was working here.”

  If Eve was in Tucson for the weekend, she wasn’t tampering with makeup at the Phoenix Mall. Besides, anyone who likes animals enough to be a vet must be cool.

  “Are they pretty nice to you here?” I ask. “As nice as Lacey?”

  “This is only my first day, but no complaints on my end.” She straightens the tubs of wax worms. “Of course, Lacey’s super super nice. Everyone likes her. Discount Mart especially loves her. They’ve been fantastic about adjusting her hours so she can get her makeup business off the ground.” She stacks the egg cartons. “And then there’s that one guy.”

  My detective ears perk up. “What one guy?”

  “Eve, customer needs assistance in dog food,” the loudspeaker crackles. “Eve to dog food.”

  “What one guy?” I repeat. Goose bumps pop up all over my arms.

  “I don’t know. Just some Discount Mart shipping and receiving guy who’s always texting and sending her flowers.”

  chapter

  twenty

  I’m out in the fresh Arizona air, jetting home for dinner. I hope it’s yummy, because I’ve worked up a mammoth appetite with all this sleuthing.

  I call Amber. When she picks up, I say, “I need Lacey’s number.”

  “She’s right beside me. I’ll pass her my phone.”

  In half a sec, Lacey’s on the line. “Did you already figure out who’s messing with my makeup?”

  “Uh, not yet. Lacey, is there a shipping and receiving guy at Discount Mart who’s crushing on you?”

  She sighs. “Drew. He’s nice and all, but just not my type.”

  “Don’t you have the makeup sent to Discount Mart?”

  “Yeah. Drew sets my shipments to the side for me and keeps an eye on them.”

  I want to reach through the phone and slap some sense into her. Doesn’t she get it? Everyone who’s involved with Naked Makeup is a potential suspect. “Any reason why Drew might sabotage the makeup?”

  “No, no, no. He’s a total sweetheart. Just kind of nerdy.”

  “Does he know you don’t like him the way he likes you?”

  “Uh, probably. Since I’m constantly refusing to go out with him.”

  A little lightbulb flashes on in my head. “The fresh-cut flowers you always have by the cash register? Are they from him?”

  She sighs again. “I keep telling him to stop.”

  “So, he buys you flowers, but you won’t go out with him. And he’s still okay with keeping your packages safe?”

  “Well, yeah,” Lacey says. “He wants me to succeed with Naked Makeup.”

  �
�For sure? He actually says this?”

  “Well, no, he doesn’t say it exactly like that. More like he says he doesn’t want me to quit Discount Mart because then he wouldn’t see me,” Lacey says. “But I’m positive he wants Naked Makeup to take off even if it means I’ll leave Discount Mart. He’s a good guy. He wants what I want.”

  “Maybe, in reality, he wants to wreck your business so you’re stuck working at Discount Mart, near him, for the rest of your life. That’s called motive.” I want to scream at her. “And he could easily contaminate the makeup while he’s ‘keeping it safe’”—I make air quotes—“then package it back up good as new with Discount Mart tape and staples and whatever. That’s called opportunity. And those two things, motive and opportunity, are all you need for a crime.”

  “I don’t think Drew’d do all that,” Lacey says. “It’s so, uh, so twisted.”

  “Yeah, Lacey, that’s why they call it twisted love.” I disconnect, shaking my head.

  My foot is barely in the door when The Ruler calls out, “Sherry, could you please take your brother around the neighborhood while I finish making dinner?”

  Sam bounces up to me. “My wagon’s packed.” Bounce, bounce. “You just have to walk with me.” Bounce, bounce. “It’s cabbage casserole for dinner.” Bounce, bounce.

  “Fine, but quit the Tigger routine, you’re exhausting me.” I drop my backpack and purse by the door. “Let’s hit the road.”

  “Be careful you don’t hurt yourself.”

  I groan. Apparently, my brother shares my dad’s bad-pun habit.

  We pass through the kitchen, where The Ruler’s tossing a salad. The casserole is obviously bubbling away in the oven because the cabbage fumes are practically knocking me unconscious. However, if you can get past the smell, cabbage casserole is el delicioso. It’s got this to-die-for cheesy sauce with walnuts and tofu. In a million years, I never thought I’d crave anything health-foodish, but there’s something about The Ruler’s cooking.

  In the garage, Sam’s wagon is all loaded up with stuff he and The Ruler have been growing in our backyard: tomatoes, carrots, celery, beets and prickly pear cacti. My hands start itching at the sight of the evil cacti and their nasty bristles. He’s also got brown paper bags and a little box with some change in it. My brother got enough organization genes for the two of us. Even his sock drawer is all nice and neat with the contents paired up.