“One of the contestants said she saw you arguing with Dr. Bellingham and holding a black bag.”
Aunt DeeDee narrowed her eyes and studied me. “That was two hours ago, and I was carrying my makeup bag. I needed a touch-up.”
I didn’t doubt her for a moment. “What were you two fighting about?”
“He wanted me to introduce you to him. A one-on-one. I told him over my dead body—not in those exact words, but hedidn’t like that I encouraged him to meet you with the others at the tea tomorrow morning like everyone.” Aunt DeeDee’s cheeks reddened in her frustration. “He’s either looking for a good time or a new patient, and you’ll be neither, not for all the money in Aubergine.” She lowered her voice to keep from listening ears. “Sweetheart, the police are searching my room. They got an anonymous tip… something has gone missing…”
“Miss 2001’s crown?”
Aunt DeeDee assessed me as if trying to read my thoughts. “Yes, that, and… well, never mind. For now I need to go with them, answer a few questions. I should be back later tonight for the Jewels and Gems party, but if I’m not, I had all of your makeup and hair products sent to your cottage. Listen: you’ll want to use the curling iron to make soft tresses, and your outfit is?—”
“Stop.” I cut her off, hardly believing that my aunt was trying to give me advice on how to wear my hair this evening. “Why would anyone need to question you about the missing crown?”
She gave me a knowing look and whispered in my ear, “Dr. Bellingham.”
The judge’s face sprang into my mind, and Aunt DeeDee could see that I was hearing her message loud and clear.
This man was framing my aunt.
Before she could say more, whispers arose from the middle of the room as Savilla helped her now conscious stepmother to her feet. The woman leaned against Savilla for support while contestants watched with concern etching their foreheads.
The three judges—Miss 1962, Katie Gilman, and Dr. Bellingham—made a sort of blockade around Savilla and Glenda Finch, and for a moment I was distracted from my aunt’s dilemma.
“My husband has disappeared,” Mrs. Finch said, her voice shaky and her face gaunt.
A murmur went up: concern for Mr. Finch no doubt, but also fear that the pageant might be cancelled.
I side-eyed Aunt DeeDee, who didn’t seem as worried as she should be at this announcement.
What was happening at the Rose Palace? What exactly had I stepped into? I’d arrived with my own concerns about a vanished pageant queen from two decades earlier. Now, in less than a handful of hours, I could add the following:
A missing crown
A fainting Mrs. Finch
A disappearing owner
My aunt, suspected of theft
I’d come for a pageant, but this was quickly becoming a different kind of show, and each of us contestants, a new kind of participant.
“I know all of you likely saw my husband earlier this afternoon as you arrived,” Mrs. Finch said, pulling a piece of paper from the pocket of her Gucci bag. “I thought he’d gone to lie down to rest before the party this evening.” Her voice trembled with emotion. “If I’d known that he might… I would never have left him in our apartment, drinking a glass of whiskey and…” She trailed off and held the back of her hand to her mouth as if she couldn’t go on.
