"It is!" Denise grew more agitated. "And I don't!"

"I wanted to buy that tiara Sunday," Josie said. "Rita said you'd sold it Sat.u.r.day to another bride."

"I did nothing of the kind," Denise said. "I sold two rhinestone tiaras and one crystal design that day, but no pearls."

"Maybe I'm wrong," Josie said. "Would you recognize the tiara if you saw it online?"

"Would a mother know her child?" Denise asked. "I'll call up eBay on the store computer and you'll find it." It was an order.

Denise almost ran to the computer perched behind the counter. Her fingers stumbled over the keys, but she found the site. Josie located the tiara in a few clicks.

"There," she said. "That one. It says, *Pink and cranberry pearls with green baroque pearl leaves. Sure to become a family heirloom.' The seller isn't asking for bids. It's nine hundred dollars."

"That's my design," Denise said. "I spent sixteen hours working with those pearls and I know those green leaves down to the last twist and turn. That lying b.i.t.c.h." Her anger could have blasted the pretty flowers on her print skirt into ashes.

"Does your store have a shoplifting problem?" Josie asked.

"Problem? I'll say. If the thief isn't caught soon, I'll have to close. I've lost almost ten thousand dollars in merchandise and I couldn't figure out who was doing it. Now I know-it's Rita."

"You don't know," Josie said. She hadn't realized her ruse would ignite Denise's fiery rage. Now she was afraid the shop owner might hurt Rita. She wanted her caught, not killed.

"Rita's not listed as the seller," Josie said. "It could be someone else. It could be a gang of shoplifters, posing as brides and ripping you off."

"No, it's her," Denise said. "I keep my expensive stock under lock and key in the back room. I came in Sat.u.r.day afternoon. I know we didn't show or sell any pearl tiaras the rest of the day. You were the last person to see that tiara, and you didn't steal it or you wouldn't be here trying to buy it.

"Rita was the last person to have the tiara. She stole it and now she's trying to sell it. If only Molly hadn't died, I would have stopped these thefts sooner. Molly was going to tell me."

"Was she the poor bride shot by that crazy woman from Boca?" Josie asked.

"That was her," Denise said. "Molly was the sweetest girl. She was crazy about weddings, which made her a super saleswoman. I miss her so much. She had a real knack for dealing with customers. When she and Rita were planning their weddings, I gave them generous discounts on their flowers, veils, and tiaras.

"Then they both had bad luck and had to cancel. I felt so bad for them. I refunded their flower deposits and took back their tiaras and veils. That's against my policy, but the merchandise was in perfect condition. I could still sell them, so I made an exception.

"Molly didn't have to worry about money, but she was grateful. She brought me tulips as a thank-you gift. Rita wrote me a little note. I knew she was in debt and gave her extra hours so she could earn more money. And that's how she repaid my generosity-by stealing."

"When did you first notice the thefts?" Josie asked.

"Now that I look back, they started about the time Rita's fiance broke off their engagement. At first, small things were missing-a short blusher veil with seed pearls, then a cathedral-length veil in tulle. Next I noticed some bridal jewelry missing: a silver bracelet, a little gold necklace, cultured pearl earrings, all ma.s.s-produced and under a hundred dollars.

"Then the losses escalated. My one-of-a-kind designs started disappearing. I had to keep them locked up in the back. I thought we were being targeted by a gang of shoplifters, like you suggested. I was at my wit's end and couldn't afford to hire a private detective.

"I knew-well, I thought-Rita loved my store as much as Molly. I asked them to be on the lookout for the shoplifter. I promised a thousand-dollar bonus to whoever found the thief.

"Molly came to me the night before she was shot, very nervous. She said she knew who was taking my merchandise. I wanted her to tell me right then, but she said I'd have to wait until the next day."

"Was Rita at the shop when Molly told you this?" Josie asked.

"Yes," Denise said. "I knew Molly seemed on edge, but she hadn't been herself since that terrible Dr. Ted. I should have paid more attention to what Molly said. But I was so eager to get the thief's name. She refused to tell me until the next day even though I kept badgering her.

"Rita must have overheard us. We were in the back room, but this is a small shop. She could have listened at the door.

"Josie, did I send poor Molly to her doom?"

Chapter 24.

Monday, October 29 "Did I send poor Molly to her doom?"

Denise's dramatic words belonged in a melodrama. But the shop owner's nightmare question fit with the Victorian velvet and frills of Denise's Dreams.

"It's not your fault," Josie said. "You had no idea she was a killer. We'll call the police now."

"No! We can't!" Denise said. "You'll kill my little store." She was wringing her hands like a maiden pleading with a mustache-twirling villain.

"Rita has to be arrested," Josie said.

"I know she does," Denise said. "But I've already had the murder victim working at my store. If customers find out the killer worked here, too, no bride will buy anything from me. My store can't be connected with a killer. I sell happy ever-afters."

Right, Josie thought. Molly is dead forever, and you're worried about your bottom line. The veils on satin stands looked like accusing ghosts. Dainty ruffles and sugar-sweet flowers covered Denise's steely selfishness.

"At least wait till tomorrow," Denise said. "Rita comes in at noon. I'll fire her the moment she walks in this store. Then when she's arrested and the story hits the media again, I can say she doesn't work here."

"You'll be alone when Rita comes in," Josie said. "She's already killed once. What if she tries to shoot you?"

"I'll shoot her right in the eye," Denise said.

Josie shifted away from those hard, angry eyes.

"Look." The shop owner modestly brushed back her skirt to show a sheer stocking and a pink lace garter with a lipstick-sized gold tube. "Pepper spray," she said.

Josie's eyebrows nearly jumped into her hairline.

"You're right. I'm here alone sometimes," Denise said. "If I'm attacked, no one will hear me scream. I got this to defend myself. It's nice of you to worry, but I'll be safe. Please wait till after twelve before you go to the police."

"On one condition," Josie said. "Only if you fire Rita the minute she comes in here. I can't wait any longer than noon. An innocent woman is in jail."

"I promise," Denise said. "As a reward for helping me, you can have a five-hundred-dollar credit on any item in this store."

"Uh, thanks." Josie didn't want anything from the shop. She didn't like Denise or her dreams.

But she left filled with hope, floating down the path through the picket fence, happily humming "The Wedding March." Josie would march down the aisle to a different tune, but she'd get married the day after Thanksgiving.

She wanted to call Ted with the good news. But she couldn't touch that SPEED DIAL b.u.t.ton. Too much could still go wrong. She didn't want to raise his hopes-or Lenore's. She'd tell Ted the moment the cops took Rita into custody.

That small hesitation didn't stop her joy. She felt a river of happiness coursing through her veins. Josie Marcus, anonymous mystery shopper, had solved the stalker bride's murder and tied it up neatly with a big white bow.

It seemed so obvious now.

Rita, deeply in debt after her aborted wedding, started stealing from the store where she worked and selling the items on eBay. The thefts escalated from small, untraceable jewelry to unique designs. The store was in trouble and Denise had offered a reward to her staff to find the shoplifter.

Molly discovered her best friend was the thief destroying Denise's Dreams. She wanted to tell Denise she'd found the thief, but not when Rita was working. Denise insisted and Rita overheard the conversation. Rita must have suspected that Molly was on to her before that day. Rita had been at the Blue Rose when Ted's mom flashed her gun. It would be easy for an accomplished thief to pocket Lenore's pistol.

Rita hadn't boosted a few items at the shop. She'd boldly helped herself to jewelry worth thousands of dollars. She'd committed felonies. The amount she stole was easily doc.u.mented through her online sales. Rita was looking at serious jail time. Molly had to be silenced before the store opened the next morning.

Rita had no trouble finding Molly. The stalker bride was still obsessed with Ted. Rita followed her to the clinic parking lot and shot her. Then she framed Lenore.

At least Molly's killer will be brought to justice, Josie thought, as she drove home. She had a bright future again. Josie reveled in the pink glow of the sunset and her rose-tinted dreams. She parked her Honda in front of her home, careful that the back b.u.mper was within her mom's property line.

Even that precaution didn't help. Mrs. M shot out of her front door like she'd been launched.

"Josie Marcus!" she screamed. "Your daughter is setting off bottle rockets in your backyard."

"She can't be," Josie said. "Where would Amelia get fireworks?"

"I don't know, but she did," Mrs. M said with an unpleasant smirk. "See for yourself. Before the police arrive."

"The police?" Josie said. "You called the police on my daughter?"

"Bottle rockets are illegal in St. Louis County," Mrs. M said. She barged right down Jane's walkway and through the back gate, wearing a flowered top bigger than a botanical garden. A bewildered Josie followed, wondering why so many scary women wore flowers.

Mrs. M pointed to the bottle rockets, her bulky body quivering with indignation. "There," she said. "Right there! That girl is a delinquent, just like her mother!"

A geyser of brown liquid as tall as the two-story house shot out of a two-liter Diet c.o.ke bottle. A second geyser erupted after it. Then a third.

"Amelia Marcus, stop that immediately," Mrs. Mueller commanded.

Amelia ignored her. She was clicking at the soda gushers with Josie's digital camera.

Josie had never seen bottle geysers before, but she recognized the scream of a siren. It was followed by running feet on the walkway. Officer Doris Ann Norris burst into the Marcus backyard, and Josie felt weak with relief. She knew the smart, street-savvy Maplewood police officer.

"Is there a problem?" Officer Norris asked. "The dispatcher received a complaint that someone was setting off fireworks."

"No," Josie said.

"Yes," Mrs. M said. "That young troublemaker is setting off bottle rockets."

"She is?" Officer Norris strolled over to the foaming Diet c.o.ke bottles. "Looks awfully wet for fireworks," she said.

She stuck her finger into a brown puddle and tasted it. "You used Diet c.o.ke, Miss Marcus," she said. "You are Amelia Marcus, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Amelia said.

Josie was relieved her daughter remembered her manners. Amelia's voice shook with fear, and the blood had drained from her face, but she stood straight and tall.

"I knew your daughter was trouble, Josie Marcus," Mrs. M said. "She's known to the police."

Office Norris turned to Mrs. Mueller. "I do know this young woman. I helped Amelia and her mother when they had a vandalism problem some time ago. I barely recognized Amelia because she's so grown-up now."

A smile flitted across Amelia's chalk white face.

"Some people improve with age," Officer Norris said. Her barb bounced off Mrs. M's gray helmet head.

"Using Diet c.o.ke is very thoughtful," she told Amelia. "Regular soda leaves a sticky mess."

"That's what I heard," Amelia said. "I can just hose this away."

"How many Mentos did you use in your bottles?" Officer Norris asked.

"A whole roll of mints in each one. It's a science experiment."

"You load them with a tube or a roll of paper?" Officer Norris asked.

"Paper tube," Amelia said, sounding more confident. Her color was starting to return.

"An old-school scientist," Officer Norris said, nodding her approval. "You used the more difficult method."

"I got three bottles to erupt one after the other," Amelia said. "It was awesome! I was shooting them when I heard screaming and Mrs. Mueller yelled at me to stop, but you can't stop the experiment once it starts."

"You're not arresting her?" Mrs. M looked like she might explode with disappointment.

"Miss Marcus didn't do anything wrong. It's not illegal to test the fizz factor of Diet c.o.ke," Officer Norris said. "Dropping chewy mints into soda to release the carbonation is a legitimate scientific experiment. Steve Spangler blogged about it on his science Web site. Usually the geyser goes about twenty feet in the air. Miss Marcus was smart to conduct her experiment outside, away from the house."

"Well, I never," Mrs. M said, deflating like a week-old balloon. Not only was Amelia escaping punishment, but the police officer praised her. Josie smiled.

"Your generation used vinegar and baking soda," Officer Norris said.

"We did nothing of the kind," Mrs. M said.

"Sure you did," Officer Norris said. "My pop talked about it. He and his friends used gla.s.s bottles. Much more dangerous than plastic."

"Your job is to protect and serve citizens," Mrs. M said. "Not encourage hooligans."

"You are so right, ma'am," Officer Norris said. "And we can't do that when people waste our time. You're a church lady, aren't you? Active at St. Philomena's?"

"I am president of the Ladies' Sodality," Mrs. M said, "past president of the altar decoration committee, first vice president of the music committee, and head of the 2013 Harvest Festival."

"Impressive," Officer Norris said. "You must spend a lot of time at church."

"At least an hour every day, not including Ma.s.s and novenas," Mrs. M said.

"You've had plenty of exposure to the Gospels then. Might want to reread that part about loving your neighbor as yourself."