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Of course. Camille wanted the store all to herself. She glanced in through the window, and saw that the Kenspeckle matriarch was browsing, a salesgirl in her wake. One more FBI agent had gone in, babysitting the reality star. She watched as Burr Newberry took a shot of the exterior of the shop and the FBI agents, who stood shaking their heads, and then also headed inside.

When this show aired, all of Hollywood would want a couple of Feds to go shopping with them. It would be the next big thing, up there with the dab.

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!”