Page 1 of Pied Sniper

Chapter One

“Just look at her,” sighed Lily. “She’s so perfect. She’d look unspoiled even with a trash bag tied around her.”

I glanced up in alarm. “You sound like a serial killer. No one looks good dead.”

“Tiffany Rose would. Anyway, I meant around her body like a dress, not over her head.” Lily flashed me a concerned look as she continued, “You’ve been in the crime game too long, Lexi.”

“At least as a private investigator I’m on the right side of crime.”

“That’s debatable at times,” snorted Lily.

I shrugged as we both gazed at Lily’s cellphone, which she had propped against a wine bottle on the bar of the venue Lily owned and ran. It was mid-afternoon, long after the lunch rush and too early for Happy Hour, so we were passing the time watching Tiffany Rose’s enormously popular vlogs online, a social media trend that had been rising over the last few years. Having had my own unfortunate brush with starring in an online video, thanks to my nephew’s sharp thinking and good timing, I could appreciate any public attention. But Tiffany was an industry all by herself. Aged twenty-nine, only a few years younger than us, Tiffany had the flawless skin that cosmetic models kill for and a bright, infectious, bubbly personality. She seemed to find everything exciting and those qualities conspired to attract a legion of fans. That, and her luxurious, consumerist lifestyle. So far this afternoon, we’d viewed one “unboxing” where Tiffany squealed at every new makeup palette, lipstick and cosmetic brush sent by several public relations firms. We shared her glee as she opened the boxes, sampled them, and gushed about the brands on camera to her global audience. Then there was a cleverly edited “clothing haul” video in which she tried on a rack of clothes and practically strong-armed me telepathically into purchasing one of the pretty dresses. Then we watched her chatty “get ready with me” tutorial as she applied her makeup while talking to the camera. After a string of poses in her evening wear, she signed off by blowing a kiss to the camera just like she did in every video. Now she was trying on clothes again and talking while she discarded accessories on the tufted, white pouffe in her glamorous closet. A small, fluffy dog looked on.

“I think I hate her a little bit.”

“What happened to women’s solidarity? Sisters supporting sisters?” I asked.

“It helps if I’m not brimming with envy.”

“I like your smoky eye makeup today. It’s a good look on you.”

“Guess where I got it from,” said Lily, pointing at the screen.

“Oh!” I contemplated that. “I think I’ll try that too. Which video?”

“I’ll send you the link. She’s the reason I bought a whole basketful of goodies at the drugstore last week.”

“I thought that was because you needed everything and couldn’t decide between the numerous similar items.”

“That too. My bank balance doesn’t agree. And when I got home, Jord looked through the bag and guess what he asked me?”

“What?”

“He asked what blusher was for!” Lily stepped back from the bar with an appalled look on her face. “I told him it was for my cheeks and he asked which ones!”

“Clueless,” I remarked, unsurprised. Jord, the youngest of my brothers, may have grown up with two sisters and married my best friend, with whom he shared a daughter, but he was still oblivious about women’s makeup.

“Utterly. He thinks mascara goes on your lips and lip gloss and lipstick are the same thing. He occasionally steals my moisturizer even though he refuses to admit it. I know I can’t go through it that fast.”

“I actually noticed his skin was looking pretty good, now I know why.”

“So you’re coming over later to watch Tiffany Rose’s live Q and A video? Ruby is closing the bar tonight so I’m free.”

“What’s that? What questions? What answers? Will she discuss the spat she had with Flavia?” I wanted to know what topic was scheduled. Would Tiffany spill the details about her boyfriend, or her upcoming plans, or a special collaboration that would encourage me to buy something I never realized I so desperately needed? Or would she finally tell everyone why she and her rival, Flavia, were engaged in a huge, ongoing, public feud?

“She put the notification on her Instagram feed a couple of hours ago, inviting questions. Viewers can ask her anything about her life, makeup, fashion, the new apartment and more. And she’s doing a live cocktail-making session to start so we can drink with her too, just like we’re all together in a bar.”

“But we’re not actuallywithher.”

“Kinda. We’ll be doing the same thing at the same time, just not in the same place. And we can’t actually talk to her unless we submit our comments. Hey, do you think she’ll come on my bar vlog and agree to do a collaboration with me? I sure could do with the views!”

“You’re still doing that?”

“Yes!” Lily paused, then frowned. “You don’t watch them?”

“I’m still traumatized from my last guest appearance online,” I said with a sigh. The video my nephew filmed became a viral hit. Fortunately, I wasn’t obviously identifiable, being dressed in a plush cocktail costume, but Lily’s bar was perfectly clear and occasionally, patrons would ask about it. “But yes, I do watch them. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?” Truthfully, Lily’s short videos were fun, informative and enjoyable. It’s a shame they didn’t garner as many views as she would have liked.

Lily’s gaze returned to the screen. “So you think I should ask her?”

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