emerald, when the bell over the glass front doors dinged and a young couple walked in, hand-in-hand. They were dressed in casual khakis and T-shirts, looking like typical weekend Wine Country tourists—her in comfortable sandals and him pushing a pair of mirrored aviator glasses up on his head.
Ava straightened from the case of silver grapevine themed pendants she'd been arranging and put a sunny smile on her face. "Welcome to Silver Girl," she told the couple. "Can I help you find anything?"
"We're just looking," said the woman, a brunette with her hair pulled up into a fashionable messy knot.
"Well, if you have any questions, please let me know," Ava offered, stepping behind the counter to allow the couple space to browse.
I busied myself putting the velvet boxes away, shelving them in her small storage closet behind the register. I could see Ava keeping a keen eye on her potential customers as they did a slow tour of the store, eyeing each piece of jewelry before moving on to the next. I hated to burst Ava's bubble, but they looked more like window shoppers than actual buyers.
Once they'd done a full circuit, Ava approached the pair again. "Find anything that interests you? I'd be happy to pull something out for you to try on."
The brunette looked at her companion, then urged him on with a soft elbow to his ribs.
He cleared his throat, addressing Ava. "To be honest, we wanted to see…well, you know."
A small frown formed between Ava's blonde eyebrows. "Sorry, is there something particular you're looking for?"
"Uh…yes. I mean, we were hoping to get a look at the piece." He said the last words on a mock whisper, leaning in toward Ava.
Who was still frowning, clearly trying to grasp their meaning.
"We're enthusiasts," the woman added, looping her arm through her man's. "It's how we met."
"Enthusiasts?" Ava asked.
"True crime enthusiasts," the man clarified.
Ava went pale.
The brunette nodded. "We were hoping to see the murder necklace. Maybe even…try it on?" She looked practically giddy at the idea.
Ava's frown turned into a downright scowl. I could see several scathing responses going through her head as her eyes began to blaze.
Before she voiced any, I jumped in. "As true crime buffs, I'm sure you realize that particular piece is still in police custody. It's evidence."
The brunette huffed and took another shot at the man's ribs. "I told you it wouldn't be here!"
"Okay, okay, you told me." He sent her an annoyed look before returning his attention to Ava. "You don't by chance have any other jewelry that was worn by the dead woman, do you? You know, like the earrings she had on when she was strangled?"
"No!" The word was forceful enough that the couple took a physical step backward.
"What about a replica? Like, maybe another piece like the murder necklace?" the woman asked.
"Uh, maybe you better come back another time," I offered, ushering them toward the door.
"Any idea when the necklace will be released from police custody?" the woman asked as I herded her out.
"Will you be putting it on display then?" the man added.
"Should we leave our number?" the woman persisted.
Ava's icy glare should have said it all.
"Have a nice day," I told them before shutting the glass door behind them and flipping the Open sign to Closed.
I watched them walk down the sidewalk, the woman giving the man's ribs one last jab, before I spun around to face Ava.
She was shaking her head, the expression on her face a mix of anger and defeat. "Did you hear them?" She sighed, falling onto a stool behind the register. "The murder necklace? Is that what Silver Girl is going to be known for now?"
"I'm sure no one else is calling it that," I told her.
She sent me a look. "Clearly you did not see Bradley Wu's column in the Sonoma Index-Tribune today?"
Oh boy. I had not. But I knew Bradley Wu was a syndicated columnist who covered the Sonoma food scene and, more recently, local news. He had a sharp tongue, a thing for flowery language, and a witty style that could either be laugh-out-loud entertaining or cringe-worthy, depending on if you were the object of his column or not. "What did Bradley say?"
"He said my 'deadly designer necklace' was an ironic commentary on the 'suffocating trappings of our beauty-obsessed society.'"
I cringed. "At least he called it designer?" I offered, trying to find a silver lining.
She shook her head. "Obviously it was enough to excite the morbid types like them." She inclined