Before I worked for Wilhelmina as her assistant detective, I worked one of the most challenging jobs there is: retail. As an assistant manager at a beauty store I dealt with frequent Karens. Day after day I was screamed at, cursed at, all with a smile forced on my face. No, I’d choose solving murders over working retail any day. Unfortunately, on this day my two professions became intertwined when my former manager was murdered.
Camilla had been working at Chicago Beauty for seven years. Chicago Beauty is a small retail chain across the Chicagoland area, with over a dozen locations out as far as Wisconsin and Indiana. Despite its relatively small size, it managed to carry some of the best high-end brands, and business was busy enough to rival any of the larger chains. I worked at Chicago Beauty with Camilla for four years before leaving to work for Wilhelmina full time. We got along very well, and even after we parted ways professionally I considered her a good friend. I’d even stopped by the store to visit her on the day she died.
I came into the store a little after five, just an hour before the store was scheduled to close. They always closed early on Sundays. When I walked in, a girl I didn’t recognize shouted “Welcome!” from behind the register. She couldn’t have been more than 16, with straight brown hair and dressed all in black. Later I’d learn her name was Cassie. Cassie was Chicago Beauty’s most recent hire, only being there a couple months at that point. Almost immediately I heard a bellowing sing-song voice from across the store: “Oh, Patrick!” I turned to see Rhoda bounding toward me, arms outstretched. Rhoda had been with the store for two years before I left, and took over the position of assistant manager. Always a riot, I had a blast chatting with her whenever we got slow. She outdressed everybody, and did so effortlessly.
Rhoda squeezed me for quite some time at the front of the store. When I got tired of hugging back I let out an awkward chuckle and mumbled a quick “good to see ya.” We exchanged a few pleasantries as I began walking toward the back. In passing I saw Matthew, the token gay they hired after I left, checking his phone in between stocking the shelves. I’ve never really gotten to know him very well, but we’re cordial enough. I waved and he smiled back. Finally, toward the back of the store I found Camilla. She was crouching in front of the bathroom, turning a screwdriver into one of the door’s hinges. When she saw me her face lit up, she placed the tool on the ground, and stood to greet me. “Patrick,” she said as she pulled me into a hug, “thank God you’ve come!”
I followed Camilla through to the back room, and as soon as we were out of sight of the customers her entire presence transformed. Shoulders slouched, hands on her head, face contorted into a scowl. Clearly, something was the matter. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Oh Pat, what isn’t? We’re so understaffed, and the people we have are terrible. Rhoda does more talking than she does selling. Yeah, part of our job is to build that connection with the guest, but that doesn’t matter if you don’t close the sale. Then there’s Matthew. He typically works thirty-six hours a week, and thirty-two of them are spent on his phone. And then there’s Cassie. That good for nothing infant is completely helpless! She needs me to explain every single thing to her over and over. At that point I may as well do it myself. I’m so tired. I hate it here. I hate them. Even with the half-dozen customer tantrums I have to deal with every day, it would be fine if I had a single competent team member. I’m doing all this by myself. I wish you’d come back here. You were the best guy who ever worked here.”
I said nothing while she vented, but after an awkward pause I realized she was waiting for me to respond. Had she just offered me a job? “Cami, I’m sorry things have been so hard for you here. I wish I could help. Thank you for your offer, but I couldn’t return to work here. My job with Wilhelmina, that takes up all my time. Our work is too important for me to drop it to sell makeup.”
Camilla paled, and after a glimmer of horror crossed her face a look of disgust took root. She turned away from me as she mumbled, “thanks for stopping by, but I’ve got work to do.” I think I offended her by referring to my work as important- I didn’t mean to say her work isn’t important, but I mean, is it? With Wilhelmina I help the queer community by bringing justice to their assailants. Murderers could be walking around free if not for the work that we do. By comparison, selling some purple eyeshadow just doesn’t matter as much. But I didn’t say anything more in that moment, Camilla looked like she needed some space, so I left the back room and went back into the store.
I can never leave Chicago Beauty without picking up a few things. I grabbed a handful of items, some lilac candles, a snail-infused moisturizer, and some bath salts, and approached the register. There was a short line forming, as Cassie was the only one on the register and still getting the hang of things. I didn’t mind waiting, I had nowhere else to be, but the woman in front of me was visibly impatient. Tapping her foot, hand on her hip, looking around for sympathetic patrons. When her eyes caught mine I just gave her an awkward shrug. She glared at me, rolled her eyes, and then redirected her attention to Cassie. Suddenly, from the line, the woman shouted, “are you the only one here?”
Cassie stared blankly at her, stupefied by the remark. It was several seconds before her mind returned, blinking a couple times then responding “I’ll be right with you.” I heard the woman mumble “sure” under her breath. I took a minor step back- being well-acquainted with Karen behavior I knew what was in store and wanted to keep my distance. A few moments later, it was her turn to check out.
“Thank you for your patience,” Cassie offered as the woman approached. The Karen ignored her and began placing her items on the counter. I noticed most of her products were skin-firming or wrinkle-removing. While I do believe people can age gracefully and look beautiful at any age, no amount of products could repair this woman’s anger-torn visage. No one who could harass retail workers as she was about to has a smidgeon of beauty.
“This costs too much,” the Karen announced, “I want it cheaper.”
Cassie struggled to find the right words to respond, finally landing on, “I’m sorry, it costs that much because of the quality of the ingredients. A little goes a long way, so you’ll get plenty of use out of it.”
“You kept me waiting in line for ten minutes,” the Karen badgered, “I should get a discount.”
I saw Cassie’s eyes darting about the store, feeling helpless against this woman’s attitude. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”
“You mean you can’t even give me a fucking coupon?”
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t have that authority.”
Finally, channeling the generations of bitches who came before her, the Karen shouted, “Well who does have the authority? I want to speak to your manager!”
Rhoda, overhearing this remark, approached the register. “Good evening, ma’am, how can I help you?”
The Karen glared at Rhoda and Cassie as she spewed, “This girl is a disrespectful bitch. You people need to do a better job at training, or maybe not hire children.”
Cassie uttered a shocked “excuse me?” before Rhoda interjected herself between them. “I’m so sorry to hear that. What can I do to help?”
“Like I told her, I want a discount on my serum!”
“Well there are no sales currently on that item,” Rhoda began, “but because you’re such a loyal customer I can knock it down five percent. Will that be alright?”
“Five percent?” the Karen looked aghast, as if the offer were an insult, “Five percent? This thing is sixty-five dollars, five percent ain’t shit!”
“Well, like I said there are no sales or promotions for that product right now, so the best I can do is five percent.” Rhoda began to make adjustments in the register.
The Karen, turning purple in rage, unleashed a spew of hateful attacks. She hurled a word so offensive I dare not repeat it. After doing so, and rightly so, Rhoda slapped the bitch. She slapped the Karen so hard that it got Camilla’s attention from the back room. As she rushed toward the register the fight continued. “How fucking dare you?” shouted the Karen.
“Nah bitch, fuck you!” Rhoda spat back, “You don’t come into my place of work and talk to me like that! Get the fuck out before I do it again!”
“Rhoda!” Camilla chastised, “please go to the back at once.” Turning to the Karen, Camilla attempted to diffuse the situation. “Ma’am, I am so sorry about that. How can I make this up to you?”
“All I asked for was a fucking discount, and I want my fucking discount!”
“Absolutely,” Camilla said, “I can give you fifteen percent off your entire transaction.”
“Fifteen? I have been beaten by one of your employees and you offer me fifteen?”
“Okay, I can do twenty, but that’s the most I can take off.”
“Fine, I’ll take it.” I think the Karen meant to look proud and victorious, but really she looked pitiful. All that pain she caused, just to save a few dollars, and she had the nerve to feel proud.
Camilla completed the transaction, then as the Karen darted away the rest of us finally took notice of Cassie, who had been off to the side crying for some time now. Cami took her hand and said, “Why don’t you go take five?” Cassie hurried to the back room without another word.
“So what happened next?”
Wilhelmina and I were sitting on her couch, the television muted since I began my story. Her and I have solved countless cases together, and I hoped that her insight could prove which of the three Chicago Beauty employees murdered their manager. I resumed my story. Camilla told Matthew to cover the register, then went to join the others in back. Wanting to make sure everyone was okay, I left my stuff at the register and followed suit. As I entered the employees’ back room I heard shouting. “Your behavior was completely inappropriate! You are never supposed to hit a customer!”
“You didn’t hear what she said to me, she deserved to get hit!”
“Maybe so, but to actually hit her was out of line. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to let you go.”
“Are you kidding me?” gasped Rhoda, “You can’t fire me for that!”
“I certainly can. I will not tolerate an employee who is violent toward our guests. I’ll give you two weeks.”
“Keep your two weeks, I’m outta here.”
Rhoda rushed to the door, beginning to sob. When she saw me she wrapped her arms around me, cried for a moment, and departed. She ran out of the store and did not return.
“And as for you,” Camilla began, turning to Cassie, “you need to pull yourself together. Working retail you’re gonna encounter a lot of mean customers. You don’t freak out and cry about it. Honestly I’d like to fire you too, but since we just lost Rhoda I’m gonna need you here till we replace her. So buckle up and get over it. Put on a smile and get back out there.”
Cassie walked out and I approached Camilla. “Don’t you think that was a little harsh?”
“Well yeah,” she said, “You gotta be harsh with kids these days. You coddle them and they become spoiled and selfish. If she’s ever going to make it in retail she needs to toughen up.”
“Remember Cami,” I retorted, “seven years ago you were that kid. You thrived here because you had a team that supported you. Your team is struggling now, and that comes from the top.”
I struck a chord with that. Camilla looked disgruntled at what I said, but I think, behind that, she really felt hurt. She lashed out, “You think my work isn’t important? What the fuck were you doing working here for four years if you didn’t believe in what we do. We help people feel beautiful. It may not change the world, but it changes their world, and I think that’s pretty damn important! Get the fuck out of here Patrick, and don’t come back.”
I think I started to stutter a rebuttal, but she cut me off. “You don’t even work here anymore. You shouldn’t be back here.” I wish I hadn’t let things end like that. Had I known what was about to happen, perhaps I would have attempted to repair things. As it stands, those were the last words Camilla ever spoke to me. I went back to the register, paid for my things, and left.
Wilhelmina regarded me with sympathy in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Patrick. I’m sorry that you lost your friend last night, in more ways than one.”
“I feel awful. I wish I could do something to bring her back, at least so I could apologize.”
“Sadly life don’t work that way. But there’s something we can do. We can find out who killed her. Tell me, do you know anything that happened after you left?”
By the time I left it was just before close. Even though I wasn’t there for it, I did enough closing shifts at Chicago Beauty to know roughly what happened. Camilla would handle the register, counting and recording its contents, and transferring excess cash to the safe in back. Matthew would be in charge of restocking, grabbing product from the back inventory and replacing the goods that had been sold. Little Cassie would be stuck with cleaning duty, mopping the floors, wiping down the bathroom. Although since the door had been jammed for a week she wouldn’t have bothered checking the bathroom. Employees like her are never very thorough, possibly because they don’t get paid enough to care. I know while I was there I barely earned enough to get by, and that was as an assistant manager. A girl earning minimum wage is going to exert minimal effort. You get what you pay for, and Chicago Beauty paid for squat. As soon as Cassie finished mopping she would be free to leave. Matthew would be scheduled to restock for an hour after close, but he’d probably dip out after half that time. As soon as everyone else had left, Camilla could do her final closing duties, shut the lights off, and head out the back.
“So that’s what normally happens, but something else happened last night and Camilla never made it out of the store. Who found her?”
Rhoda found her. After sleeping off her rage, Rhoda hoped that she could get her job back, and showed up to open the store. She let herself in, as assistant manager she has her own set of keys, and when she entered the back room Camilla was on the floor, screwdriver penetrating through her eye socket. First thing Rhoda did was call the police, second thing she did was text me. She’s been keeping me abreast on everything that’s happened this morning.
Camilla’s time of death was estimated to be around eight o’clock, meaning that she would have been the only person in the store. There was no evidence of a break in. Whoever killed her must have been inside the store before they closed. There were no clear prints on the screwdriver, they’d gotten smudged, as if from a haphazard wipe down. Clearly the killer hadn’t put much thought into the attack. Nothing had been stolen, and the safe had not been tampered with. The culprit only had one intention: to kill Camilla.
Rhoda would certainly have had motive- Camilla had just sacked her. I asked about her alibi, and she says she was home alone, with a few drinks in her. Not an alibi we could confirm. Cassie was pretty mad over yesterday’s events, too. It is possible that she lashed out, if she was angry enough. She took the bus home, and her parents verified that she did not get home until 8:30. Matthew…I don’t know about Matthew. He was the least involved in the skirmish, and while Camilla had said some nasty words about him, he was not present when she said them. When he got off work he just drove around for a couple hours, not being seen by his roommates till after 11. He, of the three, seems to have had the most opportunity.
“Why didn’t he just go home?” Wilhelmina asked.
“He did that most nights,” I explained. “From what I heard, whenever he gets bored he goes for a drive around the city, blasting pop divas from his speakers. So it wasn’t out of character for him to do so last night.”
“So who did it?” I asked her. “Rhoda, Cassie, or Matthew?”
“You’re still considering Matthew?” Wilhelmina looked at me skeptically. “He has no motive.”
“So?” I asked, “isn’t that always how it goes? The killer is the one you least suspect.”
“Well, actually,” Wilhelmina explained, “in most cases, the most likely suspect is the one who did it.”
“So then it’s Cassie. She was the only other person in the store.”
“She certainly had opportunity, but I’m not so sure.”
“Then you think it’s Rhoda?”
“No,” she admonished, “I didn’t say that.”
“Well then who?”
“I don’t know yet. Are you sure you’ve told me everything? Absolutely everything there is to know?”
“Do you have to know that I went to the bathroom?” I teased.
“You mean that inaccessible bathroom that wouldn’t accommodate people like me?”
The bathroom at Chicago Beauty was terribly narrow, even I can barely turn around in it. A person of Wilhelmina’s size couldn’t even back into it. There wasn’t a railing either, so if Willy could manage to get on the toilet, getting up would be a struggle. Frequently on our cases there will be places Wilhelmina cannot access. In those situations I will investigate on her behalf, and then come back and report my findings. Without exception, Willy always catches something I overlooked. She may have limited mobility, but her observational skills and deductive reasoning are unmatched. Typically after I’ve relayed everything from the scene I just sit back and let her work her magic. I pray I’ve remembered enough of the events of yesterday for her to figure out who killed my friend.
“So you used the bathroom, then you left?”
“Wait, no. Actually, I didn’t use the bathroom. I meant to, but the door was still jammed.”
“Didn’t you say you walked in on her fixing it?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know if she was done. She left the screwdriver there on the floor.”
We sat for a moment in silence while Wilhelmina thought things over. I turned back toward the television and became engrossed with the show. When she next spoke I jumped, I’d almost forgotten she was there. “I think I’ve got it,” she announced.
“Well, who was it?”
She held a finger out. “One moment,” she said. Wilhelmina clenched her walker and pulled herself up, then sauntered over to the phone. Our building still has landlines, and Willy seems to think using it seems more professional for business related calls. She hit three buttons and pressed dial. A second later she was on the phone with the police.
“Hello, this is Wilhelmina Devereaux. Yes, that Wilhelmina,” she rolled her eyes. “Can I speak to whoever is in charge of the Chicago Beauty murder case?” She was on hold for a while. Willy’s developed a bit of a reputation with the Chicago police department. While she has solved many cases for them, they’re not particularly pleased with her nosing around. After making their point with the lengthy hold, the detective on the other end finally picked up, and Wilhelmina continued. “Yes, it’s me. I think I know who killed Camilla at Chicago Beauty. Earlier that day the bathroom door had been jammed, so none of the staff thought it was suspicious when the door wouldn’t open. Right before close, however, there was an aggravated customer, who was not observed leaving the store. Outraged by the poor customer service she experienced, this customer hid in the bathroom until close. When she came out, Camilla was the only one left in the store, and the Karen attacked her with the screwdriver she found on the floor. No, her name is not Karen, well for all I know it could be. While I don’t know her name, if you go through Chicago Beauty’s receipts for the day you will find her transaction and the name on the card she paid with. She was the one with the anti-aging serum. Pay her a visit and you’ll have your killer.”
They arrested the woman the following morning. Wilhelmina was right on all counts but one. The bitch’s name was Barb.