The Fashion Police (Amber Fox Mystery No 1)

by Sibel Hodge

  ‘Ah!’ Her face relaxed and she motioned for me to come in.

  ‘Thanks.’ I rushed toward the balcony.

  I gazed out, trying to decide the best way to climb over without slipping and taking a nosedive to splatsville. The balcony was so narrow, I didn’t fancy going forward, plus if I did fall, I’d see it coming. In the end, I clutched the tiny towel around me for dear life and backed out, climbing rear first over the balustrade separating my balcony from the German lady’s.

  Phew! I breathed a sigh of relief when I landed on balcony firma. My first thought as I slipped through the French doors was that someone had ordered a Texas poker game in my absence. My second thought was that I’d gotten my left mixed up with my right when I was in reverse mode, and I was in the wrong room.

  All six of the burly, incredibly hairy Hell’s Angels lookalikes sitting around a table in the center of the room turned around and eyed me up.

  ‘Hello, missy. You must be our stripper-gram,’ a leather jacketed biker said, looking pretty excited at that prospect.

  ‘Er…no. I’m afraid not.’ I gave them a vacant smile. ‘Anyway, sorry to interrupt–’

  Another beefy-looking one with a splodge of ketchup stuck to his beard grabbed hold of my arm. ‘Hey, not so fast. If you’re not our stripper-gram, why are you dressed in a mini dress?’

  ‘Yeah,’ another one piped up.

  ‘What, this old thing?’ I pulled the bottom of my towel down further, not that it had much effect, but psychologically, I felt less naked.

  ‘Come on, let’s get the party started, missy.’ Mr. Leather Jacket leered at me.

  ‘Let’s not,’ I said.

  ‘Why not?’ Ketchup Face said to me.

  ‘It will make you go blind.’

  One of the others cackled. ‘Hey, we’ve got a feisty one here.’

  ‘I bet I could make your clothes disappear,’ one of the others said as he twisted a ginormous diamond ear stud around and around. He licked his lips and looked like he seriously wanted my clothes to disappear.

  ‘I hope that’s not your poker-face,’ I said to him. ‘You’re giving far too much away. Nice diamond, though. Is it real?’ I looked at his stud, twinkling at me as the light bounced off it.

  ‘Yeah, why?’ he gave me a suspicious look.

  ‘No reason. Ooh, look at that.’ I looked at the five card spread in the center of the table. There were two aces amongst them. Then I pointed at the two aces held in Ketchup Face’s hands. ‘You’ve got four aces.’

  Mr. Leather Jacket looked at the cards in the center of the table, frowned, and looked at his cards. ‘You can’t have four aces. There are two on the table.’ He glared at Ketchup Face. ‘And I’ve got two aces right here, so you can’t have two aces in your hand.’ He shot up, sending his chair flying to the floor. ‘You’re cheating.’ He pointed at Ketchup Face.

  Ketchup Face shuffled in his seat, giving the others shifty eye contact.

  ‘I knew it,’ Diamond Stud said to his neighbor. ‘I knew he’d been cheating.’

  When Mr. Leather Jacket flew across the table, grabbing Ketchup Face by the neck, I thought it was a good time to get the hell out of Dodge.

  I was working my way through the wine when Brad called.

  ‘Where are you?’ he said.

  ‘Not telling.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I’ve got a bottle of wine in my hand, and you know what happened the last time I drank too much.’

  He paused. ‘What happened?’

  ‘We did…you know what.’

  ‘What?’

  I rolled my eyes at the phone. ‘You know. We did the nasty thing.’ I felt my pulse pounding as I imagined it.

  ‘Did we?’ He sounded bemused.

  I frowned, realization dawning over me. ‘You mean…we didn’t do it?’

  ‘Foxy, I would have loved to do the “nasty thing” with you, but it wouldn’t be that enjoyable with you in a drunken coma. Believe me, when it happens you’ll be very much awake, and you’ll definitely remember it in the morning.’

  I swallowed back a lump in my throat. When it happens? Crikey. I felt dizzy and nauseous with a mixture of relief and shame. Relief that I hadn’t actually cheated on Romeo, and shame that part of me was actually disappointed that it hadn’t happened.

  ‘So, where are you?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m still not telling, just in case.’

  ‘I’ve got some news from Hacker on Carlos Bagliero.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘There are three mob families who run their crime organizations on the east coast of America – the Fetuccini family, the Corleone family, and the Rossi family. Needless to say, they hate each other’s guts, and they’re always trying to muscle in on each other’s territory. Twenty years ago, Bagliero gave evidence in a multiple murder trial against Godfather Ricardo Corleone, which put him away for a long time. Hacker is still trying to get more details, but apparently Bagliero was an innocent bystander who witnessed Corleone shoot two members of the Rossi family in the head. After the trial, Bagliero and his wife were murdered.’

  ‘Interesting.’ That got me thinking for a while before I mentally kicked myself. I’d found one note in Heather’s office desk with the initials CB that mentioned five million pounds. When I found the other note in Heather’s apartment with Bagliero’s name on it, I wrongly assumed that it all referred to the same person. If Bagliero was dead, he couldn’t be the same person who paid the five million pounds into her Swiss bank account. In fact, he couldn’t be involved in any of this at all.

  ‘Hacker said that someone went to a lot of trouble to eliminate any records on Bagliero.’

  ‘No wonder. If Bagliero was killed after testifying, it wouldn’t make the authorities look very good if they can’t protect their witnesses. So, if he’s dead, and wasn’t the person who paid Heather five million pounds, then who did?’

  ‘Hacker is still trying to trace where the money came from. Swiss bank accounts are very hard to hack into. All those international state leaders and crime lords expect confidentiality and extra security when they’re stashing away their illegitimately earned petty cash.’

  A light bulb suddenly pinged to life in my brain. ‘Wait a sec. Isn’t it an amazing coincidence that six months after Bagliero is killed, Fandango suddenly appears out of nowhere?’

  ‘That’s the first thought that I had, but Bagliero can’t be Fandango. Bagliero had green eyes, light brown hair, and fair skin, whereas Fandango had brown eyes, dark brown hair, and dark skin. I know it’s easy to change hair and skin color, but they didn’t even look alike.’

  I tucked that thought into my frontal lobe to dissect later. ‘Well, I have some news for you too. I don’t think that the mob was involved in Heather’s murder or the disappearance of Fandango and his collection.’

  ‘What makes you so sure?’

  ‘Barack Obama told me.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘OK, the witness said that the driver of the getaway van wore an Obama mask. The same mask that Heather’s killer made her wear before he shot her. So, it stands to reason that the same person or people were involved in both crimes. Also, Carol Blake told me that the bullets recovered from Fandango’s office matched the bullet used to kill Heather. Both were fired from a revolver. When one of the Goon Girls tried to grab me again earlier­–’

  ‘Hang on a minute. The mob thugs came back, and you didn’t call me?’ His voice oozed with worry.

  ‘Well…I thought we’d done something naughty, and I really didn’t want it to do it again.’ Oh, God, that sounded really horrible. ‘Not that I wouldn’t want to do something naughty with you if I was unattached, it’s just that – oh, hang on, let me take my foot out of my mouth.’

  ‘Foxy, your safety comes first. Anyway, you were saying…’

  ‘What was I saying?’ I said, distracted by the thought that actually I did want to do something naughty, and that was the whole problem.

&nb
sp; ‘What happened when they tried to grab you again?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Tia and I managed to persuade them to get lost.’

  ‘How, exactly?’

  ‘I can be very persuasive when I want to be. That, and the fact that I got hold of their gun, which happens to be a Glock 17.’

  ‘Which also happens to be a semi-automatic weapon and not a revolver.’

  ‘Bingo! So, the Goon Girls didn’t kill Heather or steal the collection and kidnap Fandango,’ I said.

  ‘So, what are the Goon Girls after? We know that the mob is involved in this somehow from Enzo Fetuccini’s payments to Fandango.’

  ‘Maybe I was wrong about them. They must be looking for the fashion collection, too.’

  We said good night, and I climbed into bed after checking under the sheets to make sure I didn’t have any company of the creepy crawly kind.

  I tossed and turned all night, falling in and out of sleep. I had strange dreams about Tia, Fandango, Bagliero, Heather, the mob, and even the Hell’s Angels, which actually worked in my favor. I always found that the best time for piecing together all the fragments of clues was during that limbo time, in between sleeping and waking, when my subconscious was working overtime.

  I struggled out from the depths of la-la land early the next morning to the sound of the Germans coming through the paper thin walls. They were rabbiting on in loud voices as they banged around in their room next door. I rolled over, sending the chintzy bed-spread to the floor and receiving a blast of icy-cold air on my back in the process. I pried one eyelid open, my sleepy gaze falling on my watch. Five-thirty a.m. I groaned and pulled the covers over my head, trying to ignore the noisy Germans.

  The bad news was that I’d had yet another very restless night. The good news, on the other hand, was that I was pretty sure I now knew what had happened. This case had been about blackmail and smuggling all along, just not in the way I’d originally thought.

  25

  I breezed into the office at Hi-Tec, carrying a cup of cappuccino, a family pack of white chocolate muffins with macadamia nuts, and a surprise for the boys. I was in a particularly good mood because I didn’t even know that white chocolate muffins existed, and I was a muffin expert. Go figure. I knew Brad and Hacker wouldn’t eat junk food, so I bought them a couple of whole wheat tortilla wraps with some wilting green leafy stuff – which looked as appetizing as a lump of mould – and couple bottles of sparkling water.

  Brad was on the phone in his office having a very animated conversation with someone. Tia and Hacker sat at his desk with their heads locked close together, talking about Tarot cards.

  ‘Yo, everyone.’ I dumped the food on my desk, wriggled out of my rucksack, and handed out the goodies. Tia was a girl after my own heart and nibbled on a muffin while Hacker sniffed his food and tucked in with vigor. Brad came out of his office, ignored the moldy wrap, and perched on the edge of my desk. If I was him, I would’ve ignored the wrap, too.

  ‘What?’ I said to Brad.

  ‘Did the goons come back?’ Brad asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t go home.’

  ‘Next time, tell me where you are, just in case anything happens.’ Brad folded his arms, and for the first time since I’d known him, he looked rumpled. Like he’d had a bad night of sleep.

  ‘You should tell your boyfriend where you are,’ Tia piped up, glancing between me and Brad.

  I felt my face flush and turned my face to the window to hide my burning cheeks. ‘He’s not my boyfriend. What gave you that idea?’

  From the corner of my eye, I could see Brad watching me.

  ‘Oh, sorry.’ Tia slapped a hand over her mouth. ‘I just assumed that you two were an item.’

  ‘I just got off the phone with Janice Skipper,’ Brad thankfully changed the subject, his eyes flitting in Tia’s direction with a look of sympathy.

  I made fake choking noises and mimed poking my fingers down my throat. Childish, I know, but ooh, that woman pissed me off something chronic.

  ‘I have some bad news, I’m afraid.’ Brad interrupted my outburst. ‘Janice has charged Samantha with murdering Heather and Umberto. Apparently, the DNA results have come back on the blood found at his office, and they match his DNA.’

  Tia dropped the muffin, sending it tumbling to floor. The color drained from her face. She opened her mouth to say something. Closed it again.

  Hacker slid an arm around her waist as she rested her head on his shoulder and sobbed.

  ‘Tia…’ I licked my lips, running through my options of what, if anything, I could say to make her feel any better. ‘Janice Skipper doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’ I gave Tia a tissue and a weak smile, glad that Hacker was there to give her a bit of moral support.

  After a few moments, the deluge of tears subsided, and she grew calmer. She blew her red nose with the tissue, drew away from Hacker, and rubbed her damp eyes with the sleeve of her top.

  ‘So, this is it? He’s really gone? I’ve been trying to hang on to the hope that he’s still alive, but if they’ve charged Samantha, they must be confident that Dad’s dead. Sorry, I need to go.’ And she rushed out, leaving us staring in her wake.

  ‘I’m going to solve this case if it kills me.’ I sat down, banging my forehead on the desk as I tried to think. I ignored the concerned looks passing between Brad and Hacker and carried on until my forehead hurt. Then I stopped and cracked my knuckles. ‘Right, come on, Amber.’ I pulled out the Fandango file containing Fandango’s financial spreadsheets, the other financial files I’d printed from Heather’s USB, the rhinestones I’d found at Samantha’s warehouse and Fandango’s office, the notes of Heather’s that I’d found, and Bagliero’s passport, spreading it all across the desk, and staring at it until my eyes ached. ‘Have you traced where the five million pound payment into Heather’s bank account came from?’ I asked Hacker.

  ‘I’ve managed to trace it to a front company in Sicily. I’m trying to find out who’s behind it. Give me a few more hours.’

  ‘One thing that bugged me about this case all along was the robbery of the fashion collection. Nothing seemed to fit in with it until last night.’ I picked up the rhinestone between my thumb and forefinger, holding it up to the light, remembering the diamond studded biker’s earring shining at me. ‘If it looks like a diamond and sparkles like a diamond, then it must be a diamond, right?’ I bit it. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before.’ I handed it to Brad, who examined it.

  ‘A girl’s best friend.’ Brad pulled up a chair and sat next to me.

  ‘These things were all over Fandango’s fashion collection. Personally, I’ve never really been into glitzy clothes, but I assumed that rhinestones were obviously in vogue this year. I think I know what was going on, and it’s actually pretty clever.’ I shifted in my seat to face them. ‘Fandango was smuggling diamonds. He had them attached to his clothes. Who would think they were anything other than rhinestones, and who would suspect an international fashion designer of smuggling diamonds? Enzo Fetuccini wasn’t laundering money. He was paying Fandango for shipments of diamonds.’

  ‘Clever.’ Hacker raised an eyebrow.

  ‘We know that the mob goons weren’t involved in the disappearance of Fandango and his collection or Heather’s death because of the revolver used and the Obama mask. Also, they seem to be looking for the collection too. So the only other person who could’ve been involved is Heather. She must’ve found out about the smuggling and wanted a piece of the action. She had a drug problem, she needed the money badly, but I’m guessing that Fandango didn’t want to split it with her. So, if she double crosses him and sells the shipment to someone else, she’s cleared a cool five million pounds. She staged a robbery where she just happens to be assaulted and can’t remember what happened so no one suspects that it’s an inside job.’

  ‘What do you think happened to Fandango?’ Brad asked me.

  ‘When there was no ransom demand, I thought he was still alive, but i
t looks likely that he was killed by whoever Heather sold the collection to.’

  ‘Why would a well respected business man get involved in smuggling diamonds for the mob?’ Brad asked.

  ‘Blackmail,’ I said. ‘Fetuccini was blackmailing Fandango to smuggle the diamonds for him, which means that Fetuccini discovered something about Fandango’s mysterious past.’

  ‘But what?’ Hacker frowned.

  ‘I have an idea about that.’ I scribbled away on my notepad, tore off a sheet of paper, and handed it to Hacker. ‘Have you ever used this?’

  ‘No, but you are talking to the finest computer whizz kid this side of the equator. Leave it with me.’ His fingers danced over the keyboard.

  ‘Hang on a minute. If the Goon Girls weren’t sent by Fetuccini to find the collection, why do they think that you’ve got something of theirs?’ Brad asked me.

  I pursed my lips, thinking about that one. ‘Good point. I haven’t got a clue.’

  ‘Well, they broke into your car and your apartment, and they said you had something their boss wanted.’

  ‘I checked my car when it was broken into. There’s nothing in there really, unless they were chocoholics too and wanted my Easter bunny. The only thing missing was my flashlight, but they were probably too tight to buy one themselves, so they thought they’d nick mine instead.’

  ‘Have you checked your apartment?’

  ‘No. Maybe they think I found the collection, and I’ve got the diamonds stashed in my cookie jar.’

  ‘Maybe they think you hid them in your knicker drawer.’ The corners of Brad’s lips curled into a sly grin. ‘Why don’t we check there first?’

  ‘Nice try.’

  ‘It would be purely for the purposes of furthering this case,’ he said, his tone innocent, but the heated look in his eyes gave his thoughts away. I just rolled my eyes and ignored him.

  ****

  Brad took my key, sliding it into the lock and opening my apartment door without a sound. I followed close behind, my chin millimeters away from the back of his shoulder. We checked that the coast was clear of crazy mob stalkers before we started our search.