Crushed Velvet

by Diane Vallere

  “The morning I came here, you weren’t expecting me.”

  “No, pretty much the opposite.”

  “But you didn’t kick me out.”

  “Turns out you were a pretty good worker.” I smiled as much of a smile as I could manage. I still felt stupid for my reaction, and I knew I was far from explaining how I felt.

  “Maybe I enjoyed the company.” He returned my smile, and I relaxed.

  “This whole thing is a lot of work, more than I thought it would be. Truth is, I can’t really afford to turn away any help, which is why Kim’s still working here even though I don’t completely trust her.”

  “Kim?” he asked.

  “You know, the young blonde who was helping us yesterday?”

  “That’s right, there was someone else here yesterday. I barely noticed her.”

  It felt both awkward and comfortable, standing in the dark of Tea Totalers with Vaughn. If there’d been any food in the kitchen, I might have set out a late picnic to give us something to do, but there wasn’t, so I didn’t. The candles we’d lit when we came in were burning low. Soon we’d be in complete darkness. I didn’t know what time it was, but it felt like it was after midnight.

  “What did you tell Sheriff Clark when you gave him the tea?”

  “That it came from the refrigerator at Tea Totalers.”

  “He didn’t question the broken glass or the rags?”

  “I’m sure he questioned them, he just kept those questions to himself. You said he knew Phil didn’t die from drinking the tea.”

  I thought back about the conversation I’d had with the sheriff earlier that day. “It was more what I told him. I tried to show Clark the photos from my own experiment, but he said he’d already ruled out poisoned tea as the cause of death.”

  “Tell me more about this experiment.”

  “I took a picture of Phil’s body when he was found in the back of the van. There was something that looked like a puddle in the back of the van next to the tea container, so I thought maybe the container spilled, and if so, Phil couldn’t have drunk it. I ran a couple of scenarios here with a scrap of carpet and a container of colored water, to see the size of the spill and compare it to the stain in the back of the van. I thought if I could show how much tea might have spilled, I could make an argument against Phil having ingested enough to be poisoned even if there was something poisonous in it. Accidentally.”

  “That’s genius.”

  “I don’t think it’s genius, but I was working with what I had. Just like you were.”

  “No, what you did was resourceful. I’m impressed.”

  Again a flash of embarrassment flushed my cheeks. Before Vaughn could say anything else, I changed the subject.

  “You said Genevieve asked you to look into the tea. When was that?”

  “Yesterday. I went by Charlie’s to check on my car. I didn’t know Genevieve was there. Charlie told me you were at Tea Totalers. When I asked how you got the keys to the store, Genevieve came out from inside Charlie’s office and told me she’d made arrangements for you to work there.”

  “She’s not supposed to be letting people know she’s there.”

  “I’m not exactly ‘people.’”

  “I’m sorry. When I accepted this date, I thought you were human. Did I get that wrong?”

  Vaughn laughed out loud. He reached for my hand and braided his fingers through mine. I expected his hands to be soft and smooth, but they weren’t. I ran my thumb against his palm and felt rough calluses and small abrasions where his skin had been scraped or cut. I looked down and flipped his hands palm side up like I was a fortune-teller and was checking his lifeline.

  “I bought an apartment on the outskirts of San Ladrón,” he said. “It’s a fixer-upper. I’ve been spending a lot of time working on it, and I’ve got the battle scars to prove it.”

  “Is that why I haven’t seen you around much since I moved here?”

  “It’s one of the reasons. I was out of town for a month, too. Business for my dad.”

  I wondered if Vaughn knew his father had cosigned the loan on Material Girl for me. I didn’t ask. Business was business, and that was mine. And as far as money went, I’d already acted stupid enough for one night.

  “It’s getting late. Maybe we should call it a night,” I said.

  “Already?”

  “Now that you admitted you’re not human, I don’t know if it’s safe to be around you after midnight,” I joked.

  We stood up and cleared the seating area from the floor. I shook the toile and folded it neatly. Vaughn blew out two of the three candles and carried the third—the only light inside the tea shop—to illuminate our path.

  “What time is it, anyway?” I asked.

  “Not sure.” He opened the back door, blew out the third candle, and set it on the counter. He let me pass through the doorway first. Once he was out, I went behind him and locked the back door. We walked side by side to his car. He unlocked the passenger side door and held it open for me. I didn’t get in right away.

  “My family struggled,” I said, turning to face him. “We weren’t poor, but we were money aware. Both of my parents worked full-time jobs while I was in high school. I had a job during summers, which helped pay for my tuition to design school, and I worked part-time when I was in college. Aunt Millie was the one who got me into fabric and sewing, not because it was chic or cool, but because it was less expensive. She taught me to cut the buttons and zippers out of clothes that were worn-out. Together we’d search thrift stores and estate sales for dresses that were out of fashion, and look for ones that appeared to be damaged beyond saving. She taught me how to deconstruct them to make patterns for new clothes. I remember her as being so glamorous, but in junior high, the other kids made jokes about the clothes she wore.”

  “Poly, I might have money, but I don’t have the kind of memories about family that you have. We struggled in different ways. I grew up knowing people wanted things from me. Friends expected me to pay for things because I could. My parents got divorced when I was young. I didn’t even know I had a sister until after I graduated college. I went to private school. My dad wanted me to go to Harvard. I wanted to go to William and Mary. He said if I wanted it enough, I’d get there without his help.”

  “And you did,” I said. He held up a hand to quiet me and continued.

  “I took two years off and worked every job I could get. I qualified for a partial scholarship and paid for my first two years’ tuition myself. I stayed in Virginia and got a job at an investment firm. It took his heart attack for me to realize that maybe I should come back here and help him out with the family business. Until then I was too busy trying to earn his approval. When I said you were resourceful, it was a compliment. Most people I’ve met see a problem and try to buy their way out of it. There’s a part of me that thinks the only reason Genevieve asked for my help is because she thought my money could solve her problem. And in a way, it did. And Genevieve’s a friend, so I’m glad I could help.”

  I leaned forward and gave Vaughn a soft, quick kiss. The impulse was spontaneous, as was the surprise on his face.

  “Maybe we are more alike than I thought,” I said. I climbed into the car and Vaughn shut the door behind me. I reached across the driver’s seat and unlocked his door. He started the engine and pulled out of the lot, onto San Ladrón Avenue, and then right on Bonita.

  “Would you like to do this again sometime?” he asked.

  “Which part? The movie? Or the trespassing on private property?”

  “Either. Both. I know a couple of nice, out-of-the-way buildings we can squat in—”

  “Giovanni’s van.”

  “You want to squat in somebody’s van?”

  “There.” I leaned forward and pointed to the white van parked in front of the fabric store. “What’s it doing
here? Now?”

  Vaughn pulled the Volkswagen over and I was out before the car came to a complete stop. I approached the van and looked in the window. The driver’s-side seat was reclined, and a figure shifted. It was Giovanni. I knocked on the window several times. He shifted again, opened his eyes, and jumped when he saw me. He pulled the seat up and opened the door.

  “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been sitting here waiting for you?” he asked. His forehead was bruised, and his lip was cut.

  I came around the side of the van as he stepped out onto the gravel. His legs gave way beneath him and he fell to the ground.

  Fifteen

  “Vaughn,” I called over my shoulder. “Help me get him inside the store.”

  I rooted through my handbag for my keys. Vaughn pulled Giovanni to his feet. I unlocked the gate, heaved it open, and unlocked the front door. I returned to where Vaughn stayed with Giovanni. I got on one side of him; Vaughn on the other. With Giovanni’s arms draped over each of our shoulders like a scene from Weekend at Bernie’s, we guided him inside.

  “Can you make it up the stairs?” I asked Giovanni. A trickle of blood had dried on his cheek next to the cut.

  “If that’s where you keep the liquor, then yes, I can make it upstairs.”

  As we went up, Giovanni in the front with Vaughn and me behind him, I knew there was a possibility that we’d find Genevieve when we got there. I didn’t know how I would explain it if we did, but I sensed whatever had happened to my former boss related back to Phil Girard’s murder.

  I guided Giovanni to the sofa. “Vaughn, there’s a bottle of brandy on the kitchen counter. Can you pour him a glass?” Vaughn nodded and went to the kitchen.

  “Is it the good stuff? Bring the whole bottle,” Giovanni said.

  I glared at him. “Are you really hurt or are you faking this?”

  He sat up. “Would you like me to describe the thugs who jumped me over your fabric?”

  “You were jumped over my fabric?” A chill swept over me like an X-ray machine at airport security. There were only three people who knew that my real order of fabric was still in Los Angeles. Two of them were in this room. The only good thing I could think of was that there was a new angle to Phil’s murder.

  “Yes. Which means you owe me. Which means I want your best brandy.”

  I found a terry cloth rag in the hall closet and ran it under the cold water tap in the bathroom. When I returned to the living room, I handed it to Giovanni. “We should call the police,” I said.

  Giovanni waved a hand back and forth in front of me. “I have enough problems of the not-legal variety. I don’t need to be involved with the police over this little favor.” He laid the wet rag across his forehead, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes. A few seconds later he opened one. “Is that your new guy? Not bad. He’s rich, right? Bet that’s driving the last guy crazy.”

  “Giovanni, here’s the thing. I think it’s best that you don’t let Vaughn know what you told me about the fabric.”

  “Ah, the ever-popular building-a-relationship-on-secrets approach. Yes, I believe I’ve tried that once or twice. What’s it worth to you?”

  “We already made a deal! You’re getting twenty rolls of boning and instructions on how to use it.”

  “That was before I was beat up. Now I want a children’s collection inspired by trees. Twenty sketches.”

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “My niece is in a play. My sister wants costumes for the whole class, and I’ve decided to use it as an opportunity to enter the children’s market.”

  Vaughn rounded the corner with a glass of brandy. He handed it to Giovanni, who took a long pull on the amber liquid. He closed his eyes and swirled the drink around in his mouth, then swallowed.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said to Giovanni. I reached out for Vaughn’s arm and gently pulled him into the hallway. “That man used to be my boss. I asked him to do a favor for me, which he did, but things are complicated now, so I think we’re going to be renegotiating.”

  Vaughn’s face looked serious. “What kind of renegotiating?” he asked. He looked over my shoulder into the living room.

  I twisted around and looked at Giovanni. His head was tipped back, resting against the top of the sofa. His mouth was open. Three buttons had been undone down the front of his shirt and the empty brandy glass rested on the top of his stomach.

  “Not that kind of negotiating,” I said quickly. “Come with me. I’ll walk you to the door.”

  I led the way down the stairs. I turned the knob of the front door and cracked it. “In spite of what happened with my boss, I had a nice time tonight.”

  Vaughn studied me. I felt nervous, having already kissed him in the parking lot outside Tea Totalers. In the span of fifteen minutes, we were worlds apart again.

  “Good night, Poly,” he said and let himself out.

  “Good night, Vaughn,” I said to the door as I locked it behind him. I went back up the stairs and found Giovanni asleep on the sofa, his ample stomach rising and falling in time with the buzz of his breathing. I tiptoed through the remaining rooms of the apartment like a bear looking for Goldilocks. She wasn’t there.

  • • •

  The next morning I showered early and dressed in a long, thin black sweater over a black tank top and black leggings. I brewed a pot of coffee and put two slices of whole wheat bread in the toaster. Giovanni hadn’t stirred despite the increasing noise level. Pins and Needles, who had been asleep on the bed when I woke up, swarmed around my ankles and meowed for food. I gave them fresh water and topped off their Cat Chow, then carried a mug of coffee into the living room.

  “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” I announced. I set the mug onto the coffee table with a clunk and pulled the cord on the curtains so the room was flooded with natural light. “Time to wake up.”

  “What are you doing?” Giovanni said. He put his hands over his eyes and rolled into the back of the sofa.

  “You’re parked in a no-parking zone. You better move your car or you’re going to get a ticket.”

  He blinked his eyes a few times and then closed them again. “Five more minutes.”

  I almost couldn’t believe I’d worked for this man for seven whole years. “There’s a mug of coffee on the table. You have thirty seconds to tell me what happened.”

  “You never talked like this when you worked for me.”

  “Actually, I did, but you threatened to dock my pay, so I stopped. I don’t work for you anymore. So drink your coffee and start talking.”

  Giovanni sat up and rubbed his face a couple of times. He yawned, made a howling sound as he did so, and then stretched his arms in either direction.

  “You got any donuts?”

  “I’ll get you donuts after you tell me what happened.”

  He held his hands up in front of him as if I’d won some kind of battle. “Okay, okay. Donuts later.” He swallowed some coffee. “After you called me about your velvet, I called Mack and made arrangements for him to hold it until five.”

  “I told you noon.”

  “Turns out it wasn’t a firm noon. I can’t leave the workroom unattended now that you left. Those women lose all sense of productivity when I’m not there to crack the whip.”

  I shook my head at Giovanni’s lack of sensitivity. He employed some of the best sewers in Los Angeles, all underpaid if you asked me. The newer ones were afraid to talk back for fear of losing their jobs. Those who had been in the workroom for longer, some for decades, knew what they could get away with. Even though it hadn’t been part of my job requirements, I’d often acted as a representative for them, fighting on their behalf when his demands grew too unrealistic. The week I’d gotten Juanita Ramirez a raise so her husband didn’t have to take a second job was one of the best I’d had. I could still taste the homemade tamales she’d
brought me to say thank you.

  “One of these days they’re all going to leave you and find someone better to work for,” I said.

  “You always did fancy yourself to be their own little Norma Rae, didn’t you? It’s touching.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Back to my velvet. You made arrangements with Mack to pick it up at five. What happened?”

  “He helped me carry it outside when I got there. I loaded it into the van. He locked up and left before I was done. Some guy came over and asked if I was making the delivery. I said yes.”

  “And?” I was getting impatient. Giovanni was drawing this out longer than necessary and I regretted not filling him with refined sugar first.

  “He said ‘make sure we get our money this time.’ I told him the velvet was already paid for.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Then he says, ‘funny guy,’ and punches me. I landed on the ground and hit my head.” He touched the bruise on his forehead. It had already turned from dark red to a yellowish green with purple at the center. “Stupid Italian. He said the last guy tried to be funny, too, but that didn’t work out so well for him.”

  “How do you know he was Italian?”

  “He sounded like half my family.”

  “Giovanni, you reported the attack, right?”

  “Are you kidding? The guy left and I drove here. If word gets out that I called the cops over a fabric delivery, I’m done. What’s the big deal? I’m here, your velvet’s here. No harm, no foul.”

  “Yes, harm! Yes, foul! This is not normal. Picking up fabric shouldn’t be dangerous.”

  “You’ve watched me talk to these guys a hundred times. You know they’re always looking for an angle. You’re a pretty, young girl who ordered twelve bolts of custom fabric. Somebody got wind of your situation and thinks they can make a little money off you.”