by Judi McCoy
Sitting on a chair next to the water cooler, Ellie snapped open her phone and made the call. “Hey, Viv, it’s me. Do you have a couple of minutes?”
“For you? Of course I do. What’s up?”
“Remember the swag bag we went through last night, the one with the Bottega Veneta handbag?”
“Yep, and thanks again for the goodies. What’s the favor?”
“I need the bag, including the stuff I gave you. Can you go to my apartment and collect it? It’s on the kitchen counter, exactly where I left it before going to bed.”
Silence on the other end of the line told Ellie Viv’s wheels were turning.
“Are they asking you to give it back? Because I really like that handbag.”
“Not for good. But the police want to look through one that’s intact and holds the same stuff as Lilah Perry’s. And since she and I compared bags yesterday, except for the perfume, I know ours were identical.”
“So I’d get the Bottega Veneta back in a couple of days?”
Ellie breathed out a laugh. “Of course you’ll get it back, but I can’t promise when, especially if it’s being confiscated as evidence. And if that’s the case, I’ll ask Jeffery King to hook me up with another one. I don’t see why he’ll say no if I tell him the cops took it.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“All right, give me a minute.” The pages turned in Viv’s appointment book. Then she said, “I have a ten o’clock that should last about an hour. After I finish, I’ll go to your place and gather things up, then get down to the Fashion Center around one. I don’t have anyone else coming in until five for a dinner meeting.”
“One o’clock is good, but don’t rush. Detective Vaughn didn’t say it was urgent or anything. He just wants to take a look, and apparently Lilah’s is gone.”
“Gone? Like disappeared?”
Viv could be trusted. She’d never repeat a secret if she was told it had to do with a case. “Keep it to yourself, but it’s gone, though they have her personal tote. Vaughn thinks the killer took it because he or she didn’t want the police to know how Lilah came into contact with peanuts.”
“What! Wait a second. I don’t remember seeing peanuts in your bag.”
“Not real peanuts—something like peanuts.”
“Like peanuts? Is this a game, like find the item that’s a peanut but isn’t a peanut?”
Ellie sighed. “I’ll explain when you get here. Just bring the bag and make sure everything is in it, okay?”
“Okay, fine. So where do I meet you?”
She gave Viv directions to the rear door she used to take the dogs out. There was no security guard, so Viv could enter without an ID or pass, and she’d be right at the site instead of walking the fashion gauntlet. Knowing Vivian, if she entered through the main door, she’d get so distracted by the hair, makeup, and clothing circus going on around her, she’d never find her way to the dog pen.
After tucking her phone back in her bag, Ellie slumped in her chair to think. As usual, it appeared that her four-legged buddy was right. No matter how hard she tried to mind her own business, something always seemed to find her. She hadn’t done a thing to encourage it, yet her gift bag would become part of the investigation, and Vaughn was already using her as his inside informant.
“Er—your charges need a quick outside, Triple E,” came a familiar voice from down below. “A couple of ’em are lockin’ their rear legs together, me included.”
Standing, she slipped on her jacket, and collected leashes. “We’ll go,” she told Rudy, “but with eight of you and a Greyhound, it will have to be in two shifts.” She scanned the canines. “Okay, paws up if you need to go outside right away.”
Muffin, a Yorkie, and Kiki, a French bulldog, and Jojo and Klingon, the mini Schnauzers, all barked a “yes” so they were first out of the pen. Just then, Patti Fallgrave sidled over dressed in a red kimono-like gown, and Ellie decided to take advantage of her visit. “Please tell me you have some free time.”
“I can spare about fifteen minutes; then I’m due at a styling station,” she answered, pointing to her wrapped-in-rollers hair. “According to Karen Hood, I’m being completely transformed for my next trip on the catwalk.”
Ellie decided she had to meet this Karen person, who seemed to be the hairstylist of the moment. Since everyone wanted the woman to do their hair, she was supercurious. Filing the task away for later, she said, “I guess you heard, Kitty’s the new competitor for the NMD contest.”
“The news is out, and I think it’s great for her, but not everyone agrees. There’s a ton of gossip going around about who killed Lilah and why, and she and her brother are at the top of the list. Worse, you lost your assistant, but I’ll find someone else by this afternoon, I promise.”
Ellie figured anyone with a brain would accuse Jeffery King eventually, but Kitty? “Talking that way about Kitty is ridiculous; her brother, too.”
She crossed mental fingers over her last pronouncement. She’d heard a lot of stories about brothers who did everything and anything to right a wrong someone had committed against their sister.
“And losing Kitty is why I need you now. Keep an eye on the dogs and the table until I get these guys out and back. I have to do it in two trips. Is that okay with you?”
Patti took a seat and nodded. “Fine. I’ll be here. Just hurry up.”
Ellie stepped out the door and took a deep breath of the fresh autumn air. She hadn’t realized until she was released yesterday how cloying the scents of cosmetics, hairspray, perfume, and whatever else was used to put the shows together were. Not only did the stuff smell—each fabric seemed to carry an odor, as did the models. Many were doused in cologne, but a few others had plain old BO, and there was no way she could bring that up with them.
The dogs were quick with their business, so she returned inside, where she found Patti deep in conversation with Jeffery King. “Here she is now,” said Patti, smiling. “Ellie, Jeffery needs to talk with you.”
“But I don’t want to get in the way of your canine duties,” he told her. “Though I do have to ask, who owns the Greyhound?”
While he talked, Ellie unleashed the first round of dogs and clipped up group two, which included her boy. She wanted to ask Jeff about the swag bags, and Rudy’s observations were always helpful.
“One more out,” she said to Patti. “How about you come with me, Jeff? We can talk while we walk. It should save some time.”
He followed her and opened the door. Again in the fresh air, Ellie took another deep breath and guided the dogs down to the grass. “This part of the job is really the best for me. I’m not sure I can take much more of the craziness inside.”
Dressed in a beautifully cut suit, matching shirt and tie, and Testoni shoes, Jeffery King could have been a model himself. “Here, give me the big guy.”
He held out his hand and she passed him Ranger’s lead. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. The first thing I need to know is who owns this Greyhound?”
“Cassandra McQuagge, one of the plus-sized models,” she told him, waiting for her crew to take care of business. “Apparently he’s a rescue she found to replace the dog she had to put down last week.”
His expression grew grim. “Did she say anything about her contract? Because the models who signed on for this contest were told their dogs had to be small—no more than fifteen pounds. I’ll have to look up the agreement, but I think Cassandra said her dog was eight pounds, and that sure isn’t this boy.”
Worried that Cassandra might be in trouble, Ellie used her pickup bags to take care of the dog droppings while she thought. “I don’t believe she lied when she signed the contract. It sounded as if losing her own little pal was a surprise. Besides, I didn’t think policing the models was a part of my job.”
Jeffery straightened his red-and-tan striped tie with his free hand. “NMD made this entire contest my responsibility, and I have to ask. Since I contracted the models, I’ll be
the one in trouble if the rules aren’t followed, but don’t worry. I’ll find her and we’ll discuss it.” Glancing down at the dogs, he cleared his throat. “I just needed to ask you something.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“I figure by now you’ve learned that this business lives on gossip, and I assume that since you’re the one keeping an eye on the snack table you hear it all.”
“Sometimes, but I do spend a lot of time talking to the dogs. They miss their caretakers and this place is crazy loud. Plus the wild smells make them nutty.”
“Stop right there, Triple E, or you’ll be in trouble.”
“Talking to the dogs? You mean giving them treats, taking them out, correct?”
Smiling, she glanced at Rudy. She could get out of this one on her own. “I do all that, yes, but I talk to them, too. It makes them more comfortable when I treat them like their owners do.”
“Ah, I see.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Back to the gossip. Have you heard anyone talking about Kitty and how she got into the competition? Or the argument I had with Lilah a few weeks ago?”
“Argument?” asked Ellie, playing dumb, something she did really well.
“Kitty said she told you about the fight Lilah and I had after I realized she’d stolen Kitty’s designs.”
Which meant he had to know how bad it looked that Kitty was the one taking Lilah’s place, especially since he’d accused Lilah of thievery.
“Oh, that argument. Sure, Kitty told me about it, but it didn’t sound bad to me. And I almost forgot. Detective Vaughn asked me to give you a message. He wants to talk with you again, so please find him,” she said, gauging his reaction.
Jeffery’s eyes narrowed. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“Uh-oh,” said Rudy. “I think you pushed the wrong button.”
“Um, not exactly. Just something to do with the gift bags.”
“What does he want to know?” His nostrils flared. “Did he hear about Kitty’s promotion?”
“Yes, he knows about Kitty taking Lilah’s place in the competition.”
After muttering a curse, he heaved a sigh. “What do you think I should do?”
Ellie swallowed a gasp of surprise. It was clear that Jeffery King did know something was up with Detective Vaughn, but why did he care about her opinion? “You’re asking me? I’m a professional dog walker, not an attorney or a—”
“Do you think I need a lawyer?” The words rushed out as he began to pace, dragging Ranger along behind him. “Damn, I knew this was going to happen.”
“You knew what was going to happen?” she asked him. And why? She grabbed the Greyhound’s leash. “I’m sure it’s just more routine questioning. That’s what the cops do when they investigate a murder.”
He swung around to face her. “Then they do think Lilah was murdered?”
She held back a groan of frustration. How much could she tell him before she broke her promise to Vaughn? “Her EpiPen turned up empty, Jeffery, and since that’s something Lilah would never let happen, well, it’s fairly damning evidence. Since you were a part of the committee that chose her as a competitor—”
“I excused myself from the selection committee as soon as I figured out that Lilah stole my sister’s work.”
“Kitty mentioned it, but still . . .”
He ran his fingers through his hair, much like his sister did when she was upset. “I know we just met, but Kitty told me she heard from Patti that you have some experience with episodes like this.”
“Episodes? I’m not sure what you mean.”
Before he could answer, Patti stuck her head out the door. “Ellie, my time is up. I’ve got to run. I’ll talk to you later.”
Ellie straightened her shoulders. “We have to go in. I’m shorthanded and I need to be with the dogs.” She hurried her charges inside, with Jeffery and Ranger following behind. “If you want to talk about this, you’ll have to hang with me, but I think that, for your sake, you need to find Vaughn first.”
“I can’t believe anyone would murder Lilah. Want her dead, sure,” said Cassandra McQuagge. “Marcus, Claire—even I wished she was gone from the planet a couple dozen times, but I didn’t hate her enough to actually do the deed.”
Ellie eavesdropped on Yasmine and Cassandra, the two women who’d modeled Lilah’s creations yesterday, as they picked through the hospitality table’s offerings on their break. Was it Marcus David they were talking about?
“What’s so odd is that Lilah seemed to do a complete turnaround when she entered this contest. The designs she submitted were nothing like her usual tough-edged work,” Dominique added. “Which only backs up Jeffery’s accusation. She stole Kitty King’s designs and called them her own. I just hope Kitty’s new pieces are as good.”
“So who do you think managed to get her close to a peanut?” asked a third woman, African-American and beautiful, who went by the single name of Lawan.
“I have no idea, but whoever did it, well . . . they have my congratulations,” said Dominique. “I just hope Kitty will create the same fabulous styles and finish them by four o’clock.”
Ellie glanced at her watch. It was close to one and Viv was due any second. She’d probably think listening to these women gossip was a wonderful experience. And it was, if you liked the dirt on the street.
“I hear she slept with someone on the committee, just so she’d get chosen,” Lawan continued. “Maybe he’s the one they should look for as the killer.”
“I think they’re going to go after Jeffery King,” said Dominique. “He and Lilah never got along. They got into a huge argument when he accused her of submitting designs created by his sister.”
“I heard about the fight, too.” Lawan started peeling an orange. “He pulled out of the selection committee right after he confronted her.”
“Maybe so, but isn’t it strange that his sister now has Lilah’s spot? Makes you wonder if he wasn’t the one who found a way to get Lilah close to her allergen, then bam!” Dominique smacked her right fist into her other palm. “She’s having an attack and her pen is conveniently empty.”
Ellie swallowed a protest. She assumed Detective Vaughn was already on this same track. He didn’t need to hear it from the models.
Cassandra, dressed in nothing but a sheer robe, took a seat, opened an energy bar, and gave the first bite to her Greyhound. “Jeffery wants to throw Ranger out of the competition. He says he’ll find me a little dog to use as my companion, but that’s not going to fly.” She gave her boy a hug. “No one is going to kick my baby out of the running.”
The models, all in various stages of undress, started throwing out ideas about a dog Cassandra could use. Ellie wanted to chime in. The girl had to have a friend that owned a small dog. If Cassandra had signed a contract that said “a dog under fifteen pounds” she was in trouble unless she complied. As far as Ellie was concerned, a contract was a written handshake, and NMD had the right to demand she stick to the deal or they’d use another model.
Fingering Jeffery King for the murder was another matter. Didn’t the women realize that the more they spread the word, the more the cops would listen?
Kitty took that moment to walk on the scene, and the topic of conversation automatically switched channels. Carrying an armful of fabric, she grinned at her supermodel. “Yasmine, I need you to try on my creation for evening wear. Do you have time or are you working for another house this afternoon?”
“I have a couple of minutes; then I’m due at Karen Hood’s station. How about holding up the gown and giving us all a peek.”
Kitty rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding, right? I’d have to stand on a chair to get it up off the floor. How about you help me,” she asked Ellie, shooting her a grin.
“Uh, me? Okay sure.” Standing, Ellie took the dress Kitty passed her and raised it to her chest. When the material, a soft silky weave, slipped from her fingers, the models gasped.
“Wow, that’s beautiful,” declared Yasmine. “I�
�m gonna look like a million bucks in it.”
“I’d kill to wear it,” Cassandra muttered.
Another tall, thin model said, “Where did you get the idea for that?”
The crowd murmured their approval, which encouraged Yasmine, in typical model fashion, to slip off her robe and shimmy the gown over her head. That’s when the dress transformed from a lovely piece of cloth to a work of art. It had no shoulder straps, just a bodice dusted with pale pink feathers that ran down over the bust to a high, fitted waist that dropped to the floor in a fall of pink mixed with shades of purple and every color in between.
A few inches shorter than Yasmine, blond-haired and blue-eyed Cassandra swooned. “Oh, my God, I’m going to look like royalty.” She arched a brow and stared at Kitty. “Mine is exactly the same as this one, right?”
“Almost. Not as long, of course, and the belt is a bit wider, but that’s it.”
Yasmine twirled and the girls grabbed at the fabric, letting it slip through their fingers and gushing over its lush feel. While they muttered comments, Kitty turned to Ellie.
“Looks like I did good on this one, huh?”
“I’ll say,” said Ellie. “Now what else do you have?”
“The outfit I’m using to replace Lilah’s from yesterday.” She held up a one-piece jumpsuit in cream wool with rust-colored buttons, a wide rust suede belt, and matching collar and cuffs. “What do you think?”
“I love it,” said Ellie, imagining herself dressed in it. “The color coordination is perfect.”
“I’m glad you like it. I made it with you in mind.”
“Me? But why?”
“Marcus David was right yesterday when he was arguing with Lilah. You could be a model like Cassandra or Claire Smith, so I imagined you wearing it while I drew the design.”
Ellie admired the line of the fabric and the slash-cut pockets trimmed in the same rust suede. If this ever came to a ready-to-wear store, she would buy it, no matter the cost.
“That is an incredible piece.”
Ellie heard a voice coming from behind her and turned.
“You’re here. I’m glad you found your way over.”
