Ivy was waving her arms around and building to a full-blown snit fit, making this the perfect time to get information from her.
“And Katrina won’t even make Libby stop stealing your food?” I asked.
That seemed to enrage Ivy further. She flung out both hands and said, “Katrina won’t even process my pay vouchers on time. I have to come all the way here, hand in my vouchers instead of mailing them, so maybe—maybe—they’ll get processed and I’ll get paid in something close to a reasonable amount of time.”
Peri had told me the models only got paid after their vouchers were processed, so I could understand why Ivy was ticked off about the delay. But before I could say anything, Ivy went on.
“I knew I should have gone with Chyna,” Ivy said, clenching her fists.
“China?” I asked.
“I had my chance but no, I didn’t take it. I thought I should be loyal, do the right thing. Emerald could have been mine.”
Okay, I was totally lost. I had no idea what she was talking about. But she was on a roll. No way could I stop her.
“That’s what I get for trying to be decent,” Ivy grumbled.
“What does—”
Before I could ask anything, Ivy drew in another big breath and said, “Katrina will never get rid of Libby—never—no matter what she does. She’s like Katrina’s servant or slave, or something. Their relationship is totally whacked.”
“Yeah, what’s that all about?” I asked.
Ivy huffed. “Libby was in a car accident, I guess. I don’t know, exactly. But she couldn’t model anymore, so Katrina gave her a job as her personal assistant so she wouldn’t have to move back home, and for that, Libby worships her.”
“Would moving back home have been so bad?” I asked, thinking that nothing could be worse than working for Katrina.
“Some dinky little town in the Midwest?” Ivy made a gagging sound. “Libby was lucky to get away from that place. No way was she going back.”
“I know Libby is loyal to Katrina, but it must creep her out a little to work here,” I said, hoping I could bring the conversation around to my murder investigation. “Rayna died right here in the building. Everybody says she was such a nice person. And now she’s dead. How awful is that?”
“Look,” Ivy said, and yanked her backpack off the table. “All I know is that with Rayna gone, there’re more clients for me.”
“So the police must have questioned you,” I said. “I mean, you had a motive and you were here that day.”
I remembered that the day Rayna was killer, Ivy had been in the KGE lobby when I’d arrived for my meeting with Peri, but she was gone by the time our meeting ended—and that was just minutes before I found Rayna’s body.
“Oh, like Rayna was murdered or something?” Ivy’s sour expression turned into full-on bitch-face. “All those rumors are just a lot of crap. Everybody’s got a theory about it, like maybe some crazed model-killer is on the loose, or she’d heard something she wasn’t supposed to hear, or somebody was out to get her.”
“You don’t believe the rumors?”
“All I know is that Rayna fell down the stairs. Just her bad luck.”
“Did you see her fall?” I asked.
“If I had, I would have called 9-1-1.” Ivy slung her backpack over her shoulder and headed for the door, causing me to jump out of her way. She stopped, then spun back toward me. I braced myself.
She gasped and looked slightly embarrassed. “Oh my God, are you here for a job interview?”
Peri had told me the agency was short staffed. I hoped that whoever she hired would push for keeping snacks in the breakroom, for everybody’s sake.
“No,” I said, and told her my name. “I’m working with Peri on the fashion crawl.”
“Well, that just figures. I knew Katrina wasn’t trying to hire anyone,” Ivy grumbled, her anger ramping up again. “Since Melody quit, the only agent we have now is Chrissie and she’s not keeping up on everything. I missed out on two castings and she screwed up my bookings last week. I hate this place.”
Ivy shoved past me and disappeared down the hallway.
Wow, she had some major anger issues going on.
Enough to have scuffled with Rayna, then pushed her down the stairs?
Definitely.
Plus, she hadn’t mentioned having an alibi. She’d confirmed that Rayna was competition for the new clients that were in play, giving her a huge motive.
No way could I eliminate Ivy as a suspect in Rayna’s murder.
But she had given me some new information. Rumors were making the rounds about Rayna, that someone was out to get her, or that she’d learned something she shouldn’t know, putting her in danger.
Libby had confided in me that Rayna was being drawn into a lawsuit involving one of her clients. Could that be what those rumors were about? And if they were, who had started them?
I’d mentioned the lawsuit to Shuman, and Jack had told me he’d check into it. Why hadn’t I heard back from them? I was, after all, me.
I grabbed my phone intending to call Jack when I spotted Peri walking past the breakroom doorway. She was probably looking for me, I realized, since I’d made an appointment with her before I’d left L.A. Affairs this morning.
“Sorry,” I said, stepping into the hallway, “I was hiding out.”
Peri nodded in the direction of the lobby. “Yes, I heard. Come on back.”
I followed her to her office and we sat down. Her desk looked as neat and organized as always, though I did notice a few more stacks of folders. I hoped that meant she was interviewing perspective employees.
“I was talking to Ivy,” I said. “She was pretty upset. Somebody stole her food out of the fridge. She seemed to think it was Libby.”
“I’m not surprised,” Peri said, tapping on her computer keyboard.
“Maybe Libby needs a pay raise,” I said.
“She probably does,” Peri agreed.
“I know you’re shorthanded, but there must be somebody in H.R. who can make it happen.”
“Libby doesn’t work for the agency,” Peri said. “She works for Katrina and is paid by her corporation.”
“Oh.”
I wasn’t sure why that surprised me. I guess that since I’d only seen Katrina here at the agency, I hadn’t thought about her having other business holdings.
Peri gestured to her computer screen and said, “Katrina made some additions to the menu.”
I shifted into work-mode, and we discussed the changes Katrina wanted. It was nothing big but it made for one more thing that had to be handled before the menu could be finalized. Nothing an event planner extraordinaire like myself couldn’t handle.
I totally rock at this job.
“I’ll talk to the caterer and let you know if there’s a problem,” I said, as I rose from my chair.
“And I’ll let you know if anything else changes,” Peri said.
“Sounds good,” I said, and left her office.
For a moment, I lingered in the hallway. I heard Peri on the phone talking in her usual slow, measured, nothing-can-shake-me voice. She was so calm, so unexcitable, so steady, I couldn’t imagine her ever doing anything wild or crazy—or something as rash as arguing with Rayna, struggling with her enough to tear her shirt, then flinging her down the stairs. Maybe I’d been wrong suspecting Peri of her murder.
Yeah, sure, Peri had been unaccountably late for our meeting that morning and had the opportunity to murder Rayna, but since I hadn’t discovered a motive, I wondered if I should mark her off of my she-might-have-done-it mental list of suspects.
The thought rambled around in my brain for a minute, then I decided that no, just because I hadn’t uncovered a motive, didn’t mean there wasn’t one.
I headed down the hallway and slowed as I approached the lobby. I didn’t hear any shouting so I knew Katrina wasn’t there. As I left the KGE office and headed for the staircase at the front of the building, a thought that had been jarre
d loose by something Ivy had said in the breakroom planted itself front and center in my head. I stopped and pulled out my cell phone.
Detective Shuman and Jack had both told me that they’d found absolutely nobody in Rayna’s past who didn’t like her. In fact, everybody seemed to love her. No one thought ill of her. She was too good to be true.
Which, of course, meant that something was definitely wrong.
Nobody was that nice.
I’d thought before that they weren’t talking to the right people, or asking the right questions. Somewhere, there was somebody willing and anxious to talk smack about Rayna. Ivy had unwittingly told me who that might be.
I accessed the KGE website on my cell phone, and saw that Rayna and Colleen’s photos were still posted, which meant that IT was still down an employee and behind on everything. I opened the tab marked “agents” and saw pics of two women. One was Chrissie, the agent Ivy had mentioned this morning who was trying to handle the work of two people and was too overwhelmed to keep up on everything. The other was Melody Case, the agent who no longer worked for KGE.
Anybody who left a job, unless there was a confidentially agreement, was usually more than willing to dish dirt on their former employer. I figured Melody would be no exception—especially after working for Hurricane Katrina.
All I had to do was find her.
Chapter 10
As I left the KGB building I decided that since I was this close to Darby’s handbag boutique, I’d stop by. Just to be friendly, of course—plus it wouldn’t hurt for her to see my face again and maybe hurry along with making my handbag.
But first I had to contact Jack about locating Melody Case. I paused on the sidewalk, pulled out my cell phone and called. His voicemail picked up, which made me totally jealous because it probably meant he was doing something way cooler than I was. I left a message, trying for an I’m-cool-too vibe, asking him to call me back.
Just as I was about to drop my phone into my bag, it rang, which cheered me up thinking that if Jack had called back this quickly, maybe I really was the one having the coolest day, after all.
See how competitive I am?
But when I looked at the screen, I saw that Mom was calling.
Oh, crap. What now?
Tempted as I was to ignore her call, I decided to get it over with.
“You’re not going to believe what I just found out!” Mom announced.
I didn’t bother to respond. Mom didn’t let me, anyway.
“Your cousin is going on the most outrageous trip,” she told me.
My spirits lifted a little, thinking that maybe my cousin’s news would be bad—which would be good news for me.
“She’s going to the Antarctic,” Mom said, as if my cousin may as well have been going to Mars.
There was no way this would play well with her relatives at the wedding. My mom’s side of the family considered roughing it a stay at the Hyatt.
My spirits lifted further. Oh, yeah, here was one cousin I’d definitely outshine.
“And she’s staying for the whole winter,” Mom said. “At some kind of a laboratory.”
I got a weird feeling.
“You mean a research center?” I asked.
“Yes, I suppose. And she’s on some sort of groundbreaking project,” Mom said.
My weird feeling turned into a sick feeling.
“Supposedly they’ve found something frozen in the ice that can cure Alzheimer’s,” Mom said.
My cousin was going on a life-changing quest, to an exotic location, to find a cure for a major disease?
Oh, crap.
“She’ll be there for months,” Mom said. “And, of course, there’s not one decent salon in the place. Can you imagine what her hair and nails will look like when she gets back? Isn’t that the most bold and daring thing you’ve ever heard!”
I froze, unable to move or say anything—not that Mom noticed, because she blabbed on for a while and finally hung up.
Then it hit me.
Oh my God, I absolutely had to have that fabulous Domino clutch from Darby’s boutique in time to show it off at the wedding. Somehow, some way, I had to talk her into jumping my order to the head of her production line.
When I got to Darby’s shop I was relieved to see that an OPEN sign replaced the one instructing customers to call for an appointment. I went inside. No one else was there, but I heard what I guessed was a sewing machine running in the workroom.
The wave of peacefulness washed over me, as it had the last time I was here. And I definitely needed it. I’d have to keep my wits about me if I was going to bob and weave my way through a conversation that would motivate Darby to ignore her other orders and make my Domino clutch right away.
Yeah, I know, it was kind of stinky of me, but come on, what choice did I have?
I spent a few minutes gazing at the Domino clutch on display, soaking in its beauty, imagining how awesome it would look at my cousin’s wedding, then realized the sewing machine wasn’t running.
“Hello?” I called.
A few seconds later, Darby peeked through the curtains on the workroom doorway.
“Hi, Haley,” she said, smiling easily and nodding toward the Domino. “Come to visit your bag again?”
“I can’t stay away,” I admitted. “All your bags are absolutely beautiful.”
“Thanks.” She held the curtain back. “Want to see where the magic happens?”
“You bet,” I said.
I stepped into the workroom and a tingling sensation swept over me as Darby showed me around the space, pointing out the bag she was working on, the new fabrics and notions she’d purchased, and a radical—and totally awesome—design she was considering.
“You have the coolest job,” I said.
“It’s not all fun,” Darby said.
She pushed back a muslin sheet that covered a shelving unit. On it were about a dozen slightly worn and obviously used handbags and backpacks.
“I also do repair work,” Darby said. “It’s not glamorous, but it helps pay the bills.”
The backpacks looked familiar. I stepped closer and turned one of the black ones around. On it was the KGE Model Agency logo.
“You repair these for KGE?” I asked.
“For the models,” Darby said. “They bring them in all the time. The fabric is cheap so it’s always ripping and fraying. I patch them back together as best I can, so their boss doesn’t give them a hard time.”
“Katrina,” I mumbled. “That figures.”
“She says they’re all accountable for the backpacks so the models have to pay for the repairs themselves.”
“Accountable, huh?” I asked.
At least now I knew what Katrina had been ranting about those times I’d heard her carrying on like a raving lunatic in the lobby.
“That’s kind of crappy of her,” I said.
“It is,” Darby said. “Since the girls need their backpacks with them when they’re working, I repair them as soon as they’re dropped off.”
I definitely needed to turn this conversation to something more pleasurable—and something that would convince Darby to make my Domino bag right away. Immediately, I came up with a plan.
“You remember I mentioned I was an event planner working on the fashion crawl?” I said. “I work for L.A. Affairs so I deal with a lot of stars and celebrities, Hollywood insiders. I know they would love your handbags. I could talk up your business, get you a lot more orders.”
Darby shook her head. “No, but thanks.”
“It’s no trouble,” I insisted. “Your bags are fantastic. I’d love to spread the word.”
“No, really, it’s okay. Honestly, I have more business than I can handle,” Darby said. “I don’t want to hire anybody to help because that’s the point of my business—each bag is handmade by me. It’s personal. Unique. I don’t want that to change.”
I was majorly disappointed but I understood what she was saying. After all, those were all the
points I intended to use at the wedding to brag about my Domino clutch.
Still, I wasn’t about to give up on finding a way to get my bag moved up in her production line. There had to be something I could do.
***
“Wow,” Bella said.
We were standing in Holt’s staring at a long row of empty shelves and clothing racks that had just been installed near the store entrance. I’d clocked in for my evening shift a few minutes ago and was on my way to tonight’s assigned corner of Purgatory, the shoe department, when Bella flagged me down.
“It doesn’t look wow-worthy to me,” I told her.
“Me either,” Bella said, “but that’s what they’re calling it. The wow aisle. It’s supposed to be flashy and draw the customers over to look at whatever is displayed there.”
“So what’s being displayed?”
“Don’t you ever pay attention in meetings?”
I didn’t bother to answer and, really, Bella didn’t seem to expect me to because she said, “Get this. The wow aisle is launching with the new spring clothing line.”
“Oh my God …”
“Yeah. I know,” Bella said.
“What idiot in the marketing department came up with this idea?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But I hope they thought to have paramedics standing by when the customers see those hideous clothes and stampede back out of the store.”
“The collection is still under wraps in the stockroom,” I said. “I can’t bring myself to look.”
“I wish I hadn’t peeked. I’m still having nightmares,” Bella said. “No way am I participating in that new contest.”
“Oh, yeah, the customer service contest,” I said. “I’d forgotten all about it.”
“You’re not going for it?” Bella asked and looked surprised, for some reason.
“Heck, no,” I told her.
Bella gave me an I-know-you-too-well look, as only a best friend can, and said, “You really weren’t paying attention in the meeting, were you.”
Backpacks and Betrayals (A Haley Randolph Mystery) Page 8
