Dressed to Kill (COBRA Securities Book 22)

by Velvet Vaughn

  When they were halfway through, the caterers delivered a lunch buffet for the staff to enjoy. He munched on a turkey sandwich while waiting for Brooklyn. When she arrived, she looked energized and excited. Though she was the host, the show was her concept. She worked with the producers and staff to provide a program that would appeal to the mainstream audience, even if they had no interest in modeling. She grabbed a plate, and when she spotted him, her entire face relaxed.

  “How’s it going?”

  “So good,” she enthused as she took a bite of her sandwich. “The women are showing so much potential. I wish we had longer to work with them, but the network wanted a quick turnaround.”

  “Do you think any of them will do your dresses justice?”

  She wiped a spot of mayonnaise from her lip and nodded. “I do. There are several that could walk the runway now.”

  Twenty minutes later, Clark Hardy called everyone back to their places, and Brooklyn left to take her seat behind the table. He returned to his designated spot to monitor the proceedings.

  The more he got to know her, the less he noticed her beauty. Yes, she was stunning, but he genuinely liked her as a person. She was witty and intelligent, and she made him laugh. He had to be very careful. She could steal his heart without him noticing.

  Despite the activities going on around him, he managed to get some work done. He checked the backgrounds and current whereabouts of Joanna Greer and Ruth Long and learned they were in New York City. Both had reason to want Brooklyn’s efforts to fail, so they were on the suspect list.

  Once the final contestant left, Brooklyn, Jax, and Kaycee huddled to discuss the potential candidates. The cameras filmed as they talked about the strengths and weaknesses of each one. They came to a consensus on the twenty women who would continue to the next round.

  Chapter Ten

  Olathe Lovett took in the sights of New York City as they cruised along the streets in a rented bus that whisked the contestants to their photo shoots. They’d spent the first part of the morning getting ready in a room that had been transformed into a makeup and hair studio. Linc Chadha, the head makeup artist, had chatted the whole time he’d wielded a brush like a maestro. He asked her about her heritage and shared stories of his. He was funny and insightful, and the time passed quickly. She’d been shocked at the image that stared back at from her in the mirror. Though heavier than she usually wore, her makeup was flawless. Her next stop was with Judean Bickerton, who skillfully styled her hair until it was super full and shiny.

  She’d been wary when Beatriz Pace, the wardrobe stylist, handed her the outfit she was supposed to wear. It showed more skin than she was used to displaying, but Beatriz assured her she would look fantastic. Olathe had to admit she did. The other girls wore similar clothes, so she relaxed and boarded the bus.

  During the first twenty-one years of her life, she hadn’t traveled far from her Arizona home. This was her first major solo trip, and she was thrilled it was to the greatest city in the world. New York was incredible. She’d gotten chills when she spotted the impressive skyline for the first time. Tears filled her eyes when they passed the 9/11 memorial at Ground Zero.

  Olathe had been nervous to try out for the show, and she was glad now that she overcame her fear and applied. Even if she didn’t make the final cut, she was proud of being in the top twenty. She’d admired Brooklyn for so long. Olathe assumed she would be kind of arrogant. She was the top supermodel in the world, so she had the right. But she was the most down-to-earth, friendly person she’d met, and it totally shocked her. Brooklyn took the time to talk to each of them after they’d been selected to give them her criteria for picking them. She told Olathe that she saw something special in her the moment she watched the video she submitted.

  “Can you believe all the billboards?” Jessie enthused as they cruised through Times Square. “One of us will be up there soon.” She turned from the window. “I bet it’s you.”

  A thrill shot through Olathe. She wanted this so much she could taste it. She’d be able to help her parents and build them a new home. They’d worked hard her whole life, and she wanted to pay them back. But it was too early to decide on a winner. “I think it will be you,” she said honestly. Jessie had an effortless beauty and the willowy frame that top models possessed. “I wish I could eat like you.”

  Jessie smiled and pulled out a half-eaten chocolate candy bar. “God made up for giving me hair the color of Bozo the Clown by gifting me with a super-turbo metabolism.” She bit off a chunk of the candy and chewed.

  Olathe smiled at her sheer enthusiasm and self-deprecating wit. It was hard to be anything but happy when Jessie was around.

  The bus pulled over, and Jax stood up at the front. “This is our first stop, ladies. We’re in Central Park, and we’re going to do this shoot on Bethesda Terrace with the Bethesda Fountain in the background. You’ve all been through hair and makeup already, so it will be a quick stop to take pictures.”

  Olathe started to stand, but Jessie grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t feel good…oh.” She bent over in her seat, clutching her midsection.

  Alarm shot through Olathe. She dropped beside Jessie. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  “Come on, ladies, let’s hustle. We’ve got several places to be today,” Jax called out.

  “Can’t,” Jessie huffed out. “Hurts.”

  Olathe stood and frantically motioned for Jax. When he came down the aisle, she said, “I think Jessie has appendicitis or something.” She moved back so he could check her out just as Jessie vomited.

  “Jessie?”

  “Ohhh,” she moaned.

  Jax looked up at her as he pulled out his phone. “Go find Winnie Shale and send her here. Then you can go with the others to the terrace for the shoot.”

  “I don’t want to leave Jessie.”

  “We’ve got her,” Jax assured her before speaking into his phone and requesting an ambulance.

  Olathe hurried down the aisle and jumped down the steps. Her head swiveled, looking for the woman who had been introduced as the producer for the shoots. She found her talking with a man holding an expensive-looking camera.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Shale?”

  While Brooklyn was kind and friendly, Ms. Shale was frosty and sour. If Olathe wanted to make it in the business, she needed to learn not to be intimidated by people like her. Still, she flinched when the woman barked, “What?”

  “Jax asked me to send you back to the bus. Jessie Park is seriously ill.”

  Ms. Shale rolled her eyes and stalked off. Olathe watched her board the bus as worry ate at her. What if Jessie wasn’t able to take part in the shoot? Would she be disqualified?

  “The woman who is sick? She is your friend, no?”

  She turned to the photographer. “Yes.” She hadn’t known her long, but after meeting last night, they chatted the rest of the evening and clicked instantly. Olathe knew they’d keep in contact after the competition was over. If she didn’t win, she hoped Jessie did.

  “Let this be a teachable moment. No matter what is happening in your life, when you come to the set, you leave it all behind or the camera,” he held his up for emphasis, “will catch it.”

  She nodded, thinking that doing so was much easier said than done. Still, she followed the other models to the spot where the shoot would take place. Her stomach hitched when sirens sounded and then abruptly cut off. She prayed Jessie would be okay and could join them for at least part of the day.

  When it was her turn, she stepped up and listened to the instructions the photographer and Jax—who’d returned—gave to her. She put worry for Jessie aside and focused on angles and facial expressions and doing the best possible job in front of the cameras.

  #

  Jax was escorting the contestants on a shoot around the city. When his name appeared on Brooklyn’s phone, she answered. “Hey, Jax, how’s it going?”

  �
�Not good. We had to call an ambulance to rush Jessie Park to the hospital.”

  Brooklyn jumped to her feet. “What happened?”

  “She had severe abdominal or chest pains to the point she couldn’t get out of the fetal position.”

  “Food poisoning?”

  “Maybe, but I’ve had it before, and it wasn’t that bad. Brooklyn, I think it’s serious. I sent one of my assistants with her, and I haven’t heard from her.”

  Brooklyn recalled Jessie mentioning she had a murmur and a history of heart problems in her family. “Do you think it was her heart?”

  “It could’ve been, but I don’t know. She was in too much pain to communicate clearly.”

  That didn’t sound good. “Do you know which hospital they took her to?”

  “Mount Sinai.”

  “Who went with her?”

  “May Takada.”

  “I’ll call her and let her know I’m on my way.” She disconnected and called May.

  “Hello?”

  “May, it’s Brooklyn. How is Jessie?”

  “I don’t know,” May responded. “She was in so much pain. She passed out on the ambulance ride. Now they won’t tell me anything.”

  “Has anyone notified her emergency contact?”

  “I did. Her parents were visiting family in New Jersey. They should be here soon.”

  “I’m on my way now.”

  She disconnected with an uneasy feeling. Hopefully, Jessie would make a full recovery. Her pictures were strong, and she had the personality to go with them. She was on Brooklyn’s shortlist of women to make the final cut. If it were food poisoning or appendicitis and she couldn’t compete, Brooklyn would invite her to try out again for the next show—assuming the network renewed it for another season.

  Having overheard the conversation, Gage was on the phone. He ended the call and told her, “A car is waiting.” Once again, he knew just what to do. He was her rock. They rode the elevator to the lobby and slid into the car. Soon they were enveloped in traffic as they whisked up Madison Avenue to the hospital. She was thankful for Gage’s support as they approached the nurse’s station and explained the situation. The girls had signed forms naming Brooklyn as their contact if something should happen.

  The nurse had no information yet, so she guided them to the waiting room. Brooklyn spotted May chatting on her phone by a window and approached.

  May noticed her and quickly ended her call. “Did they tell you anything?”

  “Not yet. I’ll wait for Jessie’s parents if you want to catch up with the shoot.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Brooklyn nodded, and May hustled off with a wave. Brooklyn turned and spotted Gage. Her nerves were on edge, and again, she was thankful for his support. His steady competence and sure demeanor grounded her. It was all she could do to keep from walking into his arms. She settled for sitting close to him on a small sofa.

  Half an hour later, a man with the same hair color as Jessie and a woman entered looking nervous and worried. Brooklyn stood. “Mr. and Mrs. Park?”

  “Yes? Oh, Ms. Fontana. I’d recognize you anywhere.” Jessie’s mom hugged her. “Have you heard anything?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “We have a history of heart issues in our family,” Mr. Park said, reiterating what Jessie told them at auditions. They spoke for a few minutes, with both of her parents thanking Brooklyn for giving Jessie the opportunity. She’d wanted to model since she was young.

  Brooklyn excused herself to answer her phone. It was Jax, checking for an update. She had nothing to tell him except that Jessie’s parents had arrived. She glanced over at them. They were currently huddled close, looking pensive.

  “She has to be okay,” she murmured as she retook her seat next to Gage.

  “She’s young and healthy,” Gage offered. “We need to stay positive.”

  Unfortunately, his optimism was crushed ten minutes later when a nurse escorted them to a private room, followed by a doctor. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could, but Ms. Park suffered a major coronary. We were unable to revive her.”

  Brooklyn would never forget the sounds that came from Jessie’s parents. They were the most gut-wrenching, devastating sobs she’d ever heard. She hated leaving them in their misery, but more family arrived, so they slipped quietly out the door. She called Jax from the car and delivered the bad news.

  Jessie was only nineteen—too young to suffer a major cardiac event. It was an unimaginable loss. She’d been so outgoing and gregarious. Brooklyn decided to name the fan-favorite award in her honor.

  #

  Before the trip to the hospital, Gage had researched Brooklyn’s two former employees who’d recently left, one by her choice and one not. Ruth Long had left of her own accord and was now working as a sales associate at a boutique not far from Fontana Towers. She had no criminal record, and her school grades had been average. The only red flag was excessive credit card debt, suggesting she lived above her means. Her motive for sabotaging the show could be revenge for not getting the promotion she thought she deserved. She was still on his list of potential suspects.

  Joanna Greer’s background told a different story. She had several arrests for shoplifting as a juvenile, but her records had been sealed upon completing a treatment program. She’d been terminated from a job for unspecified reasons. A quick call confirmed that she’d been suspected of shoplifting. She probably lied on her application to work for Brooklyn or omitted the job altogether so that whoever hired her wouldn’t discover her past. She was now working as a barista at a coffee shop in midtown.

  Besides Brooklyn’s stepsiblings, former supermodel Carol Graves was on the top of his list. She had the most to gain by the show failing since she claimed to have come up with the idea first. She’d admitted that she was producing her own program, which would be in direct competition with Brooklyn’s. She wouldn’t want to see Brooklyn succeed. Being in the same industry, she would have contacts who could cause disruptions in production. He already knew she was in New York since she’d barged into Brooklyn’s office uninvited.

  He hadn’t had the chance to dig deeper when the call came in about Jessie Park. He could tell by the tone of Brooklyn’s voice that something was wrong. When he heard her ask about a hospital, he’d called the car company Brooklyn used to have one waiting for them.

  He recalled Jessie Park’s audition. She was memorable because of her hair and positive attitude. It was a tragedy that she passed away so young. Despite the history of cardiac issues in her family, he couldn’t discount the possibility that something else was the cause. While Brooklyn comforted Jessie’s family, Gage pulled the doctor aside and asked if they could run a toxicology panel.

  He looked skeptical. “Why would we do that?”

  “To check for a poison that mimics a heart attack.” The dress that killed Renee Stickler was laced with wolfsbane. “Specifically aconitine.”

  “Are you a cop?”

  “No, I work for a private security company.”

  “If you think a crime’s been committed, we need to contact the authorities immediately.”

  Gage had nothing to go on but a gut feeling. “I don’t want to upset her family on a hunch. It might be nothing, but I’d rather err on the side of caution.”

  “It’s hard to detect,” the doctor warned him. “It metabolizes quickly. Nevertheless, I’ll put in a request.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” He handed the doctor his card, hoping he was wrong.

  #

  Brooklyn felt numb as she headed back to her office. Her heart hurt for Jessie’s family and the pain they were enduring right now.

  She turned to Gage. “What were you talking to the doctor about?”

  He was quiet for so long, she didn’t think he would answer. Finally, he said, “I asked if they could run a tox panel.”

  “To check for drugs?” At his nod, she asked, “Why? It was her heart.”

  “There are drugs that mimic a h
eart attack.”

  Her eyes widened. “You think she was murdered?”

  “No,” he was quick to respond. “It’s more likely that her preexisting condition and family history are the cause. I just wanted to be thorough.”

  She thought about the possibility of someone having poisoned Jessie purposefully, and dread pooled in her belly. “Do you think the other women are at risk? Do I need to cancel the show?”

  “No, nothing that drastic,” Gage assured her. “I’m just being cautious.”

  Brooklyn felt like the sword of Damocles was hanging over her head. She couldn’t shake the sense of impending doom. What was the saying, something about “heavy is the head that wears the crown?” She’d never been a pessimist or a conspiracy theorist, but too many things kept happening, causing her to question everything. Should she keep going with the show? What if someone else was hurt or, God forbid, killed?

  “Brooklyn.”

  Gage’s deep voice snapped her from her downward spiral. “Hum?”

  “It’s going to be okay.” He put his solid arm around her, and she nuzzled against his side, absorbing his warmth.

  She’d pulled herself together by the time they reached the building, and he led her to her office. A few hours later, Jax returned with a memory card holding the photos from the day’s shoots. She called Kaycee, and they met in a room set up with computers, monitors, and photo printers.

  “How did it go today?”

  “Okay, after the rough start,” Jax said.

  “Why?” Kaycee asked. “What happened?”

  Brooklyn hadn’t had a chance to inform her of Jessie’s death. Kaycee teared up when she did. “She was so beautiful. I’d already picked her as one of my favorites.”

  “Me, too,” Brooklyn murmured.

  “Her illness was hard on the other women, especially Olathe Lovett,” Jax said. “They’d become friends. Both the photographer and I instructed her to set her emotions aside, and for the most part, she did.”

  “Did you notify them of Jessie’s passing?”

  “No, I thought it should come from you tonight.”