Murder by Design Trilogy
Page 21
“Mr. Wellington, I need a current picture of your wife and Mr. Sacco. An All Points Bulletin will be released immediately for the pair. In light of this new information, my officers will re-question everyone on your staff, including yourself.”
Color rushed to Wellington’s face, he straightened up, his spine turning to steel. He stood and faced DuBois. “Detective, you have full access to this house, my staff, contractors, and anyone else you wish to question,” he said through clenched teeth. “I want you to find my bullion and I don’t care who goes down from your investigation. Alert the prosecutors that a case is coming their way. They will have my full support, and I will demand the maximum sentence. Given the suspicious death of Jack Carlson, I presume the maximum sentence is death.”
Chapter 46
───
“SHOW TIME. SHOW TIME. Show time. The day of the competition to showcase new talent in our State has finally arrived.”
Megan Kendall, President of the Seattle Chamber of Commerce, held the microphone, beaming at the crowd in front of her. They clapped in anticipation as a spotlight painted a large pool of light on the empty stage in front of a royal blue curtain. A runway extended fifty feet from the curtain into the audience. The atmosphere was electric bringing a touch of New York’s Fashion Week to Seattle.
Nordstrom’s Ladies department bedecked with the coming Christmas season sparkled with a multitude of tiny white lights strung through garlands of boxwood, pine trees and holly. Pink, white, and red poinsettia in silver pots bordered the staging.
A dressing area for models was cordoned off behind the curtain out of eyesight and earshot, taking over the bedding department. Beds, shelving, and free-standing displays were disassembled leaving a large space for the designers and their models—racks for the collections, mirrors and tables assembled for hair and makeup stylists.
Designers and assistants snipped, tucked, and folded the looks, checking every inch before the model stepped out onto the runway. Reporters interviewed anyone who would stop long enough to answer a question. Cameramen pressed forward capturing the scene for inclusion in magazines, newspapers, and websites, both out front as well as the pandemonium backstage including the models in various stages of undress.
Gilly heard Miss Kendall addressing the crowd as her models returned from hair and makeup and began putting on their pieces.
“Maria, the shoes, where are the shoes?”
“Here. All in this bag. According to the program, your collection is scheduled fifth.”
“The totes. Do they have the right ones,” Gilly asked fixing a low-cut shell adhering double-sided tape to the model’s skin.
“Yes. The models are thrilled they get to keep the shoes. So much is being donated,” Maria said. “I can’t believe the size of this event. Your models look terrific. Here, let me tie your scarf—so pretty with your outfit. Love the gold strappy heels. I’m glad you decided on the white pants with the pink sequined shell. Your hair is beautiful, by the way.”
“Thanks.” Gilly grabbed Maria’s shoulders. “I told you before I couldn’t have pulled this together without you. You know that don’t you? The luckiest day of my life was when I sat next to you in the auditorium on that first day of school.”
“Hey, come on.” Maria gave Gilly a gentle hug. “I’m tearing up. Let’s finish checking your models.”
───
A MUSICAL FANFARE SWELLED as Megan Kendall continued with her remarks. “Over forty contestants entered the competition from which ten were selected from the video they submitted showcasing their five-piece collections—all are fledging designers hoping to break into the fashion industry. Today one will take a big step forward into that dream.”
Miss Kendall looked out over the attendees. A few cameramen sat on the floor by the runway snapping her picture.
“There are five judges from various segments of the fashion industry—instructors, department stores, as well as boutique and specialty shops. All have donated their time and expertise to this event. The winning collection will be featured on all of the judges’ websites listed in your program.”
Miss Kendall waited as many opened their program to see the listing of the judges.
“We ask you to participate as well, voting for your favorite collection. A card with the names of the ten designers was given to you when you registered. At the end of the show volunteers will pass through the audience to collect your votes. The judges’ votes will represent 50% and your vote the other 50%. The winner and two runner-ups will be announced within an hour after the end of the show.”
The audience buzzed over their chance to participate and Miss Kendall took the opportunity to check her notes. “A prize of $20,000 will be awarded to the winning designer to be used at his or her discretion—perhaps to help launch their label. Okay, let’s start the show. Music please.”
Electric guitar music flowed over the crowd from the ceiling speakers with a strong metronome beat. Models began to strut down the runway presenting the first collection, posing at the end then retracing their steps, exiting behind the curtain. They reappeared, single file, followed by the designer and polite applause.
Models appearing in collections two through four kept up the beat. Gilly lined up her girls behind the curtain, her hand on the shoulder of her first model, waiting to be called onto the runway.
“Designer number five, Gillianne Wilder. Her collection depicts the career woman—at work to party.”
Gilly counted to five then tapped her model’s shoulder. “Go, Sandy. Work it.”
Ta Ta Ta Ta.
Colors of spring exploded from the curtain—apple green, peach, melon, lemon yellow—skirts, pants, jackets, sequined tops. Sassy, saucy, sophisticated spring blooms. All with the same airy scarf—around the neck, flowing over a shoulder, around the waist, or casually popping out of a tote.
Ta Ta Ta Ta.
At the curtain Gilly’s second model started her strut grasping the peach jacket offered to her from the end of model one’s outstretched hand. Model two strutted in a pale-green sheath, gold beads gleaming under the signature scarf again tied cowl-neck style. At the end of the runway, the model posed, as she turned she jerked on the jacket, flipping her long hair up and over the collar.
Ta Ta Ta Ta.
And so it went.
Gilly’s last model emerged in a long, light pink pencil skirt with side slit, topped with matching sequined shell. The filmy scarf flowing freely around her neck, a cropped dark-peach jacket provided a contrast to the light pink sequins. At the end of the runway, off came the jacket as she draped the scarf over her shoulder. She disappeared behind the curtain. The five models reappeared, Gilly following inline.
The audience erupted with cheers, and then a standing ovation. Gilly, surprised by the crowd’s reaction, continued strutting behind her models. “O’Malley, what do I do?” she whispered through her pasted smile.
“Smile, and wave, Lass. Smile and wave.”
Gilly spotted her mom, dad and Gramps standing along with the others. Then suddenly Skip was weaving through the crowd toward her. Reaching the runway, he handed her a bouquet of spring flowers. As she bent down to take the bouquet he gently took her face in his hands and planted a delicious kiss on her lips. The crowd clapped and shouted for more. She smiled at him, to the crowd, turned and slipped back behind the curtain.
“Designer number six, Henrietta Gibson, Evening wear.”
───
ANNE WARMED THE MILK while Gilly set the mugs on a tray, and Maria retrieved the cookie jar with a fresh batch of chocolate-chip cookies. The girls chattered going over every minute of the fashion show. Laughing, they trotted up to the guesthouse leaving Gramps and Will watching the Huskies play U.S.C.
Gilly and her mom climbed up to the top bunk. Maria tossed up a pillow, handed up the milk and cookies, and scampered up the ladder to join them. The three fidgeted with their pillows, then leaned back against the wall with a mug of milk and a cookie in h
and. Agatha whined, then hopped onto the bottom bunk.
Dipping their cookies in the milk they looked out over the little room piled with bolts of cloth, makeshift shelves from cardboard boxes full of sewing notions, and, of course, Patty and the ironing board. The workroom they had tramped through was a maze of left-over fabric, snipped thread and scraps of material on the floor, and stacks of pattern pieces. Three sewing machines spread out on three tables sat silent for the first time in a month.
Between eating the cookies, finishing two thermoses of milk while going over the shows up and downs, digesting what they learned from the experience, and critiquing the five looks, they finally fell silent.
The words of Megan Kendall ringing in their ears:
“The winner is Gillianne Wilder who I think we all agree stole the show. She is awarded first place with all the goodies that come with winning!”
Chapter 47
───
THE ELEVATOR DOOR SLID open and the party of seven stepped into the dimly lit, revolving dining room atop the space needle. Gramps said a few words to the hostess who smiled and asked him and his party to follow her. At the table, she and Gramps stepped to the side. Gilly, Skip, and Anne slipped in one side, followed by Hawk, Maria and Will on the other. Gramps took his seat at the head of the table. Gazing out the window they were captivated by the carpet of lights from the city below and the stars twinkling above.
The hostess appeared with a tray of champagne flutes as a waiter positioned a silver ice bucket on a stand next to Gramps. The waiter, holding a white linen napkin over the top to stop its flight, popped the cork. His audience clapped and waited in anticipation while he filled the champagne glasses, the bubbles merrily dancing to the top.
Gramps stood and raised his glass. “To my granddaughter, the winner of the State competition officially launching her career in fashion design.”
“Congratulations.” Hawk and Maria clinked Gilly’s glass in turn.
“Hear, hear,” Skip said kissing Gilly’s cheek, then touching the rim of his glass to hers.
“Your mother and I are so proud of you,” Will said. “I admit I still have some doubts but you’ve shown me how much designing means to you. So you have my support.” He and Anne tapped their glasses to their daughter’s.
Gilly, stunning in a silver sequin sheath, her red hair pulled on one side behind her ear showing off her Grandma Betty’s diamond studs, stood up and walked around to her dad. Father and daughter hugged, eyes misty. I love you, Dad.”
The waiter, white napkin over his arm, moved forward and topped off everyone’s glass.
“Well, I have a toast,” Gilly said raising her glass. “To the new, lead, crime reporter at the Seattle Times.”
“Thank you. Thank you.” Skip graciously accepted congratulations from everyone prompting another round of glass tapping.
Salads were served on ice-cold plates—crispy greens topped with fresh grated Parmesan cheese, a slice of red candied apple, dressed with a light vinaigrette. Picking up his salad fork, Gramps glanced at Skip. “Tell us, Mr. lead crime reporter, what’s the latest on the gold robbery.”
“It appears, only appears mind you, circumstantial— Skip started to say.
“Come on, Skip,” Gilly giggled. “Give us the inside scoop. We won’t tell anyone,” she said in a loud whisper, her eyes squinting from one to another around the table.
“Okay, I’ll start again. It appears that Mrs. Wellington teamed up with Wellington’s household manager, Gerald Sacco. The police are searching for the pair but so far they haven’t been able to pick up their trail.” Leaning forward and in a hushed voice he continued. “I swear Philip Wellington is being eaten alive with revenge to put his wife behind bars and even to link her to the murder of Jack Carlson. We’re a death penalty state so you can see her ultimate fate if Wellington gets his way.”
Leaning back Skip looked at Gramps. “Once you found the key, the day of the earthquake, the police thought for sure the gold would be found, but as I wrote in my column, ‘the cupboard was bare.’” Everyone chuckled along with Skip.
Gramps took a sip of his champagne. “After Christmas, I think it’ll be time to put Betty in her final resting place. She held the key piece of evidence so to speak. Did her job.”
“You’re right, Dad,” Will said. “Just let Anne and me know when you’re ready.”
Gramps looked at Skip again. “How’s my dog?” he asked smiling. “Does she miss me?”
“Pouts all day. Just this afternoon she asked when we were going over for a visit.” Skip picked up Gilly’s hand pressing it to his lips, and then quickly laid it on his knee under the tablecloth.
Gramps looked at Gilly with raised eyebrows and then to Skip. “Well, you and Agatha are welcome anytime. Coco hasn’t been herself since her stubby-tailed friend left her.”
The salad plates were removed from the table and the salmon entre, topped with whole-berry cranberry sauce was served. Green beans almondine accompanied the salmon. The waiter whisked away the empty champagne bottle returning with two carafes of white wine and another set of wine glasses.
“Gilly, fill us in on your plans. I can’t keep up with everything your mom’s been telling me,” Will said as the waiter offered a taste of the Pinot Grigio to Gramps. With his okay, he poured the wine for the others.
“With Hawk’s help, my legal eagle, Maria and I have been playing with different Trademark designs. Then I’ll register it. Everything I create from now on will have my Trademark on the label.” Everyone’s head turned at once. “Yes. My label.”
“She’ll be protected from potential thieves like that New York fellow who copied her designs.” Hawk nodded to the waiter as he poured wine into Hawk’s glass. “Others may copy, but customers who buy her designs with her Trademark will know it is a Gillianne original. Without the label, the piece will be viewed as a knockoff.”
Gilly sipped her wine and then plunged on.
“I’m also going to look for some space in Seattle … set up a studio.”
“What?” Anne said. “I didn’t know that. What does that mean … are you moving to Seattle?”
“Oh, no, Mom … not right away. I’m getting orders from The Working Girl shop, and a few inquiries from women who attended the fashion show. That’s why the studio. But I’ll continue working at the casino … money is going to be really tight … timing. Timing is everything, being sure I know what steps to take and in what order. The $20,000 prize money makes it possible. And then there is all the legal stuff. Hawk, at some point you have to start billing me.”
“Don’t you worry, Red. I’m keeping a tally from what Maria’s been telling me.” Hawk put his arm around Maria, kissing her cheek. “When you hit the big time, your checks will be flying into my bank account. I’ll have to open an office in Seattle just to handle your burgeoning business affairs.” Everyone laughed along with Hawk.
“Burgeoning.” Gramps chuckled. “You lawyers and your big words.”
“Excuse me, miss. Are you Gillianne Wilder?” The hostess stood smiling beside Gilly’s chair.
“Yes, I am.”
“A gentleman asked me to give this to you when the entree was served.”
She handed Gilly a jewelry gift box the size of a watch case. A tag with Gilly’s name, Gillianne Wilder, was held in place with a narrow red satin ribbon.
“Thank you,” Gilly said accepting the gift from the hostess. “Is this from one of you?” Gilly asked with a little laugh looking around the table.
They all shook their heads no.
“Go ahead, open it,” Skip said with a smile. “Maybe it’s from a secret admirer.”
Gilly pulled the ribbon, the bow easing away. She lifted the lid and separated the small square of red tissue paper.
She gasped, staring down at a white card with a red satin heart pierced by a long steel spike. The caption: “BITCH!”
The End
Murder By Design
Copyright © 2011
by Mary Jane Forbes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, locations, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author.
ISBN: 978-0-9847948-0-5 (sc)
Printed in the United States of America
Todd Book Publications: 11/2011, Port Orange, Florida
Cover re-design: 8/18/17, Mary Jane Forbes
Map: Puget Sound Area
Locations
Seattle to Bainbridge by ferry: about 35 minutes
Edmonds to Kingston by ferry: about 30 minutes
Hansville — Gramp’s house
Port Gamble — Tea Room and Boutique
Bainbridge—Casino and Resort
Washington State Super-Ferry
The picture above is a typical Washington State Ferry with the Seattle skyline as a lovely backdrop. The characters in this book, Murder by Design, travel across Puget Sound many times on the Wenatchee and her sister ship the Tacoma.
Wenatchee Ferry
Length: 460' 2'' — Beam: 90' — Draft: 17' 3'' — Auto Deck Clearance: 16'
Horsepower: 13,200. Speed in Knots: 18
Max Passengers: 2500 — Max Vehicles: 202 — City Built: Seattle, WA