Murder by Design Trilogy

by Mary Jane Forbes

  Stepping into a room of red and gold, with gleaming walnut furniture Gilly thought the room must be meant for royalty. At the very least the rich and famous.

  The bellman put her suitcase in a room off to her right and left the suite, closing the door behind him.

  She stood in the center of the room with warm red walls and red drapes trimmed with lush gold fringe. A couch and two facing chairs upholstered in red and gold striped damask were separated by a coffee table inlaid with ivory. Turning slowly she saw paintings in gilded frames, bronze wall sconces, and red roses in a crystal vase on an inlaid antique sideboard.

  Walking to the room where the bellman had taken her suitcase, she gasped at the beauty of a luxurious bedroom with creamy wainscoting topped with delicate peach walls. Drapes in peach and gold silk framed the windows. Two delicate walnut chairs were padded with peach and gold tapestry. Matching throw pillows lined the top of the large king-sized bed, the bedspread matching the drapes. A small bouquet of white roses sat on a small round table between the two antique chairs. Across the room was a large walnut armoire.

  Gilly laid her purse on the bed and slowly wandered back to the sitting room taking in the elegance of the suite. There was a light tap on the door from the adjoining room. Maxime opened the door and entered her suite.

  “Gillianne, finally, you arrive.”

  He placed a quick peck on her cheek, picked up the phone and gave instructions to the person on the other end of the line. She recognized the word champagne and presumed they were going to enjoy a glass before going out for dinner.

  Hanging up the phone, Maxime turned to her, briefly closing his eyes. “Beautiful, beautiful, my little bird.”

  He gently lifted her chin, gazed into her eyes, his dark orbs penetrating her green, and slowly kissed her lips.

  “You must be tired after all that traipsing around in warehouses. Why don’t you freshen up? My room is part of the suite so I’ll do the same. Our tray of goodies will be here soon.” Releasing her he returned to his room leaving the connecting door open.

  Gilly’s eyes followed him as he left, her body weak from his embrace. Returning to her bedroom, the shafts of afternoon sun seemed to float through the shimmery curtains turning the walls and satin spread into warm golden hues. Gilly felt like a fairy princess in the elegant surroundings. Not knowing where Maxime had in mind for dinner, she took a quick shower and then slipped into a short, white-silk organdy dress with tiny straps made of sparkling diamond-like stones. A pair of silver strappy heels completed the outfit. Taking a look in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself—her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled, her red hair seemed to be on fire. She felt wonderful.

  Stepping from the dressing room into the sitting area of the magnificently appointed suite, Maxime was just popping the cork of the champagne bottle as the door closed behind the waiter. She approached him with a tentative smile.

  “I wasn’t sure where you were taking me for dinner … am I dressed appropriately?”

  “My darling, you are perfect. How beautiful you are.” Turning back to the champagne, he poured the sparkling liquid into the crystal flutes. Handing her one, he tapped his to hers. “Here’s to our time together. I shall introduce you to Milan like no woman has seen it before.”

  With the setting sun, shadows crept into the room and Maxime lit the candles on the table between them. She sat in one of the light golden colored chairs sipping her champagne and told him of her adventures at the textile mills and how the buyer she was with explained the different fabrics and how to discern the quality weaves, textures, and threads from the poor. He sat opposite her, enchanted, sipping his champagne as he listened to her excitedly describe the elegant fabrics she had seen, nothing like she had ever seen before. Finishing their champagne he told her of the tour he had planned for the next two days. Setting his glass on the table, he pulled her gently to her feet and into his arms. His lips touched her cheek with a tender kiss.

  “Are you ready for dinner?” he asked smiling.

  “Yes, and I warn you I’m starving,” she replied kissing his cheek in return.

  Strolling into the hotel’s elegant dining room filled with candles and soft music, the waiter led them to a private table in the garden. Over dinner, he more than once raised her hand to his lips, answered her questions about the Italian people and their customs.

  He told her he had summered with his mother on a stretch of the coast where it curves between the villages of Amalfi and Positano. “Maybe we can have a holiday in Positano sometime?” he said, again raising her hand to his lips.

  After dinner they returned to the suite. A carafe of coffee and a bottle of brandy had been placed in the sitting area and the staff had lit several candles throughout the room.

  Entering the warm glow Gilly turned into Maxime’s arms wanting to feel his lips on hers.

  Responding to her, he enfolded her into a warm embrace.

  “My darling, you are so beautiful.”

  Picking her up, he carried her to the bedroom and laid her on the bed. The covers had been turned down, the bed welcoming them. He doffed his jacket, loosened his tie. He removed her shoes and laid next to her pulling her to him. Her arms encircled his neck, he slowly lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was warm, then hot, then urgent.

  “Gillianne, my beautiful songbird.” He carefully slid the glittery crystal straps off her shoulders, reaching around he pulled down the zipper letting the dress fall below her bare breasts.

  “Maxime, I—

  “Shhh, don’t talk. I want to look at you, to touch you, to have you look into my eyes and say you want me, too. Please, my little bird.”

  Quickly removing his clothes, he knelt beside her. Slowly her clothes fell to the floor and slower still he caressed her body, felt it quiver under his touch, convulse and arch to his kisses. He felt her wince as he took her. “My little bird, I love you.”

  “Maxime.”

  “Yes, it’s your Maxime. Cry out my name, now, now my beauty.”

  “Maxime, Maxime, Maxime!”

  ───

  THE FOLLOWING DAYS SWEPT by—they talked, they laughed, the wind blew in her hair as he drove through the city showing her the sights, and they made love.

  In a rented Porsche he drove the curves of the hills that sprang from the water lining the coast. They spent three hours in Monaco then began the drive back. The car climbing, climbing, climbing to a perch with grass and shade trees. He laid out a blanket and produced a picnic lunch—wine and cheese and baguettes of thick, chewy, golden Italian bread—on the crest of the hills looking over the sparkling blue Mediterranean Sea.

  Then it was time to return to Milan.

  Their last night.

  Saturday night.

  Maxime ordered champagne and dinner to be served in their suite followed with coffee laced again with fine brandy, and then he made love to her.

  Gilly was in a dream and never wanted to wake up. Maxime had anticipated and attended to her every desire.

  The world outside had ceased to exist.

  Chapter 12

  ───

  Paris

  MAYBE SHE ISN’T HOME.

  Standing on the sidewalk in front of Gilly’s apartment building, Skip shifted from one foot to the other. He looked up at the windows. He locked his fingers on top of his head then let them fall to his side expelling a breath. She said the apartment was on the third floor. What did he expect? A sign in the window, Gilly’s up here.

  He’d tried a few times from Monaco to reach her on her cell phone but she didn’t pick up. He only left one message telling her he was in Monaco and hoped he would be able to see her in Paris before he changed planes for his return flight to Seattle.

  She hadn’t called him back.

  On the other hand, maybe she was home. In which case he would wrap her in his arms, then throw her over his shoulder and cart her back to Seattle. Yep, like that would happen … not. What’s the matter with you, Hunte
r? I’ll tell you what’s the matter. She’s infused herself into all your thoughts, hell, into your heart. Stop it. Don’t just stand here. Ring the bell for God’s sake. Find out if the woman’s there.

  Skip marched up to the door and pressed the button for her apartment.

  “llo, oui? C’est qui?

  “English, please?”

  “Hello, yes? Who is it?”

  “Skip Hunter. Is Gillianne Wilder there?”

  “One moment.”

  Skip waited, rocking back and forth—toes to heels to toes.

  The door opened and a young woman about Gilly’s age, long wavy black hair, dark eyes, peered out at him. “Hello, monsieur. I’m sorry but Gillianne isn’t here.”

  Skip let out a deep sigh. His head dropped. He looked back at the woman. “Is she coming back soon? I left her a message a couple of days ago. I told her I was wrapping up a story in Monaco and hoped to stop by on my return to Seattle. But—

  “Oui, Seattle. Come in. Come in. She has mentioned her friend Skip. Please forgive me. I’m Nicole, Gilly’s roommate.” Nicole stuck out her hand, grasping his. “Come, meet Sheridan. Time for coffee at the café?” she asked.

  “Sure. Sure.” Skip followed Nicole up the stairs taking two steps for every one of hers.

  “Sheridan, look who’s here … for Gilly?” Sheridan dropped a magazine to the floor catching Nicole’s wide-eyed look of panic. “This is Skip Hunter. Gilly’s friend … from Seattle.”

  “Oh…oh. Gilly’s not here.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Skip’s eyes narrowed.

  “I’m Sheridan Cunningham, New York City.”

  She too offered to shake his hand.

  “Nice to meet you … both of you, but—

  “Would you care for a café crème, a cappuccino, at our café around the corner? It’s the least we can do after you’ve come all this way.” Sheridan said.

  “He said he would … I already invited him,” Nicole said, panic showing in her eyes under raised brows.

  “Great, great,” Sheridan sputtered. “Well, you can see our apartment—just turn your head left, right and up at the loft. It’s not very big but none of us are home that much. There are three cots … with mattresses as you can see up there.”

  “You’re right … it is compact,” Skip said with an easy smile. “I know Gilly is banking all she can, at least that’s what she said before she left. She wants to go into business when she comes back to Seattle in a few months. Start her own clothing line. Are you two designers?”

  “Wannabes.” Nicole grabbed her shoulder bag. “Come on, Skip, we’ll chat at the café. It’s a beautiful day for a coffee with a friend of Gilly’s … from Seattle.”

  He certainly caught the two off guard—both lounging in shorts, T-shirts, and flip-flops, jeweled flip-flops. Skip felt some tension when Nicole had introduced him to Sheridan and both girls seemed flustered. They were very pretty. Sheridan was almost his height. Still, they didn’t seem to know what to do with him.

  Skip got a kick out of Nicole when they sat down at the little table outside the café, especially her rapid-fire French ordering the coffee. He took a sip of the café crème placed in front of him. “Very nice and very strong,” he said smiling at the roommates, his shoulders easing a bit.

  “Did Gilly know you were going to be in Paris?” Sheridan asked.

  Nicole turned her head quickly to Sheridan jerking back to Skip waiting for his reply.

  “Not really. As I told Nicole, I left her a message but she hasn’t called back. That was two days ago.”

  “Gilly is in Milan,” Nicole said. She looked at Sheridan, back to Skip and continued. “She had a terrific opportunity. One of the fabric buyers was going to Milan and invited Gilly to accompany her. Gilly said the designer wanted the buyer to find more samples for her holiday line. Gilly was very lucky because we don’t often get that kind of opportunity.”

  “Of course, she had hounded our agent to find her such an opportunity,” Sheridan added.

  “Sounds like my Gilly. That probably explains why she didn’t return my call. When do you expect her back? This afternoon? I can—

  “Oh, oh, no … not until late, very late today,” Nicole said almost in a whisper.

  Sheridan closed her eyes. What were they going to say? Certainly not the whole story. Skip saw Sheridan close her eyes, holding her breath, then she opened her eyes piercing his.

  “Well, I’m sorry I missed her. I’m traveling with a detective from Seattle. Our flight leaves in a couple of hours so I have to get to the airport.” The girls were hiding something. He wasn’t sure what but he thought he detected the two sighing in relief, even smiling at him … not a pinched smile like in the apartment. It was part of his job as a reporter to be aware of body language, the vibes a person gives off when he’s interviewing them.

  Gilly in Milan on business but not returning until today … late. She’s with a man. I can feel it. My God, am I losing her … so soon … so quickly? Well, nothing I can do here, but when she returns to Seattle that will be a different story. I never told her how much I care about her. Care? Hell, I’m in love with her. There it is. Right there out in front of me. I don’t know who this guy is, but I’ll win her back. At least I’ll try to.

  Skip threw some bills on the table to pay for the coffee. The roommates protested, but Skip told them it was his treat and thanked them for taking the time to meet with him.

  “Maybe Gilly will give me a call when she gets back to Paris. Please tell her that because of her tip the police arrested the bad guys or, in this case, the bad woman.”

  Chapter 13

  ───

  LESS THAN TWO HOURS ago Gilly was in Milan, in Maxime’s arms, and now she was back in Paris. Maxime helped her into a cab in front of the airport, gave her apartment address to the driver, and paid the fare with a generous tip.

  “I’ll see you Friday, darling?” he asked tossing her green silk jacket onto the seat next to her and folding the filmy silk of her strapless sundress inside the cab door.

  Gilly nodded, yes, looking up at him from the backseat, running her fingers over his hand gripping the car door. So handsome—sunglasses, black hair, black turtleneck, black pants, black shoes.

  “I love you,” he whispered kissing her palm before shutting the door. She waved goodbye as the cab merged with a line of cars leaving the airport.

  Paris was beautiful, more brilliant than when she had left for Milan only a few days ago. She laid her head back against the seat, raised her hand to her cheek, closed her eyes and for a moment she was in Maxime’s arms.

  “Mademoiselle. Mademoiselle, we’re here.”

  “Merci.” She grasped the handle of her suitcase the driver had placed on the sidewalk and slowly strolled to the door of her building. The night was serene in the glow of the street lamp—traffic was light even for a Sunday evening. The air was cool in the hallway sheltered from the day’s heat.

  Gilly inserted her key in the apartment’s door, hesitated a moment before stepping back into the real world, her real world, then she pushed the door open.

  “Gilly, we missed you.” Nicole jumped up, hugging her roommate. Sheridan grasped the suitcase from Gilly’s hand and led her friend inside closing the door.

  Gilly blinked in the brightly lit room. Shutting her eyes, she inhaled the apartment’s familiar scent. Snapping her eyes open, she smiled at her friends. “What a nice homecoming.”

  “We want to hear everything about Milan. Come, we don’t care if you’re tired, let’s go to the café for a coffee,” Nicole said. Snatching her purse, she turned Gilly around and back out the door, jerking her head at Sheridan to hurry along.

  Stepping quickly down the stairs, Nicole stole a furtive glance at Sheridan. Both girls shared a wide-eyed glance. They feared the worst had happened. Love and surrender were written all over Gilly’s face, and her body language screamed seduction.

  The girl’s chattered about the lovely Sunday
evening, that is Nicole and Sheridan chattered non-stop. Gilly let herself be pulled to the café, to be nudged into a chair, and then stared at the little white cup of espresso placed in front of her. Lifting it to her lips she savored the bitter taste. Her eyes focused with the jolt of caffeine and with a sigh she smiled at her roommates.

  “Milan was wonderful. A beautiful city and Maxime, well Maxime was beyond belief—gallant, attentive, loving—

  “Skip stopped by to see you this afternoon,” Nicole blurted out. As Nicole intended, the news of Skip’s visit snapped Gilly out of her trance or whatever she was suffering from.

  “Skip? Here?”

  “Sure was,” Sheridan replied. “He said to tell you he was sorry he missed you but that your tip, or whatever you told him, paid off and they arrested the woman. He said to thank you.”

  “Here?” Gilly with her brows scrunched. Looked from one to the other.

  “Well, he evidently was traveling with a detective from Seattle. The arrest took place in Monaco. He left here this afternoon to catch a flight back to Seattle with the detective.” Nicole looked at Sheridan and back to Gilly’s stricken face. They definitely had her full attention.

  Gilly shook her head. Skip was in Monaco at the same moment she and Maxime were in Monaco … at the same time—

  “Gilly, Sheridan and I have something else we have to tell you.”

  “What? About Skip?”

  “No, it’s about Maxime. Maxime Beaumont.”

  Gilly looked at her friends. Something was wrong. Very wrong. It was written all over their faces. She suddenly didn’t want to hear. She wanted to be back in Milan, back with Maxime. “Did something happen to Skip?”

  “No, not Skip. Maxime. Gilly…” Nicole looked to Sheridan for help.

  Sheridan held Nicole’s hand, leaned forward gripping Gilly’s fingers with her other hand. “Gilly, Maxime is married.”

  Gilly raised her eyes to Sheridan, then to Nicole. She pulled her hand free from Sheridan’s grip.