Gilly smiled at Skip as she handed him her black wool cape. He draped it over her shoulder wishing he could plant a kiss on her bare back. Happy to see the impact her entrance had made on Skip, she said goodbye to her room
mates and with a wink she waltzed out the door gripping Skip’s arm for support.
He hoped tonight they would both relax and enjoy themselves. He made the only reference to the event at the train station. “I still can’t believe you offered Arthur Lewis a job before checking him out.”
“I design clothes. You are the investigative reporter. How about I design and you investigate,” she said smiling up at him.
He stole a glance at her, looked back at the road. Better watch yourself, Hunter, he thought, or you’ll take her home with you right now. To heck with the party.
“Okay. I’ll investigate. Just to let you know, I like the guy. He saved your life and for that I’ll be eternally grateful.”
Entering the mansion Skip took Gilly’s cape, handing it to an attendant receiving a ticket in return. Philip Wellington quickened his step to greet Skip and the beautiful woman on his arm. While he had met her grandfather, Philip had been looking forward to meeting Gillianne Wilder but had no idea she was a new fashion designer. He thought a woman as beautiful as she would take the fashion world by storm and looked forward to watching for her new label. He told her if she ever branched out into men’s clothing to be sure to let him know. He handed Skip a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. Gillianne declined and Skip asked the waiter if he would bring her a glass of ginger ale. In a flash, she had a flute in her hand. Wellington had moved on to another group of guests.
Looking for Gilly’s parents, they stopped at one of the food stations—canapés featuring various fish. Gramps, champagne in hand, greeted his granddaughter at the same time her mom and dad appeared by her side. Anne said if they didn’t see each other again before they left she wished them a good time. She said they would be leaving soon to catch the nine o’clock ferry but wouldn’t have missed meeting Mr. Wellington and seeing his beautiful mansion for anything.
───
DETECTIVE DUBOIS SPOTTED SKIP and headed in his direction, smiling to himself. Skip the protector, guardian, lover, probably all three he surmised seeing him standing beside Gillianne. He wasn’t giving anybody a chance to harm her, at least for the moment. “Good evening, Gillianne, Skip.”
“Hello, Detective.” Gilly leaned in, kissing both cheeks, a custom she picked up in Paris. “You’re looking very handsome tonight—black bow tie and all. Tell me,” she whispered. “Is that a gun I see bulging under that black jacket?” DuBois instinctively touched his hip. Chuckled. “Not tonight, but I wonder if we three could talk privately for a minute?”
Skip, watching the byplay between the two, said, “Let’s go to the library. I’m sure Philip won’t mind and I’m very sure Gilly would like to kick off those shoes for a minute.”
Gilly nodded in agreement, took Skip’s arm as he led the way down the hall.
“We’re in luck—no one here and look at those couches and the fire,” Gilly said, moving to the fireplace, stroking her bare arms.
“Very nice,” DuBois said. “Lovely home Mr. Wellington has here, if you can call a house this size a home.”
“Gilly, I called Mirage yesterday after I dropped you off at your apartment.”
“I thought you might.” Gilly kicked off her shoes, wriggled her toes, and pulled her legs up under her as she sank onto the couch.
“That man who tackled you, he saved your life. Skip told me you thought you were pushed into that oncoming train. Did you see him? What makes you think it was a man?”
“No, I didn’t see … I wasn’t looking. I heard the train coming into the station and had just put my notepad in my purse when I felt a sharp blow to my back or maybe an elbow, a large hand splayed … felt like a man. Wait, I’ll tell you what it felt like. When they show football players practicing their hitting—they rise up against the dummy as they hit. I was falling so the contact stopped as I fell forward.” Gilly stared above the detective’s head as she spoke. Now her eyes focused back on the detective’s face. “I think I remember Arthur Lewis tackling me but that’s all. Probably when I hit my head.”
“I see. Well, I had a thought—this Spiky guy, Edward Churchill—
Skip leaned forward, elbows on his knees, one hand cracking the knuckles of the other. An action Gilly had never seen him do before.
DuBois leaned back in his chair. “We think his grandmother told him you were pregnant. Let’s say he didn’t buy the story you told her—the father being killed. Not long after, you get the first blackmail note … postmarked Paris. We have to assume he tracked down a plausible answer to who the father of your baby might be. You said yourself, many people at work knew you were seeing Beaumont—only Beaumont. Also not hard to learn the man is running for the Senate. So, Spiky puts the squeeze on you. Now, you get another note but postmarked Tacoma. Here’s my dilemma, or should we say what doesn’t fit his MO. You thought you heard the word bitch yesterday and immediately assumed it was Spiky. But why would he try to kill you? He wants money. See what I’m saying? If you’re dead—no money.”
“You’re saying I imagined it … being pushed?”
“I’m saying it’s a possibility. Here’s another possibility. Maybe the guy you assume tried to save you actually was pushing but the wire trash receptacle stopped your fall.”
“Oh, now really, Detective, I don’t think—
Skip looked up at the sound of the library door opening. A man dressed in an oversized black suit filled the doorway, looked at the three pausing on Gilly. “Sorry. Wrong room.” He turned and disappeared from view.
DuBois, instantly on his feet, strode to the door, glanced down the hall. Several waiters with trays loaded with hors d'oeuvres crisscrossed to refresh the many tables set up as food stations. The detective backed into the library and shut the door. He and Skip exchanged glances as he sat down in the chair.
Gilly observed the exchange. “Well, it seems you two have more to talk about. If you’ll excuse me, I’m thirsty. I think an icy ginger ale will hit the spot.” Bending forward she slipped into her shoes and stood up.
“Skip! Look. On the desk.”
Skip stood at the alarm in her voice, his eyes looking where she was pointing—a small package in brown paper.
DuBois rounded the desk. He didn’t touch the package, looked up over his glasses at Gilly. “It’s addressed to you.” Taking his handkerchief out of his pocket, he carefully slit the tape with a letter opener lying on the desk blotter. He opened the box but the three knew what was going to be inside. They were not wrong. Lifting the spiked heart with the end of the letter opener, he picked up the folded paper underneath, again careful only the handkerchief touched it. He flicked it in the air unfolding the paper smeared with blood. He laid it on the brown paper. “Blood. He’s upping the ante.” Dubois said, and then read the letter to Gilly and Skip.
“Listen, bitch, my patience is wearing out. Your stupid little business must be sucking you dry. Wire the money NOW! I don’t care how you get it—beg, borrow, or steal and your secret remains with me. My pain gets worse every day. The pain you and your grandfather inflicted on me. Doctors say if I don’t get the operation soon I’ll lose my leg. I lose my leg, you lose your life. Spiky.”
Gilly, all color draining from her face, grasped Skip’s arm. It seemed Spiky knew where she was every minute of every day. She was rarely alone. Her mother, her staff, or as tonight Skip, were always with her, but somehow he managed to find her, even in a private library during a party.
DuBois called the department, barked instructions at the officer on the other end. Ten minutes passed. A squad car pulled into the Wellington driveway. Two uniformed officers jumped out disappearing in the shadows as they ran in opposite directions around the house.
The man in the sedan smiled as he pulled away from the curb slowly rolling
down the street, parking a block away. Two squad cars rushed past him and yet another. He envisioned the police searching the grounds for the person who left a package for Ms. Wilder on Wellington’s desk.
As officers searched the property a man ambled down the street stopping to talk with a couple walking their dog. Two policemen rushed by the little group of three asking if they had seen anyone lurking on the grounds, anything suspicious moving in the bushes. The three looked at each other, shrugged, and went on chatting about the beagle preening from the attention of the man who obviously loved dogs as he crouched down to pet her. The couple said goodnight and continued on their walk. The man limped across the street, melting away into the shadows.
Chapter 41
───
THE SUIT-DRESS WAS A HIT!
Initial orders combined with new orders—delivery deadlines loomed. Gilly received daily calls from Nordstrom’s and The Working Girl shop—some days more than one. The decision to accept Stacy Sinclair’s offer was put into writing. All agreed it was risky but so what. The worst that could happen, they’d pull out, find an apartment, and continue moving forward.
Gilly met with Hawk in his new Seattle office to go over the deal. He had registered her label and trademark along with the copyright of her name and set the business up as a Sub-S Corporation. Thoughts of buying Stacy’s business were premature, for now anyway.
Nicole practically lived at the factory. Orders were coming in so fast that Vinsenso began making daily deliveries with his van—even if it was just one item. He was trying to impress the vivacious Parisian. In the meantime Gilly updated her spring collection that won the State competition.
Market analysis accelerated. Nicole and Maria took numerous field trips to department stores and boutiques, as well as scouring magazines for the latest fashions shown by other designers, noting the colors and new trends that Gilly might want to adopt. For the most part, Gilly continued with her own ideas but paid close attention to what the girls found on their excursions. She had to be ready to swap the fall collection displays at Nordstrom’s and The Working Girl with the spring line by the second week in January.
Running against the clock, Gilly was trying to keep up with the needs of the two stores as well as preparing for the birth of her baby. It was understood she would try to rest after the baby was born—taking full charge of her baby girl with only an occasional peek at the business until she regained her strength. She would work into a new rhythm of mother and businesswoman. At least that was the plan, but everyone knew, unless something unforeseen happened, she would be back in the fray sooner rather than later.
The business was picking up a rhythm of its own which at the time meant putting out fires—Nicole running in one direction, Maria in another. But the pair knew instinctively which one would handle what, when, and where. Both tried to intervene if there was a problem before Gilly got wind of it unless it became absolutely necessary to have her attention.
Anyone seeing the girls at work would laugh. One, or the other, or all three up at various hours of the night—a cup of tea, a glass of milk, or a soda in hand. They laughed if they happened to be up at the same time. But when an idea struck, they found they had to act or the idea was gone by morning.
Anne kept a watchful eye on her daughter. She saw signs of fatigue yet Gilly kept pushing. Agreements were signed with Stacy as to what was expected of Gilly as manager of The Working Girl—which staff would remain, and what duties were to be added to Nicole’s and Maria’s roles.
Two more boxes wrapped in brown paper were delivered to Gilly, the notes becoming more and more desperate with threats if she didn’t stop stalling and send the money. Gilly tried not to let the others know when a package arrived. She’d call DuBois who would send one of his officers to pick it up—unopened. He told Gilly that they had no trace of the Spiky culprit. He hoped with the guy’s picture front and center for all his men to see when out on patrol that someone would spot him. DuBois put the apartment on a routine drive by, the officer calling to say they had just checked and had nothing unusual to report. Spiky seemed to be a chameleon, blending into the background. DuBois needed one break. One tip.
Suddenly it was four days before Christmas, two days before Maria’s wedding. A new set of to-do lists landed on the conference table. Maria packed most of her personal things and moved them to Hawk’s apartment. She was staying with Gilly, however, until her wedding night. She and Hawk had tickets to fly to Sandals resort in Jamaica for five days of rest and relaxation knowing what lay ahead of them when they returned to Seattle.
A snowstorm was in the forecast beginning late on the day of the wedding, so backup plans were made to escort them to the airport. Skip would drive Gilly and Nicole back to Seattle. If they couldn’t make it, they’d stay with Gramps in Hansville.
As for the wedding, thankfully, tribal custom called for a simple ceremony. In fact, historically, if a woman moved into a man’s family home, they were considered married. A custom Maria’s mom and stepdad thought was great and adopted wholeheartedly—no wedding to pay for. The ceremony was to be on the reservation and Hawk’s parents insisted on taking care of the dinner arrangements including payment. Gifts to the bride and groom were not required but they received some in spite of the custom. But gifts were exchanged between their parents, and Hawk’s father and mother gave a gift to those attending the wedding. By custom, the bride and groom accepted the gift of two blankets from their parents.
Hawk and Maria decided on a small guest list—family and very close friends only. Nineteen guests stood up for the pair as a Protestant minister led them through their vows. Gilly and Nicole stood to one side of Maria. Simple or not, Maria and her attendants each held a nosegay of pink and white tea roses. Maria wore a simple white lace, knee-length sheath dress. She had found the lace with a scalloped edge on one of her excursions with Nicole. After finishing the hem of the white silk lining, Gilly insisted on adding a few clusters of seed pearls around the neckline.
Maria let her thick dark hair fall in soft curls down her back, a clip of pearls holding her hair on one side. Hawk whispered in her ear as she joined him in front of the minister, that she looked like a Spanish princess.
The ceremony ended and the wedding party moved to one of the resort’s small dining rooms overlooking the holiday lights of the garden and the waters of Puget Sound beyond—a beautiful backdrop for the intimate wedding celebration.
When the first snowflake fell, the view framed by the picture windows became a fairyland as the delicate flakes mixed with the colored lights. The snow quickly became thick and heavy. Hawk and Maria jumped into the resort limo, the driver taking off to the airport. Anne and Will left for Hansville. Skip escorted Gilly and Nicole to his jeep and headed to the ferry behind the newlyweds.
An awkward moment occurred when Skip parked in the apartment’s driveway. Nicole jumped out, calling over her shoulder that she’d turn up the heat leaving Gilly and Skip sitting in his car. Words hung unspoken in the chilly air—both wanted to say so much but both said nothing. The silence became strained so Skip got out of the car and came around to help Gilly—today the start of her sixth month. Holding her arm they maneuvered the snow-covered walk to the front door of the building. She thanked him for taking her and Nicole to the wedding and quickly stepped inside leaving Skip with his hands stuffed in his pockets, snow swirling around his head.
Chapter 42
───
THE CHRISTMAS BLIZZARD HOWLED through every nook and cranny of western Washington. Everything came to a halt—streets were deserted, shops remained closed; a few large department stores opened and closed two hours later—there were no shoppers. If the warning from the city’s road crews to stay home weren’t enough, the pictures on television showing stranded cars did the trick. Luckily Maria and Hawk’s plane took off before the storm gathered to full force.
Gilly and Nicole sat quietly at the little kitchen table, feet up on a chair pulled between them, Mar
ia’s chair. They missed her beautiful smile and exuberance urging them on when they didn’t think they could muster the strength to tackle the next item on their to-do list.
The radio played Christmas music, the television set to mute—watching the snow piling up on the roads didn’t require sound. Nicole had never seen a blizzard let alone been caught out in one. The weather brought their frenzied preparations for the move above The Working Girl shop to a halt. It was nice to enjoy their morning coffee sitting at the table rather than taking a sip as they dashed past their mug on the counter.
“Gilly, I know it’s upsetting when one of those awful packages arrives, from God knows where, or how. They just seem to appear. But, do you ever get the feeling that maybe Spiky is watching us?”
Gilly looked up. “Yes, but I didn’t know you felt it, too. What about Maria?”
“Yes. Maria, too, and your mom. I’ve felt it so strong when walking down the street that I’ve turned around. But I never caught anyone staring at me.”
“I’ve done the same thing. Sometimes I stop, look in all directions, but nothing. Probably nerves … because of Spiky.” Gilly gazed down into the black liquid as she ran her finger around the top of the mug.
Nicole watched her sensing there was more than the blowing snow outside on her friend’s mind. “It was nice of Skip to squire us around yesterday—back and forth from the wedding.”
“Nicole, I don’t know how to act around him.”
“I wish you’d get over this silly idea of yours that you don’t deserve his attention. The guy is obviously crazy about you but he’s afraid to make a move.”
Murder by Design Trilogy Page 38
