Fashion, Rosé & Foul Play (Wine & Dine Mysteries Book 6)

by Gemma Halliday

  "I don't know…"

  "Emmy! You said yourself that you overheard him threatening Gia."

  "I did. And all of Costello's lies probably do warrant a little chat with him."

  Ava opened her mouth to say something, but I ran right over her.

  "But just a chat," I emphasized. "Just a calm, friendly chat."

  Ava grinned. "Sure. I can do friendly." She sent me a wide grin with teeth and everything, as if to illustrate her point.

  I shook my head, a tiny voice inside me—which coincidentally sounded a lot like Grant—telling me this was a bad idea. However, Ava's nearly diabolic grin was better than the sadness and guilt I'd seen a few minutes ago. So I reluctantly stowed my doubts away as Ava put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb, heading toward downtown and the Sonoma Valley Inn.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Fifteen minutes later we were back in the lobby of the hotel asking Judy at the front desk to ring for Carl Costello's room. Luckily, unlike on our previous visit, this time our intended guest did pick up and cleared Judy to send us up to his room. Which turned out to be the penthouse suite. I wasn't sure if Costello was worried about security or image, but he'd certainly made sure he had the best of what Wine Country had to offer in the accommodations department.

  As soon as we reached the penthouse, Ava and I stepped out into a foyer that practically oozed luxury with every fiber of its flocked wallpaper and grain of inlaid wood flooring. Two crystal chandeliers hung from the cathedral ceilings, and an ebony side table was adorned with a large vase sporting a bouquet of fresh flowers that was larger than some of Costello's models.

  "Wow," Ava said, clearly having much the same reaction I was. "I wonder what this place costs per night."

  "I have a feeling that if you have to ask, you can't afford it," I mumbled, knocking on the polished wood door that led to the suite.

  We waited. And waited. I was beginning to think our knock had gone unnoticed, when I heard the sound of the lock being thrown on the other side and the door opened to reveal a young man with warm tanned skin, dark hair, dark eyes, and chiseled features, from his strong jaw to his defined shirtless abs. His broad chest tapered into a perfect V at the waistband of his jeans, slung low enough that I felt a blush creep into my cheeks and had to purposely drag my eyes up to meet his.

  "Uh, hi. We were looking for Carl Costello," I told the man.

  "Carl's here." He gave me a bored look and stepped aside.

  "Thanks," Ava said. I noticed she'd yet to be able to pull her gaze upward. If she wasn't careful, she'd start drooling any second.

  We followed the man into a large main room that featured floor to ceiling windows, showing off a spectacular view of rolling hillsides and flooding the space with natural light. In case that wasn't enough illumination, three more crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, shimmering like diamonds against the inlaid ceiling. At least, I assumed they were like diamonds and not the actual gems, but from the upscale finishes, gilt framed artwork, and marble accents around the room, I didn't put anything past the decorator. White leather couches with royal blue pillows provided the perfect place to sit back and relax after a stressful day of doing whatever type of work allowed you to afford such luxurious accommodations.

  "Carl!" The young man's voice cut through my gawking as he yelled toward the open door at our left. "Visitors!"

  A beat later, Costello appeared, bedazzled in a purple velour sweat suit that was hovering precariously on the border between gawdy and fashionable. "Hello, my dahlings," he said, descending upon us with air kisses all around. "I hope you don't think me rude, but I've only got a moment for a quick chat. It's been a trying few days, and Fabio and I really must relax and decompress."

  My eyes flitted to the young man.

  Costello must have seen the gesture, as he added, "Oh, you've met Fabio, haven't you?"

  "Uh, not formally," Ava answered. She stuck a hand his way. "Ava Barnett."

  Fabio stepped forward and lifted her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss accompanied by some serious smoldering eye action.

  Ava giggled.

  "Isn't he lovely?" Costello draped an arm around Fabio's shoulders. "He's Puerto Rican. They know how to grow them there, right ladies?" Costello purred.

  Fabio offered a placating smile before stepping out of the embrace. "Drink?" he asked us as he moved to a tall glass wet bar along the back wall.

  "No thank you," I answered automatically. I had a strict(ish) policy never to drink before noon. You know, unless it was a really bad day.

  Ava shook her head as well. "How are you holding up?" she asked Costello.

  He sighed dramatically. "Oh, my, as well as one can, I suppose." He gestured for us to sit on a leather sofa before dropping into the one opposite with another sigh.

  "Are the police still asking you to stay in Sonoma?" Ava asked.

  Costello shook his head. "No, we'll be heading home today." He turned to Fabio, who was pouring himself a generous glass of something clear. "Honey, a gin and tonic, please, with just a scooch of fresh lime?"

  Fabio gave him the same placid smile before grabbing a fresh glass from behind the bar.

  "Anyway," Costello went on. "Hopefully we can get back to our normal lives and put all this unpleasantness behind us soon."

  "I doubt any of this will really be behind us until Gia's killer is found," Ava noted.

  It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw Costello squirm a little at the word killer.

  "Yes, well, I'm sure the police are hard at work on that," he mumbled. "Anyway, it's just all been so stressful, you know? I mean, a show on its own is difficult enough, but given the tragedy…" He trailed off, shaking his head and clucking his tongue as Fabio handed him his drink. "Thank you, dahling," Costello told the younger man. He patted the sofa beside him, and Fabio complied, taking a seat.

  "I can imagine it's been difficult," Ava told him.

  Costello turned to his boyfriend. "I'm so very lucky that Fabio has been such a comfort. So fortunate he's here with me."

  "Yes," I said, feeling an opening. "You mentioned that Fabio was with you after the fashion show as well, right?"

  "Hmm?" Costello asked, sipping his drink. "Oh, yes. Yes, he was. We were inseparable." He scrunched his nose at Fabio in a loving gesture.

  Fabio seemed to find a spot on the thick carpeting at his feet suddenly interesting.

  "Are you sure you were together the entire time?" Ava asked, leaning forward a bit in her seat. "Like from when the show ended to when Gia was found?"

  "Well…yes. I mean, yes, of course."

  Ava shot me a look. "Because someone said they saw Fabio alone."

  Costello blinked at us. Fabio's eyes didn't leave the floor.

  "Oh. Well, I-I wasn't with him the entire day," Costello amended. "I mean, before the show I was so busy."

  "This was after the show," I told him. "While the models were changing. And Gia was in her dressing room."

  Costello did some more blinking. Fabio shifted uncomfortably.

  I turned my attention to the boy toy. "You were at the reception in the lounge after the show, weren't you?"

  Fabio's gaze shifted between Costello and me as he smoothed his hands over the fabric on his thighs. "Well…umm…"

  Costello jumped in, seemingly having recovered control over his eyelids, and looped his arm through Fabio's. He patted his bicep in a reassuring manner before turning his attention to me. "Well, of course I meant that Fabio and I were together later. I mean, I had to oversee the garments being racked properly, didn't I?"

  "How much later?" Ava pressed.

  "What? Oh, well, I don't know. Hardly any time at all."

  "So you did go backstage after the show?" I clarified, shooting Ava a meaningful look.

  "Yes. I mean, just for a short smidgeon of time. Before I met up with Fabio. Then we were inseparable. Like I told you."

  He'd told me so many different things, I was having a hard
time keeping track.

  "Did anyone see you racking the garments backstage?" Ava asked.

  "W-well, I don't know. I mean, there were people there."

  "Like who?" Ava wasn't letting it go.

  Costello fanned himself with one hand. "Oh my…well let me think…it was such a stressful day, dahlings." He chuckled nervously. "Uh, well, let's see… Oh! Yes, of course, I did speak with Jada. Yes, I'm sure Jada remembers seeing me."

  "Actually, she doesn't," I informed him.

  His nervous smile dropped. "She doesn't?"

  I shook my head. "She said she didn't remember who was backstage after the show. She didn't mention being with you at all."

  "Well, there you have it!" He smiled triumphantly as he settled back into the sofa cushions. "You see, I'm not the only one who can't remember exactly when and where I was or who I was with. It was utter chaos, I tell you. But, I'm sure if you ask Jada if she spoke to me, she'll remember."

  I was less sure, but there wasn't much I could do to refute that without Jada present. "What did you do when you left the backstage area?" I asked instead.

  "Hmm?" Costello's gaze shifted to me again.

  "After you packed up the garments and spoke to Jada?"

  "Oh. I, uh, joined Fabio. For our private celebration at the poolside cabana. Right, honey?" Costello batted his eyelashes at the man.

  "Uh-huh." Fabio didn't sound quite as sure, his dark eyes holding something back as they looked everywhere but at us.

  "And what time was that?" I asked.

  "I, um…" Fabio looked to Costello.

  "He's notoriously terrible with time, aren't you, baby?" Costello patted Fabio's leg. "But, like I said, it was right afterward. Hardly any time at all."

  Which really meant nothing. Costello could have easily slipped backstage and into Gia's dressing room in all the chaos after the show, killed her, and just as quickly slipped back out and caught up with Fabio.

  And if I had to guess, by the way that Fabio was shifting uncomfortably on the sofa again, he knew it too.

  "I'm just curious," Costello asked, picking at a fraying thread on his velour sweatshirt. "But, uh, when did you say it was that Fabio was seen at the reception?"

  "She didn't know exactly," I told him honestly.

  "She?" Costello said, raising an eyebrow at me. "And who, may I ask, is this she?"

  I hesitated to mention a name. But in all fairness, it wasn't as if she'd told it to me in confidence. "Daisy Dot," I said.

  Costello laughed out loud, startling Fabio into nearly spilling his drink. "Oh please! You think that woman is a reliable witness to anything? She's as crooked as her deranged sense of style."

  "Crooked?" I asked.

  He nodded vigorously. "And conniving, and deceitful, and a thief!"

  Ava and I shared a look. "That's funny," I said, "because she actually accused you of being a thief."

  Costello chuckled softly. "Let me guess…she tried to sell you that ruby earring story?"

  "Story?" I asked. "So you're saying it's not true? You didn't steal her earrings before her spring show to sabotage her?"

  "Well, of course it's not true! What did I tell you? She's delusional. As if I would need to sabotage her. Have you seen her work? The woman practically sabotages herself. No sense of taste whatsoever."

  Said the man in the bedazzled velour tracksuit petting his shirtless lover over a morning cocktail.

  But, I glossed over that.

  "So you didn't take her earrings?" Ava clarified.

  "No," he said emphatically. "I did not. She probably misplaced them herself. Have you seen how scatterbrained she is?"

  I'll admit, I'd had the same thought myself.

  "She, however," Costello went on, "did steal from me!"

  "What did she steal?" Ava asked, sounding as dubious as I felt.

  Costello smirked, crossing one purple clad leg over the other. "I'm sure you noticed those cutouts she did on all of her horrendously over-designed dresses at the Links show?"

  While I wasn't sure about the over-designed part, I had noticed the cutouts. I nodded.

  "Well, my original designs for my fall line included cutouts in all of my dresses. Diamond shaped ones." He gave me a pointed look.

  "Are you saying that Daisy Dot stole her collection's signature look from you?"

  Costello touched his index finger to the tip of his nose. "Exactly. Of course, she did it with no regard for the female form whatsoever, whereas mine were artfully placed to highlight my models' curves."

  One could argue there was very little curve to a six foot tall, one hundred pound model, but I decided that was beside the point. "Maybe she just had the same idea as you?" I suggested. "Maybe it wasn't a matter of actual theft?"

  But Costello scoffed. "Highly doubtful! That woman hasn't had an original idea since she left that vulgar reality show. TV designers. She just can't hack it in the real fashion world." He leaned in as if telling us a little secret. "You know she's staying in a regular suite here." He laughed, and it was suddenly clear why he was staying in the penthouse—for the sole purpose of keeping Daisy Dot out of it.

  "That doesn't explain why you lied about Gia wanting to fire Hughie," Ava pointed out.

  Costello turned to Ava. "Who said I lied?"

  "Hughie Smart. He said Gia never called him before the show."

  "Well, then, he's the liar!" Costello said with a lot more indignation than a man just caught lying himself should have.

  "It's easy enough for the police to check his phone records," Ava added, and I could see her watching his reaction.

  "And, honestly, why would Gia call Hughie to fire him?" I added. "Hughie was at the show. Wouldn't it make more sense to talk to him about that sort of thing in person?"

  Costello's gaze went from Ava, to me, and back again. "Well, I-I don't know. But I do know I heard Gia on the phone. And she was firing someone. Who else could it have been? I mean, it sounded like she was talking to Hughie." He shrugged and sipped from his glass.

  "What, exactly, did you overhear her saying?"

  Costello frowned. "Well, let me see…she said she'd had enough, that she didn't need him anymore, and that she could do the job on her own from now on." He looked from me to Ava. "I mean, who else could she have been talking to?"

  I didn't know. And honestly, I wasn't sure what to believe. It was quite possible he and Hughie were both telling the truth. Yet again, it was also quite possible they were both lying. And more possible still that the call had had nothing at all to do with Gia's death in the first place.

  "Now, if there's nothing else you'd like to accuse me of," Costello said, clearly only half joking, "Fabio and I have some packing to do, don't we, dahling?"

  He glanced to his own personal romance novel hero, who was still inordinately interested in the floor. If I had to guess, Fabio knew something he was holding back. But I didn't see him sharing in front of his sugar daddy.

  "Sorry to have bothered you," Ava mumbled as we made our way back toward the door.

  Which, once we cleared the threshold, slammed behind us with a definitive thud followed by the sound of the lock being thrown.

  "Well, I doubt Costello will be calling me for accessories for his next show," Ava said as we waited on the elevator.

  "I also doubt he was telling us the whole truth. Did you see how Fabio was averting his eyes the whole time?"

  Ava nodded. "You caught that too, huh?" She paused. "Though, his eyes were the least noticeable thing about that guy. Ohmigosh, those abs…"

  "Down girl. I don't think he bats for your team."

  Ava grinned as the elevator arrived and we stepped inside, pressing the button for the lobby. "True, but maybe he has a brother?" she joked.

  "Don't make me remind you about what happened the last time you dated a pretty boy," I said, referring to a short-lived relationship she'd had recently with an actor, which had not ended well.

  Ava rolled her eyes. "Trust me, I need no reminder
s of that one. He was enough to make me think about batting for the other team."

  I couldn't help a laugh as the elevator doors opened and we spilled out into the lobby once again.

  Which seemed to be teeming with activity at the late morning hour, some guests checking out, others waiting on cars or party buses for winery tours around the region. I spotted Jada pulling a rolling suitcase into the long checkout line. I was about to suggest we approach her to corroborate Costello's latest attempt at an alibi, when Ava grabbed my arm.

  "Emmy!" she hissed, her voice low. "Look!"

  I glanced in the direction she indicated, seeing a group of tourists and one family of six trying unsuccessfully to wrangle their young ones away from a rolling luggage cart the kids had apparently commandeered as a ride-on toy.

  "I'm sure they'll be okay," I said.

  Ava shook her head. "Not the kids on the cart. Over there. By the potted palm tree."

  I shifted my gaze slightly to the left and immediately spotted it.

  Or, I should say, him.

  Tall, dark hair, baseball cap, cleft chin.

  Gia's stalker.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The man was wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt, the same baseball cap on his head with the Giants' logo. He had his phone out, holding it up in front of his face, as if trying to get reception bars as he blended into the background.

  "That's him, right?" Ava whispered beside me, still clutching my arm.

  I nodded. "Looks like it." As I watched him point his phone toward the check-out line, I realized that he wasn't trying to dial on it…he was snapping pictures. And as he shifted his position to face us, he must have seen us staring back at him on his screen, as his gaze immediately popped up above the device.

  His eyes met mine, and I could see sudden realization in them that he'd been spotted.

  And he bolted.

  He spun quickly, almost knocking into one of the four kids hanging off the luggage cart as he made for the glass front doors.

  "Come on!" I grabbed Ava's hand and darted across the lobby after him. Between the kids on the cart and the steady stream of guests moving in and out of the hotel, it took a moment to reach the doors. By the time we got there, he was gone. I whipped my gaze back and forth down the street, looking in all directions for any sign of him.