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

by Gemma Halliday

  And he was old news. Though, none of us voiced that thought.

  "You seemed to have enough to rent out a penthouse," Ava pointed out.

  But Costello waved her off. "That was for appearances, dahling. I mean, I couldn't very well have all my models going back to their agents saying I stayed in the same type of rooms the models did, now, could I? I'd completely lose their respect. Didn't I say image is everything?"

  That point could have been argued, but I let it go. What did I know about the intricacies of the fashion world hierarchy?

  "Did you tell Gia that you didn't have the money?" I asked instead.

  "Yes. I said it had to stop, that I couldn't keep paying her. She'd had her fun, and it was time to move on."

  "I'm guessing she didn't agree with you there," Ava said.

  "No." His eyebrows drew down in a frown. "No, she said if I didn't pay her by the end of the day, everyone would know about me."

  And then she'd died before she'd had the chance. I couldn't help but notice how convenient that timing was.

  Costello must have realized how it looked too, as his voice took on a pleading tone. "I did not harm Gia. I'm telling you, I was nowhere near her when she died!"

  "No?" Ava asked. "Because I think you've given several different versions of exactly where you were when she died."

  Costello frowned and shook his head, as if unconsciously willing Ava to just stop talking. "I-I don't know what you mean."

  Ava shifted forward in her seat. "I mean that after the fashion show, you clearly were not doing some private celebrating with Fabio, now, were you?"

  "No." He paused, looking distinctly nervous again. "I wasn't with Fabio. But everything else I told you is true."

  "Which time?" I asked, giving him a look.

  "I-I went backstage for a moment, and then I…I went to meet up with someone. At the pool cabanas. For a private celebration."

  The meaning of his words sank in. "You mean you were with a woman?"

  Costello's eyes went from me to Ava. "Please, please, please, you cannot say a thing to anyone. This would be devastating for me. And Jada… I just can't drag her name through the mud with me."

  "Jada?" I couldn't help the lift of surprise in my voice. "Are you saying you and Jada were…celebrating together in a private cabana?"

  He pursed his lips together and nodded slowly. "We've been seeing each other secretly for the last few months."

  I thought back to the way Jada had spoken with such reverence about Costello. And how she'd been so hazy about giving him the alibi he'd claimed. At the time I thought she'd been protecting her job, but it turned out she'd been protecting her man.

  I glanced at the fading fashion icon's dyed hair and bedazzled everything, trying to reconcile the image with Jada's exotic beauty. I was hard-pressed to see Jada's side of the attraction, but I supposed love really was blind.

  "I know what you're thinking," Costello said, shaking his head.

  I bit my lip. I hoped not, because I didn't want to seem unkind.

  "But the age difference doesn't matter to either of us."

  Oh yeah. There was that too.

  "We're truly in love. It started as just a friendship, but the attraction…well, neither of us could deny it after a while. Jada…she understands me like no one ever has before. I tell you, she's an angel on earth."

  "So, you really were in a private poolside cabana after the show?" I clarified.

  Costello nodded. "Yes. I ducked backstage just long enough to see that my assistant was racking the garments. Then I went straight to the cabanas. Jada finished changing and arrived a moment later. And we were together until we heard the police sirens and found out about Gia."

  Which was at least half an alibi. Though, I noted that while Jada was changing, that still left Costello alone. We only had his word he was backstage "just long enough" to check up on his assistant and not long enough to check up and then slip into Gia's dressing room and eliminate his biggest problem, before joining his secret lover.

  And his word was pretty shaky—this was the third alibi he'd given us so far.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  "So do we believe him?" Ava asked once we were back in my Jeep.

  I cranked up the AC, adjusting the nearest vent to blow right on my neck. "About being straight and using Fabio as his beard?" I asked. "Yeah, I can see that."

  "But what about his alibi," she asked, flipping down the visor mirror to blot the warm summer shininess from her forehead with a tissue. "Or should I say his non alibi?"

  "You picked up on that, too, huh?" I asked.

  She nodded. "It sounds like he could have easily strangled Gia while Jada was changing then met up with her at the cabana without anyone being the wiser."

  "And it sounds like he had plenty of reason to want Gia dead too," I mused, wondering how Jada had felt in all this—being kept a secret in Costello's life, having to hide their relationship. And all the while having to work in Gia's shadow. "But then, why would Costello steal the emerald?" I added.

  Ava pulled a tube of lip gloss from her purse, reapplying in the mirror. "Well, he did say Gia had been bleeding him dry. Maybe he needed the cash?"

  I nodded, giving my own reflection a once-over in the rearview. "I suppose it's possible," I agreed, swiping at a little eyeliner that had migrated in the heat. "But it would have had to have been a spur of the moment thing. I mean, it seems unlikely to me that he knew about Gia's theft scheme ahead of time. If he had, then he would have something to hold over her head."

  "That's a good point," Ava conceded, capping her lip gloss and sitting back in her seat to soak up more of the AC's cool relief. "I doubt he would have paid up if he'd had something that good on her."

  "If any designer had figured out what Gia was up to, it feels like Daisy Dot would have been the one in the better position."

  "You mean because of her ruby earrings?"

  I nodded. "We know Gia was substituting a fake emerald made of glass for the real one. The way that the rubies disappeared and reappeared, it's safe to assume she did the same thing there."

  "So you think maybe Daisy Dot eventually realized she had red glass earrings and not ruby earrings?"

  "I do. I mean, maybe it wasn't right away. Maybe it took a little while, but when she did, she put it together that Gia had been wearing them. Gia had her private dressing room…the most likely culprit was Gia."

  "So we're back to Daisy Dot killing her and taking the emerald out of revenge?"

  "Or some sort of reparation. Maybe she confronted Gia in her dressing room about the rubies, they fought, things got out of hand, and Daisy killed her. Then maybe she took the emerald as a way to recoup her losses on the rubies that she clearly was not getting back now."

  Ava nodded. "Daisy said she saw Fabio at the reception, but it could have been later—after she'd killed Gia."

  "Or before. And then she told me she suspected Costello stole her rubies as a way of throwing suspicion away from herself."

  Ava shook her head. "It would be pretty low to steal something from me just to make up for what Gia stole from her."

  "Sorry, hon," I said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "But we're going to get it back."

  "Thanks." She sent me a smile that said she didn't fully believe that.

  Honestly, it was feeling less and less like a reality as time went on, but I had to hope. At least for her sake.

  "But Daisy was backstage after the police arrived," Ava continued. "Which means they must have searched her for the emerald before she left."

  I frowned. "Right. Costello was there too. I remember seeing officers take statements from him and Jada."

  "But you know who wasn't there after the police arrived?"

  I turned to face her. "Who?"

  "Hughie Smart."

  I nodded. "I noticed that too. Okay, so maybe it was Hughie after all, trying to save face and cover up the fact that his model was stealing from the jobs he booked her on."

&n
bsp; "Maybe Costello was right about the call he overheard," Ava continued. "Maybe Gia was making so much with her side business that she called Hughie and fired him. Figuring out what she was up to, Hughie showed up at the Links, confronted her, things got out of hand, and she ended up dead."

  I could see it all happening that way. "But in that case, why take the emerald?"

  Ava seemed to think about that a beat. "Maybe a misdirect, like we originally thought. Send the police looking at burglary gone wrong rather than into Gia's personal affairs, where they'd find out what she'd been up to?" She paused. "Then again, I guess that could go for any of our suspects, huh?"

  It could. And if that had been the killer's intention, it had worked like a charm.

  "You know," I said, thinking out loud, "in all of these scenarios, it seems like the killer would want some way to get rid of the emerald."

  Ava's face took on a slightly pained look.

  "Sorry," I said again.

  "No, it's okay. You're right. I mean, the longer they hold on to it, the better chance someone might find it on them and they'd be implicated in the murder, right?"

  I nodded. "Even if monetary gain was any part of the motive, the killer would still want somewhere to unload it fast."

  "Like a pawnshop maybe?" Ava asked, perking up in her seat.

  I nodded. "Right." I paused. "Only, with the notoriety of the 'murder necklace'—"

  Ava's face pinched again.

  "Sorry." I was starting to sound like a broken record.

  "No, you're right. The press would make it harder to unload the emerald."

  "They'd need somewhere that doesn't ask a lot of questions."

  And one such place practically leapt to mind. I turned in my seat to face her.

  "Remember that guy Joe Trask?" I asked Ava. "At the Fast Money Pawnshop?"

  The way she scrunched up her nose told me she remembered him well. In addition to owning Fast Money, Trask ran a money lending business on the side that sometimes charged slightly more than the national average in interest and often took kneecaps in lieu of prompt payments. Our paths had crossed once before when we'd been looking into the bad habits of David Allen's family after his stepfather's death.

  "You think someone might have tried to unload the gem on Trask?" she asked.

  "Or someone like him," I added. "It's possible he could at least steer us in the direction of where someone might ditch a gem with ambiguous ownership."

  She nodded as she put on her seat belt. "If anyone would know where to unload hot merchandise, it's Trask. Let's go check it out."

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later we were parked in front of the Fast Money Pawnshop, located in an ill-maintained historical building near the city center of Vallejo. The neighborhood could be described as "up and coming" by an overly optimistic real estate agent, but to the rest of us the buildings looked old enough to predate central heating, the windows all had bars on them, and the only plants brave enough to grow in the area were weeds pushing through the cracked cement of the sidewalk. Fast Money was a bright spot in the otherwise bleak block—bright only due to the oversize neon sign in the barred window flashing out the notice that they were open 24 hours.

  I parked my Jeep at the curb two doors down and beeped it locked, saying a little prayer to the parking gods that it—and my stereo—would still be intact when I returned. I tried to feed a couple of quarters into the parking meter, but it looked like someone had stuck bubblegum in it, so I gave up, adding a prayer that meter monitors steered as clear of this neighborhood as street sweepers apparently did.

  Ava and I pushed through the glass front doors of the shop, finding the interior pretty much matched the way it looked on the outside—dark, cramped, and somewhere I did not want to be caught after dark. Smudged glass cases full of jewelry and collectible knickknacks of all kinds ran the length of the store, and the walls were covered in musical instruments, expensive-looking artwork in ornate frames, and a fuzzy velvet wall covering of Elvis. Furniture and used electronics covered the main floor in a seemingly random pattern, looking a lot like a sad swap meet.

  A tall guy dressed all in black stood by the door as security, tattoos crawling menacingly up his arms, and we seemed to be in luck, as the owner himself was manning the shop today.

  Joe Trask was behind a glass case full of gold chains, arranging his wares. He was short, stocky, and had a nose that was at least a size too big for his face and a protruding belly to match, straining against his cheap, olive colored suit. His bushy eyebrows hunkered down over a pair of beady eyes that turned our way as we approached.

  "You here to pawn or sell?" he asked, straightening to his full less-than-impressive height and locking the jewelry case from the other side of the counter.

  "Uh, actually neither," I said.

  The permafrown etched on his face pulled even tighter. "Then whaddaya doin' here?"

  "Uh, I don't suppose you remember us from the last time we were in here?" Ava gave him a charming smile.

  His frown didn't budge. Yeah, I didn't suppose he remembered us either.

  "Anyway, we're looking for an item that we believe may have been sold recently. To, uh, an establishment like yours."

  "What kind of establishment would that be?" he asked, suspicion still in his dark eyes.

  "One that doesn't ask a lot of questions," I told him plainly.

  That earned me a small grin. "What can I say? I respect my customers' privacy."

  "Exactly," Ava continued. "Uh, which is why we believe someone may have come to you looking to sell this particular item."

  "Okay, what kinda item we talking 'bout?" He crossed his arms over his chest, displaying the carpet of fur that covered the back of his hands. I shuddered to think how much hair we couldn't see.

  "It's an emerald," Ava said, eyes cutting to me. "About this big." She held her fingers a few inches apart. "Princess cut."

  Trask's bushy eyebrows rose. "That sounds like quite the item."

  "It is." Ava pulled out her phone and quickly found a picture of the gem, showing the screen to Trask. "Have you seen it come through here?"

  He squinted and stared at the screen. He used his fingers to enlarge the picture and took another look. "And may I ask, what's you twos' interest in this emerald?"

  Ava shot me a look, like she wasn't quite sure how much to level with the pawnbroker.

  I shrugged. What could it hurt at this point?

  "Actually," she told him, "it belongs to me. It was stolen."

  Trask put both hands up in an innocent gesture. "Hey, I don't deal in stolen goods."

  "Of course you don't," I said. Though I was pretty sure none of us believed that.

  "Look, I'm not interested how it might have accidentally changed hands," Ava assured him. "I just want to get it back."

  His gaze went from me to Ava. Finally he returned to his arms-crossed position and shrugged. "Yeah, sorry, I can't help you with that."

  Ava's face fell. "Please? It's really important to me."

  "Hey, I didn't say I didn't want to help you. But I ain't seen this thing." He glanced down at the phone once more. "Trust me, I'd remember a gem like that."

  Ava put her phone away with a sigh.

  "Maybe you could tell us where else someone might try to take a gem like this to sell it?" I suggested.

  "What do I look like, a phone book?"

  No. But he did look like someone who'd had a lifetime to make all manner of nefarious connections.

  "Maybe you could just ask around for us?" I tried. "You know, see if anyone you know might have seen someone trying to sell the gem? Maybe other pawnbrokers in the area?"

  Trask shot me a look. "Sure. I'll do that while we're all braiding each other's hair at the next pawnbrokers' slumber party."

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Mostly because I was pretty attached to my kneecaps.

  "What if we offered you a finder's fee?" Ava piped up.

  "Finder's fee?" Trask
asked, grinning.

  "Finder's fee?" I asked, frowning.

  I knew Ava could barely afford the fee for the broken parking meter without that emerald, let alone a bounty to Trask.

  But Ava steeled her shoulders, ignoring my frown as she turned to Trask. "Yes, a finder's fee. If you can get a lead on someone who might have been trying to sell this emerald, and it pans out, I'll pay you."

  Trask nodded, uncrossing his arms and rubbing his hairy little hands together. "Yeah. Sure. I'd be happy to help out a coupla nice gals like yourselves." He paused. "For say, oh, I dunno. How much did you say that emerald is worth?"

  "We didn't," I told him pointedly.

  He shrugged. "No matter. I'm gonna say it's at least seventy-five K on the open market."

  Ava's eyes cut to me again, but neither of us said anything.

  "I'll take 10%."

  "Seventy-five hundred dollars?" Ava choked out.

  He shrugged. "Hey, how hard you want me to look?"

  "Fine," Ava said through tight lips. "10%."

  Trask grinned widely enough to show off a shiny gold incisor.

  If we ever found the emerald, I could see any profit Ava had hoped to make off of it slipping slowly away. Then again, if we didn't find it, things could be worse—her whole store could slip away.

  "What about rubies?" I asked, trying a different tactic before my friend went into debt to the loan shark herself.

  "Rubies?" Trask frowned again. "You lose some rubies too?"

  "Uh, no," I hedged. "Not exactly. Someone we know might have been trying to pawn a pair of rubies recently also. From a pair of earrings. They were heart shaped."

  "You got a picture of those gems too?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "No," I admitted. "But I have a picture of the woman who might have brought them in." I pulled out my phone, quickly bringing up Gia's social media page and flipping through to a photo of her.

  He leaned forward, squinting again, and I had the distinct impression he needed glasses.

  Finally he took a step back. "Sorry, ain't never seen her."

  "You're sure?" I asked, feeling deflated. "Her name's Gia."

  "Yeah, I'm sure. She don't look like our regular crowd."