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

by Gemma Halliday

  On that point I had to agree with him. Even among a crowd that was slightly less rough around the edges than regularly frequented Fast Money, Gia's model looks would have stood out.

  "But, that guy"—Trask stabbed a hairy finger at the screen—"now that guy, I know."

  I pulled my phone back to see who he'd been pointing at. The photo I'd pulled up had featured Gia and Jada at some local red carpet event…standing next to their agent.

  "You know Hughie Smart?" Ava asked, perking up.

  He nodded. "Sure. He's in here all the time."

  "Selling jewelry?" she asked.

  His bushy eyebrows drew down in a frown again. "No. What's with you two broads and the jewelry?"

  I shook my head. "Nothing. You said Hughie's in here a lot?" I prompted.

  He nodded. "He is. We do a brisk business off that guy."

  "What does he sell?"

  Trask flashed us that gold tooth again. "Honey, not everyone who comes to Joe Trask got something to sell. Sometimes they just need a little loan to float them through some hard times."

  "Wait—are you saying Hughie Smart borrowed money from you?" I asked. While I didn't begrudge Hugh needing a little infusion of cash, the fact that he'd gone to Trask for it instead of a legitimate bank was not a good sign that the infusion was for an aboveboard purpose.

  "He most certainly did." Trask rocked back on his heels. "You surprised?"

  Very. But I tried to hide it. "What did he need money for?"

  "You think I do a brisk business by grilling my customers?" he asked with a cackle.

  "But I'm guessing it was not a business loan for Smart Models?" Ava said.

  Trask shook his head. "No, I guess you would call it more of a personal loan."

  "How much of a loan are we talking?" I asked.

  Trask looked from me to Ava. "You know, you two ask a lot of questions."

  "Humor us," I offered.

  "Sure. I got a lot of humor." He paused. "For an 11% finder's fee."

  I narrowed my eyes at him and thought a lot of words my kneecaps and I didn't dare voice out loud.

  By the way Ava's nostrils flared, I could tell that her thoughts were running along the same lines as mine.

  "Fine. 11," she finally said. "Now what do you know about Hughie Smart?"

  Trask put his hands on the glass case, leaning in as if to tell us a secret. "I know Hughie likes to gamble. A lot. And, lucky for me, he also loses. A lot." He smiled, and I swear he looked every bit the predatory fish his profession was named after. "His loss, my gain."

  "How much are we talking?" I asked.

  "Forty."

  "Thousand?" I clarified.

  Trask nodded. "This month."

  I felt my mouth gape open like some sort of cartoon character. "Just this month?"

  "What can I say? The man didn't know when to fold 'em."

  Or, apparently, when to walk away.

  * * *

  Once we were safely tucked back into my Wrangler (which I was happy to report did still have a working stereo and, bonus, all four tires upon our return), Ava blasted the AC as I pulled away from the curb and headed back toward the freeway.

  "Forty thousand in one month. Can you imagine?" she asked, her hair flying on either side of her face.

  I shook my head. "Honestly, I cannot. Especially if Hughie really was only making a small percentage off every job his models went on."

  "Let's see…if he was making 15% off of every $1000 Gia booked…" Ava trailed off, scrunching her nose up as she did some mental math. "That's over 250 shows he'd have to book to make up those gambling losses."

  "Each month," I added.

  "I can't imagine how he thought he was going to get out of that kind of debt."

  I let my eyes leave the road for a moment, glancing her way. "Unless he had a plan to steal an emerald worth at least twice that."

  Ava shook her head. "So, maybe Gia's death really was about the gem after all. Maybe it really has been a robbery gone wrong all along."

  I nodded. "If we're right, what do you think Hughie did with the emerald?"

  Ava shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe he didn't want to take it to Trask and sold it somewhere else."

  "I could see that. If I were in his shoes, I doubt I'd trust Trask to give me a fair price."

  "I wouldn't trust Trask to give me the time of day," Ava said, shifting in her seat to face me. "What was I thinking, offering a finder's fee?"

  "I wondered the same thing." I grinned at her. "But it seemed to work."

  "I just hope it doesn't come to that." She sighed, looking out the window. "You know, if Hughie really was this hard up for cash, maybe he—"

  Unfortunately, she never got to finish that thought.

  Seemingly from nowhere, our entire car lurched forward, the sound of metal crunching on metal filling the interior. My body jerked toward the windshield before my seat belt tightened painfully across my chest, causing my head to whip back and forth.

  "Uhn!" I heard Ava grunt beside me, her body looking sickeningly like a rag doll as she whipped forward and back again the same way.

  Adrenaline surged, every muscle in my body tensing from the impact.

  Ava panted beside me. "What was that?!" she managed to get out.

  My eyes immediately went to the rearview mirror, where I could see a gray sedan behind us.

  Close behind us.

  So close he was kissing our bumper.

  "There's someone back there," I said.

  Though as that someone surged forward, slamming into my Jeep again with a force hard enough to jar my teeth together, that statement seemed painfully obvious.

  "What the heck!" Ava said, trying to twist around to see. Though, her seat belt held her firmly, causing her to flail more than turn.

  "You okay?" My heart was pounding so loud, I wasn't sure she could even hear me. I flicked my gaze upward to look in the rearview mirror again.

  And watched in horror as the car surged forward again.

  This time coming in for much more than a little bumper kiss.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  "Hang on!" I yelled, swerving to the right to avoid being rammed a third time.

  Ava did—her knuckles white as she braced herself on the dashboard.

  Though, the swerve only served to deflect the hit, not avoid it altogether. We jolted to the right, the side of my head slamming painfully against the window. My Jeep fishtailed right then left, the impact of the collisions causing me to strain to hold the wheel tightly and maintain any control of the car. I eased off the accelerator, braking as we narrowly missed colliding with a minivan in the next lane over. My heart beat so hard against my ribs I feared they might break.

  "Is he trying to kill us?" Ava asked, her voice rising into panic territory.

  I prayed we didn't find out.

  I pulled hard to the right, swerving into the emergency lane, and braked amidst a cloud of dust and screeching tires. As we came to an abrupt halt, the sedan surged past us on the left, and I caught a glimpse of the driver.

  Male. Dark hair. Giants baseball cap. Chevy Chase chin.

  "Stalker Guy!" I heard Ava yell from the passenger seat. She let go of the dash with her left hand, pointing to the offending car as it disappeared into traffic ahead of us. "That was Stalker Guy, right?"

  I nodded, not trusting myself to form words yet. My hands were still glued to the wheel, my foot pressing the brake to the floor. We sat there a full minute, cars whizzing past us, before I felt confident enough to ease us toward the off-ramp and into the Walmart parking lot that was situated conveniently beside the freeway exit.

  "He was trying to run us off the road. He was trying to kill us. Stalker Guy could have killed us!" Ava said. The adrenaline that had left me mute was causing words to flow nonstop from her mouth.

  I found a spot in the parking lot under a spindly tree that at least created partial shade, and I shut off the engine. I had to concentrate on peeling my hands off the wheel, thou
gh when I did they were wet with perspiration. I rubbed my palms on my skirt.

  "You think he followed us?" Ava asked, still talking. "Maybe he saw us go into the pawnshop. Maybe he followed us all the way from Sonoma. Maybe he knew we were—" She paused finally. "Hey, are you okay?"

  I let out a shaky breath. "Yep."

  "Liar." Ava unclicked her seat belt and leaned over to put an arm around me.

  I took another deep, shuddering breath in, slowly letting it out. "Thanks. Sorry. Just…shaken."

  "Ditto," she said, sitting back in her seat. "Should we check out the damage?"

  I nodded, though I took a couple of deep breaths first, trying to get my heart to stop pounding before I dared to try standing on my legs that felt like jelly.

  Fortunately, it looked like my bumper had taken the brunt of the damage, bearing streaks of gray paint and dents along the left side. One of my taillights had been crushed, and the license plate was hanging askew, but it looked like at the least the body of the car was free of major damage. Which was good. Hopefully the repair job would only be in the hundreds and not thousands.

  "You want to call Grant?" Ava asked, standing beside me as I ran a hand over the scratched paint.

  "No," I said. "But we probably should."

  My hands were still trembling as I pulled my phone from my purse, and I closed my eyes, trying to calm the shakiness out of my voice as I listened to the phone ring on the other end. Twice. Three times. Honestly, after the way we'd left things the night before, I wasn't sure he'd even pick up.

  Finally, four rings in, his voice came across the line. "Hey."

  Not the most enthusiastic of greetings, but at least he hadn't screened me.

  "Hey," I said back. "I, uh, am in a bit of a situation." I looked to Ava, who had crouched down to inspect the underside of my Jeep.

  "What's wrong?" Grant asked, the tone in his voice changing.

  "We were hit. Ava and me. By a car." I licked my lips. "We're okay, but…I think I should probably file a police report or something…" I trailed off, hoping he'd fill in what that or something should be.

  "Are you hurt?" I could hear rustling in the background, like he was suddenly on the move.

  My hand went to the goose egg I could feel forming on the side of my head. "No," I lied. "We're fine." I looked to Ava for confirmation.

  She nodded.

  "Where are you?"

  "In the East Bay. We're in a Walmart parking lot." I glanced at the street sign on the corner and rattled off the name to him.

  "Stay there," he commanded. "I'm about half an hour out, but I'll have someone from the local PD meet you there."

  I was about to protest that he didn't have to come down personally—I knew we were out of his jurisdiction, and I was sure he had more pressing matters to attend to than a fender bender.

  But I didn't get the chance as he disconnected.

  "What did he say?" Ava asked.

  "He said he's sending someone out."

  She nodded, eyes cutting to the Walmart. "How long?"

  I shrugged.

  "Think I have enough to time run in there and go pee?" she asked. She sent me an apologetic smile. "I have to go when I'm nervous."

  Being almost run off the road was enough to make me nervous too, so I nodded my understanding. "Go. I'll wait here."

  I watched her jog off in her heels, then sat back down in my Jeep to wait for the cavalry. It wasn't long before a black and white police car pulled in next to us and a young, clean cut officer approached. By the time Ava came back, I'd given him pretty much all the details I could—which, sadly, was not a whole lot.

  The car had been a gray sedan, though neither Ava nor I had noted the make or model. I hadn't had to time to read the license plate number. And as far as the driver went, our description wasn't stellar—tall, dark hair, male. Likes hats and sunglasses. Which could apply to half the male population of the Bay Area, where gray sedans were not an anomaly either.

  I could tell the officer had much the same thoughts on our description, as he didn't sound too hopeful about finding whoever had rammed us. In fact, if I had to guess, he wasn't even 100% believing our story that the ramming had been intentional.

  He was just taking down my insurance information when Grant's black SUV pulled into the parking lot behind us.

  As soon as he got out of his car, he immediately stalked toward me, eyes going to the knot at my temple. "You called EMTs?" he asked the officer.

  Officer Clean Cut shook his head. "They said they were fine."

  "Well, they're clearly not," Grant barked back.

  "They can hear you, you know," I said.

  Grant shot me a look but continued addressing the officer. "Get medical personnel out here."

  "Yes, sir," the officer said, ducking his head as he quickly walked back to his black and white.

  "That's not necessary," I protested.

  He ignored me, taking a step closer, his gaze roving the rest of me as if doing his own visual medical assessment. "You hurt anywhere else?"

  "No. And this is just a little bump."

  "Little?" He shook his head, his hand going to the spot at my left temple and ever so gently brushing my hair away.

  At the unexpectedly tender gesture, I felt tears back up in my throat. Between the car chase, the narrow escape, the pain in my head, and Grant's soft touch, it was hard to keep it all together. A girl can only be so strong. "It only hurts a little."

  He sucked in a breath, tearing his eyes from the injury to meet mine. "What happened?"

  "Someone hit my car."

  "Someone?" he asked. I could tell he knew there was clearly more to the story than that.

  "I'm pretty sure it was Stalker Guy."

  He frowned. "You mean the person you thought was following Gia?"

  I nodded. "He was driving a gray sedan. I gave the description to the officer." I gestured to the guy, who had Ava corralled near the black and white, taking her info down on a tablet.

  Grant pulled in a deep breath. "Okay, let's start at the beginning. What were you doing in the East Bay in the first place?"

  I was afraid he'd ask that. "Uh…shopping?" Kinda. I mean, we had been to a shop.

  "Shopping." His eyes cut to the Walmart behind me. "Really?"

  "Really. Ish."

  He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. "Emmy." The one word carried with it all sorts of threats.

  Threats that, in my current state of heightened emotion, I was useless against. "Fine! We were at Joe Trask's pawnshop looking for the emerald."

  If Grant's eyes narrowed any further he wouldn't be able to see out of them. "Tell me everything." Not a suggestion but a command. And considering he carried a gun, one I complied with.

  I broke down and told him everything, from Gia being a jewel thief, to our theory about the killer trying to unload the gem, to being run off the road. I might have slightly skimmed over the part where I'd broken into his crime scene and found the fake emerald, but I figured that little bit didn't do either of us any good. Least of all me, being pinned beneath Grant's Cop Face glare as I finished with telling him how we'd narrowly escaped Stalker Guy by pulling into the Walmart parking lot.

  "And then I called you," I finished lamely, giving him a small smile.

  One he did not return. Instead he stared at me a beat, his expression never changing. Though the gold flecks in his eyes were dancing in an angry frenzy that warned this was just the calm before the storm.

  "If you think about it, it's really kind of funny," I said, trying to defuse the bomb before it went off.

  "Funny." Monotone, no expression, no hint of humor.

  "You know, everyone's thinking this was a robbery gone wrong. When it turns out the victim was the robber, right?"

  Only he wasn't laughing. He sucked in another big breath, as if fortifying his lungs for the lecture to come.

  "And you thought it was a good idea to ask a known money lender if he had made any ille
gal transactions involving stolen goods?"

  Well, when he put it that way…

  "Trask hasn't seen the emerald," I told him. "No illegal transactions."

  "So he says."

  "I'm inclined to believe him."

  "Because?"

  "Well, because if he had, he'd be getting the finder's fee."

  "Finder's fee?"

  I shook my head. "Not important. Look, what's important is that you need to find this Stalker Guy."

  "Oh trust me. I will." The menace in his voice suddenly had me worried about what he'd do when he did find him.

  "He's got to be involved in Gia's death somehow," I continued. "I mean, why else would he try to run us off the road?"

  "Maybe he's not a fan of nosey blondes."

  My turn to narrow my eyes. "Ha. Ha. Very Funny."

  "No, Emmy, nothing about this is funny," he said, his voice rising in both volume and intensity. "You could have been seriously injured. Or worse."

  I shuddered at the thought of "or worse."

  He took a step forward.

  I tried to take one back.

  Unfortunately, I had nowhere to go and came up against the side of my Jeep. I steeled myself as he moved in closer. So close I could smell the mingling scents of his subtly woodsy aftershave and the leather of his gun holster.

  He reached a hand out and surprised me again by gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I can't have anything happen to you," he said softly.

  Those tears jumped up into my throat again, and I blinked hard trying to keep them in check.

  "Just promise me you'll be more careful." His voice was low, concern having replaced the former anger in his eyes.

  I found myself nodding. What else could I do? Another second of that, and he'd turn me into an emotional puddle of goo. As it was, my heart felt like it was swelling so big that it might burst out of my pink cami any second.

  He opened his mouth and seemed like he was going to say more, when the sound of an ambulance cut in on our scene, killing the moment.

  After the EMTs had looked over both Ava and me—both of us having sustained minor cuts and mild whiplash but nothing serious enough that it required a trip to the ER—and Officer Clean Cut had taken all our personal info down, we were cleared to go home. Grant said the first thing he'd be doing when he got back to Sonoma was looking for our gray sedan, which gave me a little hope that at least he'd taken our Stalker Guy theory seriously. He offered to give us a ride home, but I didn't want to abandon my Jeep in its current state. Even though as he drove away and I forced myself back behind the wheel, I had to tamp down nerves at getting back on the freeway.