Fashionably Late (The Ladies Smythe & Westin)

by Lisa Q. Mathews

  “I can’t afford to have my valuable jewelry in storage for who knows how long,” Roland said. “My designs are meant to be worn. And sold.”

  Summer glanced over her shoulder. The coroner had placed a sheet over Angelica’s body and an assistant was helping her transfer it into another bag. Not a cheerful green-and-pink striped one this time. A long, black bag marked “City of Milano.”

  “Wait! I just need to check one thing.” Roland rushed over, knocking into the metal gurney waiting to transport Angelica to the morgue.

  Detective Caputo lunged after him, but the designer was already peering over the coroner’s assistant’s shoulder. “I knew it!” he said, pointing to the pale hand that was just visible outside the sheet. “It’s gone.”

  “What’s gone?” Dorothy asked, as she and Summer joined the group by the body.

  “My bracelet. My best piece, Stars of the Sea. It’s been stolen!” Roland covered his face, flashing a full set of purple tips with a rhinestone in the middle of each nail. Totally tacky, in Summer’s view.

  “Perhaps it fell off during…the struggle,” Dorothy said. “I’m sure Angelica tried to fight off her attacker.”

  Summer bit her lip. Dorothy looked as if she were about to cry. She wished she knew what to say to make her feel better, but she couldn’t think of anything super comforting at the moment.

  It was true. Angelica had to have known she was going to die. And who cared about a stupid bracelet right now, anyway?

  Roland Cho, obviously.

  “She put up a struggle, all right.” Detective Caputo nodded toward Angelica’s still, white hand. “She’s got several broken fingernails, see? Judging from the placement of the plastic bag, the killer must have come up from behind and surprised her.”

  Dorothy’s mouth opened into an O, but she quickly closed it again without saying anything. Summer patted her on the shoulder and tried not to think about Angelica’s last moments on earth.

  “The team has searched the entire perimeter,” the detective added. “No sign of any bracelet.”

  “So the person could have killed Angelica for the bracelet, if it’s really valuable,” Summer said to Dorothy.

  “It is,” Roland said.

  “But why didn’t she just hand it over to the guy?” Summer asked, ignoring him. “That’s what I would have done. I mean, it’s just a dumb bracelet, right?”

  “Obviously, you know nothing about art,” Roland said, as the coroner and her assistant wheeled Angelica’s body toward the foyer. He seemed even more miffed now. “That bracelet was due to be auctioned for big bucks in New York next month. We’ve already had interest from some top celebrities.”

  “Like who?” Summer asked.

  The designer actually sniffed. “You wouldn’t know them.”

  “Hey, I just might,” Summer said. Their agents probably had her dad’s office on speed dial. She’d never had much use for celebrities herself. That was one of the reasons she’d moved to Milano.

  The other reasons were nobody’s business.

  Dorothy gave Summer a tiny warning nudge, and turned to Detective Caputo. “If you’re ready to begin interviewing us, Detective, we’d like to have a private word with you, if possible. It’s important, and it directly concerns Angelica.”

  The detective gave a short nod. “Okay. Let’s go over to those chairs in the corner, and let the team finish up here.” She beckoned to an officer who was taking measurements on the floor. “Get Mr. Cho’s contact info and have that security guard escort him out.”

  Yep. Next to Caputo, Detective Donovan was a real marshmallow.

  She hadn’t heard from the guy for a while now. What was the deal?

  Much as she hated to admit it, things hadn’t started off too well with the two of them, relationship-wise. If she could even call it a relationship.

  Their so-called first date at the all-you-could-eat meat restaurant—Brazilian steakhouse, she corrected herself—was pretty much a disaster.

  She’d been so excited that they would finally have a chance to spend some time together, which had nothing to do with a murder case. But nope.

  When they’d finally made it to the steakhouse place, he’d gotten some emergency call, thrown down a bunch of cash for dinner and a cab, and left her stranded with a table full of lamb chops and shish kebabs.

  All she’d ended up with from their big night out was a ginormous doggy bag of leftovers to bring home. She and Dorothy had eaten amazingly well for a whole week.

  After that, the detective had been busy with some new investigation. Or so he said.

  And now she had no phone again, so Detective Donovan couldn’t call or text her at all. But he knew where she lived, right?

  She’d never had to wait for a guy to make a move. Not once, in her entire life, that she could remember. And she wasn’t going to start with Shane Donovan, no matter how much she liked him. She hardly knew him, anyway. There was just something about the guy…

  Yikes. Summer snapped herself back to attention. Dorothy had been telling Detective Caputo about Angelica’s mom, and how she lived over in that special section at Hibiscus Pointe. The memory care unit. What was that place called again?

  Hibiscus Glade. No, Glen.

  “Okay, Mrs. Westin, we’ll look into it,” Detective Caputo said, making a few notes on her tablet. “I’ll make a call over to the Glen to check on Mrs. Downs, and alert the staff, until I can get there in person to talk to her.”

  “Thank you, Detective.” Dorothy nodded, but Summer noticed that she was slumping a little.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m absolutely fine,” Dorothy said.

  Caputo frowned. “It’s been a busy afternoon, Mrs. Westin, and you’ve been through a lot. If you want, I can interview you and Ms. Smythe-Sloan here”—the detective jerked her head in Summer’s direction—”later. I think we have all we need from you both right now.”

  Ms. Smythe-Sloan. Summer thought of Detective Donovan again. Hopefully he’d show up soon to take charge of the Downs investigation. For some reason, Caputo really annoyed her.

  And vice versa. Summer had no idea why. One thing she did know: Caputo and Donovan had to be the world’s worst, most uptight detective team.

  Almost as bad as Josh and Lexie, the detective partners on her fave TV show, Citizen’s Arrest. Oh…no. Those two were also an undercover couple. And cop partners dated each other all the time, didn’t they? Was it possible…

  “You know, it would be wonderful if Summer and I could leave now, Detective,” Dorothy said. “I have to admit, I am feeling a tad tired.”

  Her friend’s voice sounded weak and wobbly, but her eyes were bright and alert. It was pretty obvious, to Summer, anyway, that Dorothy just wanted to get out of Waterman’s ASAP.

  She was pretending to help her across the room when Roland Cho reappeared backstage, followed by the apologetic-looking Waterman’s security guard. Again.

  Jeez. That guy could get a job with Hibiscus Pointe. He’d fit right in.

  “I know who stole my Stars of the Sea bracelet,” Roland announced loudly, sweeping the curtain open wider behind him. “And she’s right back there in the restaurant.”

  Everyone left at the crime scene followed the designer’s finger with their eyes.

  Summer sucked in her breath. Esmé.

  Chapter Four

  “Esmé would never steal anything. Is that Roland Cho guy serious?” Summer seemed ready to pummel the celebrity designer straight through the black-and-white floor.

  “Of course not.” Dorothy patted Summer’s arm in what she hoped was a calming gesture. “You know that, and I know that, and I’m sure Detective Caputo”—she glanced back at the detective, who was stony-faced, as usual—”would never believe it, either.”

  “Wanna bet?” Summer said, as Detective Caputo motioned to an officer with a clipboard and dispatched him toward the restaurant. “How can Roland get away with accusing a totally innocent person
of something like that? The bracelet was super ugly, anyway.”

  “Keep your voice down, dear,” Dorothy murmured. “Please. We don’t want to make things worse.”

  Too late. Esmé was moving toward the backstage area like a highly motivated hornet, sparing the officer with the clipboard half the distance.

  “Why didn’t she just leave when she had the chance?” Summer tried to wave her away, but Esmé either didn’t see her or ignored the warning. “She’s headed toward Caputo. We’d better go see what’s up.” She immediately turned, and started jogging in the same direction as Esmé.

  Dorothy scrambled after Summer, who looked as dangerously determined as her friend. At this rate, they’d never get over to check on Angelica’s mother at Hibiscus Glen. But the detective had said she’d make a call to the staff, and if Esmé was in trouble, too…

  Summer beat both her friend and the furious designer to Detective Caputo. “Don’t believe him, Detective,” Summer said, a bit more forcefully than necessary. “He’s crazy. I know Esmé really well, and she’s totally trustworthy.”

  The young detective’s eyes slid toward Summer for less than a second. “I’ll handle this, thanks.”

  “Of course, Detective.” Dorothy wished Summer would stop bouncing around on her toes like that. She was such a tall girl, it was doubly distracting.

  “Hey, I’m the one with the stolen property here.” Roland Cho threw Summer a disgusted look. “And FYI, I have a big tip for you, Detective. I caught this sneaky intern”—he jerked his head toward Esmé—”red-handed earlier, with my priceless missing bracelet in her hot little paws. Along with the pearl and amethyst necklace I created just for this occasion, Moon over Milano.”

  Oh, no. Dorothy’s heart missed a beat. Roland’s so-called tip could easily establish a motive for Esmé in Angelica’s murder. Did he realize that?

  “That is so not true.” Summer crossed her arms over her chest and looked at her friend. “Tell him, Esmé.”

  “I didn’t steal anything,” Esmé said. Was it Dorothy’s imagination, or had the young woman hesitated just a bit before answering? “I found the pieces out of their boxes by mistake and I only held them for a second or two. I put both of them back, right away.”

  “Only because I caught you,” Roland said. “Later, when I was busy out there with the show, you saw your chance and stole my Stars of the Sea piece again, didn’t you?”

  “No, I didn’t. You’re making me look bad.” Esmé definitely sounded more nervous than angry now. Detective Caputo brought out her tablet again.

  That wasn’t a good sign.

  “Okay, let me make sure I have this straight,” the detective said to Esmé, tapping the screen. “You had the jewelry in question in your possession at some point this afternoon?”

  “Not for very long,” Esmé said. “Like I told you, less than a minute.”

  “I see,” Detective Caputo said. “Let’s start with your address, please.”

  “She’s an intern,” Summer put in. “It’s her job to accessorize the models’ outfits. Right, Esmé?”

  “Her job, before she was fired by me earlier this afternoon, was to make sure the models’ dresses fit properly,” another, distinctly nasal voice spoke up. “And I saw her trying to steal Roland’s jewelry, too.”

  Could there be any worse time for Monique to finally show up, from wherever she’d been for the last hour? Dorothy didn’t think so.

  “What time was it, exactly, that you were terminated from your job today?” Detective Caputo asked Esmé, in an uncharacteristically interested tone.

  “I wasn’t fired,” Esmé said, her eyes flashing again. “Monique here told me I had to stay until she said I could go. So then I quit.”

  “That’s true,” Summer added, nodding emphatically. “Dorothy and I heard the whole thing.”

  Well, this situation was going to take a while to sort out, Dorothy told herself. She felt badly for Esmé, of course. But she and Summer needed to get to Frankie quickly, before there was another possible tragedy.

  She caught Summer’s eye and gave her a slight nod toward the door. Summer shook her head, clearly reluctant to leave Esmé, but finally tore herself away.

  “Summer!” Esmé called after her, frantically gesturing. “Call me,” she mouthed, very clearly. Then, with her back still to the detective, she added one more word: Zoe.

  “Do you think Esmé was just reminding us to check up on Zoe for her?” Summer asked Dorothy, as they headed toward the door.

  “Possibly.” Dorothy’s tone sounded unusually grim. “Or she was trying to tell us something much, much worse.”

  “Whoa, wait a sec.” Summer stopped short near a potted Norfolk pine draped in white twinkle lights. Why did anyone bother turning those on in the daytime? What a waste. “You mean, Zoe might be the one who swiped Roland Cho’s bracelet, and… Oh.”

  “That’s right,” Dorothy said. “I’m afraid she could very well be a suspect in Angelica’s murder.”

  “I’m not sure I buy that,” Summer said. “I mean, yeah, I don’t really know Zoe personally or anything. According to all the tabloids, she was a pain on the set of Life with ZeeZee, and even Esmé, her own cousin, says she’s a brat. But murder… I don’t think so. She’s just a kid. Kids do dumb things.”

  She sure had, when she was in her teens. Actually, she still screwed up sometimes. Not on purpose, obviously.

  “I believe you were the one who was worried about Zoe,” Dorothy reminded her. “And she and her dining companion—we need to think about the agent’s possible role, also—did disappear at the same time as Angelica.”

  Summer sighed. “I know. But still…”

  “Not to mention, Esmé had already told us there had been some kind of issue involving Zoe before we arrived.”

  She couldn’t argue with Dorothy on any of those points, Summer told herself, as she watched the twinkle lights flash on and off in the sunny hallway. Zoe was obnoxious, but also kind of pathetic. It was hard to imagine she could be an actual murderer.

  Reality TV—show stars, especially the younger ones, were always messed up. They had no idea what was real and what wasn’t sometimes. And living in LA didn’t help a whole lot, with all the craziness there.

  The worst thing was, some of those D-list kid celebrities thought they were a lot more important than they actually were. Between the computer-altered photos and fake stories in the tabloids and online, plus all those relentless paparazzi, most of those kids didn’t get that their whole lives were bogus.

  Brutal.

  “Summer?” Dorothy was frowning at her. “Are you with me here?”

  “What? Oh, sorry.” Summer shook the fake Hollywood dust off her brain. “I was thinking about Zoe. There’s something else that’s bugging me, besides the idea she’s too young and clueless to be a cold-blooded murderer.”

  “We can’t rule anyone out, dear,” Dorothy said. “Not yet. And certainly not until we have any kind of proof they’re innocent.”

  “I thought it was innocent until proven guilty,” Summer said.

  Dorothy smiled. “Well, technically, that’s correct. In a court of law, certainly. But we’re just gathering information for our investigation at this point. We don’t have much to go on.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Summer said. Dorothy was usually right. “But I still don’t think a celebrity, not even a reality one, would kill for a piece of jewelry. Especially if it wasn’t that cool a piece in the first place. They’d just get another bracelet or whatever from some other up-and-coming designer. Plus, actors get tons of free swag in those goody bags they give out backstage at award shows.”

  “Unless they were desperate for money, perhaps,” Dorothy said.

  “Maybe.” Summer tried to think back on the latest gossip she’d heard about Zoe Z and her family. Hadn’t there been some article on the PartyWood blog about ZeeZee going bankrupt? But again, you couldn’t believe everything you read.

  Or any o
f it, for that matter.

  “What do you know about Zoe’s agent?” Dorothy asked. “Do you think she could be, at least in some small part, encouraging her client’s poor behavior?”

  “Aleesha’s been in the biz about ten years or so,” Summer said. “I’ve never heard anything really bad about her, though. Her clients seem to think she’s okay. Probably because she hangs out with them a lot and keeps them out of trouble.”

  “Not this time,” Dorothy said.

  Another good point, Summer thought. “My dad tried to date her a couple of years ago,” she said. “Even though he thinks all agents are money-grabbing leeches.”

  “Your father sounds like quite an interesting person,” Dorothy said.

  “Mmm.” Summer had never heard Syd called “interesting.” A lot of other things, but not that. “So should we go see Frankie first, or find Zoe and Aleesha first? At least we know where Frankie is.”

  “Hopefully,” Dorothy said. “I’m sure by now Detective Caputo has already spoken to the Hibiscus Glen staff, and they’re keeping careful watch over her.”

  “Right.” Summer sure hoped they were better at their jobs than the Hibiscus Pointe security guys. “Hold on, I’m going to check really quick for my phone in the dining room, okay?”

  “I’ll wait here,” Dorothy said. “Try to hurry, dear.”

  “I’ll be back in two seconds,” Summer promised.

  Dorothy looked even more tired now, she noticed. Was she just upset about Angelica, or was something wrong? Her friend needed to take it easy, but Summer knew she wouldn’t. Not when a killer was on the loose in Milano.

  She needed to step up her game so Dorothy didn’t overdo things, she told herself as she pulled open the French doors to the dining room. The tricky thing was to make things easier on Dorothy without her realizing it. Otherwise, she’d probably be mad.

  The noise level in the dining room was at DEFCON 5, with all the luncheon ladies jabbering excitedly about the tragedy behind the curtain. Other guests seemed quiet and nervous, a bunch more were dabbing their eyes with monogrammed handkerchiefs, and several tables of fashion fans had started helping themselves to bottles of pricey wine from the holiday garland-draped rack.