by Judi McCoy
Ellie could have sat and people-watched with her best friend for the rest of the afternoon, but she knew it was getting late. “Don’t you have to be somewhere right now?”
Viv looked at her watch and jumped to her feet. “Yikes! I have thirty minutes to prepare for my five o’clock. I gotta run.”
“And I have to take the dogs out, so I’ll follow you. The second showing will start soon.” Ellie took half the group, with Rudy in the lead, and went to the rear door. “Will I see you tonight?”
“I don’t think so. It’s a dinner meeting, and those can drag on and on. At least we’re going to a trendy new place. I’ll let you know how it is, and we can talk Dave and Sam into taking us out one night next week.”
Ellie waved a good-bye, then, standing on the grass, let her charges sniff and explore. The day had been eventful, and she hadn’t paid them as much attention as she should.
“Earth to Ellie,” came a voice from below.
She locked eyes with her boy. “Yes?”
“I got a bad feelin’ about all this. If Jeffery didn’t kill Lilah, who did? And why?”
“I don’t know who, but the why is fairly obvious. Lilah was rude and pushy, and she was a thief. She must have offended someone so badly they wanted her dead.” She rubbed her nose while she thought. “The part that I’m really curious about is how someone did it. If the peanut oil was on Lilah’s perfume strips, well, that was genius. Imagine finding a way to get hold of those strips, put on the oil, and get the strips back in her gift bag without anyone noticing. I can see why the cops think it’s Jeffery. He was the one in charge of the bags, and he had a motive.”
“Yeah, but those swag bags were on the table all day. I saw lots of people peeking inside.”
“Really? Do you remember who they were?”
He parked his bottom on the lawn and gazed up at her. “Marcus David, for one. He said he was a guy and he wanted to make sure there were guy things in his bag, so he dug in there whenever he could, but mostly when you took the dogs out.”
“Who else?”
“That Dominique girl, and that Claire person.”
“I haven’t had much chance to talk to them, but they seem to be as popular as Patti. And I did hear a couple of the other models saying they were happy Lilah was gone. They said—”
“Hey, Ellie. You’re needed in here ASAP.” Patti stuck her head out the door. “The dogs are rioting.”
“Oh, Lord, now what?” She gathered the group. “Stick together, guys. This ought to be good.”
When Ellie returned inside, she saw that Ranger had decided to get in the pen with the Yorkies and the rest of the small dogs. He’d dragged the table from the wall and aimed for their holding area, crowding the circle until the little guys were in a panic. They didn’t want him there, so they were yowling up a storm. It was the first time she’d heard all the voices talking at once.
“Hey, get back on your own side of the fence,” complained a snooty French bulldog.
“He stepped on me,” grumped Daisy, the white Chihuahua.
“Get a keeper, ya big bozo,” said Muffin, the tiniest Yorkie.
Patti held Cheech in her arms. Small, sharp growls and barks rang out, continuing until the Greyhound let out a huge woof that ended with a shout. “Qui-et!”
“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Ellie added, surprised the big boy would take such a stand.
Still muttering, the herd piped down, but apparently not in time. Because, in the distance, an officious-looking man dressed in a black-and-white pin-striped suit, wearing a red tie and spats, was headed their way.
“Thanks, I can take it from here,” Ellie told Patti, keeping her eye on the quickly approaching observer. The supermodel passed Cheech to Ellie, while Rudy stood guard at her feet when the fellow neared.
“This racket is absolutely not allowed,” the rotund man pronounced, glaring at her and the milling dogs. His face shined with sweat and his round cheeks and chin needed a shave. “Another outburst like this and you’ll have to put these animals in cages.”
“Who you callin’ an animal?” demanded Muffin.
“We got a right to our opinion, just like you do,” said a mini Schnauzer.
“Cage? Who do you think we are?” asked Daisy. “Monkeys in the zoo?”
While the rest of the pack continued to complain, Ellie was still trying to figure out who he was. She dropped her gaze and gave the crew a warning glance. She wanted to stay calm and polite, but where in the world did he expect her to come up with that many dog crates? Did he have any authority where she was concerned?
“I’ve got them quieted down now,” she said as she straightened out the pen and put in the last dog. “But I do have to sort out the ones who still need a walk, so if you’ll let me do my job . . .”
“I’m Clark Fettel, the new head of promotions for this contest, and my rules are now in place.” The guy straightened up and stepped closer, as if demanding her cooperation. “We have to talk.”
“Fine by me, Mr. Fiddle, but it’ll take some time. I have work to do. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She opened the clips holding the pen together, hustled the group she’d taken for a walk in, and led the second group out.
“That’s Fettel,” the man called as they left.
Once they got outside, Rudy sniggered. “Clark Fettel? Is he for real?”
“Sounds like,” said Ellie, letting the dogs take their frustration out on the lawn. She bent and scooped poop twice before things got a bit more under control. “It didn’t take long for Nola Morgan Design to replace Jeffery, did it?”
“Just a couple of hours. And I don’t like that fiddle-faddle guy. He’s gonna be trouble. I feel it in my bones.”
“Could be. He’s not as nice as Jeffery, and doesn’t seem as understanding, either. From the way he acts, I’ll bet he doesn’t even like dogs.”
“I’m with you there.”
“So we have to find a way to placate him until this event is over.”
“You think he could really call off the canine part of this competition?”
“I don’t see how. NMD has promoted the heck out of this show, especially the finale with the dogs dressed to match their owners. I hear there’s going to be special news and television coverage, an interview with some big shot at NMD, the works.” She heaved a sigh. “But even with all that, he could find a way to make our lives miserable.”
“Then I say we let the blowhard blow, yes him to death, and do what we want.” Rudy snorted, then scratched his back legs over the lawn, throwing up blades of grass and tiny clods of dirt. “We’re in charge here, not him.”
After gathering the pack, she opened the door. “I’ll do my best to keep him off our case, but you stay quiet. I can’t concentrate when I hear you giving orders in my head.”
Back inside again, she spotted Mr. Fettel, hands in his jacket pockets, pacing the far perimeter as if distancing himself from the dogs. When he locked gazes with Ellie, he acted as if he wanted her to march directly to him.
“Make him work for it, Triple E,” Rudy advised.
She blew out a breath. So much for her boy obeying orders, though she had to agree. This was her gig. She’d been told by Jeffery that she had the final say on anything to do with the dogs, and NMD trusted her completely. She’d already been paid her exorbitant fee, so it was too late to fire her. Besides that, she doubted they’d find someone to take over her job at this late date.
Feeling empowered by her thoughts, she took a seat and opened one of the fashion magazines she’d left on the snack table. A moment later, when she glanced at the floor, she saw shoes with spats and let her gaze wander upward.
“Can I help you?” she asked politely.
Mr. Fettel pulled his shoulders back. “What you can do is cooperate, young lady. I’ve been thrown into a position with which I’m uncomfortable, so please don’t take advantage of me.”
“Aw, he’s askin’ so nice,” said Rudy, snorting.
; She closed the magazine. “I’m sorry you’re in an unappealing position right now, and here in the canine area we’re very understanding. Tell me what you need and I’ll try to comply.”
He crossed his arms and let them rest on his paunch. “That’s a little more like it.”
“Hey, don’t let him talk to you like that.”
Biting back a snarky response, she smiled. “If you’d just get to your point . . .”
“May I sit down?”
Ellie set the magazine on the middle chair to make certain they’d be a few feet apart.
He took the far chair and straightened his tie. “We have a problem, and I’m hoping you can help.”
“A problem?”
“It’s about one of the models.”
“One of the NMD models?”
“Yes. And I was hoping you could shed some light on the issue.”
He wanted her help? Well, he certainly had an odd way of showing it. “I was hired to care for the dogs, Mr. Fettel. I don’t have a thing to do with the models.”
“I’m aware of that, but you were the only person I could think to ask.” He cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind.”
Great. She’d always wanted to be someone’s last choice. “I’m listening,” she said instead.
“It’s about Cassandra and her dog.”
Ellie had figured as much.
“He has to be replaced.”
She heaved a sigh. “I’m sure Cassandra knows someone who’d be happy to let her borrow their dog. Especially since the dog would be featured in an event of this magnitude.”
“I’ve suggested as much, but she isn’t willing to cooperate.” He pulled a handkerchief from inside his jacket and dabbed at the sweat beading his forehead. “Her uncooperative attitude is quite disturbing.”
“I don’t think she’s being uncooperative, exactly. She’s still in mourning.”
“Mourning?” His stern expression didn’t change. “Who died?”
“Her other dog, a Yorkie, if I understood her correctly.” And why not? Losing a four-legged buddy was like losing a dear friend or a member of your family. “She’s convinced Ranger is the perfect dog to take his place, and she doesn’t want to let him go.”
“Ranger?” Fettel looked confused. “Who is Ranger?”
Was this guy for real? “Ranger is the Greyhound we’ve been discussing. She rescued him after the Yorkie died, and they’ve formed a bond.”
“But—but that’s ridiculous. She lost a dog, not a parent or sibling.” He swiped the hankie over his upper lip. “No one to be depressed about.”
Ellie’s patience was all but gone. “That might be your take on losing a dog, but it’s not Cassandra’s, and I completely understand. Anyone who loves their four-legged friend loses a bit of themselves when that pet dies. They grieve, just like they would if it were a human.”
He opened and closed his mouth, as if unable to form the words. Then he shook his balding head. “But we have a contract.”
“I understand that, too.” She hated to see Cassandra burned, but . . . “I gather you already reminded her that she can be replaced.”
“Of course, but she pulled a fast one. Didn’t bring him on the first day, and by the time we found out . . . well, it was too late.”
Cassandra had told her the same thing, so she knew he was correct. “I’m not aware of anyone who has a canine we can borrow. And even then, you need to find a dog that Cassandra would accept as her Yorkie’s replacement.”
“What about these dogs?” He gestured toward the pen. “There are eight models, but ten animals. Who owns the extras?”
Ellie nodded at Rudy, who was sitting at attention and following the conversation. “The small gray and white dog is mine, and the mini Schnauzer was Lilah Perry’s. Another model is taking care of him until Ms. Perry’s family can be contacted.”
“That little one is yours?” He narrowed his eyes. “Hmm, I see.” He studied her boy for a half minute. “Is he a purebred?”
She grinned. “Rudy is all pound puppy, but they’re the best. He’s smart, playful, obeys commands—”
“Hey, I wouldn’t go that far.”
Fettel stood. “Then it’s settled.”
Rudy cocked his head. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.”
“Settled?” asked Ellie.
“I’m giving Ms. McQuagge an ultimatum. Either she uses your dog, or she’s off the show.”
Chapter 6
Ellie peeked around the curtain shading the near side of the stage about five minutes before the second competition began. The showroom was so crowded many of the attendees had to stand along the perimeter, fighting for space with members of the pushy press. And the press didn’t care if they were in the way. All they wanted were photos or quotes from the big shots of the fashion world.
She knew from yesterday’s contest debut that Nola Morgan Design drew important names, but the number of people attending this second review had doubled, maybe tripled in size. It was, of course, because of Lilah Perry’s demise that so many people were in attendance. Though they would never admit it, she had a suspicion they’d come on the off chance there might be another murder.
She watched as the paparazzi snapped photos of anyone who appeared important. Two women sitting to the right side in the front row had to be on the A list, because the press hovered over them like flies on honey, but Ellie had no idea who they were. She had better luck recognizing Heidi Klum, Tim Gunn, Mondo Guerra, and a bevy of past Project Runway contestants, mainly because Rudy had forced her to watch the show’s reruns after she told him about this job.
And Viv had coached her, too, encouraging her to read the weekly Style section in the New York Times and check out the daily advertisements for additions to the latest collections from Dolce & Gabbana, Lagerfeld, Marc Jacobs, Michael Kors, and all the other famous designers with a new line.
“See anyone interesting out there?”
Jumping, Ellie spun around and faced a grinning Marcus David. After heaving a breath, she said, “Sneak up on a person, why don’t you?”
His smile widened. “Sorry, but I couldn’t resist. You looked like a kid peeking down the stairs to spy on Santa Claus or maybe the Easter Bunny.”
“I’m just scanning the crowd in hope of recognizing someone. My best friend is a fashion addict, and she’ll expect me to name names next time we talk. Unfortunately, aside from the popular reality show participants, I don’t know a single person out there.”
He moved next to her, took stock of the crowd, and gave a low whistle. “Wow. The place is definitely filled with movers and shakers.”
Pulling the curtain aside, she cocked her head. “Who?”
Marcus nodded. “See those two women in the center of the front row, right side of the catwalk?”
“I figured they were somebodies, but I can’t place them.”
“Trust me, if you were in this business you’d be in awe. The one on the left is Anna Wintour, editor in chief of American Vogue. Meryl Streep portrayed her in The Devil Wears Prada. And to her right is Grace Coddington, their creative director. Word is they don’t both cover an event unless it’s the biggest of the big.” He ran a hand over his chin. “Seeing them out there makes me more nervous than I was yesterday.”
Ellie gave his arm a playful punch. If she remembered correctly, Marcus had yet to act nervous about anything. “Oh, come on. A big boy like you, afraid of a couple of magazine editors?”
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “They’re not just magazine editors, they are the editors. And guess who’s sitting across from them.”
She spotted a well-dressed man and woman chatting with each other while they nodded at members of the crowd. Ellie hid a smile when she realized they reminded her of a king and queen. “I haven’t a clue.”
“Glenda Bailey of Harper’s and Stefano Tonchi, the managing editor of W. With them here, this competition could only get hotter if you poured on the gasoline and lit a match.”
She recalled Vivian mentioning their names, but never thought she’d actually see these gods of fashion in person. “And since their seats are front and center, I imagine whoever is running this event sat them there as a tribute to their importance in the industry.”
“W is the most influential fashion magazine in the world today, so more than likely Jeffery King took care of it, though I’m sure he got his orders from someone at the top of NMD,” Marcus said, his tone serious.
Ellie had tried her best to get a handle on the hierarchy of the fashion world in the week before the contest. Having Marcus there to explain things made it easier. She only wished he’d been around earlier, when Clark Fettel had been badgering her about Cassandra and Ranger.
“Where have you been, by the way?” She turned to face him. “Hard at work for the evening wear part of the competition?”
He moved so close to her she smelled his cologne, a light outdoorsy scent that made her think of pine trees. “Why? Did you miss me?”
“What? No.” She took a step of retreat. “I’m just trying to figure out where people were when Jeffery King was arrested.”
“Oh, that.” He raised an eyebrow. “I was helping Jeffery referee a disagreement between Anton Rouch and one of his models when the cops showed. But the arrest didn’t take anyone by surprise. The way I see it, King was careless and he got caught, which is probably the way everyone else felt, too.”
“You think he’s guilty?” Miffed that everybody would be so callous, Ellie said, “That’s cruel,” and headed back to the canine area.
Marcus stayed on her heels. “Hey, he had a motive. Lilah stole Kitty’s designs. He was paving the way for his sister. As an older brother, I can understand that.” He grabbed an energy bar from the table and peeled off the wrapper. “I’d do the same if anyone hurt a sister of mine.”
Ellie sat in a chair, and opened a bottle of water. “I didn’t realize you have a sister.”
“I had three.” When he used the past tense, she wanted to ask what happened, but he’d finished his snack and tossed the wrapper in the trash. “Sorry, no more time to talk. They should start calling the lineup in about fifteen minutes, and I have to put the finishing touches on Patti and Claire Smith.”