Fashion Faux Paw

by Judi McCoy

  “Yep.”

  “How about if I do my usual run and you tell her I need to speak with her when I return? We can cab to the Fashion Center together while we talk.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Janice. “I’ll help you hook up my boy; then I’ll give sis the message.”

  The two women and their dogs went to the foyer, where Janice attached Chong’s leash and passed it over. “See you in about thirty minutes,” said Ellie.

  She and her charges walked to the elevator in silence. When they got on and the door closed, she said to Rudy, “What? Now you’re holding out on me? How come you’re not spouting your normal string of insults at poor Chong?”

  He gave a head to tail shake. “Why should I when that Shrinky Dink bean eater won’t bother to answer?”

  “You’re not being fair. There are plenty of dogs on our customer list who don’t talk. That doesn’t mean they can’t. Could be they’re uncomfortable with the idea of speaking to a human—or you.” They got off on Lulu’s floor and aimed for the spoiled Havanese’s luxury apartment. “It doesn’t matter. Now that we’re here, you can chat with Ms. Pickypants to your heart’s content.”

  Nelda let them in with her usual cheerful hello and passed Ellie the champion Havanese’s lead. As suggested, the canine lovebirds gabbed up a storm while Ellie continued her stops, picking up Bruiser, a sulky Pomeranian; Ranger, the hypochondriac toy Poodle; Harvey, a stoic mixed breed; and Satchmo, a nosy Japanese Chin.

  After strolling through Central Park and doing her lawful clean-up duty, Ellie returned to the Beaumont, dropped off the dogs, and hurried to the Fallgrave apartment, where she found Patti waiting.

  “You’re ready,” she said, noting the supermodel wore a lovely camel coat over her clothes. Since working in the heart of the fashion industry this week, she’d learned a lot about identifying designers, and this coat looked very much like the star of Calvin Klein’s spring line.

  “Cheech and I are all set. Once we’re downstairs, Natter will call us a cab.”

  Ellie gave Chong his morning biscuit, grinning when he took it and trotted down the hall. “Guess he’s going to find Janice.”

  “Oh, yeah. That little guy is totally devoted to his mom, just like Cheech is to me.” She kissed her Chihuahua on top of his head and set him on the tile. “Let’s get moving. I’m scheduled for the second round today, a Zac Posen spring showing. Then a Donatella Versace.”

  They entered the elevator and slipped to the rear when another couple followed them in. “So, what do you want to discuss?” asked Patti. “The big finale is tomorrow. Are you getting cold feet?”

  “Why should I? I’m not the one who has to parade the catwalk with hundreds of people watching.”

  “Don’t try to fool me. I know all about your fear of performing in front of an audience. You’re in charge of the dogs, so you’ll be a bundle of nerves when they go out to do their thing. You’re the one who has to make certain their outfits are on and will stay on, and that each is groomed to look their best.”

  “Gee, thanks. I wasn’t worried until right now,” said Ellie, frowning. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

  “I know you’ll do a great job. I wouldn’t have recommended you to Nola if I didn’t believe in you.”

  They arrived on the lobby floor and headed for the exit. “Which brings up what I want to talk to you about,” said Ellie after Patti asked Natter to hail a cab. “Besides my excellence at canine care, what else did you tell her about me?”

  The taxi arrived and Patti and Cheech slid inside with Ellie and Rudy following. When the supermodel didn’t answer, Ellie cleared her throat. “Patti? I’m grateful for this job, really I am, but what else did you tell them?”

  Patti rubbed her perfect aquiline nose. “Promise you won’t be angry?”

  “I’ll try, but—”

  “Okay—well—then—”

  “Just start at the beginning, and I’ll—” The cab made a quick, tight right turn. Gasping, Ellie slid to the side. Both women clutched their dogs as they fought to stay on the seat. “Hey, take it easy,” Ellie shouted over the jostling.

  “Sorry, sorry,” the driver answered, though his grumbling tone belied the apology. He steered the racing cab past the Plaza Hotel to Columbus Circle, then veered around to make a left onto Broadway. Once they were heading south toward the Fashion District his riders exhaled a breath.

  “Geez,” said Ellie, rolling her eyes.

  “Ditto for me,” said Patti. She glanced at her watch. “One good thing, at this rate I’ll be on time.”

  When the driver finally settled down to a reasonable speed, Ellie called out a thank-you and ran her fingers through her mop of curls. “So.” She focused on Patti. “What did you tell Nola?”

  Patti swallowed, then gave a sheepish grin. “Not much.”

  Ellie narrowed her eyes. “How much is not much?”

  Snuggling Cheech to her chest, Patti bit her bottom lip. “Just that you had a reputation as a crime fighter.” She held up a hand. “I know, I know. You hate when your clients talk up your success in the investigation business, but you have to admit it’s true. People who love you are proud of you, plus we’re jealous. Interesting things are always happening to you. And you’re dating a sexy detective, too. Let’s face it, you have more going on in your life than almost anyone I know.”

  Okay, so Sam was a sexy guy, but that was about the only thing Patti had right. “More going on—in—in my life?” Ellie stuttered. This from a woman who had done fashion shoots in Spain, Morocco . . . Fiji? “You’ve got to be kidding.” It was her turn to hold up a hand. “Oh, no. You’re not going to get me off track about this. Just tell me what you said to NMD.”

  The cab pulled in front of the Fashion Center and Patti paid the fare. “I think we still have a few minutes, so let’s stay out here. Once we get inside, people will start clamoring for your attention, and we won’t have any privacy.”

  They walked the boys to a strip of grass, where Ellie continued the conversation. “Patti?”

  The model shrugged. “I’m not sure why, but Nola and Morgan were distraught over Jeffery’s arrest, and I thought I should say something to make them feel better, so I told them you’d probably be happy to help exonerate Jeffery. Then there’s Kitty. She’s such a sweetheart, and she and her brother are pretty much alone. They need help, and I thought that you, being such a fighter for the underdog, would want to see the right person arrested.”

  Ellie raised her eyes to the morning sky. Patti had hit plenty of the correct buttons in her explanation; in a way, she’d even echoed Judge Frye. She did like Kitty—and her brother—and she did have a gut feeling Detective Vaughn had nabbed the wrong guy. But the evidence against Jeffery was overwhelming. Unless . . .

  “Okay, but if you want me to lend them a hand I’ll need your help.”

  “Who, me?” Patti blinked. “What can I do?”

  Hands on hips, Ellie said, “First off, give me some info on the other designers and models working here. I got the impression Lilah had plenty of enemies. Who were they and why?”

  “Do you really think one of the models had the balls to kill someone?” She shook her head. “I can’t see that.”

  “You’d be surprised what might drive a nice person to murder. Anger, greed, frustration, jealousy . . . Those are just a few of the negative emotions that erupt if someone is pushed hard enough.” They headed toward the protected rear entrance side by side. “The easiest way to prove Jeffery innocent is to find the real killer, and for that I need a hand.”

  Patti’s peaches and cream complexion paled. “But I don’t have a clue where to begin.”

  “Sure you do. Just think a minute.”

  “But—”

  “How’s this for starters? I heard rumors about spats between Lilah and some of the models, and those are the ones who had the opportunity to do the deed. Who could have taken her EpiPen or screwed with her perfume strips?”

  �
��So that’s what the cops think happened? Someone doctored her perfume strips, then stole Lilah’s EpiPen and emptied it?”

  Ellie eased out a breath. “I believe that’s the general idea. Detective Vaughn and I talked a time or two, and Sam heard some gossip at the precinct about Jeffery and the killing.”

  “And they’re sure he did it?”

  “They’re never sure. It just depends on the evidence, which I think they’re still gathering. Then it’s up to the DA to make a case with what they find.” Ellie wagged a finger and they walked through the door, where she peeked around the corner and saw three dogs already waiting in the pen. “That’s why I need you to do a little spying. Give me a reason to suspect someone other than Jeffery, so I can look into their actions, see if they had a motive, so I can convince the cops they need to head in another direction.”

  “Like Dominique and Lilah’s feud.”

  “Just like that.” When the supermodel continued to worry her lower lip, Ellie put the pieces together. Patti’s continued interest in Jeffery King, the fact that she was willing to help in his defense, the way she’d gone to Nola Morgan Design and encouraged them to ask for her help . . .

  “Patti, is there something you’re not telling me? Something I should know?”

  “Something you should know?” Her hazel-green eyes grew wide. “Like what?”

  “Like maybe you and Jeffery are dating?”

  “Dating? Why, no. But—”

  “But you want to?”

  Patti frowned. “Am I that transparent?”

  “It took me a while to figure it out,” said Ellie, “but now I know for sure. You’re hoping to prove him innocent because you want to get to know him better. In a more personal way, correct?”

  “Okay, yes, I’d like to get to know him better. We started talking after I signed the NMD contract for this event and he hinted that, when this gig was over, we might hook up. He seemed sincere—straight, too.” She raised a brow. “And in this business, straight is the hardest kind of man to find.”

  “I see,” said Ellie, still grinning.

  “And I’d like the chance to follow it up, but that won’t happen if Jeffery’s spending time in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.”

  “You’re right about that,” she said in a comforting tone. “So, with your help, I’ll do my best to prove he’s innocent. It can’t hurt to poke around a bit while I’m here.” The conversation she’d had with the judge popped into her head, and Ellie realized her “in” with the fashion industry was standing right there in front of her. “Think you can do me a favor in return?”

  “Sure, yes, anything,” Patti said, her six-foot frame visibly relaxing.

  “I need two tickets to all of tomorrow’s final events, including the NMD competition. I heard they were sold out, and I was wondering if you had—”

  “Tickets for tomorrow?” Patti’s expression brightened. “No problem. I got four freebies as part of my contract. Janice is using one, so I have three left. If you want them, they’re yours.”

  Ellie almost jumped with joy. She’d just gotten Georgette’s birthday gift and her favor for Judge Frye taken care of in one easy move. Taking a step forward, she gave Patti a hug. “You’re the answer to my prayers. Thanks so much.”

  They entered the main part of the building, where Patti said, “I’ll get them to you later today.”

  “Great. Now, back to your assignment. I have to get to my crew, ’cause they’re waiting for their midmorning outing. You make the rounds, write down all you can remember about anyone who had a disagreement with Lilah and why. If you get a chance, ask questions. We can talk after this is over.”

  “Sure, fine, but wait a second.” Patti stood and waved a hand at a young woman walking toward them from the other side of the dog pen. “Hey, Julie, I’m glad you made it.” The orange-haired girl, who might have been in her early twenties, flashed a cockeyed smile. “Ellie, this is Julie Spinoza, your new assistant.”

  They shook hands while Julie gushed. “Oh, gosh, I’m so happy to meet you. Kitty says you’re wonderful, and I love dogs.” Her brown-eyed gaze locked on to Rudy. “Is this your dog? Kitty says he’s a real sweetheart. Hey, little man, are you a good boy?”

  Julie bent and scooped him up. Her curly hair was so long it covered Rudy like a curtain when she straightened. “You are a charmer, yes you are. And so handsome.”

  “I don’t know whether to nip her nose off, or just barf on her traffic-cone hair,” Rudy said, giving a doggie eye roll. “But you’d better rescue me fast.”

  “I’m glad you like him, but you should probably put him down,” Ellie advised. “He’s not friendly until he gets to know you.”

  “Good advice,” Rudy yipped, jumping from their new assistant’s arms.

  “How about if I introduce you to the dogs that are here, and you can take them outside for me?” Ellie suggested.

  “Oops. It sounds as if you two have work to do, so I’ll leave.” Patti edged around the pen. “Julie, be good and do what Ellie tells you. Ellie, I’ll catch you later.”

  “Are you ready to begin training?” Ellie said to the young woman when Patti disappeared.

  “Sure am. I can’t wait to get started.”

  “Great.” She pointed to the dogs one at a time and gave the girl their name and breed. After that, Julie bent and hooked leads to the dogs’ collars.

  When the assistant left with the pack, Ellie let Rudy curl onto a folded blanket while she straightened the available foodstuffs, righted the dog beds and bags the models had tossed under the table, and thought about Patti and Jeffery King.

  It made perfect sense. She and Patti had discussed men a time or two, and the supermodel had made it clear she’d love to find a partner, but in her line of work, it was a near impossibility. Jeffery was a good-looking guy, and he was tall. She remembered seeing Nicole Kidman walking the red carpet at the Oscars with Keith Urban—at least Patti and Jeffery wouldn’t have that silly height problem.

  But was Jeffery truly innocent, or was he hiding a serious flaw? Had he thought he could fool everyone, including the savvy Morgan Prince, into believing he had no part in Lilah’s death, even after the woman had stolen his sister’s designs and won a spot in this contest?

  She recalled the heinous way Lilah had died; how her face had turned apple red and swollen to double its size while her airway had constricted until she choked. Other details had been explained to her in medical jargon, but Ellie would never forget the torture the designer had experienced as she’d expired.

  If Jeffery hadn’t done it, then who could have been so—so—the word Judge Frye had used came to mind. So diabolical as to have planned Lilah Perry’s tragic demise?

  If only she could find a link to someone else working here. A model who knew the importance of having an EpiPen on hand. A designer who knew what a severe peanut allergy could do to someone like Lilah. A person the designer had annoyed so much that they’d planned to kill her in an ugly and lurid way.

  Heaving a sigh, she glanced down at her boy. “I’m at a loss on this one. How about you?”

  “It’s tough goin’, but there’s got to be a way.” Rudy sneezed, a sure sign he was thinking. Then he stood and gave a head to tail shake. “I got an idea. We could do it, and it’d even be legal.”

  “It has to be legal. Gathering evidence illegally won’t fly in a court of law. And we could—I mean I could be tossed in jail.”

  “Okay, okay. How about if I explain my idea, while you think on it.” She dropped into a chair and he sprang onto the one beside her. “So here’s my plan.”

  Chapter 9

  It was just after twelve and Ellie was exhausted. Models had visited the area time and again, not only to see their babies, but to check on the designers and the creations they were coming up with for the dogs. Julie did the best she could to help, but she had yet to endear herself to the pack, though she didn’t seem to realize it.

  The designers had come in and ou
t of the dog area, too, with tape measure and drawing book in hand. Most of them liked dogs and didn’t have a problem working with them, but Anton Rouch appeared to be a no-go when it came to dressing canines. He’d been onsite all morning without touching Daisy or even checking her over. Instead, he’d stalked around the ring, his dark eyes narrowed, staring at all the dogs as if they were vermin. Just as he was doing right now.

  “I can’t do it, I tell you. I just can’t do it.”

  Ellie waited for Anton to finish mumbling as he paraded back and forth in front of the pen. His latest fuss had gone on for the past fifteen minutes, and she wasn’t quite sure why. The man hadn’t said five words to her since they’d met three days ago, and now he seemed up in arms, as if forced to make a life-or-death decision.

  Quick as a blink, he stopped pacing and ran his hands through his generous thatch of coal-black hair, pulling at it until it stood on end. She took that as an opportunity to step in and stop his ridiculous tirade.

  Circling the pen, she dodged Dominique and a few of the models, who seemed unimpressed by the designer’s show of distress. Standing next to him, she called his name as gently as possible. “Anton.”

  The diminutive designer continued to gaze at the pen of pint-sized pooches, chewing on his lower lip.

  “Anton,” she tried again. “Maybe I can help?”

  “You aren’t reachin’ him, Triple E. He needs a hammer to that head of his Miss Clairol–dyed hair if you want to get his attention.”

  Ellie, taller than the designer, was able to get a good look at chunks of four-inch spikes standing on end on the top of his head. Sure enough, he owed the jet-black color to a drugstore box, or maybe a professional hairdresser, possibly the infamous Karen Hood.

  When he continued with his statuelike stance and vacant expression, she blew out a breath. Raising her hand, she snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Anton.” Snap! “Anton! Get hold of yourself.” Snap! Snap!

  “How about tossin’ a glass of cold water in his face?”