Murder by Design Trilogy

by Mary Jane Forbes

  That done, she pulled out the business card DuBois had given her and dialed his number.

  “Hello, Detective, this is Eleanor Wellington. You got me thinking with all that talk yesterday about Jack Carlson. I wonder if I might see his condo. You said it was trashed but who knows maybe I’ll see something of interest, some connection to my husband that meant nothing to your officers but might mean something to us.”

  “Anything is worth a try, Mrs. Wellington. I’ll give you the address and ask one of the patrol officers to meet you there. When would be a good time?”

  “You said the condo was in Edmonds, so I could be there in an hour. Thank you, Detective.

  Eleanor checked her watch. She had time to change into a pair of slacks, her favorite peach silk ensemble, and to leave a note for Gerald by the kitchen phone to put the information from the museum on her desk in her private office.

  Within the hour she arrived at the condo complex, again placed a call to DuBois that she was at the gate … waiting. Five minutes later a squad car pulled up behind her. The officer introduced himself and accompanied her to Carlson’s condo. The front door was now blocked with a piece of yellow tape across the entrance. The officer removed the yellow tape and opened the door. Eleanor’s hand flew to her face at the destruction. Careful not to trip on the debris littered over the floor she carefully tiptoed from room to room, lifting items on the floor with the toe of her shoe. The kitchen had come through relatively unscathed—drawers with silverware, cooking utensils, and a junk drawer under the phone.

  Then Eleanor had an idea. The bedroom. Oh, yes, of course, although she had never been in this particular bedroom. After Philip fired Carlson, he disappeared. Never got in touch with her. Not even a card. For that she was glad he was dead. But she knew his habits.

  Entering the bedroom, she saw a picture in a gold frame lying on the floor. Carlson and a woman, a pretty young thing. They were drinking one of those martinis with an umbrella sticking out. So, you went to a warm climate and left me to cope in this dreary place.

  Next to the picture was a small box of condoms. Just what she was looking for. The officer was behind her, his head in the closet taking a look for God knows what. Eleanor picked up the picture frame pretending to look at it while flipping open the condom box and turning it over in the palm of her hand, her fingers gripping the picture frame at the same time.

  Oh, Jack, how wonderful. You once hid a sapphire ring in one of these. You devil.

  Eleanor palmed the key into her pocket and turned to the officer waving the small box in the air. “I guess he won’t be needing these?” The officer chuckled. “I guess not.”

  Eleanor dropped the box on the floor which landed next to the picture frame.

  “Well I don’t see anything officer. Will you tell Detective DuBois that I couldn’t help after all.”

  Chapter 41

  ───

  A BLUSTERY STORM drifted over the mountains and Bainbridge Island. Rain pecked at Mr. Jackson’s office window as he sparred with his son.

  “You haven’t answered my question, Dad,” Hawk said, hands planted on his father’s desk, leaning in for an answer.

  “Which question? You’ve thrown several at me just now, tough questions with no easy answers.”

  “Let’s start with Maribell going on maternity leave. Wait, not on a maternity leave but leaving her job to raise a family. Leaving with no intention of coming back to manage the spa. Let’s start there. Have you hired someone to take her place?” Hawk knew the answer. His father hadn’t found a woman in the tribe who wanted to assume the position let alone with the business sense to run such an operation.

  “No. The answer is no I haven’t found a replacement.”

  “There, that wasn’t so tough. Now, let me ask you about Maria Delgado. You allowed Maribell to hire her to help with the spa operation. Right?”

  “Hawk, you’re a lovesick young man. You are badgering me to place the object of your affection into a management position, I—

  “I am not a lovesick young man. I’m a twenty-eight-year-old law student. A student who is preparing to take the bar exam in another six months. If I pass that exam, which in all probability I will, I will become the tribe’s lawyer—a member of the tribe protecting the rights of the tribe. As for Maria, yes, I like her very much, but that is not the question before you. The question is, did you or did you not give Maribell permission to hire Maria as an assistant?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And, hasn’t Maria proven to be an asset to the spa, giving suggestions to improve the operation, suggestions to increase the spa’s revenue? And, didn’t Maribell come to you with the suggestion that Maria would be a good candidate to take over as manager?”

  “For God’s sake, Hawk, you know that’s all true, but assisting and coming up with a few ideas does not mean Maria can manage the spa. Maribell grew it from the beginning, and now it’s a major amenity for the resort. I hardly think someone who has only worked for a little over a month can be ready to take over the management position.”

  “Maribell is not leaving for another three months, Dad.” Hawk paced to the window and back. “With no one else to be considered, no one who has shown the interest or business sense as Ms. Maria Delgado, I think it is obvious she should at least be given the assignment of intern to see, if in fact, Maribell believes Maria is ready. Give her a two-month probation period. If at that time, you feel, with Maribell’s input, that Maria is not capable of assuming the position then look for someone else. I even put to you that you go ahead and search for another candidate during Maria’s internship. Then you will see. I am confident she will outshine them all.”

  The elder Jackson began laughing. He laughed so hard that tears came to his eyes. He stood, walked to the window wiping the tears away with his sleeve. Turning, he looked at his son. “Hawk, you are going to make a damn fine lawyer. And, I’ll go you one better because I can’t stand another barrage from you. Not only will I give Maria the go ahead for a two-month internship as you suggest, but you can also see the girl personally. If she’s going to be working here full time, I certainly wouldn’t want our lead attorney sneaking around to see a woman he obviously cares about. I only ask that you take your time. Give infatuation time to either wear off or grow into something deeper.”

  His father had just trumped his next argument. Hawk was ready to plead his case to see Maria openly, and he had just been given his father’s permission. From day one in law school, all of his professors had drummed into his head, that when you’ve won a case—stop talking! Hawk strode to his father’s side, extended his hand. Father and son sealed the deal.

  Chapter 42

  ───

  FERRIES CRISSCROSSED PUGET SOUND transporting weekend warriors to the east for a shopping spree in the city or to the west side for a fun-packed weekend in the quaint shops. Either way, passengers jostled for their morning caffeine buzz.

  Gilly and Maria were on their way to the city with a long shopping list. Commandeering a booth, they spread papers out on either side of their seat.

  “Give me a run down on what you want to accomplish this morning, Gilly. I know we’re picking out the fabric for your five-piece collection for the competition. Now, fill me in on the specifics.”

  “Okay. I’ve told you a little about the direction I’m taking, but it will help me to focus if I start fresh. Excuse me if I repeat myself.”

  Maria leaned back, her eyes riveted on Gilly.

  “My story will go something like this. The collection is intended for the ready-to-wear market. And, in that market, the collection will feature pieces for the working woman. No, wait … the career woman. She needs clothes that are functional yet chic, made of stretchy fabrics where possible to help eliminate wrinkles after sitting at a desk for hours and are washable. The clothes, of course, need to fit, but with a little room to allow for that piece of chocolate cake once in awhile.”

  “Sounds wonderful so far. What
about color, style?”

  “The winning collection is to be featured on the stores’ websites, those stores who are supporting the competition. So I want to show bright, vibrant colors that will photograph well. My collection features layered ensembles that, with a little tweaking, can move from the workplace to the cocktail party.”

  Gilly made a note on her yellow tablet, and looked out the window.

  “Price. A key element will be price. The garments must be affordable so the retailer will stock my pieces. How does that sound?”

  “Great. Keep going.”

  “But, regardless of what I charge the retailer, they can mark a piece up or down. I talked with my banker, Clyde Morris, and was able to get a line of credit. Of course he knows the Wilders from way back, but he was all business. It didn’t hurt that his wife had a couple of my totes. Raved about them he said.”

  “Do you have a budget for this little trip were making across the sound?” Maria asked, looking up from her notepad with a chuckle.

  Gilly thought for a moment. This little trip as Maria put it was critical. The linchpin of her collection. She wanted to win the competition. No! Wanted wasn’t strong enough. She had to place in the top three. If a fashion house was going to hire her, she had to prove she had something to offer them. Then … then she would pursue her own label.

  “Gilly … a budget?”

  Gilly looked at Maria. “Yes. A budget. Hopefully we can stay under $1000, but we have some leeway. Because the pieces will make up a collection, one color, maybe a color and a fabric will be dominate, or let me say, it will be repeated in the various looks. I have no idea yet what that color will be. We’re going to a wholesale fabric dealer, so let’s look for end-of bolt specials. If we see something we like, it could be at a great discount. The dealer has long tables where we can line up the bolts we think might work. Let’s see what we find, what colors, and go from there. I’m just glad it’s a spring collection and not winter with coats. That could be pricey.”

  A young couple walked by, hand-in-hand. He gave her a quick kiss. Maria and Gilly looked at each other, smiled. Then it was back to their notes.

  “Once we decide on the color palette and fabrics, we need to load up on zippers, thread, buttons, snaps, etcetera. Here, I’ve made a list at the bottom of each of the five pages, each ensemble on a separate page, with the notions we’ll need to put the look together. As you can see they are all layered, a couple of jackets that can go with one or another piece, keeping the price down for the collection as a whole.”

  “If we’re lucky, we may find a bolt-end with lots of yards left,” Maria said. “If you like it, then we could use it for this dress, and again for this shell, maybe a lining for a jacket—mix the whole thing up but giving a cohesive look.”

  “Good thinking. Also check the looks where I included a clutch or a tote. Sometimes this warehouse carries the base for hats. Watch for that. One more thing. Bling is in. I’ve seen sequins adorning clothes morning, noon, and night. So look for beading or anything that sparkles if you think it might work with our spring colors.”

  “Gilly, are you excited? I am. Did you see? I brought my sewing machine from home?”

  “I did. And the third machine is my mom’s. She said she wants to be on my staff. Nice, huh?

  “Your guesthouse is about to be transformed into a fashion workshop with bolts of fabrics stacked in the corners and shelves full of thread and bling. Oh, and how about a friend for Patty? I want my own mannequin. We may have to play leapfrog to get into our bunks,” Maria said with a giggle.

  “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you—The Working Girl orders. I talked to Stacy yesterday and her three shoppers put down a deposit, and gave her their sizes. I asked for their bust, waist, and hip measurements just to be sure the clothes fit. I don’t mind doing a little bit of altering, but the price reflects ready-to-wear garments—no special fitting. I checked before we left and I have enough of the wine sequin fabric for the three shells. The customers didn’t need the pearl gray skirt, but they all wanted the wine jacket, and were adamant about the scarf … and the clutch with the wine sequins dotted with bright pink. Here, take this sheet. The fabric and notions we need to buy for The Working Girl orders are noted on the back. I have enough scarf material.”

  Gilly looked at Maria with a grimace. “Maria, we’re going to have to hustle to get all this done before the 2:05 ferry. How about we each cruise quickly through the bolts. We’ll go in different directions but circle around so we both see everything. Stack what we like on the table. Then I’ll start picking and matching. As soon as I see the story coming together, you can select the notions while I calculate the yardage. If my idea of end-of-bolt works, I’ll just buy the bolt. Won’t hurt to have some left over.”

  “Okay. What about scarves for the five-piece collection?” Maria asked as she made notations to her list.

  “Forgot. Thanks. Once the colors come together, and you’re getting the notions, please see what you can find for the scarves. No, wait. If we see pretty scarf fabric let’s pull it on our first pass. It could help us narrow the color palette. Remember, it’s a spring collection—light, filmy, airy. My sketches are in color but I’m sure we’ll make some changes. But we aren’t flying totally blind.”

  Gilly looked up. “Oh, my God, Maria, I thought I was organized but I feel scatter brained.”

  “You are organized. Let’s not panic … yet.” Maria smiled.

  Three hours later the dealer pulled a flatbed cart up to the table and loaded eight bolts of cloth, various other yardage, plus bags of zippers, thread, and beading. Maria darted out of the wholesale fabric company, which occupied the entire floor, and pushed the button for the elevator. The building was old and the elevator groaned and creaked as it ascended the shaft. Coming to a stop on the fourth floor, Maria took a deep breath, slid back the cage door, stepped in and pressed the button saying a prayer that the iron box wouldn’t fall.

  Gilly settled up with the dealer, double checking the column of numbers. She smiled. They had managed to come in under budget by $19.78. The dealer called his helper to assist Gilly with the cart down to the street and transferring the bolts to her car.

  Maria had opened the hatchback of Gilly’s little Chevy, pushed the backseat flat, and laid a sheet over the back of the car to protect the bolts. Gilly thanked the dealer’s helper, pressed a tip in his hand, and dashed to the driver’s seat.

  Thankfully the building was only a few blocks from the waterfront. Darting in and out, and under the rail system overhead, Gilly pulled into the ferry landing, and joined the line at Pier 52. They were the next to last car to bump over the ramp onto the ferry. The ferry’s horn blew—and they could see the pilings from the car window recede from view.

  The girls sat mute, head back, eyes closed. Maria was the first to laugh and Gilly quickly joined her. “Now that’s what I call a shopping spree,” Maria said looking at her friend.

  “Let’s go up and get something cold to drink, that is if my legs still work,” Gilly said smiling.

  “Good idea.”

  “Oops, there’s my phone.” Gilly dug around in her tote as the phone continued to ring. “Darn thing sounds urgent,” she laughed, pulling it out of its hiding place.

  “Hi, Skip. What’s going on?” She and Maria were still giggling. “What?” She raised her hand. The giggling stopped. “You already warned us to be careful … no, don’t you DARE call Gramps! He’s already on edge—I told you about that spiky guy. Dad found some blood where he jumped on his motorcycle so Gramps must have hit him—leg or foot. Bye!” She clamped her cell shut and tossed it in her tote.

  “Gilly, what’s the matter? What did Skip say?”

  “Oh, the same old, same old. He thinks Gramps and I are in danger for some reason just because we saw that guy before he was murdered. He seems to think the Wellington’s or someone on their staff is hiding something, and he thinks someone is also looking for something, and that the someone may come lo
oking for the something at Gramp’s house.” Gilly looked at Maria. “I know it doesn’t make sense. None of it does.”

  “Gilly, it’s obvious he cares about you. Come on, let’s get that cold drink,” Maria said.

  “You got it, it’ll be our last few minutes to rest. We have to get this stuff home, into the guesthouse, shower, change, and hustle to work.”

  The girls went up to the soda machine and returned to the car to wait for the ferry to dock. They both leaned back, closed their eyes, as they sipped their sodas.

  “Maria, that piece of silk from Thailand?”

  “Hmmm. So pretty.”

  “Did you get the fabric content and the cleaning instructions?”

  “Yes. Just before the dealer rang it up.”

  “Oh, good. Maria I couldn’t have done this without you. I owe you, girlfriend. What do you want? A Corvette?”

  “No. I was thinking more along the lines of a Mercedes.”

  They giggled, eyes still closed.

  “Damn it.” Gilly punched the steering wheel, her head back, eyes remaining closed.

  “What?” Maria drained her soda can.

  “I wasn’t very nice to Skip. I was rude. He was so thoughtful.”

  “You’re tired.” Maria said peeking out of one eye. “Call him tonight and explain that we just spent $1000 in three hours on fabric. He’ll understand.”

  “You think?”

  Chapter 43

  ───

  HALLOWEEN DECORATIONS filled the shelves of Wal-Mart, Target, and various dollar stores. Here and there Christmas decorations sparkled, merchants hoping to get a jump on their make-or-break season of the year.

  Presses in the bowels of the Seattle Times ran non-stop. Holiday ads swelled the number of pages adding to the paper’s revenue. Management smiled.