Murder by Design Trilogy

by Mary Jane Forbes

  “My dear, dear Gillianne.” Stacy rushed up to Gilly, blowing a kiss on each cheek as she embraced her. “You look fabulous.” Pushing Gilly away at arm’s length, Stacy’s eyes popped as she took in Gilly’s baby bump. “Gilly, are you pregnant? Did some Frenchman sweep you off your feet? Come, come out back and tell me.” Stacy guided Gilly to the back room, pointed to a chair and looked at Gilly expectantly.

  Gilly was ready. She had anticipated the question, rehearsing her answer several times on the ferry crossing the sound this morning.

  “Yes,” Gilly said in a light tone of voice. “Yes, to all of the above. However, before we could marry he was killed in a tragic accident.” She pulled a small, white linen handkerchief from her tote, the one she had put there to dab a non-existent tear from her eye, then tucked the hanky back in her pocket.

  “Oh, how awful. You poor thing. How did it happen?”

  “Stacy, someday I’ll be strong enough to talk about it, but right now, I’m trying to forget my loss and concentrate on the little miracle I’m carrying.” She smiled brightly, “And,” she whispered, “I’m concentrating on my new business.”

  Just as Gilly had hoped, the questions stopped. The subject switched back to the purpose of her meeting—the presentation of her collection.

  Opening her case she withdrew the lookbook she and Maria had sweated over featuring three looks, and a companion book with two looks, with sample swatches for each piece. She wasn’t sure at the time why they had split the collection into a group of three and another of two—more impressive maybe.

  She handed Stacy the three-piece lookbook.

  “Gilly, I really like this jacket, and the companion pieces—so sophisticated yet comfortable.” Stacy caressed the jacket’s fabric swatch between her fingers. “These pieces are for fall and winter. When do you think they will be ready for display? For sale?” Stacy asked, turning the page.

  “I know I’m late, but I thought some of your clients who bought my fall designs last October at the show might be ready to add to their wardrobe, you know spice it up with a few new pieces. With the cold weather in Seattle, women still have several months, four or five, of the coldest weather ahead before spring arrives. I could have samples for you to display in a week, and then items of a few sizes to sell the following week. Two seamstresses are helping me with the samples. And, Stacy, I’m demanding quality workmanship and superior tailoring. If you don’t agree, that the pieces are of the highest quality you have ever seen, I won’t bother you again.”

  “I believe you, dear. The three orders you filled after my little fashion show … well, the women still rave about the pieces and actually have asked me about you over the summer.”

  Excitement shot through Gilly. Stacy’s reaction to her drawings was even better than she had hoped for.

  “Tell you what I’ll do,” Stacy said. “You deliver samples of each of these designs as fast as you can and I’ll clear a spot in the window featuring your collection. We’ll have to decide on the price points, of course, and you must give me a timeframe to fill any orders.” Stacy closed the book and handed it along with the swatches back to Gilly. “Mind you, most items sell off-the-rack, so this is a little different for me. But, it’s a start.”

  “Stacy, thank you. It’s more than a start. I’ll do everything in my power to see that I fulfill the quality you are expecting.”

  “When is your baby due, dear?”

  “End of March.”

  “You’ve put yourself on a very ambitious path, Gilly. Take care of yourself. Unfortunately, in the retail business there isn’t any room for slack in promised delivery dates.”

  ───

  RIDING UP THE ELEVATOR to the top floor at Nordstrom’s, Gilly didn’t dare try the escalator with her rolling suitcase fearing with her excitement she’d trip thinking about what Stacy had said regarding making a commitment to a delivery schedule. Yet she didn’t hesitate to ask for display samples right away. She also decided Nordstrom’s wouldn’t want to carry clothing available at a boutique down the street. Gilly decided to show Nordstrom’s buyer the lookbook containing two looks, holding the three Stacy saw separate … an exclusive for each retailer.

  Her appointment with the Nordstrom buyer didn’t go as well. The woman was very busy, constantly taking phone calls and there were many interruptions by staff popping in and out with questions. However, the buyer seemed intrigued with the lookbook and the fact that Gilly had won the competition the store sponsored almost a year ago. She particularly liked the second look—same jacket featured with a pair of flattering pants and then coupled with a knockout cocktail dress for that party after work. The cropped jacket was reversible, giving a shimmery, glamorous look for evening. Holding the book at an angle, she covered the phone’s mouth-piece, looked up over her glasses and addressed Gilly.

  “Ms. Wilder, you bring me these two looks as soon as you can. I’ll put them in our women’s career department. Who knows, we may have some takers for the holidays.” She smiled and returned to her phone call, waving goodbye to Gilly, and turning her attention to her Blackberry calendar.

  Gilly sailed down the elevator and out one of the main entrances with the desire to hug everyone walking by the store. She was one of them—a businesswoman with two verbal requests for samples of her collection. Flagging down a cab, she felt as if nothing could stop her now. She had to call Maria but decided to wait until she was on the ferry to relay her news, besides she had to bring her adrenalin under control. Thankfully she had opted to take the ferry as a foot passenger so she didn’t have to deal with her car until she was on the other side of the sound. She paid the cab and hustled onboard the ferry loaded with commuters.

  Sliding into one of the window booths, she pulled her case tight to her leg, gripped her tote against her side, and laid her head back closing her eyes. What a trip, she thought. Snapping to attention, she placed her call to Maria.

  “Hey, girlfriend, how did it go in the big city?” Maria asked.

  “Absolutely terrific. Just wait till I fill you in. I need to meet with you and Hawk together because I’ll run out of steam if I have to tell everything more than once. Can I stop by the casino and meet you guys for dinner? I’m on the ferry and should dock within the hour.”

  “Hang on.”

  Gilly heard some mumbling and pictured Maria on the other end of the line. She was probably with Hawk.

  “Hawk said that works. He’s buying. Actually, I said that, he didn’t, but he’s nodding yes. Can you give me a clue what we’re meeting about?”

  “Oh, just a couple of little things—incorporating my business, legalities around taking and delivering orders for my collection, and how much time he’ll let me steal my COO away to sew 24/7 over the next week.”

  Chapter 29

  ───

  WHAT A DAY!

  An exciting day.

  Dusk settled over Puget Sound cloaking Gramp’s house in shadows. Gilly stepped gaily down the steps to the patio, blood coursing through her body.

  “Hi, Gramps, I’m home,” she called out shedding her jacket in what was now officially her bedroom.

  “Come eat. Your mom brought over a pot of our favorite beef stew.”

  Catching Gramps ladling stew into the bowls, she planted a kiss on his cheek. “Umm, smells divine. Make mine a small bowl. I had a bite to eat with Hawk and Maria but I’m still hungry.”

  “Had a good day did you?” He chuckled as he placed the steamy bowls of stew on the green laminated table alongside a basket of chewy French bread.

  “Just wait till I tell you.”

  “A package came for you today … from Paris. It’s on the dryer,” he said spreading butter on a chunk of bread.

  Gilly picked up the book-sized parcel wrapped in brown paper. “No return address. Probably something from Nicole … or Sheridan.” She tore the paper away revealing a white box and lifted the lid.

  “No!” The word strangled as her throat constricted. />
  Gramps eyes darted to the open box—a steel spike through a red satin heart. “Sweetie, there’s a folded piece of paper underneath.” He picked up the heart and handed Gilly the paper, replacing the ill-omened heart, and closed the box.

  Her fingers shaking, Gilly tried to unfold the paper.

  “Here, let me see that.” Gramps took the paper from her hand, adjusted the glasses on his nose, and read the letter to her.

  “Dear Bitch, Congratulations on the pending birth of your child. Clever as I am, I deduced you must have met up with a Frenchman in the city of love—your love. Tsk Tsk.

  I was so excited for you that I flew to Paris to congratulate the daddy. Seems your telling everyone a story, a fabricated story that the father of your baby is dead. Now, you and I know that’s not true.

  I’m a little short of funds but I figure that twenty-thousand dollars would help me to re-establish myself. I think I’ll stay in Paris for awhile. One of the fashion houses, the one where you modeled and, oh yes, the one where you met the man who fathered your child, indicated they might be interested in my designs.

  So, Bitch, you send me the money and I will remain silent.

  Oh, I have news for you—your baby’s daddy announced he is running for the Senate and this piece of tawdry information would certainly help his opponent’s campaign don’t you think?

  You’ll receive instructions on where to wire my payment shortly. Have a nice day.

  Spiky.”

  Gramps slowly refolded the letter, returned it to the box, and replaced the lid. Glancing at Gilly staring glassy-eyed into her bowl of stew, all color had drained from her face, her body twitching sporadically as she tried to stop shaking.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened in Paris?” he said softly, covering her hand, firmly pulling her back from the scenes playing out in her mind.

  Gilly slowly raised her head, her pained eyes seeking her grandfather’s, pleading for understanding.

  “I thought I loved him … I thought he loved me. I was wrong,” she whispered gulping for air. “How could I have been so blind, so stupid, Gramps?”

  “You’re a beautiful young woman, Gillianne. You have the talent and drive to become whatever you want. Matters of the heart are complex. Your moral compass—what’s right or wrong—sometimes becomes overwhelmed by emotions that engulf your body. You find yourself in a tailspin that you can’t pull out of. You were riding high—beautiful city, the fashion world opening up to you laying all the possibilities you had dreamed of at your feet. Then a man comes along, your defenses are down. At that moment you feel anything and everything is possible, is real.”

  Gilly’s eyes filled, a teardrop fell to her lap as she lowered her head.

  “Gramps, I learned he was married … after. He said they lead separate lives. That he thought about getting a divorce. … but it was too late.”

  “Did you tell him? Does he know you’re pregnant?”

  Gilly dabbed at her eyes. “I was about to tell him but he said he had something to tell me. I stupidly thought he was going to say he was getting a divorce. I urged him to tell me his news first.”

  Gramps pushed his stew bowl aside. “His news?”

  “That he was running for the Senate, that he and his wife had reconciled, that she was going to stand by him.”

  “And you…”

  “I said goodbye … I walked home. That’s when my roommates helped me come up with my story.”

  “So, he doesn’t know you are carrying his child?”

  Gilly shook her head. “What am I going to do?” she whispered.

  Gramp’s pulled his plaid, man-sized handkerchief from his pocket and pushed it into her palm.

  “Edward Churchill doesn’t know who he’s messing with, child. Blackmail is a crime. You need the advice of a lawyer. One thing is for sure. You are not going to give in to this threat.” He gripped her small delicate hand between his large weathered hands, arthritis creeping into some of his fingers.

  Gilly raised her head, feeling the strength of her grandfather flowing from his hands to hers. “I love you Gramps.”

  “I love you too, sweetie.” He patted her arm, picked up his spoon and scooped up a mouthful of stew. The ache he felt for what lay ahead of his treasured granddaughter caused his shoulders to slump slightly with fatigue. Gilly walked to the telephone mounted on the wall and dialed the number for the casino. “Hello, Mr. Hawk Jackson, please.” She leaned against the wall, waiting for the connection. “Hi, Hawk.”

  “Gilly, what’s the matter?”

  “I need your help.”

  “I know. Since you left us I’ve put together a couple of ideas for you … on forming your company—

  “Hawk,” Gilly cut in. “Remember that jewelry box I received at the dinner party Gramps threw for me at the Space Needle after winning the competition?”

  “Yes. That stupid spike in a red heart.”

  “I just received another one. Can you and Maria meet me tomorrow morning? I can come to the casino, but it has to be private. I’m in trouble, Hawk.”

  “Of course. Would you rather we come to Hansville, say ten o’clock?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Gilly hung up the receiver.

  “Gramps, I’m not hungry. I think I’ll go to bed.”

  Chapter 30

  ───

  RAINDROPS SPLATTERED AGAINST THE window as Gilly clutched the covers, pulling them over her shoulders, up under her chin. She knew she was in terrible trouble and it was only the beginning. Gramps was right, she was going to end up talking to the police, which meant the truth would come out, which meant Maxime was probably going to hear about the baby. What if she had to fight him for her baby … against all of his money?

  Sleep came in fits and starts. She woke feeling nauseous, hurried down the hall in her bare feet to the bathroom. Maybe a bout of morning sickness, or nerves, she thought. Probably both. Lifting her head from the toilet bowl, she remained sitting on the tile floor, leaning against the cabinets, waiting to see if she was done heaving. Resting several minutes, feeling the lurching of her stomach had calmed down, she struggled to her feet, turned on the shower. Stepping in, hands out to brace herself, she stood letting the hot water warm her skin, the chills and shaking melting away. Her eyes and mind began to focus forming a list of questions to be addressed with Hawk. Hawk! Thank God for him and Maria.

  She dressed, took the cup of tea Gramps extended to her, and left the house for her studio. A little before ten o’clock she heard Hawk’s SUV pull into the driveway. Willing her nerves to remain calm she greeted them at the door holding it open as they scurried inside out of the rain.

  Hawk and Maria exchanged glances after seeing how Gilly looked—a completely different woman than the one filled with exuberance in anticipation of launching her business the day before. Maria embraced Gilly briefly sensing how upset her friend was but not knowing the reason behind the urgent call.

  “There’s coffee on the counter if you like,” Gilly said opening two folding chairs, sitting down in one. Coco vacated the garden chair and curled up in Gilly’s lap.

  Ignoring the offer, Hawk sat down beside Gilly. She said nothing just pushed the small box from the middle of the long folding table to Hawk indicating with a nod that he should open it. Maria stood behind him, watching over his shoulder.

  Hawk quickly opened the box, let out a sigh at the sight of the heart with the spike stabbed in the center. He then unfolded the letter and he and Maria read the threat.

  Maria moved behind Gilly, leaned over and wrapped her arms around her, laying her head against her mop of red hair. “I’m so sorry. You should have told us. You know we love you.”

  “I know,” Gilly whispered.

  “From your reaction, I take it what this letter alleges is true?” Hawk asked.

  Gilly nodded.

  “What’s this daddy’s name?”

  “Maxime Beaumont.”

  “And, if you’ve been sticking to yo
ur story, how does this Spiky guy know about the father, and how did he find out his name?”

  “Once I began thinking about how he could have possibly found out, it was pretty easy to come up with the answer. The day I went to see the doctor for the first time, I was excited to learn that both the baby and I were fine. I went to the tearoom to see my mother. She was talking to Helen Churchill, Spiky’s grandmother. Mom asked me about the doctor, Helen asked me if I was sick, and hence the story. She must have told her grandson. If what he says in the note is true about finding the fashion house where I did some modeling, all he had to do was mention my name and they would have relayed the gossip about my seeing Maxime. Thinking back, I’m sure they all knew he was married but neglected to tell me that little fact.”

  A puff of air escaped Hawk’s mouth. “Okay then, does this Maxime know you’re pregnant?”

  “No. He doesn’t. When I met Maxime to tell him, he started talking about how he and his wife had reconciled and that he was going to run for the Senate, and … I just stood up, said goodbye, and left him. Left him as in forever.”

  “Gilly, this is blackmail and blackmail is a felony.” Hawk helped himself to coffee, turned his chair around and sat straddling the seat to face his client. You have to go to the police.”

  Gilly straightened in her chair, her spine slowly stiffened like a ramrod. “Deputy Kracker? In Bremerton?”

  “No. What’s the name of the police detective who Skip shadowed for his story on the gold robbery?”

  “Detective DuBois.”

  “That’s him. Seattle detective. He may even get the Feds involved. Do you have the wrapping this box came in?”

  Gilly leaned over and pushed the brown paper to Hawk. Coco fell off her lap, sat licking her paw, and then jumped up on the garden chair.