Murder by Design Trilogy

by Mary Jane Forbes

  “Mr. Wellington, are you sure, there are so many—

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything, my dear. It’s about time my six bedrooms were put to use, and my staff, well, they’ll be thrilled to have people in the house again. You just come along. I see DuBois is standing next to Skip. I’m sure between the two of them they can drive all of you to my place. Gillianne, tell your parents to come along as well including that wonderful grandfather of yours.”

  Gilly called Gramps relaying Wellington’s generous offer. Anne and Will saw the fire on television and had already driven to Hansville. They were frantic, worrying about Gilly and Robyn’s safety but were afraid to call knowing she had so much to cope with. They said they would leave on the next ferry to join her at Wellington’s.

  ───

  DUBOIS WAS CONFERRING WITH the fire chief and both looked over at Gilly standing on the opposite side of the street. Mopping up operations had started. DuBois had called in his forensic team who were now methodically sifting through the ashes and debris at the back entrance of the building. DuBois signaled Skip to join him and the chief. They had a short conversation. Skip walked back to Gilly careful not to trip on a fire hose.

  “DuBois said you should leave. He knows about Wellington’s offer and said he’d catch up with you later. I’ll drive you and Robyn, Gabby and Nicole to Wellington’s.”

  Gilly looked at Gabby and Nicole, they nodded and followed her and Skip to his car. Gilly allowed a tear to escape as she looked over her shoulder at the blackened shop, smoke curling up from the embers as the sun breached Mount Rainier. She swiped the tear aside. “Spiky did this,” she whispered in a strangled guttural voice Skip had never heard before. Twice she turned to look back at the destruction. “He’ll be sorry. We’ll catch him now. There’s bound to be evidence. We’ll track him down. He’ll pay. Attempted murder. This was attempted murder! He’ll spend the rest of his life behind bars.”

  Skip reached under her arm holding Robyn lending his support in more ways than one. His heart went out to her, letting his strength flow into her, pulling her back from the horror of the night.

  Chapter 48

  ───

  SKIP TURNED INTO THE circular driveway of the Wellington mansion, the rising sun painting the windows with gold. As Skip helped everyone out of the car, the front door opened and Philip Wellington emerged, hustled down the flagstone steps. His eyes were bright, lips drawn up in a broad welcoming smile, his arms extended to the three girls wrapped in blankets, green slipper-socks on their feet.

  He was followed by two women, one wearing a white apron. “Here, Miss, let me take the little one,” the gray-haired lady said. “My name is Gladys. I’ve set up a little bed in the bottom drawer of the chest in your room. Sally, please show the other girls to their rooms. You can all wash up and change. Mr. Wellington pointed you out to us on television so we tried to find you some clothes from our staff. They may not fit. We included some belts to hold up the pants. Afraid you’re all a bit smaller than us,” she giggled. “As soon as the stores open we’ll get the proper sizes.”

  Gilly followed Gladys, and Sally led Nicole and Gabby to their rooms.

  “Wait, Gladys…please.” Gilly turned back to Skip standing in the hall looking up the stairs at her. She stepped down, threw her arms around him, whispered thank you, and then dashed back to Gladys and on up to her room.

  A coffee service was set up in each room with cinnamon buns, bagels and cream cheese, bottled water, and assorted fruit. A note on each tray said to come down when they were freshened up, or take a nap if they liked.

  Nicole told Sally she’d rather stay with Gabby, if Sally didn’t mind. She didn’t want to be alone. Within the hour, after showers and a bite of a bagel, they both scampered down the hall to Gilly’s room. Climbing up on the oversized bed, Robyn asleep in the drawer, the girls sat in silence.

  With a light rap on the bedroom door, it eased open and Maria scooted in, climbed on the bed hugging everyone. Tears started to flow, streaming down their faces. One thought—all their work and the beautiful shop literally gone up in smoke. Gilly reached for the tissue box, setting it in the middle of the bed. Plucking the tissues, they wiped at their tears trying to stem the tide.

  “What are we going to do,” Nicole whispered, quietly blowing her nose.

  “Do?” Gilly said. “The only thing we four know—we get to work. Start over. But this time it won’t be from scratch.”

  There was another soft rap on the door. Arthur stuck his head in and a woman’s head appeared under his. “Can we join you?” he asked in a soft voice.

  “Sure, but you have to sit on the bed,” Gilly said with a smile as she blew her nose.

  The door opened wide. “This is my wife Cindy.”

  “Hi,” Nicole said scooching over to make room on the bed. “The more the merrier.”

  Arthur and Cindy bent over outside the door each picking up a box, Arthur tucking his laptop under his arm. He and his wife set everything down on the floor next to the dresser. Arthur, looking at his wife, put his finger to his lips pointing to the sleeping baby. She nodded and then they climbed on the bed.

  Gilly bobbed her head at the boxes, raising her hands, questioning what they held.

  “I hope you’ll forgive me,” Arthur whispered. “It’s all my accounting stuff. Sometimes I wasn’t finished at the end of the day, took the papers home, and made copies in case I might need to refer to them another time. I also made a backup of the studio’s computer every day on my laptop. I—

  “Arthur Lewis, just how many times are you going to save my life?” Gilly wiggled around so she could raise up on her knees, still on the bed and gave Arthur a big hug knocking him to the floor, everyone tumbling after him laughing that he would ever think he had done something wrong. Robyn let out a screech which resulted in another round of laughter, and everyone leaving the room so Gilly could tend to her baby.

  Thirty minutes later Anne entered Gilly’s room and swept her daughter into her arms. “Thank God you’re safe.”

  “It was scary, Mom, but everybody’s okay.”

  Anne scooped Robyn off the bed and held her close, planting several kisses on her forehead, cheeks, and the top of her head.

  “Stacy and her husband are here, in the living room along with the others. Looks like a convention down there. She wants to talk to you. Go on down, I’ll take care of Robyn.”

  ───

  STACY RUSHED OVER TO Gilly as she entered the huge room. Philip had seen to it that the couches were pushed back, extra chairs brought in, and a long buffet table continually refreshed with snacks and drinks.

  Stacy embraced Gilly then took her hand leading her to an empty chair. “My husband and I have talked over the situation with the shop, the lease … the fire. We have no desire to renovate, rebuild. We’ve talked to the landlord and he indicated he was going to talk to contractors starting tomorrow to renovate the building for you to occupy. He has insurance to start the process. The insurance my husband and I carried on the business—the stock, business interruption, etcetera should take care of our creditors or close anyway. The insurance money to redo the shop is yours—do what you will with it. The landlord should be able to rid the walls and floor of the stench—probably sandblast the place. With our business insurance you can make the shop a showcase for your line, set up the second floor to your liking—a more spacious apartment and studio.”

  “But Stacy, the business—

  “Is basically gone. We’ll transfer the lease and you’ll be responsible for any outstanding invoices the insurance doesn’t cover. Work it out with your lawyer and your accountant. Of course, this is all predicated on the assumption that you want to move forward. You can also say no thanks and walk away. I certainly wouldn’t blame you.”

  Eyes darted back and forth, Gilly to Hawk to Arthur, Gilly to Nicole to Gabby to Maria. What was she going to say? The decision was enormous, the trauma of the fire still evident in all the
ir eyes. With belts holding up pants rolled to their knees so they didn’t trip, they looked like a rag-tag group. The most beautiful rag-tag group Gilly had ever seen.

  But she had to think.

  “Stacy, I want to say yes, just like when you came to me with your first proposal. There’s even more at stake now. Can I get back to you tomorrow? I have to consult, as you say, with my lawyer and accountant.” The image of the two boxes and laptop on the floor upstairs brought a smile as she winked at Arthur. “I also have to meet with my staff, get their thoughts on the best way to proceed.”

  “We’ll be waiting for your call, won’t we honey?” Stacy said to her husband. “Tomorrow.”

  ───

  BY MID-AFTERNOON DUBOIS and the fire chief had arrived at the mansion. DuBois pulled Wellington to the side. “My office informed you yesterday that Eleanor is in jail but she’s making all kinds of statements trying to get released. As it stands, she’s looking at a light sentence.”

  Wellington expelled a long sigh. “Yes, I was so informed.”

  “We are in communication with the Monaco Police and Detective Boisot in Paris. The investigation into Sacco’s death is ongoing. They do not consider it a closed case. My officers are also working the case. As far as I’m concerned the heist started here and it will end here.”

  “I won’t be satisfied, Detective, until I know Eleanor is on death row. I would bet all my gold that she helped Sacco fall into the sea.”

  “I understand. I’ll be sure you are kept in the loop if there are any new developments.”

  The two men ended their conversation and sauntered into the living room where the convention slowly reconvened. Gilly’s mom, dad, and Gramps were seated along with everyone else. They all wanted to hear what the fire chief and the detective had found. Two leather couches flanked the massive stone fireplace, stone that Wellington had hauled from his cattle ranch in Montana. The detective and the chief stood in front of the fireplace.

  Stacy and her husband sat on the other couch talking quietly with Anne. A new facility manager, Gerald Sacco’s replacement, had rearranged a pair of needlepoint chairs next to the couch.

  Gilly entered the room and sat next to Skip at a small cherry table near a large window to the right of the fireplace.

  The fire chief gave a status report on the damage. Bottom line: the building was gutted but the structure remained solid, load-bearing walls—all the walls and floors—suffered scorching and all the windows were knocked out. But thankfully the fire did not spread to any of the surrounding buildings.

  Then Detective DuBois took over, hands clasped behind his back.

  “What the fire chief didn’t say, what I asked him to let me tell you, is that his men and my forensic team did find evidence that the fire was set. They found a timing device and an accelerant near the back door of the second floor.”

  Stacy spoke up. “Gilly, what I told you earlier about the landlord’s insurance—he had hoped to begin cleaning up, renovating the place quickly has changed. Because the fire was set the insurance company has to investigate.” Stacy’s husband had a firm grip on her hand. “We, my husband and I, and the landlord have to be cleared of any involvement. You will be questioned as well. Of course, that’s all silly,” Stacy exchanged a worried glance with her husband. “But an investigation could take a few weeks or even months. Only after the investigation is completed to the satisfaction of the insurance company, can the renovation begin … no telling how long.”

  Gilly looked from Stacy to her husband, both sitting with grim faces. Suddenly the realization of what Stacy was saying brought thoughts of moving the business forward to a screeching halt. She sought Maria’s eyes. Nicole reached out to Gabby grasping her hand. Both women stared at Gilly.

  Dubois cleared his throat, regaining everyone’s attention.

  “I have news about an arrest. Edward Churchill is on his way under police escort from Tacoma to the Seattle jail.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful.” Gilly jumped up, surprise and relief spreading over her face. “Detective, how did you find him so quickly?” The tables had turned … maybe an investigation would go swiftly and work could commence on the gutted building sooner than she thought a minute ago. They had the arsonist.

  “Well, you see, he was in the Tacoma jail. He’d been there four days on an armed robbery charge.”

  “But …” Gilly looked from Dubois to Skip and back to the detective. “Are you sure he was in jail … last night … how … I don’t understand.”

  DuBois didn’t answer. His eyes dark, brooding.

  He continued. “As I said, my forensic team did find evidence that the fire was set.”

  “Yes, but … you already believed it was set … you inferred as much when we talked this morning. On the street.” Gilly was standing, her eyes scrunched, palms out, questioning, trying to understand. What was the detective saying?

  “It was started at the back entrance. Second floor. The floor where you live.”

  “But—

  “Edward Churchill was in jail.

  “He could not have set the fire.

  “Someone else tried to kill you.”

  The End

  LABELED IN SEATTLE

  Copyright © 2012 by Mary Jane Forbes

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, locations, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author.

  ISBN: 978-0-9847948-1-2 (sc)

  Printed in the United States of America

  Todd Book Publications: 2/1012,

  Second Edition: 8/2017

  Port Orange, Florida

  Cover design 2018 by Angie: pro_ebookcovers

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Bouquets of flowers with thanks to the following:

  Tasha Hériché. As always, she came to my aid with my story’s French connection.

  Roger and Pat Grady. Continue to edit, give suggestions, and find inconsistencies, all helping to produce a more polished book.

  Lorna Prusak, Molly Tredwell, Vera Kuzmyak. Edited, reviewed, bounced around ideas for the book cover and the escapades of the characters.

  Toby Meadows, How to Set up and Run a Fashion Label, Lawrence King Publishing Ltd., 2009

  ───

  Choices

  And the Courage

  to Risk

  ───

  Murder by Design Series: Book 3

  MARY JANE FORBES

  Todd Book Publications

  Choices

  And the Courage to Risk

  A new season of styles. A perilous new threat. One rising fashion star must re-design her future or watch it all burn to the ground.

  Not even a devastating fire at her fashion boutique will stop Gillianne “Gilly” Wilder from sharing her designs with the world. As she rebuilds her life from the ashes, everyone seems to want a piece of what she has left. From the ex-roommate who stole her designs to the two men vying for her heart, she must confront impossible decisions that will shape the rest of her life.

  When the local police discover the fire was no accident, she realizes the arson was an attempt on her life and the life of her young daughter. With the would-be killer on the loose, Gilly must discover the truth within the ashes before the culprit can set everything she loves aflame.

  ───

  To five cousins:

  Rick, Todd, Kerry, Rob and Molly

  I trust this series of books will bring back

  fond memories of the yellow jacket, fishing derbies,

  and Sunday breakfasts down
over the bank.

  ───

  Chapter 1

  ───

  THE APRIL SHOWER TURNED into a downpour filling the gutters in downtown Seattle with gushing water. Gillianne Wilder burrowed deeper into her trench coat, arms hugging her body, hood covering her cap of red hair as she stepped quickly from the Jeep to the opposite side of the street—a better vantage point of the burned-out store known as The Working Girl shop until the fire two days ago.

  Skip Hunter stood by Gilly’s side, rain pelting his blue windbreaker. He didn’t reach out to her. Didn’t touch her arm. She had again closed herself off behind a wall, a wall that few could penetrate, certainly not a man with romantic intentions.

  It was a little after seven Thursday morning and pedestrian traffic was beginning to build in Seattle’s shopping district. A steady stream of cars passed down the street, slowing in front of the blackened shop to catch a glimpse of the charred remains. Thankfully, the fire was kept from spreading, consuming the whole block. Television reporters and the morning newspapers quoted the fire chief saying that evidence had been obtained indicating the fire was the result of an arsonist.

  Gilly stood mute, her eyes scanning the two-story shop, the shop where three months earlier she had signed a deal with the owner to manage. The shop where she was going to launch her designs, her label—Gillianne Wilder Fashions. The shop where she was going to establish her business and her dream of entering the fashion world.