If Angel is the thief, I hope he has the Rockwell gown stashed in a safe place, Nancy thought, crossing her fingers. Maybe Beau would give him a chance to make amends by returning the gown. If things fall into place, Nancy told herself, two crimes could be solved by the end of the day.
“Enough lace!” Mrs. Chong snapped, interrupting Nancy’s thoughts. The older woman measured and cut off the yardage she needed, then pointed to two small boxes on the floor of the workroom. “Those go to storage,” she said.
Nancy saw that the boxes contained leftover buttons and spools of trim. She picked them up and carried them to the storage room next to Beau’s office.
The shelves were cluttered, but she managed to clear a space beside a plastic bin of silk flowers. Nancy was on her way out when she heard someone talking in Beau’s office. He must be back, she thought, moving to the hole in the wall to check.
When she peered through the peephole, she saw only Angel. He was sitting at Beau’s desk, talking so quietly on the phone that she could barely make out what he was saying.
Holding her breath, Nancy concentrated on listening.
“The way I see it, I’m the one who’s taking all the chances,” he muttered. “You’re locked up all safe and sound behind your castle walls.”
Castle walls? Nancy mused. Who was Angel talking to?
“I’m losing patience. We have to talk—no, not now!” he insisted. “Meet me here tonight at ten-thirty. No one else will be around.”
Angel listened in silence for a moment, then snapped, “I’m not in this alone. Meet me here—unless you want to see yourself on the next installment of ‘Fashion Flash’!”
Chapter
Eleven
I’M NOT IN this alone.”
Angel’s words rang through Nancy’s mind as she watched him hang up the phone and leave Beau’s office. So he was working with a partner. But who?
From what he’d said, she knew Angel’s partner had to be involved in the fashion industry, which seemed to rule out Michael Rockwell.
Nancy was also surprised that Angel had told his partner to meet him at the studio. With Beau’s show next week, wouldn’t Beau and Mrs. Chong be working late, too?
The mystery deepened when Nancy returned to the workroom to find Mrs. Chong buttoning her coat. “Tell Mr. Beau I’m gone for the day,” she ordered Angel. “You covering tonight?”
He nodded and assured her, “I’ll be here.”
Nancy checked her watch as Mrs. Chong marched out. It was only four-thirty. “What’s going on?” she asked Angel. “Mrs. Chong doesn’t usually leave so early.”
“You’ll have to ask Beau,” Angel told her. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy.” He picked up his sketchpad and went down the hall toward the vault.
Nancy turned to Bess, who was modeling a navy sequined gown for Eleni. “You’d better change back into your own clothes,” Nancy told her friend. “If we don’t leave soon, we’re going to be late for the wedding rehearsal.”
“But Beau still isn’t back from the Plaza,” Bess pointed out. “I wonder what’s keeping him.”
“The details of a show are endless,” Eleni volunteered. “He’s got to check out the space and make sure the runway can be seen by all members of the audience. He has to work with the hotel on seating arrangements and security. Then there’s the music and the little extras that turn a show into a publicity event. Last year we gave an orchid to each guest. I don’t know what Beau has planned for this year.”
“I hate to leave without speaking to him,” Nancy said, “but we can’t let Joanna down.”
“Can I give him a message?” Eleni offered. “Or I’ll give you Beau’s home phone number so you can leave a message on his machine,” she suggested to Nancy. “He checks his messages every hour or so.”
While Bess changed, Nancy called and left a message for Beau on his machine. “We’ve got to talk—it’s urgent,” she said. “I’m going to be moving around, so I’ll try you later.”
With no time to spare, Nancy and Bess left the studio and waved down a cab. It was just a few minutes after five when the taxi pulled up in front of St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
“I’d forgotten how grand this place is,” Bess said as she leaned forward to pay the driver.
Nancy stepped out of the cab and looked up at the cathedral’s twin Gothic spires. Tourists streamed in and out through one set of wide doors tucked beneath graceful arches.
Inside, the girls had to maneuver past more sightseers. There, past a stand of candles glittering in red glass, Nancy finally spotted Sam Hollingsworth standing in the aisle with a group of men.
“Hi, Sam,” Nancy said, smiling as she approached the guys. “How’s it going?”
“Don’t ask!” he said, rubbing his temples. “We just got word that Joanna’s father is stuck in Chicago. He flew there for a business meeting, and now the airport is fogged in. He’s not going to make it back tonight so Joanna’s in a tizzy.”
Following the direction of his gaze, Nancy spotted Joanna standing at the side of the altar. She was talking with Liz Baker and a priest, a young man dressed in a black shirt with a clerical collar. When Nancy and Bess joined them, Joanna apologized.
“I’m sorry you two made the trip for nothing,” she said, her green eyes wide.
“You mean you’re canceling the rehearsal?” Bess asked.
“We might as well,” Joanna said. “What’s the use? Half the people in the bridal party aren’t here.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Liz pointed out, trying to calm her friend.
“Well,” Joanna said sadly, “I’m the only member of the Rockwell family here, and it sure doesn’t feel right. Maybe this whole wedding just wasn’t meant to be.”
Nancy was struck by Joanna’s statement. Her gown had been stolen. Her father, who had suggested canceling the wedding, couldn’t make it to the rehearsal. Her brother had refused to be in the bridal party. The Rockwells were hardly surrounding Joanna with warmth and support during this hectic time.
“Don’t let anyone leave,” Nancy whispered to Bess. “I’ll be right back.”
Motioning for Sam to join her, Nancy found a quiet place in one of the side aisles. “Do you know how to get in touch with Tyler?” she asked him. When he nodded, she added, “You have to call him to see if he’ll take Michael Rockwell’s place for the rehearsal. Joanna feels as if her family has let her down, and right now Tyler’s the only person who can change that.”
“Tyler’s not the most reliable guy in the world,” Sam admitted, his blue eyes thoughtful. “But he and Joanna used to be close when they were kids. I’ll give it a shot.”
He strode down the aisle and led Nancy to an area in the back of the cathedral with a gift shop, lavatories, and pay phones. While Sam phoned Tyler, Nancy called Beau’s studio but was told he hadn’t returned yet. As Nancy thanked the assistant and hung up, she began to worry that something had happened to Beau.
Her attention was diverted when Sam hung up the phone and flashed her a grin. “He’s coming,” he said. “I had to twist his arm, but finally he agreed. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Back at the altar, Nancy met Sam’s two younger brothers, Matt and Larry. Lean, athletic guys with warm smiles, they were joking around with Joanna, trying to cheer her up.
“What happened?” Matt teased, his head thrown back to take in the huge vaulted ceiling of the cathedral. “Couldn’t find a place bigger than this?”
Ten minutes later the bridal party was sitting in two pews, listening to the priest describe the ceremony. Tyler walked in just then. Joanna seemed startled at first, but then she jumped out of her seat and danced into the aisle to give her brother a big hug.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Taking Dad’s place,” he said nonchalantly. “Someone’s got to represent the Rockwells.”
Joanna’s face was beaming when the priest politely asked, “Are we ready to continue?”
&nbs
p; With a giggle and a nod, Joanna slid into her pew, pulling her brother along beside her.
After the priest finished the instructions, everyone but Sam and the best man assembled at the back of the cathedral to practice the bridal march.
“Gentlemen, you set the pace,” the priest instructed. “Not too fast, but not the walk of a condemned man. This is a happy occasion.”
Nancy was paired with Sam’s brother, Larry Hollingsworth. He had short, auburn hair and a fun sense of humor. “Ready to rock ’n’ roll?” Larry asked, extending his arm.
Smiling, Nancy linked her arm through his. “I’m just your partner for the day,” she told him, explaining that she and Bess were filling in for two bridesmaids who wouldn’t arrive until Friday.
“You mean I don’t get to keep you?” he teased.
“Ladies, remember that you’ll be carrying baskets of flowers,” the priest said as organ music filled the air and the bridal march began.
Bess sighed. “I love this stuff,” she said, reaching up to take Matt’s arm. A moment later they were strolling down the aisle.
As she walked beside Larry, Nancy felt relieved that the rehearsal was going on as planned. Michael Rockwell’s disapproving face flashed through her mind, and she wondered if her father had uncovered any information about the billionaire. I need to call and check in with Dad, she thought.
After more than an hour of rehearsing, the bridal party piled into three stretch limousines outside the cathedral.
Their next stop was the Russian Tea Room, a restaurant in a narrow building next door to Carnegie Hall. Inside, the bold red, green, and gold decor reminded Nancy of Christmas.
“My mother used to bring me here for lunch when I was a little girl,” Joanna told Nancy and Bess.
“Listen,” Tyler said, turning to his sister. “I have to get going if I want to make my seven-thirty call for our eight o‘clock curtain.”
“That’s right!” Joanna exclaimed. “I almost forgot. It’s the last preview before tomorrow’s big opening.”
Tyler frowned, then added, “It’s no big deal. Dad’s not coming. You’ll be there, though, right?”
“Sam and I both will be,” Joanna promised, then turned to Nancy and Bess. “You guys are welcome to come if you’re free.”
“If it’s for the opening of Tyler’s show, we’ll make sure we are,” Bess said, smiling.
“No big deal,” Tyler said, shrugging. For a minute Nancy wondered why he was trying so hard to downplay the importance of his off-Broadway debut.
“Thanks for coming through for me at the rehearsal today,” Joanna told her brother. “Isn’t there any way I can convince you to be an usher?”
Tyler shook his head. “Sorry, Sis, but I just can’t fall in line like a good little soldier and take Dad’s orders.”
“Can’t you set aside your feelings about Dad—just until the wedding is over?” Joanna pleaded. “Can’t you do it for me?”
Frowning, Tyler zipped up his leather jacket and shoved his hands in the pockets. “I wish I could,” he muttered, then cut through the crowd toward the door.
As Nancy watched him leave, she felt sorry for Joanna. Tyler’s feud with Michael Rockwell was bound to put a damper on the wedding.
The wedding party settled in at one long table headed by Sam’s parents, the hosts of the dinner. The best man, one of Sam’s racing buddies named Chase, delivered a humorous toast to the bride and groom. Then the waiters served borscht soup and platters of buttery chicken Kiev.
Around nine o‘clock, Nancy went to a pay phone and called Beau’s studio. Angel answered. He told her that Beau wasn’t expected back at all that night.
What’s going on? Nancy wondered.
She called Beau’s home number and left a message: “If you can, meet us on the street outside your studio at ten-fifteen tonight,” Nancy said. “Whatever you do, don’t let anyone see you, and don’t go inside!”
• • •
“We’re not going to make it in time,” Nancy said to Bess, checking her watch as the cab lurched forward then stopped for pedestrians. It was almost ten-thirty. The cab was stalled in traffic. It looked as if they were going to miss their chance to discover who Angel’s partner was.
“Where did all this traffic come from?” Bess asked the driver.
“We have to cut through the theater district, and the Broadway shows are just ending,” he explained, rolling to a stop at a red light.
“We should have left earlier,” Bess told Nancy. “But I was having so much fun. Joanna’s friends know how to have a good time, and Sam’s brothers are so cute. Not to mention all that delicious Russian food.”
Staring out the window, Nancy checked the street sign. They were four blocks from Beau’s studio, but with the traffic, they’d make better time on foot. “We’ll walk the rest of the way,” she said as she paid the driver.
Bess climbed out of the cab, then looked down at her flats. “Good thing I didn’t wear heels,” she said as the girls ran down the street.
By the time they reached the block where Beau’s studio was located, it was already ten-forty. From the street Nancy noticed that the studio lights were on, though Beau was nowhere to be seen.
“I told him to keep a low profile,” Nancy muttered. “I wonder if he’s here.” As she walked, she peered into the shadowed entryway of each building, looking for the designer.
“No sign of Beau,” Bess said breathlessly as they reached the front door.
“Let’s go on up to the studio,” Nancy said. “If we’re quiet, we may be able to catch Angel and his partner off guard.” She unlocked the lobby door, then motioned Bess to move toward the stairs. “They might hear the elevator,” she whispered as they started up the steps.
When they reached the fourth floor, Nancy went over to the electronic keypad beside the door to press in the code to disarm the lock. The light was off, which meant the alarm wasn’t on and the door wasn’t locked.
She held a finger to her lips, reminding Bess to be quiet. Then she pushed open the studio door and stepped into the reception area.
Dead silence filled the air. Where were they? Nancy wondered as she stole through the outer room. Bess followed, moving carefully to keep from making a sound.
The door to the workroom was open, and a shaft of light spilled onto the floor of the reception area. Nancy’s senses tingled in warning. It was too quiet. Something was wrong.
She pressed herself against the wall near the doorway, then peered inside.
A man’s body lay facedown on the floor in a pool of dark red blood. Nancy’s eyes darted to his face. “It’s Angel,” she whispered in shock.
Chapter
Twelve
BESS JOINED NANCY in the doorway, then shrank back in horror. “Someone killed him!” she gasped.
Nancy moved into the doorway to survey the scene. From the looks of the body and the amount of blood, it appeared that Angel had been dead for a few minutes at least.
Mrs. Chong’s scissors, with their gold handles, were sunk deep in Angel’s back. The wooden scissors box was open, and the other scissors were sprawled haphazardly in it. Everything else in the workroom seemed to be in place. There was no sign of a struggle, so Nancy had to assume the killer had taken Angel by surprise.
“I’m calling the police,” Bess said. She took a deep breath to regain her composure, then picked up the phone on the desk in the reception area. “There’s been a murder,” she said, her voice shaking slightly as she gave the address.
When Nancy stepped into the workroom, Bess hung up the phone and called after her, “Where are you going? The killer might be in there!”
“I don’t think the person who did this stuck around,” Nancy said. A swatch of blue fabric lay on the floor near Angel’s body. Not wanting to disturb the evidence, Nancy didn’t touch it, but she saw it was a folded piece of fabric with dark blue lace trim around the edge.
It’s a handkerchief, she thought, not a fabric sample. The
handkerchief was stained with blood. Did it belong to Angel? Or had the killer dropped it accidentally? From the looks of the dainty piece of cloth, Nancy suspected that it belonged to a woman. Suddenly a picture of Mimi Piazza formed in her mind. Didn’t Mimi favor tailored suits accented with a dainty hankie?
Maybe Mimi was working with Angel, Nancy thought. Maybe this hankie is the clue that will tie Mimi to the murder! She’d make sure that the police didn’t miss this bit of evidence.
Within minutes two uniformed police officers had arrived at the studio. Nancy and Bess were sitting in the small reception area, talking with the female officer, when Beau arrived.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Beau!” Bess said, sighing with relief. “We were worried about you.”
Nancy was overjoyed that Beau was all right. He looked tired, though. His eyes were rimmed with red, and his usually neat hair looked slightly disheveled.
“It’s Angel,” Nancy said, stepping into Beau’s path so that he couldn’t walk into the workroom. “He’s dead—stabbed with a pair of Mrs. Chong’s scissors.”
Beau’s face registered shock, then horror. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” he said.
Just then three men in suits appeared at the door. The female officer greeted them and pointed them to the body. Two men carried large briefcases into the workroom, while a tall, portly man with salt-and-pepper hair stayed behind.
“I need to go inside and brief the guys from our crime-scene unit,” the female officer explained. “They’ll collect samples and dust everything for fingerprints.” She nodded at the tall man, adding, “This is Detective Noonan. He’ll be handling this homicide.”
“There’s a handkerchief on the floor by the body,” Nancy pointed out. “It may be important.”
“I’ll make sure they get it,” the officer said. Then she ducked into the workroom.
While Beau took several deep breaths to calm himself, Nancy introduced herself and Bess to Detective Noonan. “And this is Beau Winston,” she said. “He brought Bess and me into his studio to find out who was stealing his designs. We figured it out, but just a little too late.”
Designs in Crime Page 7