Crushed Velvet (13 page)

“Vaughn,” I called
over my shoulder. “Help me get him inside the store.”

I rooted through my handbag for my keys. Vaughn pulled Giovanni to his feet. I unlocked the gate, heaved it open, and unlocked the front door. I returned to where Vaughn stayed with Giovanni. I got on one side of him; Vaughn on the other. With Giovanni's arms draped over each of our shoulders like a scene from
Weekend at Bernie's
, we guided him inside.

“Can you make it up the stairs?” I asked Giovanni. A trickle of blood had dried on his cheek next to the cut.

“If that's where you keep the liquor, then yes, I can make it upstairs.”

As we went up, Giovanni in the front with Vaughn and me behind him, I knew there was a possibility that we'd find Genevieve when we got there. I didn't know how I would explain
it if we did, but I sensed whatever had happened to my former boss related back to Phil Girard's murder.

I guided Giovanni to the sofa. “Vaughn, there's a bottle of brandy on the kitchen counter. Can you pour him a glass?” Vaughn nodded and went to the kitchen.

“Is it the good stuff? Bring the whole bottle,” Giovanni said.

I glared at him. “Are you really hurt or are you faking this?”

He sat up. “Would you like me to describe the thugs who jumped me over your fabric?”

“You were jumped over my fabric?” A chill swept over me like an X-ray machine at airport security. There were only three people who knew that my real order of fabric was still in Los Angeles. Two of them were in this room. The only good thing I could think of was that there was a new angle to Phil's murder.

“Yes. Which means you owe me. Which means I want your best brandy.”

I found a terry cloth rag in the hall closet and ran it under the cold water tap in the bathroom. When I returned to the living room, I handed it to Giovanni. “We should call the police,” I said.

Giovanni waved a hand back and forth in front of me. “I have enough problems of the not-legal variety. I don't need to be involved with the police over this little favor.” He laid the wet rag across his forehead, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes. A few seconds later he opened one. “Is that your new guy? Not bad. He's rich, right? Bet that's driving the last guy crazy.”

“Giovanni, here's the thing. I think it's best that you don't let Vaughn know what you told me about the fabric.”

“Ah, the ever-popular building-a-relationship-on-secrets approach. Yes, I believe I've tried that once or twice. What's it worth to you?”

“We already made a deal! You're getting twenty rolls of boning and instructions on how to use it.”

“That was before I was beat up. Now I want a children's collection inspired by trees. Twenty sketches.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“My niece is in a play. My sister wants costumes for the whole class, and I've decided to use it as an opportunity to enter the children's market.”

Vaughn rounded the corner with a glass of brandy. He handed it to Giovanni, who took a long pull on the amber liquid. He closed his eyes and swirled the drink around in his mouth, then swallowed.

“I'll be right back,” I said to Giovanni. I reached out for Vaughn's arm and gently pulled him into the hallway. “That man used to be my boss. I asked him to do a favor for me, which he did, but things are complicated now, so I think we're going to be renegotiating.”

Vaughn's face looked serious. “What kind of renegotiating?” he asked. He looked over my shoulder into the living room.

I twisted around and looked at Giovanni. His head was tipped back, resting against the top of the sofa. His mouth was open. Three buttons had been undone down the front of his shirt and the empty brandy glass rested on the top of his stomach.

“Not
that
kind of negotiating,” I said quickly. “Come with me. I'll walk you to the door.”

I led the way down the stairs. I turned the knob of the front door and cracked it. “In spite of what happened with my boss, I had a nice time tonight.”

Vaughn studied me. I felt nervous, having already kissed him in the parking lot outside Tea Totalers. In the span of fifteen minutes, we were worlds apart again.

“Good night, Poly,” he said and let himself out.

“Good night, Vaughn,” I said to the door as I locked it behind him. I went back up the stairs and found Giovanni asleep on the sofa, his ample stomach rising and falling in time with the buzz of his breathing. I tiptoed through the remaining rooms of the apartment like a bear looking for Goldilocks. She wasn't there.

•   •   •

The next morning
I showered early and dressed in a long, thin black sweater over a black tank top and black leggings. I brewed a pot of coffee and put two slices of whole wheat bread in the toaster. Giovanni hadn't stirred despite the increasing noise level. Pins and Needles, who had been asleep on the bed when I woke up, swarmed around my ankles and meowed for food. I gave them fresh water and topped off their Cat Chow, then carried a mug of coffee into the living room.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” I announced. I set the mug onto the coffee table with a clunk and pulled the cord on the curtains so the room was flooded with natural light. “Time to wake up.”

“What are you doing?” Giovanni said. He put his hands over his eyes and rolled into the back of the sofa.

“You're parked in a no-parking zone. You better move your car or you're going to get a ticket.”

He blinked his eyes a few times and then closed them again. “Five more minutes.”

I almost couldn't believe I'd worked for this man for seven whole years. “There's a mug of coffee on the table. You have thirty seconds to tell me what happened.”

“You never talked like this when you worked for me.”

“Actually, I did, but you threatened to dock my pay, so I stopped. I don't work for you anymore. So drink your coffee and start talking.”

Giovanni sat up and rubbed his face a couple of times. He yawned, made a howling sound as he did so, and then stretched his arms in either direction.

“You got any donuts?”

“I'll get you donuts after you tell me what happened.”

He held his hands up in front of him as if I'd won some kind of battle. “Okay, okay. Donuts later.” He swallowed some coffee. “After you called me about your velvet, I called Mack and made arrangements for him to hold it until five.”

“I told you noon.”

“Turns out it wasn't a firm noon. I can't leave the workroom unattended now that you left. Those women lose all sense of productivity when I'm not there to crack the whip.”

I shook my head at Giovanni's lack of sensitivity. He employed some of the best sewers in Los Angeles, all underpaid if you asked me. The newer ones were afraid to talk back for fear of losing their jobs. Those who had been in the workroom for longer, some for decades, knew what they could get away with. Even though it hadn't been part of my job requirements, I'd often acted as a representative for them, fighting on their behalf when his demands grew too unrealistic. The week I'd gotten Juanita Ramirez a raise so her husband didn't have to take a second job was one of the best I'd had. I could still taste the homemade tamales she'd brought me to say thank you.

“One of these days they're all going to leave you and find someone better to work for,” I said.

“You always did fancy yourself to be their own little Norma Rae, didn't you? It's touching.”

I rolled my eyes. “Back to my velvet. You made arrangements with Mack to pick it up at five. What happened?”

“He helped me carry it outside when I got there. I loaded it into the van. He locked up and left before I was done. Some guy came over and asked if I was making the delivery. I said yes.”

“And?” I was getting impatient. Giovanni was drawing this out longer than necessary and I regretted not filling him with refined sugar first.

“He said ‘make sure we get our money this time.' I told him the velvet was already paid for.”

“That's right.”

“Then he says, ‘funny guy,' and punches me. I landed on the ground and hit my head.” He touched the bruise on his forehead. It had already turned from dark red to a yellowish green with purple at the center. “Stupid Italian. He said the last guy tried to be funny, too, but that didn't work out so well for him.”

“How do you know he was Italian?”

“He sounded like half my family.”

“Giovanni, you reported the attack, right?”

“Are you kidding? The guy left and I drove here. If word gets out that I called the cops over a fabric delivery, I'm done. What's the big deal? I'm here, your velvet's here. No harm, no foul.”

“Yes, harm! Yes, foul! This is not normal. Picking up fabric shouldn't be dangerous.”

“You've watched me talk to these guys a hundred times. You know they're always looking for an angle. You're a pretty, young girl who ordered twelve bolts of custom fabric. Somebody got wind of your situation and thinks they can make a little money off you.”

“Would you do something like this?”

“No, but I got morals.”

Sure, Giovanni was the poster child for morals—not. But he had come through for me, and in light of the confrontation at Mack's, he could have walked away and washed his hands of my delivery problem.

“Listen to me. You might not have told the police in Los Angeles about what happened, but you have to talk to the sheriff here.”

“When did you get so sensitive? Somebody tried to put a scare into you. You're lucky you had me on your side. Although this cut better not leave a scar—”

“Giovanni!” I clapped twice in front of his face to get his attention. “This isn't someone putting a scare into me. The last man who tried to pick up the fabric was murdered. There's a homicide investigation going on. The sheriff thinks the wife did it, but I don't. You have to tell him what happened so he knows I'm not making this up.”

“Whoa!” He put his hands up in front of him. “Are you talking about that body they found in a van up here? That guy was your driver? I saw that on the news. They didn't say anything about any velvet.”

“They're set on the wife as the murderer and I don't think they're spending a lot of time on the fabric angle except for the fact that it was in the van at the time.”

“Fine. I'll talk to your sheriff. Can you do something about the donut situation first?”

I pulled on a pair of Reeboks and slung my messenger bag across my chest. “I have two cats. Leave them alone and they'll probably leave you alone. There's more coffee in the kitchen. Stay put and I'll be right back.”

I hustled to Lopez Donuts. Unlike yesterday, the line was under control, but the interior of the shop was packed. Scents of cinnamon and spices mingled with the sugary donut smell into a multilayered olfactory experience. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Someone bumped into me. I opened my eyes and saw Maria carrying a tray of tea and croissants to a table in the corner.

“Poly, wait there. You're not going to believe what happened,” she said.

I stepped out of the way, or as out of the way as I could get, and scanned the rest of the tables while she emptied her tray at the table. Behind the counter were two of her sisters. I didn't see Big Joe or either of the boys.

When Maria returned, she grabbed my sleeve and pulled me with her. She flipped the hinged counter up and I followed her through the saloon-style doors that led to the kitchen. “Keep giving out samples,” she said to the women. “I have to talk to Poly. I'll be right back.”

She went to the back of the kitchen, opened the door to the outside, and waved at me to come with her.

“This is crazy!” She ran her hands over her thick curly black hair. “You would not believe it. Like little elves or something.
Ay dios mio!
”

“Slow down. What are you talking about?”

“You saw how busy it was yesterday, right? And everybody wants tea. So after we closed yesterday, Joe went out to buy tea so we were prepared.”

“Looks like it worked.”

“You don't even know the half of it! When he came home, he found a large box on our doorstep. It was filled with croissants and packets of tea. Like elves, I say.”

I thought back to the empty shelves at Tea Totalers. Already I had a pretty good idea where the croissants and tea had come from, but I said nothing. “Was there anything else?”

“There was a note. It said, ‘This might help.'” She shook her head and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I mean, between you and me, it's obvious that it came from the tea lady, but I'm sure she has a good reason for not signing that note. We're giving out samples of her croissants and any money we make from the sale of that tea is going into a special jar for her.”

“Maria, you're amazing,” I said. I gave her a big hug—having learned that hugs were like handshakes in the Lopez family.

“I told Joe nobody who murdered her husband would do a thing like that. You tell that pretty widow if she needs us, we're here for her. You got it?”

“I don't know what you mean,” I said. “I haven't seen Genevieve in days.”

“Sure. And Dunkin' Donuts called and offered a million dollars for Big Joe's cruller recipe. You keep your secrets and I'll keep mine.”

“You have secrets?”

She turned her head away from me but looked at me from the corner of her eye. “You won't get anything out of me. That's the promise I made.”

The back door pushed open and Maria's sister Marisela looked out. “We're out of glazed. When's Joe getting back?”

“Baker's rack to the left of the oven. Four dozen cooling. I'll be right in.” She turned to me. “Honestly, you'd think these people never worked a donut shop before.”