Fashion Faux Paw (4 page)

“I can’t believe this is happening to us again,”
Rudy groused while sitting at Ellie’s feet.
“We must have a sign hangin’ over our heads. Somethin’ like ‘They’re here. It’s time to kill somebody.’”

Sitting on one of the chairs between the water cooler and the food table, Ellie scanned the canine corner. The forensic team was still collecting and labeling everything that had been on the table and under it when the show started. The models had been released from questioning, as well as the designers, and the detectives on the case were finishing up with anyone who’d worked behind the scenes, including the makeup artists and hairstylists.

She’d been told to sit and wait. The man in charge would get to her soon enough.

“I think that’s a bit of a stretch. We don’t have that kind of power, nor do we want it.” Ellie ended the comment with a sigh. She was beat, but she had sat through enough of these murder cleanup sessions to know the cops would take their time to do it right, no matter whom they inconvenienced.

Rudy jumped on the chair to her right.
“Then we must have some bad karma workin’ our lives.”

“You’re starting to sound like Viv’s sister and her astrology predictions,” she said, remembering the detailed chart she’d received from Arlene Millman after she’d exposed the person who killed her sleazeball fiancé. She’d been thinking about the chart since Lilah had been pronounced dead on the stage, and had made a decision. “I believe these murders we keep stepping into are accidental. There hasn’t been a thing we could do to stop them, yet we end up finding the killer. It’s our destiny.”

Rudy gruffed a laugh.
“Isn’t destiny the same as karma?”

Ellie shrugged. “I guess, so that’s probably the way I’ll have to look at it. I don’t think we have another choice.”

“How about you try tellin’ that one to Detective Demento, and see what he has to say.”

“Let’s keep the idea between the two of us, shall we?”

She was happy that Sam and his partner, Vince, hadn’t been called to this case. Sam was going to blow a gasket when he found out she was involved in another murder, even if she really wasn’t. “It’s going to be difficult enough when he finds out this happened while I was here. And when he learns that I was the last person to come in contact with the body before . . . Well, I don’t even want to think about it.”

Ellie would never forget touching Lilah’s clammy skin and sticking the EpiPen needle in her thigh. Unfortunately, by the time the EMTs in the emergency van stationed outside the event had pushed their way through the crowd and done their best to revive the designer, she was gone.

After they’d officially declared Lilah dead, they asked Ellie questions. That’s when she found out the EpiPen she’d pulled from Lilah’s bag was a blank. And when she’d told the EMTs Lilah had made a huge deal out of her allergy, they had called the medical examiner and the police. According to them, it was rare for anyone with an allergy as serious as Lilah’s to be caught with an empty EpiPen and no backup.

It was then she learned that the pens usually came in a box of two, and people with a severe allergy took pains to carry a full load. In fact, these days the pens were used for so many types of allergies that even the ME, a guy named Steve Bauman, was surprised no one in the audience had responded to the emcee’s plaintive request.

The thought that she’d been unable to help Lilah made Ellie’s stomach churn. Though she couldn’t be blamed for killing the designer, she felt responsible for using an empty pen. If she’d known it was already discharged, she might have been able to do more to locate another one.

While she continued to stew over the tragic event, one of the women from the forensic team, a blonde named Charlene whom Ellie had met before, crawled out from under the table. “What do you know about this?” she asked, holding up her prize.

“That’s an orange,” Ellie answered, trying to sound intelligent. “What’s it doing down there?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Charlene pulled an evidence bag from her pocket. “Considering the amount of stuff stored under there, I doubt it would roll so far to the back without assistance. My guess is someone dropped it back here behind the table, hoping no one would notice until the cleaning crew tossed it out.” She bagged and tagged the orange. “We’ve already confiscated the fruit sitting on top, but I’ll keep this one separate. It might be something—or nothing at all. We’ll have to wait and see.”

When Charlene left, Marcus David ambled over and sat next to her. “I’m not being nosy, but I have to ask. I heard you were a crime solver of some renown. What’s that all about?”

“Be careful what you say, Triple E.”

She wrapped her fingers around Rudy’s muzzle. “Where did you hear that?”

“Just around. You know how people talk.” A corner of the handsome designer’s mouth curled up in a grin. “I don’t like rumors. I prefer going straight to the source.” When she didn’t answer, he got the message. “Okay, so you don’t want to talk about it. Are you willing to answer another question?”

“Depends,” she told him. And who was spreading rumors about her past escapades? “What do you want to know?”

“I noticed you talking to your dog. At least, I think it was your dog, or maybe it was to yourself.” He gave a full-fledged smile. “I just wondered which it was.”

“I told you to watch yourself, but did you—?”

Ellie gave the yorkiepoo’s muzzle another squeeze. “Maybe a little of both. I guess I was trying to figure things out—”

“Things about Lilah’s death?”

“See, what’d I tell you?”

“About the contest, for one,” she replied. “Do you know if it’s been postponed, or is it still on for tomorrow?”

Marcus shrugged. “Beats me, but I imagine it will continue on schedule. This is a huge venue with designers from around the world participating. I doubt the powers-that-be will stand for a disruption—murder or no murder.”

Murder? Ellie swallowed. “Did you hear something official? Has Lilah’s death actually been declared a murder?”

The designer leaned back in his chair. “That’s the gossip circulating. As for the postponement, well, I hate to sound like a pompous jerk, but with Lilah gone it gives the three designers left a better shot at winning.”

“You mean they won’t move down to the next designer in line? The one who finished in fifth place?”

“I have no idea, but that would be a bummer. That fifth-place designer would have to play catch-up with everything.”

Before she could comment, her cell rang. When she checked caller ID, she heaved another sigh. “I have to take this.”

Standing, he said, “No problem. See you tomorrow,” and walked away.

Ellie waved her fingers, then took the call. It was Amber Truly, the fellow dog walker she’d asked to cover her regular customers while she worked this show. “Hey, Amber. Sorry I didn’t call you earlier. How were the walks?”

“Everything went great.” Amber’s cheerful voice made Ellie smile. “I’m exhausted, of course. Adding thirty dogs to my daily schedule wasn’t easy.”

She’d made friends with Amber about six months ago while doing her rounds. The girl seemed friendly and responsible, and she employed two assistants, which meant she’d probably given most of her regular dogs away and walked those in the Davenport herself, which is where Ellie had met her.

“I’m very grateful for your help. You know I’ll do the same for you if you ever need me.” Amber was also getting about sixty percent of Ellie’s profits for her trouble, but this wasn’t the time to quibble about money. The amount she was being paid by NMD was triple what she earned for the walks. “Did they all behave?”

“Everybody except the one you call Mr. T. That Jack Russell acted like he had a stick of dynamite up his butt. Good thing I only have to do him once a day, or I’d be demanding double.”

Ellie grinned. Viv’s Jack Russell was a trip, and he was never happy when he had to work with someone new. She’d had a long talk with him about Amber last week, and again this morning, but that didn’t mean he was going to be agreeable. “Sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about him. T has a mind of his own.”

“I can see that. Are you still mingling with the fabulous fashionistas or are you home?”

“I’m still at the event. There’s been an . . . incident. You’ll probably read about it in tomorrow’s newspaper.” Ellie took a deep breath, hoping to ward off the first of many comments she was sure to receive from her friends. “And before you say anything, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, my God. There’s been another murder,” Amber exclaimed, her high-pitched voice ear-shattering. “I can’t wait to hear the details. You owe me a lunch.”

“Okay, fine. Just don’t make it this week.” She spotted the detective she’d been told was in charge talking with Charlene, and figured she’d be next on his list. “I’ve got to hang up. Have fun tomorrow and be nice to my kids. Bye.”

Moments later, a tall, thin man with a shock of gray hair finished his discussion with the forensic technician and headed in Ellie’s direction. She had no idea if the lead detective was a nice guy or not, but he’d be in charge, so she decided to make the best of it.

“Ms. Engleman?” He held up his badge. “I’m Newton Vaughn, lead detective on this case. I understand you were the one who tried to revive the victim before the emergency crew arrived.”

Ellie moved Rudy to her lap, hoping the extra room would encourage the rangy detective to sit. She’d have a crick in her neck if she had to stare up at him much longer.

“I did, but I had no idea the pen was dead—er—empty until after I tried it.”

Detective Vaughn took the hint and parked himself, leaving the middle chair between them for room. Then he pulled out the ever-present spiral notepad. “You know anything about allergies?”

Ellie shook her head. “Not a thing. In fact, I don’t believe I know a single person, family member or friend, who’s allergic to anything.”

“So this pen was new to you?”

“I’d heard about EpiPens, of course, but no, I’d never seen one. When I got there with her bag, I had already pulled it out. Lilah was gasping for breath, her face swollen, her body stiff, so I automatically flipped off the cap, saw the needle, and pushed it into her thigh. Then I saw that the plunger was already depressed. That’s when Mr. Jager took a look and told me it was empty. We checked her bag, but didn’t find another one.”

Detective Vaughn leaned back in the chair, his ruddy face set in a grim expression. “I understand from Mr. King that you were the person in charge of this area. You saw who came and went, who put their belongings under the table, who was inspecting those fancy gift baskets, that sort of thing.”

“I was, but not all the time.”

“Not all the time? What does that mean?”

Ellie figured he already had this information, and was just asking to make sure she gave the identical explanation. “My first priority was the dogs. I had to take them out back on schedule. I also made sure they had water and treats, and I gave them an ear if anything was wrong.”

“An ear?” Vaughn’s generous mouth curled down into a frown. “Care to tell me what that means?”

“Smart move, Triple E. That’s the way to show him you have a sensible head on your shoulders,”
Rudy muttered, nosing her neck. “
Get outta this one.”

“I—uh—I seem to have a sixth sense where canines are concerned.” She crossed mental fingers. “I can usually tell if they have a good life, owners who love them, that kind of thing.”

“I understand Ms. Perry had a dog. Do you know what happened to it?”

“She has—er—had a mini Schnauzer named Klingon, and he’s a cute little guy. One of the models took him home with her when she was dismissed.” Ellie had thought about keeping Klingon herself, but Yasmine had claimed that her own mini Schnauzer, Jojo, and Lilah’s dog got along, so she figured it would be all right. “I hope that wasn’t against the rules,” she added, remembering what Sam always said about taking dogs that belonged to a murder victim to the city shelter.

Vaughn scribbled a notation on his pad. “I don’t see why not. The dog wasn’t near the victim when she died, so it really wasn’t involved. We’ll have to notify Ms. Perry’s next of kin, of course, so they can claim the dog, but that might take a while.” He tucked the spiral notebook in his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. “There’s just one more thing. No one can find both of the deceased’s bags, and I understand they were last in your possession.”

Ellie cocked her head. “Both bags? You mean her personal tote
and
her gift bag?”

“We have her personal bag, but the gift bag is missing, and my people say there’s no sign of it. Since you brought her personal bag to the staging area, I wondered if you’d seen her gift bag.”

She remembered bringing the bag when she’d found the EpiPen. “I don’t recall. Once I found the EpiPen, I was so busy trying to help Kurt revive her I never thought about the swag bag. Then the EMTs arrived and—”

“Somebody took it, of course. Didn’t you say it held thousands in gifts?”

She cupped her hand around Rudy’s muzzle. “I hate to say this, but I imagine it was stolen. The stuff inside the bag was worth a lot of money, so someone probably saw their chance and grabbed it.”

“Hmm.” He passed her his card and stood. “One of the officers told me who you were, so you know the drill. Call me if you remember something you think we need to know.”

Great. It figured someone would fill Vaughn in on all the investigations in which she’d been involved, and that she lived with an NYPD detective. Resolving to take his remark in stride, she asked, “Do you know if the show will continue tomorrow morning, or is it postponed?”

“The mayor has ordered us to stay here for however long it takes tonight, so this Fashion Week thing can go on as scheduled. I think it’ll be safe for you to return at your usual time in the morning.”

“Can I clean up the dog pen or is that considered part of the crime scene?”

He gazed at the pen. “The death occurred a good thirty yards from here, and we’ve taken everything we consider evidence, so do what you have to. Just keep out of the way of the forensic team.” His expression grew stern. “That means minding your own business, and staying out of theirs.”