The Fashion Police (16 page)

Two pairs of black eyes glared at me.

‘You mean you’re named after a couple of girls?’ I couldn’t hold back a nervous laugh. 

Sally shuffled on his feet, looking uncomfortable. ‘Sally is short for Salvatore.’

I glanced at Tracy. ‘What’s Tracy short for?’

‘It’s not short for anything,’ Tracy said.

I could almost feel his pea-sized brain whirring away beneath the surface, wondering where I was going with this. ‘Did your parents want a girl? Did they dress you up in pink little dresses and make you go to ballet lessons?’

Sally blushed, looking embarrassed. I wondered if that had actually happened to him. ‘Well, Amber Fox sounds like a porn star.’ He looked pretty pleased with himself for thinking that up on the spot with no outside help.

‘Does not,’ I said, outraged.

‘Does,’ Sally said.

‘Actually, I think the correct term is porn queen,’ Tracy said to Sally.

Sally scratched his head. ‘You sure?’

‘Yes.’ Tracy nodded. ‘I know because of those awards they have on television.’

‘What awards?’ Sally scratched his head again.

While they were having this peculiar discussion, I took the opportunity to glance every which way around the room, looking for a possible escape route.

‘The Porn Queen Awards,’ Tracy said.

I stood up. ‘This conversation is getting to be a big, fat yawn, so I’ll be off now if you don’t mind.’

Tracy
shoved me back into the chair. ‘OK, porn queen, where is it?’

‘Where is what?’ I said.

‘You know what.’ Sally folded his arms, glaring daggers at me.

‘If I knew what, I wouldn’t be asking, now would I?’ I said to Sally. He was obviously the brains behind the outfit. ‘What have you done with Heather Brown?’

‘We’re asking the questions.’ Tracy poked me in the shoulder. It was the sore one, and I couldn’t hide a wince.

‘You’ve got something our boss wants,’ Tracy said.

I snorted at them because I figured they were kidding. Unfortunately, they weren’t.

‘Yeah, give it to us,’ Sally said.

‘Is it my charm and good looks that your boss wants by any chance? Judging by the two of you, I’m betting your boss is probably short of those two attributes as well.’

Sally caught Tracy’s eye. ‘Did she just insult us?’

Tracy
shrugged his shoulders at Sally. ‘I’m not sure.’ Then he gave me an ugly frown. At least I think he did, it could’ve just been his normal face, though. ‘I’ll ask you one more time, and then things are going to get nasty.’

‘Oo-ooh, I’m scared,’ I said, hoping things wouldn’t get nasty. Nasty was one thing coming from Romeo. Coming from these guys, it sounded quite painful.

‘Where is it?’ Tracy said.

I grabbed the glass of vodka from the kitchen table and threw it at Tracy. The liquid flew through the air and splashed onto his crotch.

He looked down as half of it soaked into his trousers, and the other half dripped onto the floor. When he looked back up at me, he seemed a tad pissed off for a minute. Then he smirked. ‘Well, that didn’t do anything, did it, porn queen?’

That’s when I pulled the stun gun out of my pocket and zapped his nuts.

Tracy
let out a high pitched scream as his nuts caught fire. His eyes nearly popped out of his head as he jerked and twitched, and then he slumped to the floor, unconscious.

‘No, but that did.’ I smiled.

Sally jumped up and down, gazing at his partner’s unconscious body in shock. He screamed, grabbed a tea towel, and began flicking it at Tracy’s smoking crotch.

It seemed as good a distraction as any, so while there was jumping, screaming, and flicking going on, I thought it was a good time to make a sharp exit.

I ran from the apartment and headed back down the hall. I crashed into the fire exit door with my shoulder – guess which one? I stumbled through the door, sliding down half a flight of stairs at breakneck speed before I managed to gain my footing. I picked up momentum on the way down, and by the time I pushed open the door to the parking lot, I tumbled forward, my body completely out of control. I landed in a crumpled heap on the pavement.

I jumped up just as Brad’s Hummer screeched around the corner. Racing for the vehicle, I jumped in on the passenger side. 

‘Go!’ I yelled. ‘Go, go!’

Brad shifted it into reverse and hit the accelerator, narrowly missing the Goon’s SUV as he swung back out onto the road.

My chest heaved up and down. ‘What took you so long?’

‘I thought I told you to wait for me.’

I cut my eyes to Brad. He looked hot and bothered. That wasn’t good. Brad didn’t do hot and bothered. I could almost see steam coming out of his ears. ‘I thought Heather was in there with them.’

‘Did you see her?’

I shook my head.

He looked over at me. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m peachy.’ I raked my out-of-control waves off my face.

‘Because you don’t look OK.’

‘How am I supposed to look when someone tries to kill me?’

‘Not like that. You look…hot.’

I didn’t know if he meant hot in a sexy way or hot in a flushed, running-for-your-life way. ‘So do you.’ And then I realized how that sounded and cringed.

He raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

‘You should see the other guy.’ 

And then his face relaxed. ‘That’s my girl.’

15

‘God, I need a stiff one. No, make that a couple of stiff ones – or ten.’ I flopped onto Brad’s luxurious sofa. ‘Drinks, I mean, before you get any funny ideas.’

Brad poured two large brandies into cut crystal glasses and handed me one. I took a sniff. It nearly blew my head off. Oh well, needs must. He sat in the leather armchair opposite me, elbow resting on the arm, one leg outstretched. He looked relaxed and composed, but I knew the calm was just a facade. Brad never relaxed. Something was always simmering, bubbling away under the surface. The only sign of it was a glint in his eyes, a light that hinted on occasion at the danger that was just below the surface.

‘Well, that was fun,’ Brad said.

‘I don’t consider that to be fun. On my fun-o-meter scale, it ranks right up there with tooth extraction and knee capping.’

‘But it means that someone is obviously rattled.’

‘Yeah, me. I’m rattled.’ I sipped the cool liquid, savoring the burning sensation as the brandy slipped down my throat. That meant I was alive, and alive was good. ‘I don’t think Samantha James is telling the truth.’

‘If Fandango kidnapped Tia, then Samantha won’t be telling the truth. She’d have to admit that she knew about it and didn’t do anything, which means she’s an accessory.’

‘She knew him for six weeks before they got married. You can’t fall in love after six weeks, can you?’

Brad stared into my eyes. ‘Don’t you believe in love at first sight?’

I snorted. ‘There’s no such thing.’

He brought his glass to his lips, but didn’t drink. He had a haunted expression on his face. ‘Are you sure about that?’

‘Who are you talking about here?’

He took a sip of brandy. ‘Samantha, of course. Who else would I be talking about?’

‘If it was true love, why did it only last six months? I think it was a marriage of convenience. They had an arrangement of some sort.’

‘If Fandango kidnapped Tia, I don’t understand why someone wasn’t looking for them before now.’

‘Maybe they were. Maybe Fandango just hid things well. Hacker said Fandango and Tia were never photographed in public together. There were no photos of them at his house. Seems to me that he was keeping his relationship with her low key,’ I said. ‘You hear about it all the time; a father kidnapping his daughter because of custody battles or the like. It’s not uncommon.’

‘You think he assumed a new identity to hide the fact he’d taken Tia away from her mother?’

‘That’s how it looks.’

‘Still doesn’t explain the mob connection.’

I stared into space and downed the rest of my drink. ‘Unless Tia is from a mob family.’

Brad got up and refilled my glass. ‘He’d have to be nuts to kidnap someone from a mob family.’

‘Or desperate.’

‘Or desperately nuts.’

‘Samantha had a motive for getting rid of Fandango. She told me they were separated for over nineteen years, and then out of the blue, Fandango calls her on the day he disappears and asks her to sign divorce papers. She said Fandango had left her something in his will, but if they hadn’t actually got divorced yet, the figure could be substantially higher.’

‘We’re going around in circles. We need to wait and see what Hacker digs up.’

I stood up. ‘Thanks for the drink.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m going to do some observation on the Cohens’ warehouse. Saturday night is nice and quiet. The surrounding warehouses will be empty. It’s prime time for a possible arson.’

Brad sat his glass down next to mine. ‘I’m going with you. I don’t want those thugs taking another pop at you. Besides, your car is still at Heather’s apartment.’

****

We took the Hummer, parked up in my usual spot, and crept through the trees to the vantage point. A sliver of light from the moon peeped through the darkness, and an eerie silence filled my eardrums. Now this was what I called creepy.

We sat crossed legged, shoulder to shoulder, the heat from Brad’s body giving me a warm glow. At least I thought it was just the shared body heat.

I pulled out the night vision goggles. ‘Do you want these?’

‘No, I can see like a hawk.’ He latched his gaze onto the warehouse below.

I pulled the goggles on my head and did the same. A light shone in a downstairs window of the warehouse, but other than that nothing much seemed to be happening.

‘Have you heard from Romeo?’ Brad asked, staring straight ahead.

‘Are you fishing for information?’

‘If I was fishing for information, I’d ask if you were in love with him.’

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I kept quiet, which was pretty hard for me. Usually the only time that happened was when I fell asleep. I bit my lip to avoid blurting out anything incriminating, and wished I didn’t still have feelings for Brad. I couldn’t look at him.

‘I didn’t want to disappear and leave you in the lurch for three months. I just couldn’t contact you. It would have compromised my unit and the innocent civilians we’d been assigned to protect.’ He reached over, pulling my hand into his. A muscle throbbed in his clenched jaw. ‘The mission I got assigned to was a very delicate one, and secrecy was of the utmost importance if it was going to succeed.’

I could see him out of the corner of my eye. He appeared to be studying me carefully.

‘Nothing’s been the same since you left,’ he said.

‘You were the one who left.’

‘But you wouldn’t let me explain when I came back. You just refused to answer my calls or see me. You shut me out and wouldn’t have anything to do with me.’

My heart hammered away as I turned to him. ‘You disappeared without a trace the day after you asked me marry you! What was I supposed to think? I thought I’d never see you again, I thought you’d died, for God’s sake. Don’t you know what that did to me? Can you even imagine? I couldn’t think of a single worthwhile excuse for you to just suddenly up and leave your new fiancé without a word. And believe me, I tried to think of one. I racked my brain for three months to come up with a possible reason.’

‘I didn’t have a choice.’

‘Don’t use that excuse.’

‘OK, you’re right. I did have a choice. I could risk the lives of thousands of people or risk the life we were going to have together. It wasn’t an easy decision, and you don’t know how many times I wished that I could take it back.’

‘But you can’t, Brad. One minute you were there with me, and the next you’d slipped into the wind. At the same time that I was basking in the excitement of marrying you, you were boarding a plane for God knows where on some secret SAS mission, and I was abandoned, tossed away without another thought. If you had just told me you had to go, told me you were coming back, I could have dealt with it.’

Silence floated in the gap between us.

‘I never meant for you to feel like that,’ he whispered finally, squeezing my hand.

‘Well that’s how I felt. Of course I shut you out when you came back, just like you shut me out.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Anyway, two years’ worth of change has happened since then. I’ve changed too,’ I said, trying to sound convincing. Because if I had changed, why was my heart beating too fast, and why were my palms tingling?

Thoughts jostled for position in my head.
Oh, God, just stop it, Amber. You can’t think about this. You can’t even talk about it. Bad things will happen if you do.

An owl screeched above our heads, sucking me back down to reality. I pulled my hand from Brad’s grasp. ‘Something’s happening.’ I pointed to the warehouse as the shutter doors rolled up and the Mercedes, Aston Martin, and BMW I’d seen the other day drove out, disappearing out of the industrial park.

‘He’s probably moving them somewhere else before they’re shipped abroad,’ Brad said.

Two minutes later, we watched a silver SUV, a black Audi GT3, and a gold Porsche 911 drive into the warehouse.

Brad leaped to his feet. ‘Come on.  We’ll go get your car, and I’ll follow you home. They’re not going to torch the place with a batch of new merchandise in there.’

****

I woke up late on Sunday morning to feel a wet nose prodding my ear, which was Marmalade speak for ‘feed me’. I stretched, dislodging the Fandango file that was scattered on my duvet. It hit me that I was in exactly the same position now that I’d been in when I had fallen asleep. Boy, I must’ve been pooped.

After hitting the shower, I pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt, and stuffed my feet into my sneakers. I needed something to kick start my brain, so I brewed a pot of coffee and wolfed down some chocolate crunch cereal. Suitably buzzing on sugar and caffeine, I took the file to the living room, curled up on my sofa, and went over what I knew so far.

This case seemed to start with the disappearance of Fandango and his fashion collection, but I suspected it really had started long before that. Shots had been fired, blood had been found in Fandango’s offices, and a witness had seen Barack Obama driving away soon thereafter in a white getaway van, presumably with Fandango and the fashion collection stashed inside. Heather had suffered a blow to the head, rendering her unconscious at the time, but that could be very convenient or a very strange coincidence. I originally thought Fandango had been kidnapped, but as time went on with no ransom request being made, it seemed more likely that he was dead, especially with the recent disappearance of his assistant, as well. Could this case be as simple as a rival fashion designer who wanted to get rid of the competition? I didn’t think so. The information I’d found on the USB file in Heather’s apartment certainly indicated otherwise. I had no idea who Carlos Bagliero was, or what he had to do with the five million pound payment into Fandango’s bank account. The mob connection to Enzo Fetuccini was unclear, but tantalizing. It could be the result of money laundering, or some other, equally illegal scheme.

All told, there were numerous criminal possibilities for what had happened, and how the mob was connected. The only thing I knew for certain was that the mob goons were looking for something. But what? I supposed they could be searching for Tia. She could be the daughter of a mob family. Was Fandango really her dad, and what had happened to her mother? I pondered the possibility that Fandango had been killed as a revenge attack for kidnapping Tia, but no one had contacted Tia. Or had someone approached her, and she just hadn’t mentioned it?

There were so many questions surrounding Fandango, I didn’t know which one to tackle first.

I maneuvered my head from side to side, massaging the jumbled knot of tightening muscles in the back of my neck, trying to ease the tension. I stood up, stretched, and poured another coffee as I thought about Samantha James. If Fandango had kidnapped Tia, that was a pretty big secret to be carrying around for nineteen and a half years. Surely, he must’ve told someone, and I guessed that someone was probably Samantha. They clearly had an arranged marriage of some sort, what kind was yet another unanswered question. That led me to two possible scenarios. Either Samantha was blackmailing Fandango to keep quiet about his secret, in which case, she would want him alive, or she killed Fandango because he wanted a divorce, cutting her off from any inheritance in his will, in which case, she would want him as dead as a dodo bird.

A knock at the door interrupted me just before my head exploded with confusion.

I picked up my can of pepper spray, padded to the door, and looked out the security peephole. A distorted view of Hacker’s face looked back at me, his plaits sticking up in the air like an antenna. My shoulders relaxed as I opened the door.

‘Yo,’ he said, following me into the living room.