The Fashion Police (21 page)

****

I drove to her apartment, desperately hoping that I was wrong. I parked the Lemon next to her BMW and tentatively opened my door.

I noticed the flies buzzing around the boot before I smelled the familiar stench of decay and death. Slowly, I reached out and popped the boot catch.

It swung open in a fluid arc, sending a swarm of flies streaming out toward me. I swatted them away with my hand, and that’s when I saw her.

Heather had been dumped in the boot, curled up in the fetal position. A Barack Obama mask covered her face. The mask had a hole in it where a bullet wound to the center of her forehead had ripped through it, execution style. Maggots crawled around in the wound, vying for a good feeding spot. I guessed she’d probably been killed shortly before she was due to meet me on Friday night.

I’d dealt with death many times during my career. You got used to it to some degree; you had to. In order to be a good cop, you had to find a way to detach yourself from the reality of it, but it wasn’t exactly what I would call one of the most pleasant aspects of the job.

I stepped away from the BMW and called the police control room. I told the dispatcher what I’d found, and they assured me they’d send someone. While I paced furiously around the parking lot in circles, waiting for the coroner’s officer, I contemplated just how short life really was. If I knew that my number was going to be up tomorrow, would I do things any differently? Would I say yes to Romeo and move in with him? Or would I do the unthinkable and take my chances with Brad? Would I go running to Janice Skipper, begging for forgiveness, hoping she would give me my old job back? Or would I just put up and shut up, finally accepting that life moves on as, inevitably, it always does? Was anything really how it appeared to be, or was the truth just hidden in layers?

I was still lost in thought when Carol Blake, a coroner’s officer that I’d known for years, pulled up and parked on the other side of the BMW.

‘Well, well, well. Janice Skipper won’t like this, will she?’ She flashed me a wicked grin as she slipped out of her vehicle and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.

‘Well, Janice Skipper can shove it up her–’

She cut me off with a throaty laugh. ‘That’s my girl. Don’t let the old hag get to you. Remember that famous, old saying: what goes around comes around? She’ll get what’s coming to her one day.’ She gave me a quick hug. ‘She tried to get me thrown off the force once, too, back when she was in charge of the coroner’s unit, you know.’

‘I didn’t know that!’

‘The trouble with Janice is that she can’t stand anyone who’s good at their job. It makes her look bad because she’s so useless. She’s one twisted individual. Luckily for me, she got moved to one of the special operation teams, and I don’t have to put up with her any more.’

‘It wasn’t so lucky for me, though.’

She threw me a grim look. ‘I know.’ She wandered over to the BMW, peering into the boot with a critical eye. ‘Is this to do with the Fandango case?’

‘Yes, I’m pretty sure this is his assistant, Heather Brown.’

‘You know that Janice Skipper is working this case, too?’ She lifted off the Obama mask to reveal Heather’s wide open, icy-cold eyes and waxy, pale skin.

I sucked in a breath and nodded.

‘Someone’s taking bets down at the station about who is going to get a result first,’ she said.

‘And who’s the favorite, me or Janice?’

‘You, of course. That woman couldn’t investigate her way out of a paper bag.’

That made me smile. ‘Well, game on then.’

‘And may the best woman win!’ She nodded toward Heather’s lifeless body. ‘I’ll let you know what I find.’

‘Thanks.’ I climbed into the Lemon as my phone rang. Romeo’s name was displayed on the caller ID.

‘Hey, darling. Are you still mad at me?’

I sighed and glanced up, staring through the windscreen at Heather’s bedroom window. ‘No.’

‘It’s just that you don’t normally hang up on me.’

‘I didn’t hang up. I was being humped to death by Sabre.’ I heard a muffled laugh from the other end of the phone. ‘It’s not funny.’

‘I take it that Sabre found something useful then.’

‘That depends.’

‘On what?’

‘It depends on whether we’re exchanging information. I’ll tell you my news if you tell me what Janice knows. I hear there’s a book down at the station, betting on who’ll be the first to solve this case.’

‘Darling, she’s keeping everyone in the dark about it. She knows it will get back to you.’

‘So, have you finished your stakeout with her?’

‘Are you jealous?’

‘No,’ I snapped, trying hard to keep the green-eyed monster out of my voice and failing miserably. ‘But since we’re on the subject, why is it so hard to ignore Janice?’

‘Because she’s crazy.’

‘A minute ago you implied that I was crazy,’ I huffed.

‘Yes, but you’re crazy in a nice way, she’s crazy in a psycho way.’ It was his turn to sigh. ‘Look, it’s just the same as you and Brad.’

God, I hoped not. Then I really would have a reason to be jealous of Romeo working with her. ‘Huh?’ I thought I’d try the vague approach.

‘Well, why do you think Brad gave you this job?’

I tapped the steering wheel. ‘Because he needed a good investigator, and I’m really, really good. I’d also like to add that I’m much better than Janice.’

‘No, Amber. It’s because he wants you back.’

‘No!’ I tried my best shocked voice.

‘Look, I’m not Brad, you know. I’m not going to leave you, so there’s no reason for you to be jealous.’ He paused. ‘And I trust you, so neither of us has got anything to be jealous about. Have we?’

I’m glad someone trusted me. I didn’t know if I trusted me. ‘Er…no,’ I replied, not overly convinced by the words coming out of my mouth.

‘Great – oh, I’ve just heard Janice is on her way down to Heather’s car with SOCO, so, unless you want to see her, I’d leave now.’

I didn’t need telling twice. I knew I’d have to give a statement at some point, but right now wasn’t the best time for me. Picking up the phone, I put a call in to the office to let them know about Heather, and stepped on the accelerator. I figured it might be a good time to make my way to the Cohens’ warehouse for a stakeout of my own.

19

Twilight had turned to dusk by the time I’d settled myself in for another exciting night watching the warehouse. I wrapped a fleece around me to keep out the chill and sipped on a super-sized cappuccino. A wave of tiredness threatened to smother me. I guess that’s what doggy humping did to a person. What I really needed was some matchsticks to prop my eyelids open. I settled for rubbing them instead. 

A Lamborghini drove up to the warehouse a short time later. It was the same drill as before. The door rolled up, and the car disappeared inside. I peered through the night vision goggles, wishing that the arsonist would just hurry up and arrive, so I could catch him and go home to my snuggly bed.

I finally succumbed to weariness as my chin drooped onto my chest, and my eyelids slid shut. I didn’t hear or see Brad arrive until he’d sat down next to me. As his body slid in next to mine, bam! I was wide awake.

‘Here.’ He handed me a flask of coffee.

‘Thanks. What are you doing here?’

‘The same thing you are. I thought you might like some company.’

I sipped the hot liquid. ‘Heather’s dead.’

‘I heard. And the second Obama mask turns up.’

‘Strange, huh? But was it planted to make her look guilty, was it a message of some kind, or was she really involved in all of this?’

‘That’s the thousand dollar question. The woman who witnessed the white van leaving the scene of the crime said the driver wore an Obama mask. If Heather had found out who the perpetrators were, it could be a message to others to keep quiet.’

‘Or her killers put the mask on her to throw the scent off them and make it look like she was involved.’ I finished the coffee and poured another cup. ‘Or she really was involved in all of this.’

‘Did you find any drugs at Fandango’s office?’

‘I found a small wrap of coke. It could be something.’

‘Or it could be nothing. A lot of models do coke, don’t they? Models are in and out of that place all the time. A wrap is hardly evidence of a major drug smuggling ring.’

I stretched my legs in front of me, leaning forward to ease the stiff muscles in my back. ‘It’s the only thing at the moment that explains the payments from the mob. But if Fandango was smuggling drugs in with the shipments of his collection, why would the mob be involved in killing him and stealing the collection? Surely they’d want to keep him alive to carry on with their dodgy business.’

‘Maybe Fandango double crossed them. Maybe they wanted to teach him a lesson, so they whacked him, and helped themselves to the drugs.’

‘It’s possible. But at the end of the day, they’re still businessmen. I think they’d be in this for the long-term benefits. It wouldn’t be a wise business move to do away with the smuggler. Maybe Heather found out and double crossed Fandango. She had a motive. She had some kind of financial drain, probably drugs. She needed the money. Just think how much money she could make if she was in charge of a possible drug smuggling ring.’ I turned to Brad.

‘But then who killed Heather?’ He reached out and tucked one of my fly-away waves behind my ear.

I flinched, his touch burning my skin. I adjusted my position on the ground to avoid further hair molesting.

‘Samantha James also has a motive,’ he said.

I nodded. ‘And she lied to me.’

‘What about Tia? She stands to inherit his fortune.’

‘I don’t think Tia’s involved in any of this. I can’t say the same for any family she’s got lurking out there somewhere, though. We need to find out who Fandango was and who Bagliero is. Has Hacker come up with anything yet?’

‘No, he’s still working on it.’

A black Porsche drove up to the warehouse and disappeared inside.

Brad gazed at me intently.

‘What?’ Was I wearing a foam moustache from the coffee? Had I got lipstick on my teeth? I wiped around my mouth, just in case.

‘Are you hungry?’ Brad said.

‘That depends.’ I grinned.

‘On what?’

‘Are we talking about food or something else?’

Brad feigned surprise. ‘Food of course. My, my, my, Amber Fox, you have a dirty mind. Nothing’s doing here. Let’s get something to eat.’

‘OK, just as long as it’s not me.’

****

I knew I shouldn’t have got up the next morning. I should’ve just stayed in bed with a pillow over my head, hibernating from the world and thinking about nice things like clothes shopping. How long had it been since I’d done that? I couldn’t even remember. I loved investigating crimes, and it was all well and good wearing practical work clothes, but sometimes it would be nice to just have a normal job, where people didn’t want to kill me, and I could wear my clinging dresses and strappy shoes that were just gathering dust in the closet. I longed to have time to indulge my feminine side. I could get a massage, have my hair streaked, or get a manicure. Any of the above sounded much more pleasurable at this moment, because all the signs were there that something bad was about to happen: the ominous feeling hovering around the top of my head like a cloud, the sinister notion of approaching disaster fluttering around in my stomach. Yep, I definitely should have stayed in bed. 

Instead of listening to the thoughts, though, I drove to the office, followed the whole way by the Goon Girls, Sally and Tracy. And if that wasn’t bad enough, they were trying to ram me again. To put the icing well and truly on the cake, I was also coming down with a bad case of grumpy PMS, and that last little straw tipped the scales.

Well, two could play at this game.

I pulled off the main road, grabbed the pepper spray and stun gun out of my rucksack, and pushed open my door so hard that it flew all the way open and then bounced back, slamming shut.

‘Hunh!’ I opened the latch again and kicked it open.

Right, that’s it. I’d had enough. I was going to teach these idiots never to mess with a premenstrual woman. Something happens in our brains to upset the delicate hormonal balance, and boy, were my hormones messed up. I was just about to scramble out of the car and give them another nut-zapping when I saw Tracy wind down his window and poke his arm out. The only problem was that he had a gun in his hand.

‘Shit!’ I threw the stun gun and pepper spray on the passenger seat and cranked the engine.

Tracy
aimed his gun at my rear window.

I hit the accelerator and shot off down the road with my door still half open. A cloud of dust trailed in my wake, and hopefully in the Goon Girls’ faces.

I heard a loud crack as Tracy squeezed off a couple of shots.

My rear window exploded and I got sprayed with tiny pellets of glass as I screeched around the corner, narrowly avoiding a ditch. With a bang, my door slammed shut, making me jump up in my seat like a jack in the box.

I floored the Lemon the whole way back to the office. The wind whistled through the gaping hole where my window used to be, licking a draft around the back of my neck and sending my hair flying all over the place.

‘Slight problem,’ I said to Brad when I stumbled into his office, looking like I’d been dragged through a hedge backwards at high velocity.

His mouth fell open. ‘What the hell happened to you?’ He came over and stood picking clumps of glass out my hair.

‘The rear window on the Lemon cracked.’ I slumped down in a chair, feeling like one of those monkeys who are being nit groomed, which wasn’t an altogether unpleasant experience, actually. In fact, it was quite relaxing. And if I hadn’t been in shock, I’m betting it would’ve been quite sensual, too.

‘Uh-huh. And how exactly did that happen?’

I cleared my throat, buying time. ‘Er…I don’t know. Probably Janice did some voodoo on me. I need sugar to counteract the effects of the voodoo. What have you got to eat?’

Brad finished removing all the glass and walked around to his desk. ‘Chopped carrots?’ he said, pulling his drawer open. ‘Or falafels?’ He held up a bag with some suspicious looking brown balls in them.

My lower lip trembled as I desperately fought the urge to burst into tears in front of him.

He held a hand up. ‘OK, wait there. I’ll go out and get you something.’

‘Thanks,’ I croaked, then took a big sniff, brushing away the tears that I’d finally given in to.
Come on, Amber, pull yourself together. Don’t be such a wimp
.

Brad came back bearing the gift of doughnuts. I ate two Krispy Kremes before I could feel the sugar returning my hormone level back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be, given the circumstances.

‘Good choice,’ I said in between mouthfuls.

Brad watched me eating, a smile curling up the edges of his mouth. ‘OK, so what really happened with the rear windscreen?’

‘The mob goons shot at me.’

He didn’t answer for a minute, and a muscle ticked in his jaw as he stared at me.  Clearing his throat, he spoke. ‘You’re an accident magnet. Go to the garage and get it fixed before you go anywhere else.’

‘I think it’s a good sign,’ I said. ‘We’ve got them worried about something, so it obviously means we’re getting closer.’

Hacker bounced into the room like a pogo stick and squeezed his beanpole body into the chair next to mine. ‘Yo. I’ve got something juicy for you.’

‘Cool,’ I said, exchanging a look with Brad.

‘OK, Fandango didn’t call Samantha James the day he disappeared. She called him.’

‘Ooh, she told me a double lie then.’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘She told me he called and asked her sign some divorce papers. I wonder why she called him?’

‘Also, she’d cleared out all the money from her bank account before Fandango disappeared.’ Hacker looked between me and Brad.

‘How much money?’ Brad asked.

‘Twenty thousand pounds,’ Hacker said.

‘Interesting.’ I thought about that, and figured we were on to something for sure now.

‘But what’s even more interesting is that Samantha paid ten thousand pounds back into her bank account on the day Fandango disappeared.’

I smiled. ‘Aha! Fandango withdrew ten thousand pounds from his bank account the same day. So, Fandango gives it to Samantha, but why? My hunch is that she was blackmailing him about his little secret.’

Hacker stroked his goatee. ‘But why suddenly start blackmailing him, nineteen and a half years later? If she was going to do it, why didn’t she do it before?’

‘Maybe she didn’t need the money before. It seems to me that Fandango rewarded her pretty well financially for their little arranged marriage. Maybe the money has just run out, and she needs more. Or maybe she was getting a bit greedy in her old age. I think Samantha’s excuse that she went to see Fandango to sign divorce papers was designed to throw me off the scent. If she really had signed them, she wouldn’t have so much of a motive to kill him.’ I paused for breath. ‘But it doesn’t make sense. If she was blackmailing him, surely she would want to keep her cash cow alive.’  

Hacker shrugged apologetically. ‘I still can’t find any children matching Tia’s circumstances who were reported missing around the time Fandango appeared with her,’ Hacker said. ‘And there’s nothing on Fandango or Bagliero. Whoever they all are, they’ve hidden their tracks well.’

I turned this over in my mind as Hacker carried on talking.

‘But here’s the juicy bit. You remember the coded numbers on Heather’s USB?’