Ashleywasselling Marcus Ribald’s upcoming designs to another designer, probably Holly Santiago. Either that, or Marcus Ribald had given her onehellof a bonus.
That might explain why Ashley came back to Britain, but it still didn’t explain how she ended up dead in the shop.
“The text message,” I whispered. “Maybe Ashley was meeting someone in the shop to exchange the drawings. But why would she meet here—”
“When she came in during the day, you said she was acting weird?” Morrie asked.
“Well, Ashley being in a bookshopisweird. The only time she ever came in here was when she hung out with me. She used to say it was so depressing and lonely.”
“Maybe that’s what made her think of it as a good place for the exchange. But why would she come in here beforehand and…” Morrie clicked his fingers. “I’ve solved it. I’m a genius. Follow me.”
“Do I have to get out of my chair?” Heathcliff growled.
“Yes. Come on!”
I followed Morrie down the stairs, curious as to what he’d uncovered. He stopped in front of the Sociology shelf, right where Ashley had been standing the other day. He scanned the spines. I could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.
“This should be easy. There’s a layer of dust on the shelves because Heathcliff is a disgusting human who never cleans. Since people don’t shop in this section the dust line is completely undisturbed. Unless someone pulled out a book recently and left a mark—Ah!” Morrie pointed to a trail across the dust, and pulled out a book. “Here’s our culprit.”
Morrie handed the volume to me.High Fashion and the Culture of Excess, read the title. A little on-the-nose, but that was Ashley. As I flipped the book open, a brown envelope fell out of the dust jacket. I handed the book to Morrie and bent to pick it up.
“Look at this,” Morrie held up the frontispiece, running his finger over two tears in the corners. “I’ll bet the secret code to my safe deposit box that these correspond to the paper under the tape on your other envelope.”
“I bet you’re right. So what’s this?” The envelope was brown, different from the one in Ashley’s luggage that contained the cash. I couldn’t see any writing. I slipped my finger under the tape holding it shut, and pulled out another one of Marcus’ drawings. This one was a ballgown – panels of leather and lace fixed to a metal frame. I knew it was intended as the centerpiece of Marcus’ show.
My hand trembled as I realized that in my hand I held the proof we needed. Ashley Greer had been killed over fashion.
Chapter Seventeen
Iturned over the meaning of this discovery in my head. The money in her wallet, along with the stack of drawings. The text message about the meeting in the shop. Holly Santiago’s too-similar design and Ashley’s new purse.
Ashley had already sold some of Marcus’ designs, and she’d been trying to sell this piece when the buyer killed her.
“This explains everything,” I whispered. “We have to tell the police.”
“On the contrary, this only raises more questions.” Morrie took the image from me and held it up to the light. “You’re thinking the buyer killed Ashley, yes? Perhaps so he or she could get their hands on this drawing without giving up any more cash? But then why did they not take this drawing with them?”
He had a point. “Perhaps they were intending to, but Quoth interrupted before they could grab it.”
“Yes, that could be the case.” Morrie fingered the spine of the book. “But if they were in such a hurry, why stop to rob the till downstairs? Unless they took the till money first… Or it was the other way around. Maybe Ashley was the one paying for drawings. Maybe this Marcus Ribald of yours can’t actually design for shit, so he’s hiring other people to create his designs for him, and they have to exchange them in secret so the fashion world doesn’t discover the truth.”
“That’s ridiculous. I worked with Marcus for a year. I’veseenhim draw. He’s a genius. He definitely drew these.” I held up the envelope. “We should take this to the police. It would help clear my name.”
“Wrong move, gorgeous,” Morrie swiped the envelope from my hands and tucked it into his jeans pocket. “All you’ve got is some drawings and a wad of cash, both of which you took from the victim’s suitcase and the crime scene, and both are now covered in your fingerprints. If anything, it’s just going to make you lookmoreguilty, because you knew exactly where to look for these items.”
“But if I don’t do something to start them looking for Ashley’s buyer, they’re going to arrestme.”
“Ah, but you forget one thing – you have the Napoleon of Crime on your side.” Morrie waved his hand at Heathcliff and Quoth. “Also, those two fellows might be of some use.”
“Forgive me if I’m not filled with confidence.”
“It would help if we could identify the end buyer,” Quoth said.
Moriarty flipped the envelope over, studying it from every angle. “Agreed. I’d bet my vast and considerable fortune that whoever committed this foul deed was an agent working for someone who wanted to keep their hands clean.”
“This has happened once before.” I explained to them about the fur jacket and Holly Santiago. “She was in New York preparing for Fashion Week when she released that first design. Ashley could have easily met her or an agent at one of the Fashion Week events.”
“Where is Ms. Santiago now?”
