“Good. I don’t want to be a crook.”
“Then follow my lead inside. I may have to spin some fast lies.”
I shook my head. “You followmylead. I know this world. I have a plan.”
“Ihave a plan,” Morrie shot back.
“Mine is better.” I whipped a pair of knock-off Gucci sunglasses from my purse and slid them up my nose. I know what information we needed – all I had to do was channel Ashley and act like I didn’t give a fuck.
Morrie held open the door for me. A shop assistant glanced up from the counter and headed toward me in a cloud of perfume. “I have an appointment with Ms. Santiago,” I told her, my nose in the air. “Jane Eyre, on behalf of Marcus Ribald.”
I hoped like hell the assistant wasn’t a reader.
I was in luck. The assistant checked an appointment book on her tablet. “Right this way,” she ushered us to a spiral staircase at the rear of the boutique. I caught her studying my face, trying to figure out if I was someone important.
Upstairs, the studio spread out across the entire floor – an open plan space containing desks, a photography set-up, sewing machines, boxes of fabric and trims and supplies, and racks and racks of clothes. My fingers itched to push aside the wooden hangers and delve into that treasure trove, but I held myself back, trying to appear uninterested.
“Ah, Ms Eyre. It’s so lovely to meet you.”
Holly Santiago appeared from nowhere, every black hair on her head perfectly in place as she stepped forward me and air-kissed my cheeks the way fashion people did. She wore a white racerback tank over shredded black jeans and boots that laced up to her thighs. Her blood-red nails tapered into talons, which dug into my shoulder as she pulled away. I’d met Holly twice before at Fashion Week events, and both times she’d been a cold bitch. This warm welcome was weird but not unexpected – I didn’t expect her to remember me. I was a nobody, but today I bore Marcus Ribald’s name.
“Holly, it’s apleasure.” I gestured to a plush leather sofa and pouffe in the corner, under a floor-length window that looked down over Soho. “Shall we?”
“Yes, of course. That’s an interesting bird.” Holly poked a finger at Quoth’s cage. He croaked at her by way of greeting.
“We’re just taking him for a walk around London.” Morrie set the cage on the floor beside him, unlocking the latch surreptitiously, in case Quoth needed to escape in order to hide somewhere and shift. Holly opened her mouth, ready to say something more, but I shot her Ashley’s patented ‘what’s it to you’ look, and she remained silent.
“We are alone?” I barked at Holly.
“I’ve dismissed my assistant and briefly closed the boutique, as you suggested. I must admit, I’m intrigued. Why would Marcus Ribald want to talk to me, and so clandestinely? I’m open to a collaboration—”
“Oh, I’m not here on Marcus’ behalf.” I drew out an image from my purse and laid it out on the coffee table.
Holly gasped. Beside me, Morrie flinched. I felt a tickle of satisfaction that I’d pulled one over on him.You’re not the only one full of surprises, James Moriarty.
“This…” Holly recoiled from the picture, her eyes flickering over the lines of Marcus’ ballgown sketch. “This is from Marcus’ upcoming collection. It hasn’t been released yet.”
“But of course.” I gave my best imitation of Ashley’s cool smile. “It wouldn’t be much use to you if he’d already previewed it. The price is the same as before, but that offer is good today only, provided the remainder of your debt is paid. Once I leave this building, it doubles.”
“What are you talking about? Why are you showing me this?” Holly’s red talons dug into the sofa fabric.
“You don’t have to pretend with me, Holly. I know you’ve dealt with another girl during your last transaction, and I know you killed her in order to get out of your end of the bargain. That was a mistake. I’m in charge now. Even though you left this drawing behind in the bookshop, your agent saw it, probably photographed it. You have what you wanted, and yet I am without payment. My associate and I have come to collect.”
“This is an outrage!” Holly screeched, shoving the drawing back across the coffee table so it flew off the end of the table. “I’ve never seen this drawing before in my life! What girl are you talking about? Whatbargain?”
“I’d control my temper if I were you, Holly,” Morrie said, his voice taking on a singsong tone that was profoundly menacing. “We wouldn’t want this situation to escalate.”
“Croak,” Quoth added from his perch.
“You can sit on this and escalate,” Holly hissed, flashing him a perfectly manicured middle finger as she scrambled around the back of the sofa. “I don’t know what you two are doing here, but I’ll be reporting you to Marcus and the Fashion Group, of which I am a member. Of course I don’t want his drawings. I’m not going to steal his designs. I have plenty of my own.”
“I know that’s not true,” I hissed. “You got away with it once before, in your Winter collection. The crimson coat with the Persian embroidery, or have you forgotten?”
Holly flipped her sleek black hair over her shoulder. “Yeah, I admit it. I based my jacket off his design, but I didn’t even know it belonged to Marcus. I attended an appallingly dull gala dinner celebrating Marcus’ so-called genius. I left after before dessert because I couldn’t stand the stench of a ballroom filled with sycophants. As I descended the steps to meet my cab, a sheet of paper flew up and grazed my ankle. I picked it up, and there was a drawing of an embroidered coat. It was quite good. I balled it up and tossed it out the window of the taxi, but the idea stayed with me, and later it ended up part of my collection, but it wasn’t an exact copy by any means. I didn’t deliberately steal it from Marcus. He shouldn’t be so clumsy as to leave his designs fluttering around on the street!”
I snorted. “I find this story highly improbable. Do you really believe it will hold up in court if we turn you over to the police? A woman wasmurdered, Holly. You’ll go down for it unless you give me what I want.”
“Croak!” Quoth added, louder and more urgent.
