“People who are only ‘reluctantly’ impressed by my work don’t tend to want to pay made-to-measure or custom prices.”
“Fair enough. Did you tell anyone about the email?”
I shake my head. “Not really. After the card came, I mentioned it to Kyle.”
“We’ll get to the card in a minute. Can you remember what happened in the week leading up to the email? Anything unusual?”
A huff of air escapes me. “Not unusual, but we had our first meeting with Griff about designing for Margaret Haywood, so it was a pretty special week.”
“Was that a planned meeting?”
I look over at Calla. This feels more like her area.
“Yes,” she says. “Griff called late the week before to set it up. Phil had time to put some design ideas together ahead of the meeting.”
Spears frowns. “Forgive me, how long have you two been dating?”
“Officially?” Griff asks. “Less than two weeks. We met the day I came in for the meeting.”
The frown deepens. “Does Margaret Haywood know you’re dating?”
I blink a few times. Why does that matter?
“Yes,” Griff answers, though he seems a little taken aback too. “I advised her per the clause in our contract that requires me to disclose personal connections within my professional sphere. She was happy for me.”
Spears turns back to me. “You’d never designed clothing for her before?”
“No.”
He glances at Griff. “What was your process in deciding Phil was going to design for Margaret?”
Griff snorts. “Not my decision at all. Margaret and I spoke about it during the summer—she told me she wanted a Phallacy gown for awards season even though I had reservations.” He winces and shoots me an apologetic look. “Sorry, sweetheart.”
I wave it off. No surprise there.
“Then she reminded me again in November when the Oscar buzz started getting louder. She was determined to wear Phallacy on the red carpet, so I called to set it up.”
Spears’s pen moves fast as he scribbles his notes. “Who knew about that first meeting?”
“Uh….” I look at Calla again. “Me and Calla.”
“Kyle,” she adds. “He’s diligent about keeping up with the calendar. He likes to stock preferred snacks and drinks for our clients. I guess everyone here could have known. They all saw Griff when he came in, and most of them have access to view the calendar. But everyone who works for Phallacy signs an NDA. We don’t discuss our clients without permission.”
“What about on your side?” Spears asks Griff.
“My boss, Damian Ward. He came with me, since he’s worked with Phallacy before. Everyone at Style Me. Margaret knew I’d scheduled the meeting, but I don’t remember if I told her when it was, if that matters. Her assistant knew as well.”
Spears is nodding. “Phil, do you think you’ve ever met Mary or had contact with her before you met Griff?”
My hackles rise, and an angry sound leaves my throat. That’s it, though—just the sound. No words.
“I didn’t mean to imply Griff might be involved,” Spears assures me. “I should have said, do you think you might have had contact with Mary before the end of November?”
I sip tea from my mug, but it doesn’t matter. That surge of emotion was all it took to make me nonverbal. Vivi whines softly in my lap, probably because I’ve gone all tense.
Answering out loud is beyond me right now.
“Is it okay with you if Phil types or writes his answers?” Griff asks calmly.
