“Do you have news?” It might be rude, but my patience for manners is thinner than usual this week.
Spears sighs. “Yes. We’re still investigating, but while we were interviewing Ms. Haywood—in the presence of her attorney,” he adds dryly, “we learned that Mary is the name of Katherine Yeates’s mother.”
“Who’s Katherine Yeates?” Phil asks, sounding as blank as I feel.
Then it hits me. “Katie? Katie’s mom is doing this?”
Phil nudges me. “Who’s Katie?”
“Margaret’s assistant. She’s a sweetheart. Is she… She’s not involved, is she?”
“Unconfirmed, but at this stage, we don’t believe so. And we don’t know that her mother is involved either.”
“Did her mom see the dress?” I demand.
“Yes. Katie asked Margaret if it was okay to show her, and she agreed.” He hesitates. “The timeline seems to match up. Mary Yeates is a fan of Margaret’s and thrilled that her daughter works for her. With Margaret’s approval, Katie sometimes tells her mother little snippets of information with the promise thatshe won’t share them. Things like Margaret wanting a Phallacy dress.”
Phil sighs and leans against his desk. “That would explain the email. She googled me or something after Katie told her about me.”
I squint. “But didn’t you get that email after I sent Margaret the designs? Why would she start out vaguely complimentary and then change direction?”
Spears clears his throat. “Katie said she didn’t show her mother the designs right away. She didn’t want to send them to her, in case her mother got careless with her phone and someone else was able to see. Instead, she waited until they were meeting in person and showed her then. That was after the email and after the card had been sent.”
“I’m guessing her reaction wasn’t very flattering to me,” Phil says dully.
“Katie was in tears by this point, but yes. That was what she conveyed.”
Wrapping an arm around Phil’s shoulders, I give him a little squeeze. “But this is good, right? It’s a really strong lead. Are you on your way to interview her?”
There’s an empty little pause that makes my stomach sink and hackles rise.
“Last Saturday afternoon, Mary Yeates told her husband she was going away with her book club for a few days. She hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”
“What?” The word explodes from me and Phil at the same time.
“We’re not sure yet what this means,” Spears cautions. “Katie’s contacting her mother’s friends. She may actually have gone on a break, but not with the people her husband thought.”
“Do we need to hire security for Phil?”
My boyfriend gives me a “what the fuck” look.
“I don’t believe so, but that’s a decision only you can make. I will say that Mary, whether she’s Mary Yeates or not, doesn’t fit the classic pattern of a stalker. Criminal harassment, definitely, but prior to Saturday, she’d only made contact twice, and neither of those seemed to be a call for your attention. Even the package was more about what she thinks of your work. Stalkers don’t always fit a set definition, but my take on this is that we’re dealing with a woman who might be going through something and is wrongly taking it out on you.”
“Great,” Phil mutters.
“We’d planned to go to Vegas Thursday and spend the holidays there,” I tell Spears. “Any objection to us going today instead?”
“I object,” Phil says. “I have work.”
“That’s a good idea,” Spears tells me. “I truly don’t believe Phil’s in immediate danger, but some distance wouldn’t hurt until we find Mary and lay charges.”
He promises to keep us informed and then ends the call. I turn to face Phil’s mad face.
“I have a client coming in ten minutes for a fitting, two custom designs I’m supposed to be working on—one of them for a client of yours—and stuff to do for the fall collection. I can’t leave today.”
Fuck. “We can wait until after your client today,” I assure him. “And you can bring work with you. I promise not to interfere. I’d just feel so much better if we weren’t here, sweetheart. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
He maintains his scowly face a minute longer, and then it softens. “Fine. But you get to be the one to tell Calla.”
