Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
GRIFF
“Take Vivi in with you,” I suggest, but Phil shakes his head stubbornly.
“It’s unprofessional.”
“But you said this client likes you. She’ll understand.”
“No.”
“What if you ask first if she likes dogs? Leave the choice up to her.” I’m pushing a little harder than I should, probably, but after seeing how frustrated he was by his mutism yesterday afternoon, I’d like to do what I can to prevent it happening again so soon.
His hesitation is a victory, but I don’t leap on it. I can be patient.
“I’ll ask,” he concedes at last. “But I don’t think it will be necessary anyway. She’s going to try on the dress, and we’ll probably talk about her daughter’s wedding and their plans for the holidays. All very calm. Even if I do go nonverbal, Pamela’s seen me that way before.”
I lean in close and kiss him, basking in the sensation of being close, of the warmth from his body and the silky cool touch of his hair on my skin. I still can’t believe I’m this lucky. “I’ll be in the workroom with Vivi if you need me.”
He smiles, and those stars in his eyes are just for me. “Stay in the lounge. You’ll get more done. It gets noisy out there.”
“I’m used to it,” I admit. “It feels weird working in a quiet space.”
That wins me a chuckle, though it fades when his phone rings. We both stare at Spears’s name on the screen. He was going to interview Margaret this morning.
Phil takes a deep breath, then taps to answer. “Hi, Detective. Griff’s here with me.”
“Good morning to you both.” It sounds like he’s driving, so I guess he’s finished the interview.
“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 that she 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.”
I’m pretty sure she’s going to be on my side this once, but I’m not stupid enough to say that out loud.
Phil goes off to his client’s fitting, and I start making plans, including contacting the hotel to make sure they have a room for us this soon and letting my sister know we’ll be there early if she and Carter want to come and hang out.
I’m in the middle of texting Damian an update when my phone rings in my hand.
Katie.
For a long second, I debate whether I should let it go to voicemail. Probably. I wish I’d asked Spears what I should do in this situation.
In the end, I answer it.
“Griff Pevensy.”
“I’m so soooooooooorrrryyyyyyy,” Katie wails, and then I hear some shuffling and muttered voices.
“Griff?” Margaret’s calm tone is immediately recognizable. “I hope it’s okay that we called. We wanted to make sure you and Phil are okay and to apologize for our part in this.”
“Thank you.” I’m not really sure what to say next. “We’re okay. A little shaken.”
“Of course you are. Is there anything I can do?”
This is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had with a client, and considering the ones I’ve had lately, that’s really saying something. “No, but thanks. We just hope it’s all resolved soon.”
“Griff?” That’s Katie, sounding tearful but in control.
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea…. She’s always so excited about Margaret’s clothes!
She says I work for her fashion role model, so I always show her what’s coming.
She… she was reserved when I showed her the gown, but not mean.
She just said it was different and that…
that it was a shame women of a certain age felt like they had to look younger.
Which is dumb! That gown is completely age appropriate.
I just don’t understand… and now she’s missing…
and… and…” She breaks down into tears again.
“It’s not your fault, Katie. Whatever your mom’s got going on, I’m sure it’s going to be okay.”
“Would it be okay if I spoke to Phil?” Margaret asks. “I’d like to apologize personally.”
I hesitate. “He’s with a client right now, and things are kind of chaotic here. Let’s set up an appointment for early in the new year—you’ll need a fitting by then anyway. He’s eager to meet you, but this might not be the best time.”
She graciously concedes the point, offers her help again if we need it, and then the call’s done.
Leaving me to update my boss about this whole weird situation.