Part 29 (1/2)
When the phone rang, the officers lifted the back of Vinney's black Halloween cape to get at the phone in his back pocket. To do so, they had to lift his leather jacket, and when they did, something fell to the ground.
I grasped Eve's arm. ”That's my Pucci bag!”
”Now what would a man want with this?” the officer said, picking it up.
”Maybe, he was trying to name his killer,” I said.
”His killer?” the officer said. ”Who? You?”
Forty-one.
Fas.h.i.+on marks time.
-YOHJI YAMAMOTO.
”Bag it,” Werner told the officer, ”and keep your opinions to yourself.”
I turned on my heel. ”Eve! His message; I'll bet those were his last words. He called you for help. He wasn't saying 'You're a b.i.t.c.h' or 'Y'all's a b.i.t.c.h' like we were guessing. I'll bet he was saying 'Lol's a b.i.t.c.h.' Lolique. She killed him.” I turned to Werner. ”I knew she stole my bag!”
Werner looked at me like I had two heads.
”Oh, for the love of Gucci, it's not like I want the bag back, after this.”
”You can't have it, anyway. It's evidence.”
”Look, it has tire tracks on it, likely done with the same spite and the same heavy foot as the hole in Eve's convertible top.”
”Lolique?”
”Of course, Lolique. What killed him?” I asked.
”Cyanide,” the coroner said. ”That's not blue face paint.”
I put my arm around Eve. ”Detective, that outfit is handmade. It might have a tale to tell.”
Eve began to tremble. ”He called me with his last breath,” she whispered as they put Vinney on a stretcher and covered him, his knees still bent.
In all our years as friends the only other time I remember her crying is at my mother's funeral.
”Detective,” I said, ”I might have some answers inside that you don't have questions for yet.”
Werner waved off the coroner and officers and followed us into my shop.
”We'll get coffee,” my dad said, taking Aunt Fiona by the arm.
”I don't like that we found something of yours on the body,” Werner said.
”I am not guilty of anything. You had us in the backseat of your squad car when I realized that purse went missing, remember?”
”I'm worried because it might be a message that you're in danger, brat.”
”Brat? And yet that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.” Then I remembered the night of the fire. ”Well, maybe not the-”
”Right,” he said to shut me up. ”Lolique's car was left parked in place of Ms. Meyers the night I picked you up at McDowell's, I remember, so I'm guessing that she still had the purse?”
”That's what I said.” I turned to Eve. ”Didn't I just say that? Anyway, I think the purse was Vinney's way of naming his murderer. So, can you pick up Lolique?”
”Not until we get a time of death, because Lolique was here judging the scarecrow contest all afternoon.”
Sc.r.a.p! ”Well, let's get back to Isobel's murder. I have these clothes that Lolique brought me, and I didn't see them as evidence until dead things started pointing toward Lolique.”
He nodded, grudgingly.
I thanked my stars and let it go. ”This gown,” I said, ”is the one McDowell's dead wife is wearing in her portrait at the dealers.h.i.+p. In it, she's also wearing the diamond I gave you.”
Werner gave me a respectful head tilt. ”I'll get a warrant and pick up the portrait tomorrow, evidence that the ring is hers.”
”If you take it down,” I said, ”McDowell will lose his dealers.h.i.+p, and Gary Goodwin, Isobel's cousin, will get it. I'd pay money to see that portrait come down. What time are you going?”
”Now, Madeira.”
”Come on. That's not fair. I just gave you evidence you didn't have before.”
”I know you did. But life's not fair.”
”You bet it's not,” Eve said, wiping her eyes with an embarra.s.sed chuckle. ”I'm working tomorrow and I'll have to miss the show.”
”Do you have any more of Isobel's clothes?” Werner asked.
”I sold a few pieces.” I nearly ducked. ”Don't get mad.”
He raised a brow. ”They were yours to sell. You didn't sell the quilt or the diamond. I've got your number, Madeira.”
I wondered if that was good or bad. ”The clothes on these racks all belonged to the first Mrs. McDowell.”
Werner seemed to be considering options. ”I've got a description of what she was last seen wearing.”
”Anything here fit the bill?” I asked.
”Well, that's the problem. The description doesn't tell me anything. It's in fas.h.i.+on speak, as described by Mrs. McDowell's secretary at the time. If I get the description, can you match it to an outfit?”
”If I do, can I go and see you take down that portrait?”
Werner denied my request with a shake of his head as he called the precinct and had someone read the clothing description in his file. ”She was last seen wearing 'a rust linen fitted cape-” He listened again. ”With black piping over a black linen sheik dress.” He looked up at me. ”Got that?”