Part 3 (1/2)
He grinned wide, showing off a pair of gold teeth in front. ”It's great. The economy tanks, and people are depressed and looking for cheap fun. Can't get any cheaper or more fun than s.e.x, right? Sales were up 10% this month.”
I couldn't help being impressed. Sales had decreased 3% in the fas.h.i.+on industry.
”Did Peach have any enemies?” I asked, switching gears. ”Anyone you can think of that might have wanted to hurt her?”
Gage shook his head. ”Not really. Peach was the sweetest person ever. It's got to be some random weirdo. I mean, most of our clientele was your average Joe looking to spice things up with the missus, but once in a while we did get a crazy in here.”
”Did Peach mention any crazies in particular? Anyone giving her trouble?”
He shook his head. ”Not to me. Sorry.”
”She was dating someone,” Dana prompted. ”Vic I think his name was. Do you know where we can find him?”
He shrugged. ”Sorry, I didn't get into her personal life. But I'm sure her roommate would know.”
”You have an address for her?” I asked.
Gage nodded, then grabbed a Post-it from behind the counter and wrote Peach's address down on it.
”Thanks,” I said as he handed it over.
”Anything else?” Gage asked. ”'Cause I've got a ton of work to do now getting orders filled on my own.”
”Um, just one more question,” I said slowly, trying to figure a way to word this that wouldn't be construed as an accusation. ”Uha can you tell us where you were yesterday when she was killed?”
He barked out a laugh. ”Really? You think I killed Peach? I mean, why on earth would I do that?”
”We're just covering all bases,” I a.s.sured him.
He shook his head. ”Look, without Peach, I'm sunk. I gotta deal with customers, which bites, you know? I need to find a new front person fast.”
”And now that she's gone, who gets her 50% of the business?” Dana piped up.
Ooooa good question! I leaned in waiting to hear how he answered it.
Gage paused, then crossed his arms over his chest again in an unconsciously protective gesture. ”I do.”
Dana and I shot each other a look.
”What? What was that look?” Gage asked.
”Nothing.”
”I didn't kill her. Look, the business was more of an a.s.set to me with her here. Owning 50% of a thriving business was a lot better than having to deal with the whole thing myself.”
That made a certain sense, I supposed, but I wasn't totally convinced. And it must have shown on my face because he added, ”Look, you want to know who had issues with Peach, talk to her roommate.” He pointed to the Post-it he'd given me.
”Why?” I asked.
”She and Peach had a big fight just last week.”
”Really?” I asked. ”About what?'
”I don't know the details, but Peach came in here all p.i.s.sed off, ranting about how her roommate wouldn't leave.”
”Leave?” Dana asked. ”Peach was kicking her out?”
Gage nodded.
”Why?”
”Beats me. Ask the roommate.”
Believe me, I intended to.
Ten minutes later we pulled up to Peach's house. It was a small bungalow on a street lined with palm trees, small front yards, and friendly looking garden gnomes. The homes weren't large, but were big on old Hollywood charm, and I knew the zip code carried a hefty price tag. Just blocks from prime shopping and restaurants, I could see why Peach's roommate wouldn't want to leave. But would she be willing to kill to stay, was the question.
I parked my Jeep at the curb and we walked up the paved pathway to Peach's front door. I gave a knock, and two beats later it was opened by a slim woman with jet black hair and a healthy smattering of tattoos down her sleeveless arms. Her eyes were rimmed in red like she'd been crying, and a tissue was clutched in her right hand.
”Celia?” I asked.
She frowned, her gaze going from Dana to me. ”Who's asking?”
”Uh, my name is Maddie Springer, and this is Dana. She was a friend of Peach's,” I said, stretching the truth just a little. ”We were wondering if we could ask you a couple of questions about your roommate.”
Celia bit her lip. ”This isn't really a good time,” she said. Then punctuated the statement with a loud sniff.
I nodded. ”Right. I'm terribly sorry for your loss.”
Celia turned to Dana. ”You were a friend of Peach's?”
”Um, yeah. We met at the shop.”
Celia nodded. ”It's hard to believe she's really gone, you know? I mean, it's like some sort of bad dream or something.”
”The police think Peach was killed deliberately,” I said. ”Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Peach?”
Celia shook her head. ”No. Peach was a total sweetheart. Look, why don't you come inside.”
”Thanks,” I said, as Dana and I stepped over the threshold into the living room.
The bungalow was small but cozy, two big sofas taking up the bulk of the room. A fireplace sat on one wall, a bright stained-gla.s.s screen covering its dormant mouth, and the hardwood floor was covered in patterned rugs. The surfaces were free of clutter, and it looked as if someone had recently been on a cleaning binge, not a speck of dust was to be seen anywhere, and a lingering scent of Windex hung the air.
Celia sat on one of the sofas, pulling her legs up under her. Dana and I perched on the opposite seat.
”How long had you and Peach been roommates?” I started.
Celia pursed her lips together. ”About two years. We met through a mutual friend just after I moved to L.A. She had a spare room, and I was looking. It worked out perfectly.” She paused, then looked down at her hands. ”At least it did.”