The Fashion Police (12 page)

Miscellaneous thoughts about Fandango jumped around in my brain as I swung out of his driveway. In fact, I was so deep in thought that I didn’t notice the ugly-faced goons were back until they were sitting on my bumper. I sighed. Someone really needed to teach them how to drive properly. They obviously hadn’t read up on safe highway stopping distances lately.

I debated whether or not to just slam the brakes on, but I didn’t really fancy having whiplash to accompany my never-ending headache. My only other option was to try and lose them again. I probably should’ve taken being tailed again as a compliment, but I must admit that it was getting pretty boring and slightly repetitive.

Deciding to take them on a journey around the center of town, I headed in that direction, only to come to a screeching halt.

No, no, no! The weekly farmer’s market was in full swing. Traffic sat at a standstill as prospective buyers parked up, congesting the narrow street.

‘Come on!’ I sounded the horn and glanced over my shoulder. The goons glared back at me. Still, at least they wouldn’t try anything in the middle of the town with all these people. Surely they wouldn’t.

The traffic crawled along a few feet and stopped again. Out of the corner of my eye, I just happened to notice Paul Clark coming out of the launderette, carrying four bulging bags of laundry in each hand. I grabbed for my rucksack, scrounging around its depths for my camera, but by the time I’d finally found it, he’d disappeared in the throng of shoppers.

‘Craparama,’ I muttered, tossing the camera into the passenger seat as a gap opened up in the traffic in front of me. I floored the accelerator and then instantly slammed on the brakes as another car pulled out in front of me. As I leaned on the horn, they decided to stop in the middle of the road and look back to see who was making all the racket.  Giving up, I threw my hands up in frustration, and the car pulled on out, going a few feet and stopping again.

I hammered my fingers on the steering wheel and checked on the goons through my rearview mirror. To my horror, the bald one leaped out of the passenger’s side and rushed toward me. He was short, dressed in a badly fitting grey suit that had to be at least two sizes too small. Either he was making some kind of unsuccessful 1980s fashion statement, or he’d been eating all the pies lately. I was surprised by how fast he moved, despite his jelly-wobble blobby gut. 

‘Agh!’ I hit the lock button seconds before he grabbed my door handle.

Blobby Goon pulled on the door, trying to yank it open. When it didn’t budge, he banged his fists on the glass and kicked at the door. 

Just then, the traffic started moving again and I stuck my fingers up and sped off. I watched in the rearview mirror as he ran back to the SUV and jumped in. In the heavy traffic, it didn’t take very long for them to catch up with me. The SUV rammed into the back of my car with a loud crunch.

My knuckles turned white as I gripped the steering wheel. The impact made me lose control of the car, which fishtailed for a second before it went careening into a post on the side of the road. The impact jolted me forward with such a force that the seatbelt cut into my shoulder.

BANG! The airbag exploded, throwing me back against the seat.

I was vaguely aware of the sound of screeching tires as I sat there, stunned, slumped in my seat, wondering if I’d died for the second time that day.

An old guy banged on the window. ‘Are you OK? Shall I call an ambulance?’

‘No, I’m…fine.’ I looked around for the goons, but they seemed to have disappeared. Rubberneckers stood gawking at me, no doubt hoping to see of broken bones and splattered body parts.       

‘Are you sure?’

I rubbed at my shoulder and winced. My chest felt bruised, my shoulder felt dislocated, and my head felt like I’d been decapitated. My hands flew up to my neck, to make sure it was actually still attached to my body. I slumped with relief when I felt my face, still intact. All in all, it’d been a really horrible day, and it wasn’t nearly over yet.

‘Thanks. I’m sure.’ I nodded, easing myself out of the door and gazing at the damage to my car. The front was dented and smashed with some funny green liquid dripping out underneath it. That probably wasn’t a good sign, but at least it looked driveable.

 Thinking it might be a good idea to call this in, I took my mobile out of my pocket with trembling hands. It took three attempts to tap in Brad’s number before I got it right.

‘I’m just about alive,’ I said after giving him a run down.

‘Do you want me to come and get you?’

‘No.’

‘Well, as long as you’re OK to drive, take it to the garage that handles my insurance repairs. It’s just around the corner from where you are. I’ll call and let them know you’re on the way.  Pick something else in their lot for a courtesy car. And Foxy, be careful.’

I climbed back in the car feeling like I’d done ten rounds in a boxing ring with Mike Tyson. As I turned the key, I prayed the car would start. It coughed a few times but finally spluttered to life, and I chugged down the road accompanied by the sound of a high-pitched whirring noise. I turned the radio up so I didn’t have to listen to it.

The manager of the garage was waiting for me when I pulled in. He walked around the car and frowned at the damage. ‘Hmm.  It might take a few days to fix, but you’re in luck. We’ve got one courtesy car left.’ He pointed to a fluorescent yellow Beetle.

I groaned. I could cope with the inconvenience and the pain of the accident, but driving that car? It looked like a giant lemon. People on a space station would be able to see me in that thing, not to mention my street cred would go right out the window. I stared at it for a moment, then closed my eyes with a shudder. I clicked my heels together three times, hoping the car might magically turn into something that looked a lot less like a humongous lemon.

I opened my eyes, only to discover my wishing hadn’t worked. ‘Damn.’

‘Great color, isn’t it?’ he said.

I’m not particularly proud of it, but I had bit of a freaky flip-out at that point, and I might’ve told the man to stick the Lemon up one of his orifices where it definitely wouldn’t fit. I’m not one hundred percent sure, though. It could’ve been some kind of weird flash-back, so don’t hold it against me. I ended up driving the car, so whatever happened must not have been too offensive. 

When I finally arrived back at the office, I limped up the stairs and collapsed in my chair.

‘Have you got any painkillers?’ I asked Hacker.

Brad rushed out of his office. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No, I’m having a perfectly normal day, EVEN THOUGH I NEARLY DIED TWICE!’ I heard my voice rise to a shriek, cracking on the last word.

‘What happened?’ Brad’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at me. He ran his gaze over my limbs as I replied, as though making sure I was really OK.

I took a few slow, deep breaths, exhaling forcefully. ‘It was the funniest thing. I drove past the famer’s market, turned the corner, and at that point I noticed a stall selling lions and rhinos. This distraction caused me to lose concentration, and I hit a post.’  My lower lip wobbled, and I couldn’t prevent a teary gasp. 

Brad didn’t say a word. He just wrapped his warm, heavy-duty arms around me and held on. I let my head sink onto his shoulder, suddenly feeling safe and secure.

‘The mob goons were following me again,’ I finally said when I felt calm enough to talk.

‘And then what happened?’ Brad asked.

‘I don’t know. I wasn’t looking. I think they drove off, though.’ I pulled away before I started to enjoy Brad’s comfort a bit too much.

 Hacker moved up behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders, making a peculiar chanting noise.

‘What are you doing?’ ’ I twisted my neck round to look at him and winced. God, that hurt.

‘Reiki,’ he said. ‘It’ll get you better in no time.’

My eyelids drooped shut. I felt a warm, relaxing sensation flood through me.

‘How does it feel?’ Hacker said.  His voice sounded like it came from a long way off. 

My breathing slowed down, and the tightness in my shoulders eased. ‘Mmm, lovely...’ And then I fell asleep.

12

I woke up at five-thirty, stretched out on the sofa in Brad’s office, and feeling like I’d slept for a week. I stretched, expecting to hurt like hell, but whatever Hacker had done to me had worked like a charm. Brad stood in front of the window with his back to me, doing some kind of Tai Chi workout in silence.  My gaze wandered over his backside with appreciation as he swept his arms through the air in slow, fluid movements.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked without turning around.

‘Better.’ I swung my legs over the edge of the sofa and sat up, rubbing my eyes. ‘I’ve got to go have dinner at my parents’ house before I meet Heather Brown.’

‘Keep me updated.’ He stood on one leg, rested the other foot on the side of his knee like a crane, and lifted his arms in the air, moving into a yoga pose.

I took another look at his rather perfect form and smiled to myself as I slipped out of his office and climbed into the horrible, yellow Beetle.

****

The smell of marinara pasta, laced with extra garlic, wafted under my nose when I opened my parents’ door.

‘Hi.’ Mum stuck her head out the kitchen door. ‘We’re just waiting for Suzy.’  She had no sooner spoken than the front door opened again and my sister walked in.   

‘Hi, everyone.’ Suzy waltzed into the kitchen with her permanent frown locked in place. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I saw her smile.

‘Hi, sis,’ I said.

‘Whose car is that in the drive?’ Suzy asked as she sat her Prada bag on top of the cream shaker-style island in the center of the kitchen. She shrugged off her tailored jacket and hung it on the back of a breakfast stool.

‘That monstrosity is mine for a while, unfortunately,’ I said with a grimace.

She just raised her eyebrows, not commenting further. ‘Where’s Dad?’ she asked as Sabre barreled into the room and leaped up, planting his muddy front paws on Suzy’s pinstriped trousers. ‘Get off!’ She pushed him down, wiping at the mud. ‘Go to your bed.’ She wrinkled her nose and pointed to Sabre’s half-eaten doggy bed in the corner of the room.

Sabre whined and did as he was told for once. I didn’t blame him. Suzy’s voice was enough to scare the dead.

‘No Romeo tonight then?’ she asked.

I shook my head. ‘Not tonight.’

‘Why haven’t you moved in with him yet?’

‘I’m still thinking about it,’ I said defensively.

 ‘What’s there to think about? It’s been over a week since he asked you to move in with him.’

‘It’s complicated,’ I said. 

‘OK, let’s diagnose this. You’ve been romantically involved for a year, which is long enough to make your mind up about what you want, especially when you consider the fact that you were friends, and worked together for a long time before that. It’s not like you don’t know him well enough to make a decision, is it? And he’s been in love with you for years. In fact, Romeo was the one who brought you back to normal after the Brad fiasco. He helped you climb out of the pit that Brad left you in.’

‘There’s no need to get so dramatic, Suzy.’

‘I’m just trying to establish what the problem is, Amber. Don’t you love him?’ Suzy asked.

I blushed. ‘Yes.’

‘OK, so Romeo wants you to move in with him. You love him, he loves you, that’s good, isn’t it?’ Mum asked.

I sighed. ‘Its great…kind of. I’m just worried about him being the one. Not whether he isn’t the one, but what if he
is
? Let’s just say that he is the love of my life. What if we took the plunge and then something bad happened to him? Then I would’ve lost the idea, the possibility of Mr. Right. Maybe the anticipation of not knowing is better than losing that possibility. And if something’s working, what is the point in changing it? If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?’

‘You’re not getting any younger. You could die tomorrow and then you would’ve missed out on sharing your life with the man you love,’ Suzy said.

‘Gee, thanks for that cheery thought.’

She shrugged. ‘I’m just telling it like it is. You’ve got classic commitment-phobia symptoms. You don’t want to die as a lonely old spinster, do you?’ Suzy rested her elbows on the island, trying to catch my eye.

‘I’m not lonely. I’ve got all the voices in my head to keep me company.’ I plastered a fake grin on my face.

‘What voices? Do they tell you to do things?’ Suzy asked.  In case you hadn’t figured it out already, my sister is a psychologist. ‘If they do, I can help you with that. How does it make you feel when the voices start talking?’

I stuck my fingers in my ears and hummed.

Suzy rolled her eyes at me and exchanged a glance with Mum. She reached over and pulled my hand away from my head. ‘Are you still feeling depressed?’

A nervous laugh slipped out as I looked between my mum and Suzy. ‘I wasn’t aware that I had been depressed.’

Suzy threw me a stern look. ‘You have to admit things before you can cure them. Not wanting to get out of bed in the mornings, not eating, not tidying up your flat, not bothering with your looks – those are all signs of depression.  They all happened after you lost your job.’

Mum gave me a hug. ‘Especially the not eating part. That’s not like you at all.’

I stepped out of Mum’s grasp and poured a glass of the red wine that sat breathing on the counter. ‘Well, obviously I was…upset about losing my job.’ I took a gulp of the dry, fruity liquid. ‘Anyone would be. But I wasn’t depressed. Anyway, my new job is getting a lot more interesting. People are even trying to kill me again. And I’ve got a cunning plan. If I can solve this Fandango case, I’m hoping the Chief Constable will offer me my old job back.’

‘Is that how you measure your job satisfaction, by the amount of people who want to kill you?’ Suzy watched me like I was an alien who’d just been beamed down from a spaceship.

‘You need to get out and socialize more, Amber. You can’t just live for your work.  It’s not healthy. I should know that better than anyone,’ Mum said, pouring her own glass of wine.

‘You’ve done alright with Dad though, haven’t you?’ I asked.

‘I had to accept that he was a workaholic and find other things to fill my life. It wasn’t easy,’ Mum said. She opened her mouth to continue but just then, a clattering sound came from the hall.

‘Ah, here are my girls.’ Dad wobbled into the kitchen in his brown wedges, wearing the same outfit from earlier.

Mum and I didn’t bat an eyelid, but Suzy’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.

‘Why are you dressed like that?’ Suzy asked him. ‘Are you having some post-retirement issues?’

‘He’s undercover.’ Mum stirred the sauce. ‘For the neighborhood watch scheme.’

‘Undercover as what?’ Suzy looked at us all like we were nuts. ‘Is there a call for transvestites in the neighborhood, then?’

I shrugged and dipped a spoon into the sauce. ‘Yummy,’ I told Mum after I licked the spoon dry.

‘He’s not using the right accessories, is he?’ Mum said to Suzy. ‘His makeup is getting better, though.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Suzy whispered to Dad.

‘Don’t try that psychoanalyzing babble on me,’ he said. ‘I sectioned a few people when I was on the force, and most of the time you can’t tell the difference between the psychiatrists and their patients.’

‘That’s true, actually.’ I nodded and chugged the rest of my wine.

Suzy rolled her eyes. ‘Am I the only sane person in this family?’

None of us bothered to answer her. 

Dad gazed out the window. ‘Who’s that outside?’

I looked over his shoulder and saw Tia, sitting in her car outside the house. ‘Oh, no.’

‘Is that a friend of yours?’ Mum clapped her hands together with delight. ‘I’m so glad you’ve found a few more friends. Shall we invite her in for dinner?’

‘No!’ I said. 

Mum’s face fell. ‘Why not?’

‘Because she’s a possible suspect in the case I’m working on.’ And then I thought that maybe it was actually a good idea to observe Tia in a more relaxed environment. Maybe it would give me some insight into whether or not she was involved in Fandango’s disappearance. I relented. ‘OK, why not?’

Mum disappeared out of the house faster than I could blink, reappearing a minute later with a smile on her face and a happy Tia.

‘Hi!  I’m not interrupting anything, am I?’ Tia asked. She stood in the kitchen doorway and shuffled from one foot to the other.

Suzy sized her up with a blank I’m-the-therapist-so-I’m-not-giving-anything-away expression on her face. ‘Are you nervous?’

‘N…no,’ Tia stuttered, as Mum dished out the pasta and sauce into five bowls.

‘You should be nervous in this house. Tell me, what do you think of my dad’s outfit?’ Suzy tilted her head, waiting for an answer. ‘Just say the first thing that comes into your head.’

Tia shifted her gaze to Dad. ‘You need to accessorize more.’

‘What did I tell you?’ Mum said.

Suzy threw her arms in the air. ‘You’ll fit right in.’

We sat at the dining room table, passing garlic bread and salad as Tia talked incessantly about fashion. Suzy, Mum, and Dad hung on her every word, hardly eating a bite. I twirled my pasta on my fork and shoveled it into my mouth with enthusiasm, studying her. I had a hunch about Tia, and I didn’t want her following me until I had more information. Luckily, I had a plan to keep her here while I went to the rendezvous with Heather.

I pulled Dad aside as I cleared the table and loaded up the dishwasher. ‘I’ve got some job stuff to do. Can you keep Tia talking while I duck out?’ I whispered, knowing that I could trust Dad to keep an eye on her.

He winked at me. ‘No problem.’

‘Tia, why don’t you give Dad some fashion tips on color coordination?’ I suggested.

Mum’s eyes lit up. ‘Fantastic!’

‘Yes, is it really true that blue and green should never be seen together?’ Dad asked.

I nearly passed out when I saw an emotion flicker across Suzy’s face. Her eyes lit up too, and the corners of her mouth curled into a slight smile, but it passed almost as quickly as it had come. It could’ve been indigestion, though, I suppose.

****

Hanbury Manor Hotel was a stately Jacobean country house, set in the middle of two hundred acres of parkland. It even boasted its own golf course and spa. This was the first time I had set foot in the place, and it would probably the last, unless Romeo wanted to whisk me away for a dirty little weekend. And that didn’t seem likely, considering he was AWOL with Janice Skipper.

I found the wood-paneled cocktail bar, which was knee deep in wedding guests, and looked around the room. The room was full of party-frocked women and dinner-jacketed men in various stages of drunkenness, but Heather wasn’t there. I checked my watch. Eight p.m. dead on.

I jostled my way to the bar and ordered a glass of wine, then moved back to people watch.

‘Where’ve you been all my wife – I mean life?’ A short, considerably wasted guy in a gray morning suit swayed to a stop in front of me, blocking my view of the entrance.

I gave him a distracted smile and adjusted my position, so I could see around him.

He hiccupped. ‘Oops. Looking for someone?’