A Fashionable Murder Read online

  Josie didn’t reply immediately. She was thinking of her tiny closet and her bathroom, which, while fairly large, was old, ugly, and worn. No one, she was sure, would ever describe her bathroom as a “sexy spot.” For the first time, she found herself wondering if Sam had missed not just Pamela’s good looks, education, money, talent, or sophistication but also her lifestyle. But she had reserved only half an hour of Dawn’s time; she didn’t want to waste it. “Sounds very modern. How was the rest of the place decorated? In what style?”

  “God, I don’t know. It was just gorgeous. Not modern exactly. The main colors were black, taupe, white, and this creamy off-white. The furniture was big, upholstered, and mainly made out of some sort of dark woods. There weren’t a lot of accessories and nothing at all ditzy or feminine. Even the bedroom was elegant, but somewhat neutral. I’m not explaining at all well. It’s just that it was perfect in an impersonal sort of way. Like the bedspread—it was made from heavy, natural raw silk, and the stitching was geometric rather than curvy. The artwork was modern, abstract.” Dawn stopped talking and smiled. “I liked it a lot. And it looked a lot like Pamela—expensive, well dressed, and . . . well, sort of impersonal. She was not,” Dawn concluded, “the sort of woman who had little notes and photos attached to her refrigerator.”

  Josie grinned. “Sure doesn’t sound like my place.”

  “Mine either.”

  “And it doesn’t sound like the place where she was photographed for New York magazine,” Josie added.

  “It wasn’t. I always wondered why she moved.”

  “She did?”

  “Yes . . . oh, I’m sorry. I thought you knew. She moved a few years ago. Around the same time I decided I was tired of going to people’s homes and started working here.”

  “Did you ask her why?”

  “Yes. And she just told me it was time to make a change. Pamela was not one to answer questions. She talked about herself when she wanted to, and, when she did, she chose the subject. Other than that, employees—and I’m sure she put me in that class and looked down on me for belonging to it—were not allowed into her life.”

  “Is it that way with most of your clients?”

  “Oh, no! Of course, when I was working in people’s homes, I knew a bit about them. If not their actual income, how much credit they were allowed to accumulate to get their big mortgages. But most people I work with tell me all sorts of things about their lives.”

  “Men as well as women?”

  “Yes. But the women are more interesting. They tell me about their hopes and dreams. Whether they’re married or who they’re seeing if they’re not. They talk about their kids, their vacations, their jobs—you know the type of thing. The men talk more about their work and careers than the personal stuff. It’s a cliché, but it’s true.”

  “And did Pamela tell you about her personal life? Who she dated and all?”

  “Sometimes. Mainly she talked about her work. She didn’t name-drop. In fact, she made a big deal out of not name-dropping. Said over and over that her clients demanded confidentiality.”

  “As though she was a priest or a psychiatrist.”

  “Yeah, but I think she was trying to make the point that they were important and famous people. And that she was famous and important because she worked for them.” Dawn laughed. “And I suppose you could say that if she was famous and important because she worked for famous and important people, I was famous and important because I worked for her. Not that she would ever suggest such a thing. Pamela was not the most generous person when it came to sharing the credit.”

  “Or her money,” Josie muttered, remembering the comments about Pamela’s tipping practices at Elizabeth Arden.

  Dawn caught on immediately. “Yeah, she was a lousy tipper. But some people are. What can you do?”

  “Did she talk about the men in her life?”

  “Some. She talked about her partner once in a while. I could never tell if she liked him or not. She didn’t exactly complain about him, but she implied that he didn’t pull his own weight in the partnership.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, she’d talk about having to rush off to an appointment that she really wished Shep would have taken. Or she would mention that he didn’t bring as many clients into the firm as she did. I think that one really galled her.”

  “Because she mentioned it more than once?”

  “That and the fact that Shep was the one with the society background.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. The Hendersons were big deals in New York society back when there really was society.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I still see their photos in the society pages. Listening to Pamela, I got the impression, more than once, that their partnership had a lot to do with his family.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “He was the connection, maybe the initial connection, to the people Pamela wanted to work for.”

  “That’s interesting. So she used him.”

  “Or maybe he used her. Maybe he had all the connections and she had all the talent.”

  “I suppose that’s possible,” Josie admitted slowly.

  “How did you come to so dislike a woman you have never even met?”

  “She dated the man I’m in love with. Before I dated him. Before I even met him,” Josie answered.

  “You’re jealous.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. She was everything I’m not. And I’ve wondered about her for years. I almost didn’t come on this trip because I didn’t want to meet her. On the other hand, sometimes I think I came here because I didn’t want Sam to see her when I wasn’t along.”

  “Sam is your significant other?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he doesn’t live in the city anymore.”

  “Nope. He left almost three years ago. That’s when I met him. When he left the city.”

  “Did he plan on coming back?”

  “No. Definitely not.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Josie thought for a moment, surprised by the question. “Yes, I’m sure. He has a house and a business now. He came back to the city in order to put his condo on the market, not to reestablish contact with anyone here.”

  “He’s rich.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Sam? No. He has more money than I do, but he’s not rich.”

  “Then you don’t have to worry about him . . . well, maybe you do have to worry about him. He might be interested in Pamela, but she couldn’t have been seriously interested in him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Pamela Peel was only interested in marrying a rich man.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “Nope. She made no bones about it. She said she had expensive tastes and she wanted someone who could indulge them.”

  Josie frowned. “Didn’t she make a lot of money?”

  Dawn laughed. “She spent a lot of money. She didn’t wear shoes; she wore Manolo Blahniks or Pradas. She didn’t buy suits; she bought Armanis. She didn’t want a mink; she wanted a Fendi fur. And you should have heard her when she talked about decorating. She hung modern art on her walls because it was less expensive than the Monets and Manets that she coveted. Let me tell you, unless your boyfriend has lots of bucks, he was just a passing fancy in Pamela Peel’s life.”

  “They dated for over two years.”

  “The lawyer, right?”

  “Yes, Sam was a prosecuting attorney before he left the city.” Josie leaned closer to Dawn. “Did she talk about him to you?”

  Dawn frowned and looked at the floor.

  “Please, I really need to know. Sam . . . the police may think he killed her. He didn’t, of course, but . . . well, anything you know might help him.”

  Dawn didn’t speak for a moment. “I don’t have real conversations with clients. At least not with clients like Pamela. I listen to what she says, but I don’t ask . . . well, I don’t
ask anything you could call a piercing question. Mostly I ‘uh huh’ and ‘yes’ and ‘you’re right.’ Clients like Pamela really only want affirmation. Not intrusion into their lives, certainly nothing like advice or criticism.”

  “But she did talk to you about him!”

  “Yes, she did.”

  “What did she say?”

  Dawn hesitated. “You’re sure he wasn’t rich when he was living in the city?”

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so. Please tell me what you know.”

  “Well, either he was rich and you don’t know about it, or she was sincerely in love with him because that’s what she used to say. That your Sam was her chance to get everything she wanted out of life.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  IT WAS THE last thing in the world Josie Pigeon wanted to hear. And now she was going to have to ask for the details. She sipped her herb tea, reminded herself that Pamela’s feelings for Sam might not have been reciprocated by him, took a deep breath and said, “Tell me about it.”

  “I can tell you only what she told me—and only what I remember.”

  “That’s fine. Just do the best you can do.”

  “She wasn’t dating him when I began working with her. I remember her telling me about the first time she met him.”

  “Go ahead,” Josie urged, feeling this was going to be painful.

  “It was at his mother’s apartment,” Dawn said.

  “She told me about that,” Josie said. She took a breath and asked another question. “Was it love at first sight?”

  Dawn shrugged. “Who knows? I figured he was just a rich, single, society lawyer—a catch and Pamela was beginning to get old enough to be looking for a catch.”

  “I guess. Go on. When did they next meet? Did Sam ask her out?”

  “I don’t think so,” Dawn answered slowly. “I think they had some mutual acquaintances and they were both invited to a dinner party.”

  “That’s a coincidence!”

  “Oh, it wasn’t a coincidence. One of them must have set it up. I just don’t remember which one, if I ever knew. Anyway, I don’t remember the details, but Pamela, who was always obsessed with her appearance, became something of a fanatic at that point. She doubled her workout schedule and lost a few pounds. And, of course, bought an entire new wardrobe. How that woman could spend money . . .” She looked at Josie. “Maybe Sam gives the impression of being rich?”

  “How would he do that?”

  “Wear Armani suits. Drive a Porsche. Stuff like that.”

  “I’m not sure I’d recognize an Armani. Besides, he’s more chinos and docksiders. And he drives an MGB. It’s older than my truck.”

  “Restored?”

  “Yes,” Josie answered.

  “Where did he go to school?”

  “Yale.”

  “Are you absolutely sure he doesn’t come from old money? He sure sounds like it.”

  Josie opened her mouth and then closed it. She had no idea what Sam was worth. He never worried about money. He bought what he wanted and didn’t buy more. It wasn’t his style to show off. She thought about his mother. Carol had always spent lots of money, but Josie had been under the impression that that cash was accumulated during one of her marriages. That Sam might be wealthy was an idea she had never considered, but it was possible. And that meant that Pamela’s interest in him might have been only monetary. For some reason, Josie found the thought comforting.

  “Pamela was real fond of quoting that old cliché about it being just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor one. I assumed that she had managed to.”

  “Maybe. Did she talk about their relationship much?”

  “She didn’t talk so much as brag. I heard all about the expensive restaurants they ate at, the islands in the Caribbean where they went to sunbathe. It wasn’t all that interesting, to tell the truth. Pamela seemed to find status in eating in the right restaurant when all anyone has to do is call, make reservations, and pay the bill. It’s not like she was seated at the best table at Elaine’s.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Josie admitted.

  “Name-dropping. Pamela approached her life as she approached her wardrobe—everything had to have a designer name attached for her to be interested in it. She chose where she ate and where she vacationed in the same way. If it was well known or famous she went there. Sometimes I thought that the only reason she went anyplace was so she could brag about it afterward.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Sam,” Josie muttered.

  “Is your Sam the type of guy who is always trying to impress people?”

  “No, just the opposite. He’s . . . he’s genuine. Like he knows a whole lot about wine. It was his hobby and now it’s his business, but he never makes a big deal about it. He just buys the best and drinks it, without any fuss or ostentation.” And, she realized, as though he had been doing it all his life. Was Dawn right? Was it possible that Sam had been brought up in a wealthy family? Did he have family money? Is that what had attracted Pamela Peel to him?

  “Well, maybe it was true love. Maybe Pamela Peel fell for him because of who he was as opposed to what he had.”

  “Do you think that’s possible?” Josie asked.

  Dawn took a moment to consider the question. “I suppose. She was ambitious, of course. But we’re not talking about a gold digger here, you know. Pamela Peel worked hard and had a lot of talent. She was at least half the reason Henderson and Peel was so successful. New York City is a place a lot of people come to with a dream. I know I did. But I wasn’t good enough or a hard enough worker. Pamela Peel was both. I admired her professionally.”

  “And personally?”

  “She used people. But Sam Richardson may not be in that category. She may have sincerely cared about him.”

  That didn’t make Josie feel better. “Were you surprised when she followed you here? I mean, couldn’t she have just hired another personal trainer to come to her house?”

  “You know, I thought that was exactly what she would do. Not only was she the only client I had who followed me here, but she was the most unlikely. And I did explain that there were other options. The company I was working for then sure didn’t want to lose clients. And, to be honest, I was looking for a new type of client when I changed jobs. But, what can you do? I’m not in the position of picking my clients, unlike Henderson and Peel.”

  Josie thought for a moment. “Do you know why they broke up? I mean, did she talk about it?”

  Dawn frowned. “I remember knowing that something was wrong.” She paused and continued slowly. “There were little things. She complained a lot more and about different things. Pamela was a woman who was bragging when she complained. You know the type of thing. ‘Oh, I just hate that man. He keeps buying me expensive presents, blah, blah, blah, blah.’ Much of the time I just turn off my mind and stop listening. But suddenly she was complaining about decisions that were nothing to brag about. Like Sam had refused to spend the weekend with her at Gurney’s out in Montauk. It’s a spa, right on the water, gorgeous. He wanted to go to a car show somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania.” Dawn chuckled. “I cannot imagine Pamela at a car show and then she said that they were going to be staying at the local Holiday Inn. No way she was going to do that. I think she took off for Montauk by herself. And in a huff.”

  “You think they were breaking up then?”

  “Well, yes and no. She decorated his apartment—it was a gift. A very generous gift. I remember her talking about having two large sofas covered in suede. The cheapest workman she found charged over four thousand dollars per couch. And there was something about a fireplace mantel. The marble was imported from India, taken to Italy to be formed and then flown over here from Italy so it could be installed in time. I couldn’t believe it. The cost was incredible and she wanted everything to be perfect. Well, I guess that’s why she’s so well known. Have you seen the apartment?”

  “Yes, I’m staying there n
ow.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Is it gorgeous?”

  “No. It’s hideous. And I’m not the only person who thinks so. My friend saw it and agreed with me.”

  “I suppose the only person who matters is the client.”

  “I can’t imagine Sam liking it,” Josie protested. “I mean, he owns a house now and he’s decorated it himself. And it’s as different from that apartment as can be. It’s warm and inviting. He likes fifties retro stuff more than I do, but it has color and light and charm. His apartment looks like a dead elephant.”

  “A very expensive dead elephant,” Dawn reminded her.

  “Yes, but it’s not like Sam!”

  “Maybe it’s what she wanted him to be like rather than what he was,” Dawn suggested.

  “I suppose.” Josie shrugged. “What do I know about it? I build things. Someone else decorates them. But, you know, I can’t help thinking that it’s a little odd that she decorated his apartment and then, less than six months later, he decides to retire, leave New York City and move to the shore.”

  “Sounds like he’s an impulsive guy.”

  “But he’s not. He felt that he had done all he could do working for the city, that he wanted to change careers while he was still young enough to enjoy what he was doing. He had always wanted to live near the water. I mean, I always got the impression that he had thought about the change for years and years.”

  “But you’re not sure about that.”

  “No. That’s part of the problem with all this. I never really thought about any of those things. Sam’s past had always stayed in the past. I mean, I’ve met friends of his from the city. And his mother visits from time to time. But I never thought much about what caused him to change his whole life. It was done before I met him.”