Some Like It Haute: A Humorous Fashion Mystery (Style & Error Book 4) by Diane Vallere Read Free Book Online Page A

green.
    Amanda had attended I-FAD, the Institute of Fashion, Art, and Design, with Nick. I didn’t know how much intimacy was included in their college history, but they had remained close long after graduation. Amanda was gorgeous, with sleek long black hair parted on the side, her perfect size four figure, her five-foot nine frame in flats, though she rarely wore them. She could have been one of the models walking the runway like Harper instead of the designer producing the clothes, and the fact that she’d chosen the more creative of the two paths, and showed every indication of being successful at it, seemed an unfair bounty of talent. At least, that’s what a petty person would think. I was doing my best not to be petty. For now.
    Amanda’s waiting area was a study in black and white. The carpet was black and ran wall to wall. The walls were a crisp contrast. Abstract paintings on unframed canvases filled the walls. A vintage bust form, covered in black patent leather, sat by the front window, as if to welcome visitors with its limbless figure.
    “Here’s your coffee,” Tiny said. “Cream, no sugar. Right?”
    “Right. How’d you know?”
    “I watched you make it every day for the past four weeks.”
    I wondered what else Tiny might have noticed about me in those four weeks. Did she think I’d seen something that I shouldn’t have seen? Did she have reason to want to scare me off? Tiny might be over six feet tall, but that didn’t mean she was above suspicion. I took the mug from her outstretched hand and blew on the hot liquid.
    “Sam, before Amanda comes out here, I want to say something. We both appreciate the work you did on the show. Neither one of us considers you in any way responsible. I don’t know if that was ever made clear.”
    “Responsible for what?”
    “Your little stunt brought on some bad publicity. The day before the show, claiming to have been attacked in the parking lot.”
    “I was attacked.”
    Tiny held up her hands, palm-side out. “I guess we’ll never know the truth, will we?” She smiled. She set her coffee cup on the desk behind her and crossed her arms over her gray sweater. The cuffs on her white oxford had been unbuttoned and folded back, exposing a black, utilitarian sports watch. Whatever jovial vibe she’d started out with had been replaced. “Like I said, Amanda and I expected you to show up. What’s your take on the fire?”
    “Somebody sent me to the hospital the night before the show. I don’t know who and I don’t know why. A day later, a fire at the warehouse destroyed Amanda’s show. I don’t believe that fire was an accident. When I was attacked, I was warned to ‘stay out of it.’ The only business I’ve been involved with for the past four weeks is Amanda’s business.”
    “You’d do well to walk away from the whole thing,” Tiny said.
    “You said my reputation preceded me. That means you probably know I’m not going to leave this alone.”
    “I don’t get people like you,” she said, shaking her head. “You make things far more complicated than they need to be. Nobody’s asking you to be some kind of a hero. Why not just get on with your life?”
    It was in high school that I first learned that people don’t expect you to take the hard way. I was on the track and field team. Before each meet, our coach would gather us in the gymnasium and call out the different events. If we planned to compete in one, we called out our last name and he wrote us in.
    I was one of six girls who had been tagged long distance runners. There were only two events for us: half mile and mile. Nobody wanted to run the mile. Ever. But one day I decided I would. Coach called out “mile” and I called out “Kidd.” He looked up from his clipboard and held my expression for a few seconds. I shrugged in a why not ? gesture. He smiled and wrote down my name. From that day on, I ran the mile every time we had a competition.
    If I was going to do something, I