Page 89 of Desperate Justice

“I didn’t get a good look at the person.”

“Think, Allison. Perhaps someone in her past, or her fiancé’s past?”

His next question gave her pause. “Could it be a woman?”

Allison pressed a hand to her throbbing head. “I don’t know.”

“What about a former girlfriend?”

Not that Paul had many of those. “Paul was always quiet and devoted to his business. He had dated, but nothing serious. Paul’s low-key and average, and he’s never had a lot of money. All his income and time went back into his business.”

She thought hard. “There’s always women who get jealous in the modeling world, but I can’t think of one in particular who would target Diana.”

Then she remembered. “Paul’s ex was hung up on him.”

Rafe made notes on his phone. “Who?”

“Lucy. Late thirties, dark hair and eyes. She works as a housekeeper in his uncle’s house.”

He glanced at her. “The brunette who was nasty?”

“Yeah, I forgot you met her. Briefly. Miserable woman. She works for Hernandez part-time in exchange for living in the guesthouse. I saw Di have a run-in with her.”

“At the house?”

“No. She worked at the dress shop where Diana had her wedding gown altered. Lucy had started working there, and when Diana saw her she wanted to change seamstresses, but it was too late. Not enough time before the wedding. I went with Di for her second fitting, and Lucy looked at Diana and sniffed and told her, ‘You think you have it so good,puta, just wait and see. You’ll get yours.”

“You can’t recall her full name? Saw it on a name tag, perhaps?”

Allison shook her head. “Maybe. I don’t know! Why can’t I remember?”

“Stress affects memory. Close your eyes. Think of sounds, smells. The sewing machines running, the women talking, fans stirring the air and the rustle of fabric.”

Closing her eyes, she envisioned the small, dark shop and the rows of industrial sewing machines, the glaring fluorescent lights overhead and the women bent over the machines. The place reminded her of a sweat shop, but not wanting to ruin Diana’s excitement, she’d kept her suspicions to herself.

“Maybe her last name reminded you of something. A celebrity, a town, a favorite drink.”

The spicy fragrance of his cologne enveloped her in a warm blanket of scent. The shop smelled of machine oil, the sharp smell of fabric, the heavy and cloying scent of inexpensive perfume. Lucy had kept watching them as she and Di made their way past the rows of machines to the back where fittings took place. The harsh overhead fluorescents, Lucy’s pretty face sallow, the dinky plastic name tag reflecting the light...

Allison’s eyes flew open. “Martin. Lucy Martin. I remember now because I had made a stupid joke at the dress shop, asking if she were related to Ricki Martin, the singer, to break up the tension.”

Rafe smiled. “Good job. Do you recall anything else?”

“Lucy said Di would come to no good end because men only wanted her for one thing. Di was snarky and said with her looks, she was surprised Paul ever slept with her.”

He winced. “Ouch.”

“I thought I might have to break up a catfight, so I hustled Di to the back room. When we left, Lucy was gone for the day.”

“Anything else you remember?”

“Diana did tell me it bothered her Lucy worked at the same shop where she was getting her fitting. She was going to change shops, but it was getting too late.” Allison studied her hands.

“Why was Lucy working at the Hernandez house?” Rafe narrowed his gaze. “It seems awfully suspicious.”

“Paul asked his uncle to hire Lucy because she was living in her car. He felt bad for her because she couldn’t afford a place in Miami and he’d kicked her out of his condo when they broke up. He told Di it was only temporary.”

But Rafe narrowed his eyes. “Allison, I would never do favors like that for an ex. Those kind of mixed messages give the wrong impression to a woman.”