this over with," she said, and I could tell by the pale color of her cheeks as she averted her eyes from the dressing room that she was as uncomfortable being there as I was.
"I'll help," I added, handing her one velvet lined box after another as she carefully cataloged and replaced accessories in them.
We'd almost gotten them all boxed up again and back into her large storage bin to transport them home, when a familiar voice piped up from the other side of the room.
"No, no, no! You cannot fold that. It must be laid flat or you'll ruin the integrity of the garment." Costello shook his head at one of the young men we'd seen earlier, taking a large black cape from the man's hands. "Just—get these other boxes in the van. I'll take care of the rest."
"Poor Costello," Ava said, sympathy in her eyes. "Do you think we should go pay our respects?"
Personally, I didn't think Costello looked like a man who was grieving. He'd dressed today in another pair of white leather pants with shimmering rhinestones on the back pockets and a hot pink shirt that billowed around his portly frame in a cascade of ruffles. If his outfit were any louder, it would be shouting.
But, people grieved in all different sorts of ways, so I nodded and followed Ava's lead as she set the storage bin down and approached the designer.
"Mr. Costello," she said softly.
He spun to face us, his eyelashes fluttering for a beat before recognition set in. "Oh, Ava. Hello, my dear. And…"
"Emmy," I supplied.
"Yes, yes, of course." He shook his head in apology. "We met before the show."
"We're so sorry for your loss," Ava said, taking one of his hands in both of hers.
At the reference to Gia, his expression changed, all emotions draining from it as if wiped clean. "Thank you. Yes, such a tragic loss."
"I can't imagine what you must be going through," Ava added, genuine sympathy in her eyes.
"It's…shocking. Hard to believe it's real." He attempted a smile, but it came off as more of a grimace. "Such a waste. All that beauty taken too quickly."
"You and Gia were close?" I asked, my mind going to the argument I'd witnessed.
He sighed deeply. "As close as anyone can get to a beautiful creature like Gia, I suppose."
"Oh?" I said. "Was she difficult to get close to?"
But he waved me off with a laugh. "Oh, don't get me wrong. Gia could be a pussycat when she wanted to be. But, like all successful people in this business, she had her eccentricities."
"Had you worked with her for long?" Ava asked.
Costello nodded. "A couple of years." He gave us a sad smile. "She was my star. She closed every show."
"She was stunning," I agreed.
He turned to fiddle with the sleeve of one of the jackets on the rack. "Yes, well, thankfully beauty is not a rare gift in my line of work."
"I only had the chance to meet her briefly," Ava added. "At the fittings the week before the show. But she seemed—" Ava paused, and I could see her mentally searching for a complimentary thing to say. It was a long pause. "—very professional."
"Yes, well, I suppose she had her moments…" He let that thought trail off. Clearly everyone was having a hard time speaking well of the dead woman.
"Did Gia normally have her own dressing room?" I asked, thinking hers was the only name I'd seen on a private room.
"Oh yes," Costello said with a laugh. "She insisted on it. One that had to be stocked with champagne and Belgian chocolates." He shook his head.
"She sounds like she could be demanding," I noted.
Costello turned his attention to the hem of the jacket on the rack again. "Well, can't we all? But as my boyfriend Fabio says, to get the best prices for your designs, you have to hire the best. And, as I'm sure you know, Gia was the best."
Actually, I didn't know that. I got the impression that she'd thought she was the best, but I'd seen a lot of beautiful women on the stage the previous day.
"The police asked if we saw anyone hanging around backstage," Ava said. "You know, anyone who wasn't supposed to be here. You didn't see anyone like that, did you?"
Costello shook his head. "Goodness me, no. But then, I was running around like a madman, wasn't I? Always am before a show. Barely had a moment to breathe, let alone notice anyone else."
"I think