her head toward the door. "That necklace was supposed to put me on the map as a local designer. Not as the creator of murder weapons," she moaned.
"They are not your client base," I pointed out. "I'm sure the women at the Links are remembering how beautiful the design was and not what happened to it after the show."
"Fat lot of good that does if I can't sell it," she mumbled.
"Need me to make a chocolate run?" I asked, shooting her a sympathetic smile.
Ava grinned back. "I don't think my waistline can take much more cake." She paused. "But thanks for the thought. And thanks for jumping in to keep me from telling those two where they could shove their enthusiasm."
"Cheer up," I told her. "What do they say—all publicity is good publicity?"
"I'll believe that when I see it," Ava said, staring out at the empty shop.
"Maybe you can use some of the photos I took last night to drum up some business," I suggested. I pulled my phone from my purse. I'd uploaded the pictures from my camera to my cloud drive before going to bed the night before, but I'd not yet had a chance to look through them.
"Maybe," Ava said, glancing over as I pulled them up.
A few seconds later I had several dozen thumbnails on my screen of Ava posing with the designers and models on the runaway and close-ups of various pieces of jewelry.
"What about this one?" I asked, pulling up the photo we'd taken of Ava and Costello's model, Jada, with the sparkling crystal earrings.
Ava nodded. "It's nice. I could post it on social media."
"I'm sure it would sell those earrings."
"Maybe." I could see Ava's mood improving slightly at the thought of a sale.
I scrolled some more, seeing a few photos I'd taken earlier of the models putting on their accessories, trying to capture the behind-the-scenes feel. I paused on one of Gia, a pang of sadness hitting me. She was in her finale gown, makeup not yet done, as Costello helped her into the necklace. I scrolled through a few more that I'd taken of the same scene—one closer on Ava's handmade creation and a couple wider shots, encompassing the chaos of backstage. I noticed Jada in the background of the wider shot, having her hair curled by one of the stylists. The corner of Daisy Dot's colorful outfit was caught moving off frame, and a couple of guys I didn't recognize stood behind Gia—likely crew or wardrobe assistants.
I moved past a few more photos—one of Daisy's models showing off silver bangles, a couple of Costello's other ladies in ornate pendants, several of the models being transformed by hair and makeup. We had another of Gia in that series, having thick eyeliner artfully applied in wings in the same vivid green color as her gem. Again I felt my heart clench for her. She had been strikingly beautiful, and as Costello had said, it seemed like such a waste that she'd been taken so young.
"Is that the same guy?"
"Hmm?" I pulled myself out of my own thoughts as Ava stabbed a finger at my phone.
"That guy. In the baseball cap." She gestured to a man in the background, standing off to the side of the makeup table. "Didn't I see him in another picture with Gia?"
"I don't know," I answered truthfully. I scrolled back a few to the series of her getting dressed.
"There!" Ava stopped me at the wide shot of Costello putting the necklace on the model. She pointed to one of the two men I'd noticed in the background earlier. "Look, he's behind Jada. Doesn't it look like he's watching Gia?"
His body was facing the model. I used my thumb and forefinger to zoom in on the man. He looked tall—taller than most of the models—and he was dressed in a pair of nondescript jeans and a white T-shirt advertising a soft drink. I could see dark hair peeking out underneath a baseball cap, which bore the logo of the San Francisco Giants. His head was angled so that most of his face was shadowed from the camera. All I could really make out was a prominent chin with a deep cleft in it that reminded me of Chevy Chase.
"It does look like the same guy," I agreed. "Probably one of the crew?"
But Ava frowned. "Weren't the crew all Links employees? They'd be wearing the blue polo shirts, right?"
"Maybe he was one of the designers' assistants?" I offered instead.
"Maybe." She scrolled