18th century French palace. Though I did detect a faint fishy scent lingering from the building's days housing crustaceans.
Costello shut the door behind us before daring to speak again. "How could you accuse me of such things! Out in the open! Where anyone could hear you!" Costello collapsed into a white leather chair behind his gold desk and fanned himself.
"So Gia was blackmailing you?" I asked, ignoring the theatrics as Ava and I sat in a pair of carved wooden chairs opposite him.
His fanning paused. "Who told you about the Puerto Rican bank?"
"Is it true?" I pressed.
His eyes narrowed, going from Ava to me. Then finally he spat out one word. "Yes."
I could feel Ava vibrating with delight beside me.
"So the payments to her account…those were all you?" she asked.
He nodded. "Gia was bleeding me dry. How could someone so beautiful be so cruel? And to me? I treated her like royalty!" His eyes filled with tears, and I almost felt sorry for him.
That is, if he hadn't killed the model.
"How did it happen?" Ava asked.
He sighed. "At first I thought it would just be a onetime thing. Of course, I was furious she would dare to threaten me. And heartbroken at the betrayal. But, I had the funds, so I paid."
"But it was not a onetime thing," I said.
He shook his head. "No. She"—he took a deep, shuddering breath—"she just kept coming back. The threats growing more and more horrible. I had no idea she could be so terribly unfeeling."
"What were the threats about?" I prompted.
"Well, about telling the world my secret."
"Which is?" I tried again.
His eyes darted around the room that we were clearly alone in. "I-I don't want to say."
Ava gave him a get real look. "Look, you can tell us, or you can tell the police."
"Police?" If it was possible, Costello paled even further. "No, no, no. You have this all wrong. I-I didn't do anything illegal. It's not like that!"
"So tell us what it is like," I prodded, softening my tone to what I hoped sounded understanding and comforting. "What was she threatening to go public about?"
He sighed again, his shoulders sagging and making his usually larger-than-life personality suddenly seem very small and vulnerable. "My love life."
"Fabio?" I clarified. "Did she know something incriminating about him?"
But Costello shook his head. "No, you see, that's just it. Fabio is all for show. I don't love him." He let out a humorless laugh. "And he surely does not love me."
"I don't understand," I said, meaning it.
"Don't you?" Costello looked from Ava to me. "Babies, my dirty little secret is that I'm straight." He gave us a small smile and a shrug.
"Wait—" Ava said, shaking her head. "The whole scene at the penthouse, your arms around Fabio, all the lovey-dovey stuff?"
"All fake, dahling," he said on a sad sigh. "For your benefit."
"I still don't understand," I said. "Why would you fake being gay?"
"Well, how else was I supposed to get anywhere in the fashion world?"
"Maybe on the merit of your designs?" I mumbled.
Costello scoffed. "Oh dear naïve one." I tried not to be offended as he continued. "I came up in the 90s fashion scene in San Francisco." He gave us a pointed look. "Anyone who had a prayer of getting any attention then had to be beyond flamboyant. So…I was." He twirled his wrists as if to illustrate his point.
"So who exactly is Fabio to you?" Ava asked.
"My straight beard." Costello shrugged again. "Found him on some online hookup site trolling for women. He had a bunch of shirtless photos, and I thought he'd be perfect."
"So, he's straight?" Ava asked. From the lift in her voice, I could tell she was picturing his enticing abs.
I gave her a down girl look.
"As an arrow, honey," Costello confirmed. "But really, our arrangement was a win-win for all involved. He gets to live a fabulous lifestyle in penthouses, and all he has to do is make nice with me at public events."
"And Gia found out about this arrangement?" I asked.
Costello clucked his tongue and shook his head. "I don't know how, but yes, she did. She said if I didn't pay up, she'd out me. Tell everyone I'd been living a lie."
"Forgive me for saying this," Ava started, shaking her head, "but do you really think anyone would care now? I mean, it's not the 90s anymore."
"About being a boring, straight, white man?" Costello said. "Maybe not. But about lying? About keeping up the charade and playing gay all these