shook his head. "Simple slip of the tongue," he assured her, waving it off. "Emmy?"
"Rosé is fine for me too," I decided.
"I'll help," Ava added, taking David's arm as he turned toward the bar.
"Well, aren't they a cute couple," Daisy Dot said, watching them walk away.
"They're not a couple," I said quickly.
Maybe a little too quickly, as Daisy's pink eyebrows rose in response. "Oh?"
I shook my head. "I meant to say, they're just friends."
"Yes, well, isn't it nice to have such charming friends." The way she was still staring after David, I feared that maybe I should have let her believe he was taken.
"You know, I hadn't realized when we talked last that you and Gia knew each other so well," I said, trying to draw her attention away from the fit of David's jeans.
"Hmm?" She turned a distracted gaze on me.
"You and Gia. I didn't know you worked together so closely."
She blinked at me. "Well, the fashion community is small. We all work together."
"I heard that Gia even walked in your spring show," I said, watching for a reaction.
But if she had any, it was expertly covered. "Gia was a lovely creature, and I'm sure she'll be missed," she said flatly. "But all of this is all so morbid," she went on, gesturing around her to the not-so-grief stricken. "This dwelling on death. It's not good for one's creative psyche."
"Your look tonight is very creative," I noted, hoping that came off as a compliment.
She smiled. "Thank you. I shall never be accused of being mundane."
Of all the things I'd mentally accused her of, she was right. That was not on the list. There were other things, however…
"You know, I always wondered where designers like you get their creative inspiration," I said carefully.
"Oh, you know. Here. There. Everywhere, really," Daisy said, flapping her arms again like wings.
"I'm curious…where did your inspiration come from for the line you showed here this past weekend? Those dresses with the cutout backs?" I asked, hoping to jar a reaction out of her this time.
"Hmm?" She blinked at me. "Oh, uh, yes. Well, things like that just seem to come to me."
"Really?" I asked. "You didn't see anything or hear of anything similar that, maybe, put the idea into your head?"
"No." Daisy's eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure what you're getting at."
By the way her posture had become defensive, arms crossing over her chest in a flurry of feathers, I thought maybe she did.
"Carl Costello says his original designs for his fall line featured cutouts. Very similar to yours."
I could see her working out several possible answers to that in her head before she finally settled on one. "Well, my models were the ones wearing them down the runway, weren't they?"
"Are you saying you knew he had the idea?"
She waved her arms in a blur of cheetah spots. "I'm saying I have no idea what Costello's pea brain might have come up with. How would I even know what goes on in his stifled little studio?"
"Gia would have known," I pointed out. "She worked with him all the time. I'm sure she could have seen his early sketches."
"Yes, I'm sure she could have," Daisy Dot said, frowning.
"Did she?"
"What?"
"Did she see them and share them with you?" I paused, realizing I was flat out accusing her at this point and figured I might as well go all in. "For a fee?"
Daisy Dot paled to just one shade above a ghost. "I'm sorry, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. Now, if you'll please excuse me." She maneuvered her body around mine and stalked across the terrace toward the lawn.
"Where's she going?" Ava asked, coming up behind me.
"Away from me," I mumbled, turning to find David with two glasses of pink colored wine in hand. I gratefully took one and filled them in on what Daisy Dot hadn't said.
"Doesn't sound like the actions of an innocent party to me," David said when I'd finished. Then he took a sip of rosé from the glass previously procured for Daisy.
"No," I agreed. "But not innocent of what—stealing fashion designs or killing Gia?"
"And stealing my emerald," Ava added, her eyes tracking Daisy as she made her way through the crowd, greeting guests.
"Well, why don't I see what kind of dashing charms I can work on Mizz Dot," David said. "Maybe I can flatter her into unburdening her soul a bit."
"You're not that charming," I mumbled.
"Oh, ye of little faith." He raised the glass of rosé and sent me a