Latte Trouble - By Cleo Coyle Page 0,26

away in jail so you don’t hang yourself or something. Soon the look became cool among urban kids, then gangster rappers. From there, the style moved to MTV, where it was mimicked by affluent rich kids, who were in turn emulated by the young in the middle classes. Voila, within a decade or so, everyone’s wearing baggy pants and shoes without laces.”

The memory of that conversation made me shiver. I wondered if Tucker had surrendered his laces before being sent to Rikers…or if he would become so depressed and desperate he really would do himself harm. I glanced at my watch, wondering if Tucker had been arraigned down at the courthouse yet. I decided to call the Blend and see if they’d heard any news—Matteo had promised he would keep me updated. I found a green park chair inside the billowing tent and used my cell. The phone rang nine times before it was answered.

“Yo, Village Blend,” said a harried voice.

“Esther. It’s me. I called to see—”

“Jeezus, Clare. When can you get back?”

I sat up. “Bad news? Is there a problem?”

“It’s a mob scene here. Must be some special event in the neighborhood because we’ve got double the lunch crowd than normal.”

Some noise erupted in the background, and Esther shouted a garbled reply.

“Gardner just stopped by to pick up his paycheck and I corralled him to work lunch. Hope that’s all right with you.”

“Sure, if you think it’s all that crowded.”

I heard voices, Esther calling something out in reply. Then she came back on the line. “Sorry, boss. Gotta go.”

“But—”

Too late. Esther had already hung up. But I guessed that if she’d heard something about Tucker’s plight, she would have told me. I chalked up her description of the lunchtime rush as typical Esther Best hyperbole, but decided I’d better get back as soon as possible anyway. I glanced at my watch, saw that forty minutes had passed, and decided to find Lottie and jot down her menu changes, talk to her about my worry that she had been the real target for last night’s poisoning, then say farewell and get back to the Blend.

When I returned to Lottie’s display room, I found her alone, sagging like a rag doll on her chair. She looked up as I approached. I nearly gasped when I saw her pale face. I hurried to the woman’s side.

“Lottie, are you all right?”

“I don’t know,” she stammered. “After the reporters left…I suddenly got weak. My ears started to ring, and I got dizzy. I…think I need to lie down.”

I looked for a place for Lottie to rest, but all I saw were two more chairs. I grabbed them and shoved them together, seat to seat, next to her chair so Lottie could stretch out across them. But as I reached to help her over to the makeshift cot, Lottie moaned. “Clare, I…”

Then she pitched forward and slumped to the floor.

TEN

“LOTTIE! Lottie!” I cried, falling to my knees at her side. I thought the woman had fainted, but Lottie opened her eyes again and focused them on me. I could see confusion there.

“God, Clare…I felt dizzy…lost my balance.”

“Here, let me help you up.”

I reached for the woman, but she shook me off and rose under her own power. “I feel sick…cramps. Probably nerves.”

My first thought was poison. Not cyanide or she’d be dead already. Perhaps a slower acting substance—

“We’d better get you to a doctor.”

But Lottie waved that idea aside. “I need to sit down, that’s all. I’m sure it’s just nerves…exhaustion. So much is riding on this rollout….”

But I was not convinced. “What are your symptoms, exactly?”

“I feel dizzy…my ears are ringing. There’s some nausea.”

“Maybe it was something you ate?”

Lottie laughed. “I probably haven’t eaten enough. Just that sandwich and salad that Tad and Rena brought me. I don’t think I had a decent meal last night, either.”

I plunked Lottie down on a chair, sat opposite her.

“I’m fine, Clare…really.”

“Well I’m not going anywhere until I’m sure you’re okay.”

Lottie touched my hand. “Thanks for caring. Last year I was a wreck for the rollout, but I survived—mostly because I was out of the business for so long I didn’t even know half the things that could go wrong.”

“You exaggerate, I’m sure. You’ve been in the fashion business before.”

“But so much has changed over the years. The rollouts are bigger, there’s more media, everything costs more. The stakes are much higher now that more people have brand awareness.”

“But not everything’s changed. You told me so yourself—said you’ve