Crushed Velvet Read Online Free

and she told me,” I said. “It’s not common knowledge,” I added.
    â€œDid you pay his expenses?”
    â€œWhat expenses? I hired him to pick up my fabric and drive back. His van is electric, so there’s no gas expense. Besides, I don’t think deliverymen expect you to pay for their gas.”
    â€œI’m talking about his overnight stay.”
    â€œNo, he must have arranged that himself. Genevieve said he left yesterday so he could pick up dry goods for her first thing this morning, get my fabric, and get back before rush hour.”
    â€œSo he was already going to Los Angeles to pick up supplies for her store?”
    â€œI guess so.”
    â€œBut you hired him anyway because they needed the money.”
    â€œSheriff, don’t make this into something it isn’t. If I were to hire a delivery service to drive to Los Angeles and drive back, it’s entirely possible they’d be couriering something for someone else, too. That doesn’t change the fact that they’re picking up something for me. It’s not like sharing a cab.”
    â€œMs. Monroe, I appreciate your loyalty to your friend.I’m trying to establish a time frame for where this man has been. Is Mrs. Girard here?”
    â€œYes, she’s by the food,” I said. I turned around, but Genevieve wasn’t there. “She was here a second ago. Maybe she went inside to sit down?”
    Clark followed me inside the fabric store, past the velvet that Rick had left there before we discovered Phil’s body. I was in the process of figuring out how I wanted to lay out the interior for the best possible shopping experience. The walls were lined with white wooden shelving, stacked full of silk, taffeta, satin, moiré, and other luxury fabrics. The center of the store was filled with large bins, about five feet square, piled high with their own colorful assortments: brightly printed jersey, polyester, cotton, gingham, calico. I’d been lugging the fabrics in poor condition to the back door of the store so I could toss them in the Dumpster out back, but so far hadn’t been able to bring myself to do it. Who knows, I reasoned, maybe once I peel off the first couple of yards, I’ll find that I can do something with what’s left.
    When I didn’t see Genevieve immediately, I called out for her. She didn’t answer.
    â€œI don’t know where she went.” I said.
    â€œShe left?” asked Clark.
    I turned around and found him standing by the velvet.
    â€œI said I don’t know where she went. Maybe the bathroom. With all due respect, Sheriff, she just saw her husband’s dead body. She probably didn’t take it very well.”
    â€œIs this the fabric from Los Angeles?” he asked. He used the end of a pen to tap it.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou said twelve bolts. Where are the rest?”
    â€œThe others are probably still in the van out front. As soon as I saw the arm jutting out from under the bolts, we stopped unloading.”
    Clark poked his head out the front door and beckoned someone over. “Tag this fabric and take it to the unit.”
    â€œSheriff—”
    â€œMs. Monroe, you know how this works. Until you hear otherwise, this fabric is evidence. Did anything else come out from inside the truck?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIf you hear from Mrs. Girard before I do, tell her to call me.” He headed outside to the truck and I followed him. He walked to the back doors and used his iPhone to snap pictures of the interior. I turned off the sound on my phone and did the same. He turned around, and, too late, I shoved my phone into the pocket of my sweatshirt.
    â€œMs. Monroe, what are you doing?”
    I went with the truth. “I’m taking pictures of my fabric. I already paid for it. I know you have to take it, but I want proof of what I’m owed.”
    He studied me for a moment, then, as if satisfied with my