“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Into the foyer. And the room we found her in.”
“That is all?”
“Yes.” I paused. “Wait, no.”
“You keep changing your story.”
“No, it’s the same story. I just remember we went into the office, too. To use the phone.”
“The cordless?” he clarified.
“Yes.”
“And this was the only thing you touched, oui?”
“Yes.”
He leaned in, his eyes intent on mine. “Then why are your prints all over the wine glass in Miss Girardi’s foyer?”
Shit.
“I forgot. I touched that, too.”
“You seem to do a lot of forgetting.”
“Look, I knocked it over when we found the body and I cleaned up the pieces of broken glass.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You see a dead woman, yet before you call the police, you stop to do a little housekeeping?”
“No. Yes. I, I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was panicked.”
“Because you had just killed a woman?’
“Because I’d just found a dead woman.”
“Hmmmm.” He narrowed his eyes at me, pursing his lips in a way that made his mustache dance. “Where were you this afternoon?”
“At Donata’s office. Dana was with me the whole time,” I said quickly. “I have an alibi.”
“This time,” he added, skeptically.
I didn’t say anything, crossing my arms over my chest.
“What were you doing at Donata’s office?” he asked.
“Looking for her. She wasn’t there, so I got her home address and we came here. Look, you can ask Donata’s assistant, Debbie.”
“She is being questioned now.”
Wow, he was quick.
“Good,” I said, defiantly.
“We also have a team going though Donata’s office. Care to know what they have found so far?”
I froze. Uh oh. He looked a little too pleased with himself.
Only, he didn’t wait for me to answer. “Your fingerprints. All over the file cabinets in Mademoiselle Girardi’s private office.” He did a little smirk. “I supposed you forgot to mention that, too?”
I bit my lip. Shit.
“Look, I didn’t take anything. I… I was just looking.”
“For?”
“Evidence.”
“Of?”
“Her involvement in the jewel heists.”
“Find any?”
“Well, not exactly. But, did you know that Donata used to be a man? She was a male model in the seventies and someone found out and they sent her some pictures of her as a him and I think they were blackmailing her into sending Gisella on all the good jobs where she could get her hands on the jewelry. Or her partner could. Like the Corbett Winston account, because Angelica said that Donata wouldn’t even let her go on a go-see, so I’m pretty sure that Donata was involved and that’s why she got killed. Not by me.”
Moreau blinked at me. His mustache twitched.
But he didn’t get a chance to answer as the door opened again and Beak Nose said something to Moreau in Italian. Moreau answered back, then shot a pointed look at me before disappearing through the door.
I thunked my head down on the table. Could life get any worse?
I’m not sure how long I sat like that, but by the time the door opened again, my forehead made a little suction sound when I lifted it up.
Beak Nose stood in the doorway again. “Okay,” he said in broken English. “You can go now.”
“I can go?” I asked.
He nodded, holding the door open for me.
I stepped out, wondering what had changed. Two minutes ago Moreau had seemed ready to read me my rights. Now I was free to go.
And then I saw what had changed.
Ramirez.
He looked tired, his eyes bloodshot, his posture tilting slightly forward. A generous dusting of five o’clock shadow covered his jaw, making his cheeks look hollow, like he hadn’t slept. My heart clenched in my chest and all I wanted to do was give him a hug.
Beside him stood Moreau, the two of them deep in conversation.
As if he could feel me watching him, Ramirez suddenly straightened his spine, spinning around, his gaze traveling my way. Our eyes locked for a full two seconds.
Then he turned away.
He muttered a brief something to Moreau, before walking past the gate and through the dinky reception area.
“Wait!” I called.
Moreau looked up, as did several of the other officers, all eyes turning my way.
But not Ramirez. In an instant, he was out the door and gone.
I felt my heart sink, my stomach doing a hollow, empty thing that had nothing to do with the fact I hadn’t eaten. And everything to do with the fact that I wasn’t sure how many more times Ramirez would walk away from me before he stopped coming back.
I felt tears well behind my eyes, but bravely sniffed them back, instead hobbling over to where Moreau stood waiting for me.
“You are free to go,” he said, slowly. Then added, “For now.”
I nodded, still staring at the doorway Ramirez had disappeared through.
“And Dana?”
“Your friend is waiting for you downstairs. I have a car ready to take you both back to the airport.”
I nodded again.
“I expect you will inform me if you feel the urge to travel out of France again?” he asked. Though I could tell that wasn’t exactly a question.
I nodded meekly, all the fight having drained out of me the second I’d seen Ramirez.
“Good.” Moreau signaled to Beak Nose, who led me down a flight of stairs to where Dana was waiting for me at the bottom.
She gave me a fierce hug. “I hope I did the right thing calling Ramirez?” she asked.
I nodded. Even as tears welled behind my eyes at the sound of his name.
We both piled into the waiting blue and white, riding to the airport in silence. Needless to say, there were no kisses on the cheek from Beak Nose as he saw us onto our flight.
I tried to sleep on the brief plane ride back to Paris, but it was nearly impossible. Images of Ramirez, Moreau, Felix, and Donata all mixed together, making my head hurt so badly I begged the flight attendant for an aspirin.
By the time we’d landed and caught a cab back to the Plaza Atheneé, I was beat. I crawled into bed, fully clothed and collapsed, just as the sun was coming up.
* * *
I wasn’t sure how long I slept, but the sounds of room service carts woke me several hours later. I rolled over, looking at the clock. It was past noon. I felt like I’d been asleep for days. I stripped off my clothes, hopped in the shower and attempted to wash the previous day’s events off of me while trying to keep Wonder Boot dry. The hot water helped, and I was feeling almost human again by the time I stepped into a clean denim skirt, white tank, and cropped black collarless jacket. And much as I would have liked to don my red heel again, Doctor Ponytail had been right, my leg throbbed today after running around Europe in one heel. Instead, I slipped on a black ballet flat and added an extra swipe of lip gloss as a concession.
I ordered room service in and dialed Dana’s number while I waited for my waffles and eggs to appear.
“Hello?” she croaked out.
“Are you up?”
“I am now.”
“I ordered waffles.”
She groaned.
“And a grapefruit half for you.”
“I’ll be right over.”
Ten minutes later I opened the door and let her in. She was still in her pajama bottoms, pink with leopard print, and a rumpled T-shirt that read “Aerobics Instructors Do It In Step”. She flopped onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
“Get much sleep?” I asked.
“Some.” She yawned. “Not enough.”
Ditto.
Luckily, when
sleep escapes me, sugar and caffeine are readily available substitutes. Both of which I indulged in, as room service arrived with a big plate of waffles and maple syrup and two carafes of coffee – decaf for Dana, regular with loads of cream for me.
I slathered the syrup on, my mouth watering as I watched it make little pools in the waffle squares. I took one bite. Heaven.
Dana scrunched up her nose and dug into her grapefruit. “So, any thoughts about Donata’s killer this morning?” she asked, covering her breakfast with one hand to avoid grapefruit-juice-in-the-eye.
I shook my head. “Nope. And here’s what’s been bothering me,” I said, shoveling a forkful of waffle into my mouth. “Why kill Donata? I mean, assuming Gisella was working with a partner, it seemed like they had the perfect set-up. Why ruin that?”
Dana shook her head. “Good question. Okay, let’s say the partner offed Gisella for a bigger piece of the profits. Or, maybe Gisella was getting sloppy and the partner was worried about someone finding out.”
“The last one seems more likely to me,” I said. “If he was just greedy, he’d want to keep Gisella around, right? Without her, the scam is over. On the other hand, Gisella was risking a lot by hitting four designers in one Fashion Week. Someone was bound to start putting it together sooner or later.”
“Okay, so the partner’s worried about being found out, so he kills Gisella. Lucky for him, you’re in town and he can throw suspicion on you with the stiletto thing.”
“Lucky him,’ I mumbled, pouring more syrup on my waffles.
“So – why Donata? I mean, it doesn’t seem likely she’d go to the police, does it? Not when she had a secret of her own to protect.”
I shook my head. “No. It doesn’t.” I took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Dana, who did you tell that we were going to Milan?”
She paused, grapefruit wedge halfway to her lips. “Just Jean Luc. Why?”
“Maybe the killer was afraid Donata would let something slip to us?”
“You think?”
I shrugged. “Either way, the killer must have known we’d be in Milan. Otherwise, there’d be no point in doing the stiletto thing again. He couldn’t very well point the finger at me if I’d been in Paris with an iron-clad alibi at the time of the murder. He had to have known I’d be in Milan.”
Dana put her spoon down. “Wow. You’re totally right. Okay, who knew you were going? Jean Luc. Who else?”
I bit my lip. “No one. I mean, I called Ann for Donata’s address. I didn’t exactly tell her I was going to Milan, but I guess she could have found out if she tried. And I did ask Angelica about Donata. She could have easily followed me there, I suppose. But the only person I really told was…” I trailed off.
“Who?”
“Felix.”
Dana paused. “Maddie, there is a chance that he actually did it.”
I shook my head. “No. I mean…” I thought about it. Then shook my head. “No. He couldn’t have.”
“Maddie, I know you like him-”
“I do not like him. I loathe him.”
She shot me a “get real” look, completely ignoring my protests. “-but all the clues point to him. And, if he did, that means he must have been the one blackmailing Donata about her past in the first place.”
“Which is completely ridiculous. You’ve seen Felix. He knows nothing about fashion. There’s no way he’d know about a seventies male model.”
“He works at a newspaper. He has all kinds of access.”
I bit my lip. “True,” I said slowly. “But what would tip him off? I mean, it isn’t the type of thing that you’d go looking for unless you knew it was there.”
“What about his aunt? You said she never misses Fashion Week. I’m sure she knows all the designers and models. Maybe he saw some old fashion magazines of hers. Maybe she said something that had him putting two and two together.”
I felt my brow pucker. “I don’t know, Dana. I mean, it’s Felix.”
Dana gave me a look. “Right. And how much do you really know about this guy?”
I stabbed at a bite of waffle. She had a point. He’d kept a peerage secret and hid his relationship with a murdered model. I suppose it was possible that he had other skeletons lurking in his closet.
“Maddie, don’t let one little kiss cloud your judgment.”
My head snapped up. “I am not-”
But she shot me down with the “get real” look again.
I shut my mouth. “Fine. Finish your grapefruit,” I said. “We’ll go visit Auntie Charlene.”
Chapter Fifteen
I finished my waffle, then picked up my crutches and headed down to the front desk, Dana in tow. Back at the castle, Charlene had mentioned that she was coming back into Paris to attend a show today. I crossed my fingers she’d come back to the same hotel.
Pierre, aka Andres, was on duty as I approached. He ducked behind the counter as soon as he saw me.
I looked at Dana, then shrugged. I stood on tippy-toe and peeked my head over the counter.
“Uh, Pie- I mean, Andres?”
“Is she with you?” he whispered, crouching on the ground.
“Who?”
“The loud one. Mademoiselle Rosenblatt?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
He did an audible sigh of relief, then stood up, brushing invisible lint off his jacket. “Thank the gods.”
“I take it the date did not go well?”
He shook his head. “That woman, she is… how do you say… too much to handle. All she want to do is kiss me. I am not machine. I am man, with feelings!”
I tried to hide the grin tugging at my lips. “I see. Uh, listen, I was wondering if you could check if someone is a guest here. Charlene…” I paused, trying to recall Auntie’s last name. “Fellows?” I finished.
“Oui, I will check. Uh, you have not seen the Mademoiselle Rosenblatt today?” he asked, still warily glancing over my shoulder as if she might appear from behind one of the decorative white, marble columns.
“No, I haven’t.” Which, now that I thought about it, was odd. Surely news of my arrest must have reached Mom. I’d honestly expected her to come bursting into my room with a rib-crusher hug last night, demanding to know what had happened to “her baby”. Suddenly I felt a little neglected.
“Ah,” Pierre said, his fingers flying over his keyboard. “We have one Mademoiselle Charlene Dunn, checked in last night. You wish to call her room, oui?” he asked.
I nodded. “Please.”
Pierre pulled a phone out from behind the desk and set it on the counter, dialing the room number. He handed the receiver to me just as it was starting to ring.
On the third one Charlene’s voice came through.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Charlene. It’s Maddie Springer,” I told her.
There a slight pause on the other end. “Yes? What can I do for you, Maddie?”
“I was wondering if I could come up and talk to you for a moment?”
Again with the pause. “Well, I was just on my way out. I’m due at the Hermes show today.”
“Please,” I said, appealing to that famous British etiquette. “I’ll just be a moment. It’s about Felix.”
“Oh.” I heard her breathe deeply into the receiver. “Alright, I supposed I could spare a moment. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
“Thank you.”
I hung up, handing the phone back to Pierre.
“Thank you, Pierre,” I said. Then looked down at his nametag. “Sorry, I mean, Andres.”
He shrugged. “As long as you keep the Rosenblatt away from me, you may call me anything you like.
* * *
Dana and I settled into a pair of cream colored chairs situated around a dark, cherry end table in the lobby to wait for Auntie Charlene.
“This is ridiculous,” I said. “There is no way Felix killed two women. It just isn’t like him.”
“Maddie, just because he’s a good kisser-”
>
“I never said he was good!”
Dana shot me a look. “You didn’t have to. You blush like a virgin every time I mention it.”
Dammit if I didn’t feel my cheeks go red. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying my best to hang onto some shred of dignity.
“And your point?” I said.
“My point is let’s talk to his Auntie.”
I didn’t respond. Mostly because I knew she was right. Not about the kissing thing, but about the possibility that Felix could have a hand in this. Not that I actually thought he’d kill two women. Even a slug like Felix had his limits. But that maybe, somehow, he was inadvertently mixed up in all this.
We didn’t have to wait long, as a few minutes later Charlene stepped off the elevator, dressed in a light, cream colored pantsuit, a soft peach blouse underneath. A tiny frown of concern etched her features, settling between her pale blue eyes. “Sorry, to keep you waiting,” she said, her lightly accented voice as evenly modulated as ever.
“No problem. Charlene, this is my friend, Dana. Dana, Felix’s Aunt Charlene.”
Dana raised an eyebrow at me. Then leaned in and whispered, “This is dear ‘old’ Auntie?”
No kidding.
“Hello, lovely to meet you.” Charlene extended a hand in Dana’s direction.
She shook it as Charlene perched straight backed on the edge of an armchair facing us.
“So, what is it I can do for you today, Maddie?” Charlene asked.
“I wanted to ask you about Felix.”
“So you said on the telephone.”
“Specifically…” I looked to Dana, not sure how to broach the subject in the face of Charlene’s very prim and proper demeanor.
Dana rolled her eyes at me. “We were wondering if he’s shown any special interest in fashion lately?”
Charlene raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “I think everyone in Paris has this week, don’t you?”
“I mean, maybe less recently than that. In the last few months,” I said, thinking back to when Angelica said Gisella had signed on at Donata’s agency.
The little frown lines deepened and I steeled myself against warning her that she was going to have to Botox that out if she kept it up.
High Heels Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-5) Page 94