The Celebutantes

by Antonio Pagliarulo

“About a year. I broke up with my ex-girlfriend at the beginning of last summer.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t be. We weren’t right for each other. She was obsessed with keeping a leash on me, calling me every hour on the hour. She never believed me when I told her I was going to work, or that I had to help my dad with stuff around the house. She, like, wanted to be together all the time. But that’s not how I am. I think it’s good to have space when you’re in a relationship.”

  My kind of guy, Lex thought.

  “How ’bout you?” he asked. “I can’t believe a girl as beautiful as you is single.”

  “Oh, stop,” she said with a fluttery wave of her hand.

  “No, seriously.” Brooklyn gave her an open, honest stare. “I’m not trying to score points here. I’m just telling it like it is.”

  “Thank you.” She cleared her throat nervously, and the action shocked her. Was it possible? Was the no-guy-can-make-me-feel-weak-in-the-knees Lex Hamilton getting…weak in the knees? “I’ve been single forever,” she finally said. “A really long time.”

  He shot her another wink. “Well then, I guess today’s my lucky day.”

  “You know, Brooklyn, I’m beginning to think it’s my lucky day too.” She leaned in closer to him, her chin resting in her palm, her eyes cloudy with the look of hotness-at-first-sight.

  The rose. The talk of playing his violin for her. The mention of their second date in a quiet place away from the glare of the public. It all appealed to Lex a lot. It made her feel like a different person—not in any way ashamed of her wealth and fame, but at ease with the thought of leaving it behind for a little while. Of not being dominated by it.

  She had been on plenty of dates with hot guys, but in the end, they always proved too shallow for her taste, and too obsessed with the details of the high-society world. They talked about getting into the newest clubs and buying another Ferrari and getting stoned at whoever’s mansion in L.A. They certainly didn’t mention growing up in a middle-class New York City neighborhood and working part-time at a hotel for extra cash.

  But Brooklyn DiMarco did. Over the course of the next hour, over appetizers and sodas, he told Lex all about his “crazy Italian family” and how he had played Little League as a kid. His mother ran a bakery in Bensonhurst. His father had worked security at the Waldorf for nearly twenty years. He had three uncles who were cops and two aunts who were nurses. He had spent every Christmas of his life in Brooklyn and every summer working some odd job or another. He had never been to Paris or London or Monaco. He hadn’t even been to Aspen. But he had gone on a school trip to Florence last year.

  Lex listened to him intently, entranced by his good looks and at the same time attracted to his intelligence. He spoke about the great composers and their masterpieces. He spoke about the performances he’d seen at Carnegie Hall and Lincoln Center in the past two months. And then he mentioned his other passion—his dog, Tequila.

  “Wait a minute,” Lex said, holding up her hand. “You have a dog named Tequila?”

  Brooklyn nodded. “A Lab,” he said. “I swear, she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”

  An image of Champagne, her teacup Chihuahua, popped into Lex’s mind. How could you go wrong with two dogs named after booze? “Brooklyn,” she said with a laugh, “I think we have a hell of a whole lot in common.”

  At eight o’clock, Brooklyn paid the bill—he insisted—and they walked out onto Madison Avenue. Lex linked her arm in his, but she kept their pace deliberately slow, wanting to enjoy as much time with him as she could. Before a photographer showed up and ruined the moment.

  When they got to the corner a few minutes later, she finally stared up at him and said, “So, listen. I have a favor to ask of you.”

  The wry expression on Brooklyn’s face said it all. “You want me to bust you into the penthouse, right?”

  Lex frowned. “Yeah, I do. But I hope you don’t think that’s why I called you.”

  “I don’t think that.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and his triceps flexed deliciously. “But for me, it’s always pleasure before business.” And he leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against hers.

  “It’s a definite link,” Madison said excitedly, looking at her sisters.

  She, Park, and Lex were standing in one of the first-floor bathrooms of the Waldorf-Astoria, changing into their requisite disguises. Lex and Park had the good fortune to be slipping into gray maids’ uniforms. Madison, on the other hand, had been given an oversized green jumpsuit and a matching cap reserved for maintenance workers.

  “Explain it one more time,” Lex said.

  Madison nodded. She had spent most of the afternoon piecing together the strange little puzzle that had formed in her mind, and now it was a clear picture. “Yesterday, when we were in Poppy’s apartment, remember how I commented that she had a Stefan Luchian painting on her wall? Well, he happens to be one of the greatest Romanian painters. Been dead for a long time, but his works are amazing. Anyway, when I was at Tallula’s house today, I noticed that Ina had a datebook from Chateau Innis Gallery in Paris. Turns out Ina interned there six years ago for a couple of months as a receptionist. And I remembered something really interesting: six years ago, Chateau Innis held a huge auction for a number of Stefan Luchian’s works—it was written up in the Times, Art in America, the New Yorker. A pretty big deal in the art world. And that was when Poppy van Lulu bought the painting.”

  “I don’t know if I’m following you,” Park said. “What’s so important about that?”

  “I called the gallery in Paris today,” Madison said quickly. “And I was able to confirm that Ina worked there while they were holding the auction for Luchian’s paintings. Don’t you see? Ina Debrovitch and Poppy van Lulu met six years ago at that gallery. They’ve known each other all this time!”

  Park and Lex stopped putting on their outfits and stared at each other.

  “No way!” Lex finally screamed.

  “Amazing,” Park said calmly, impressed. “A direct link between two suspects that no one’s made yet. How did you manage to get that info from the gallery?”

  Madison tossed her head back as she slipped further into the ugly green jumpsuit. “You know my French is as flawless as my Italian. I pretended Ina was applying for a job in my gallery, and I asked for a reference. They didn’t tell me much about her, but they confirmed that she worked there.”

  “Huh,” Park said. “It’s a big link, but it doesn’t mean Ina and Poppy were in on killing Elijah.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Madison agreed. “But I told you guys about that scientific study that Poppy totally failed? Well, she knew Elijah from back then also, and she didn’t want that info being leaked to the public. Elijah knew all about it. So that could very easily be Poppy’s motive—she wanted to keep him silent.”

  “But if that’s her motive, where does Ina fit into it?” Lex asked. “And what about the art code, and the key Park found? What about To the Penthouse?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Madison answered. “But that’s what we’re going to find out.” She struggled with the rest of the jumpsuit, then sighed. “This is insane!”

  “It’s the only way to do this safely,” Park said. She fastened the buttons of her stained white shirt and then fitted the gray vest over her upper body. She clamped a hairnet over her messy bun. “The last thing we want is to get caught. Don’t forget, we’re visiting a crime scene.”

  “A former crime scene,” Madison corrected her. “And maybe I wouldn’t be so pissed off if I didn’t have to walk around in this stinky jumpsuit.” She pointed down at it. “It smells like a sumo wrestler wore it.”

  “Just put it on.” Lex wrapped her long hair into a bun and secured it with two bobby pins. She checked her reflection in the mirror. Gray wasn’t her color, but the uniform fell over her trim figure nicely. She tied the accompanying apron around her waist.

  “So just to
review,” Park said. “Poppy apparently didn’t leave the hotel like she told us she did. Tallula saw her coming out of the gift shop, which will have to be proven. Ina was in the shower and she allegedly didn’t hear anything. And she found her hearing aid broken on the floor when she came out of the bathroom.” She slipped on the apron and stood up straight. “And maybe, just maybe, Poppy and Ina killed him together.” Park knew she sounded overly confident, but she also knew that when it came to crime, the level of coincidence was staggering.

  Beside her, Madison nodded thoughtfully. “Together they could have totally chucked him overboard.”

  “Well then…” Lex froze and swallowed hard. “What does that say about the séance we’re attending tonight? If Poppy and Ina are in on something, then—”

  “Then it means we’ll probably be in mortal danger,” Park said matter-of-factly but still offhandedly. “Anyway, Lex, how was your date with the borough beefcake?”

  Lex felt herself blush. “Very nice. He’s a sweetheart.”

  “And he’s got the hottest bod this side of the Atlantic.” Park gave her a thumbs-up. “He must bench-press his freakin’ weight every day.”

  “I didn’t ask him about his workout routine,” Lex said. Then she smiled devilishly. “But I’m hoping to see him minus the T-shirt soon.”

  Madison yanked the pant legs of her mannish uniform up to her waist. “I think it’s great that you like him and all, but shouldn’t you be concerned with another very important matter?”

  “Which one?” Lex asked.

  Madison sighed as she pulled the uniform over her arms and zipped it up. “You told us he lives in Brooklyn,” she said, a little disappointedly. “That absolutely qualifies as a long-distance relationship. Don’t you have to take a train there or something?”

  “I’ve actually thought about that already,” Lex told them. “And here’s how I see it: if this relationship really does turn into something long-term, Brooklyn and I will just have to do the bulk of our dating in SoHo. That’s a nice meeting-up midpoint for both of us. And for our six-month anniversary, I’ll buy him a car or something.”

  Madison nodded. “Not such a bad idea. I guess it could work if you look at it that way. But at some point, you’re going to have to go to Brooklyn to meet his family or his friends, and for that…” Her voice trailed away gravely.

  “What?” Lex said. “Finish what you were going to say.”

  Park put a hand on Lex’s shoulder. “For that, honey, we’re going to have to tease your hair up high and paint your fingernails red, otherwise you’ll stick out like costume jewelry at Cartier.”

  For a split second, Lex lost her balance and leaned into Park as if she were going to faint. “My God,” she whispered, “I never thought of that. You mean you’d have to use actual hair spray?”

  “Straight from the drugstore,” Park said flatly. “I know it sounds awful, but it’s the truth. There’s no point in sugar coating it.”

  “But I wouldn’t worry about that yet,” Madison said, trying to sound encouraging. She slipped the ugly green baseball cap over her head. “If the two of you hit it off, maybe you’ll be able to get away with just wearing spandex pants with white sneakers.”

  “Or one of those black sequined dresses from Loehmann’s,” Park added. “You know, the ones that you can spot at every Italian wedding. They’re not so bad if you add the right accessories.”

  Madison crinkled her nose. “I hate those things. She’d be better off wearing something from Lord and Taylor.”

  “Stop!” Lex cried. “You’re both really scaring me!”

  Madison reached out and hugged her protectively. “Don’t be scared. If it comes to that, Park and I will tease our hair up too just to give you some company.”

  The fear in Lex’s eyes softened. “You promise?”

  “Promise,” Park said.

  “Me too,” Madison added. “But right now, let’s go. I think we’re ready.”

  Still cringing, Lex reached for her magic purse.

  “That looks kind of silly,” Madison observed. “A maid sporting a two-thousand-dollar bag?”

  “I got that covered.” Lex stepped into one of the bathroom stalls and pulled from it a housekeeping cart: the first row was stacked with dusters and paper towels and cans of Lysol; the wide bottom portion was covered on both sides by miniature drapes. She pulled back one of them and clapped twice.

  Coco’s head popped out. “It stinks in here!” she said. “I can barely breathe!”

  “Deal with it.” Lex handed her the magic purse, and a second later Coco disappeared behind the concealing drape again.

  Madison nodded weakly. “I forgot about your little assistant hiding down there. Now, what’s the plan?”

  “Park and I will take one elevator, and you take another,” Lex explained. “We’ll all meet by the banks on the thirtieth floor, and from there we’ll take another elevator to the penthouse.”

  “Where’s Brooklyn in all this?” Madison asked.

  “He’s meeting us halfway up.” Lex patted her bun so that the few unsecured strands wouldn’t fall over her eyes. “And if we’re lucky, we’ll find something that proves Ina could’ve killed Elijah, or that she and Poppy were in on it together. I just hope Ina doesn’t board a plane home tomorrow.”

  “I told you Tallula said she only thought she overheard Ina saying that,” Madison whispered. “But I have to admit, something’s not right with that whole Ina story.”

  “Then we’ll just have to meet her tomorrow,” Park said, picking up a duster and batting it playfully at Madison.

  Lex pushed the cart toward the bathroom door and gestured her head at Madison. “See you thirty stories up. Any problems, just text me.”

  Madison nodded, then ducked out of the bathroom and hung a sharp left.

  Lex and Park, clad in their maids’ uniforms, turned right, pushing the cart gingerly down the hall. An elderly couple passed them, and Lex made certain to smile curtly. “This uniform is totally itchy,” she said quietly over her shoulder.

  “Just forget it,” Park answered. “We can’t stop to scratch now.”

  The elevator bank was just ahead.

  “Hurry,” Park whispered. She reached out and grabbed a duster from the top of the cart; she fluffed it over the window displays and the walls, making a pretense to look busy.

  Lex gave the cart a hard push; it hit a bump on the floor and shook.

  “Ouch!” Coco yelped, her disembodied voice echoing through the hall.

  Lex plastered a nervous smile on her face. The cart hit another bump.

  “Hey!” Coco snapped from inside the cart. “Can you please take it easy?”

  Park stepped in front of Lex, going around to the side of the cart. She lifted her left leg and jabbed it into the curtains, hitting Coco in either the shoulder or the arm. “Keep your mouth shut!” she warned her. “Don’t say a word!”

  Instead of responding, Coco made a low, growling sound.

  Park fell back in step with Lex. “Hey, did you remember to bring the shoes?”

  “In my purse,” Lex replied. “But you still haven’t told me what they’re for.”

  “You’ll find out once we get upstairs. Here, let me help you.” Park laced her fingers around the bar of the cart and applied extra weight to it so that it coasted down the long hall faster.

  She and Lex looked up just as a man in a business suit came out of one of the bathrooms.

  He glanced at them as he walked away. Then he came to a dead stop and glanced at them again. “Excuse me,” he said. “Can I ask—”

  “We have cleaning emergency!” Park called out in her best Swedish accent. “Questions to front desk.”

  They rushed past him, the cart jiggling from side to side, the cans of Lysol rolling back and forth in the upper bin.

  Her heart pounding, Lex stared down at the floor. That was when she noticed what the man had obviously seen—the fingers of Coco’s left hand poking out from one
end of the cart.

  “Forget it,” Park said. “Keep moving.”

  And together, they did just that, swinging the cart around the bend at the end of the hall and racing into the first open elevator. Park hit the button for the thirtieth floor, then they both leaned back against the walls and exhaled.

  But the doors didn’t close; instead, they yawned back open as the elevator welcomed another passenger.

  It was Ina Debrovitch.

  14

  To the Penthouse

  She was in her own little disguise—black turban, wire-rimmed glasses, an ankle-length blue skirt—but her face was instantly recognizable. Ina Debrovitch would always be recognizable, courtesy of the star-shaped birthmark on her chin. She had done a poor job of trying to conceal it with cheap, drugstore-bought foundation.

  Park and Lex stared at each other. The words holy shit were etched in their eyes. Suddenly the elevator seemed far too small.

  Park quickly set the example by casting her gaze downward and assuming a rigid posture.

  Lex followed suit. But just as she turned her head away, she caught a glimpse of Coco’s hand peeking out of the cart again. She couldn’t tap the hand with her foot because Coco would make another sound—or, worse, she might even stick her head out and say something. The girl wouldn’t know stealth if it bit her in the butt.

  Ina was standing with her back to them, staring up at the numbers as the doors closed and the elevator ascended. She was visibly tense: shoulders squared, head bent. She reached out and pushed the number-twelve button.

  Park counted off the seconds on her fingers. One, two, three…the damn elevator just wasn’t moving fast enough. But even more worrisome was the fact that the steel doors acted like a mirror, reflecting everything back so that Ina could see her and Lex even without turning around. Through the corner of her right eye Park tried to make out what she could, any little detail. All she saw was the outline of Ina’s turban, and how it covered her ears.

  Only a few more seconds, she thought, the panic rising in her blood. Please don’t look at us. Don’t recognize us.