Felix? I think my heart stopped beating, the dark, tinted room swirling before my vision. Felix and Gisella?!
It had to be a mistake. She had to have been lying. Felix wouldn't go for a girl like that. Felix's type was… well it wasn't her.
I thought back. We'd been in her room together, we'd been searching for evidence of a boyfriend. And he hadn't told me he was it! I tried to remember our conversation, but all my brain could focus on was the fact that Felix has been sleeping with a supermodel.
For some odd reason, that stomach flu hit me full force again.
"Excuse me," I said, bolting up from the sofa. I made for the front doors as quickly as I could. Air. I needed air. I'm pretty sure I knocked into at least three people, spilling one woman's drink all over her corset in my mad rush to get outside.
Once there, I doubled over, leaning on my crutches as I took in big lungfuls of night air that smelled like car exhaust and rotting vegetables.
In a moment, Dana was at my side.
"Hey, you okay?" she asked, putting a hand on my back.
"Yeah. Sure. Fine."
"You're a terrible liar."
Unlike some people.
Okay, so I guess I hadn't ever asked Felix point blank if he'd been sleeping with the victim, but that was a hell of an omission. What else had he failed to mention?
Then one terrible thought occurred to me. He'd been the one to find the diamond necklace in Gisella's room. Had he known where it was all along? Had he been in on it with her? He had said it was insured. Collect once from the insurance company, a second time when he sold them on the black market? Would Felix stoop that low?
Problem was, I didn't really know Felix's stooping limit. Granted, his paper was single handedly to blame for ruining more than one celebrity marriage with their rumor mill, but that was a far cry from sticking a shoe in someone's neck.
My shoe.
My stomach lurched again and I leaned over, fully expecting a repeat appearance by my ham and cheese.
"Do you really think this could have been Felix?" Dana asked, voicing my thoughts.
I shook my head. "I don't know." I paused. "Maybe." Another pause. "No, definitely not." I bit my lip. "Probably not?"
He'd been in Paris the night of her murder, in the same hotel. The victim was his girlfriend, presumably stealing his jewels.
"I've got to talk to Felix." I pulled my cell out of my purse, dialing his number, my hands shaking harder than the Northridge quake. Unfortunately, it went straight to voicemail. Shit. I flipped it shut and threw it in my purse, taking my anxiety out on my Motorola.
"Hey," I said, addressing Mathew, who was fully engrossed in an article in the World News section.
He waited a beat before looking up. When he did he blinked at me as if seeing me for the first time. He looked back to his paper. Then to me again.
"It's you!"
I looked down at the Times in his lap. Sure enough, there was my mug smiling back at me. Okay, so I wasn't totally smiling. It was a candid shot taken outside the Plaza Athenee as I'd tried to muscle my way through the paparazzi. From the look on my face, it was probably when one of the cameramen had knocked into Wonder Boot. I looked either constipated, pissed off, or in pain.
Or, as Mathew had interpreted it, dangerous.
"It's not me."
He looked from the paper to me and back again. "It sure looks like you."
I rolled my eyes. "Okay, yes, the picture is me. But I'm not the killer. I didn't do it. I'm innocent. Which is why I'm here trying to clear my name."
Mathew looked wary. "You sure?"
"Yes, of course I'm sure! Do I look like I could hurt someone?"
Mathew looked me up and down. Then behind me at the S &M club he'd just taken me to.
"I didn't do it," I said again.
Finally he shrugged. "All right, if you say so. But if I hear of any dead bodies showin' up at that there club tomorrow, I'm turning' you in to the police, Missy." He wagged a knobby finger at me.
"Fair enough. Listen, do you happen to know where a Lord Ackerman lives?"
He hunched his bushy eyebrows down. "Can't say's I do. He have a place around here?"
My turn to shrug. The problem was I had no idea where Felix stayed when he was in England. I knew he had an impressive home up in the Hollywood Hills, but as it was becoming clearly apparent, beyond the basics I didn't know much about Felix's life at all.
"Any idea where we could find an address for him?"
He shook his head. "Google?"
Luckily, I just happened to know a pair of Googling fiends.
I whipped out my cell, dialing Mom's number. She picked up on the third ring and I could hear loud music in the background.
"Hello?" she shouted.
I held the phone away from my ear.
"Mom, it's Maddie."
"Hey, hon. Say, where are you? Ramirez has been tearing this place apart looking for you."
I cringed. I was so gonna be on his shit list when I got back. But, if it got me off the front page, I'd say it was worth it.
"Dana and I are following a lead. Listen, I was wondering if you could do something for me?"
I heard a sound like a war whooping in the background. "What?" Mom yelled.
I resisted the urge to cover my ear. "Where are you?"
"Mrs. Rosenblatt and I dragged Pierre out to a champagne bar. Mrs. Rosenblatt's on her second bottle and dancing the Cancan."
I had a sudden unwelcome vision of Mrs. R's muumuu hiked up to her knees, her thunder thighs kicking heavenward. I shuddered.
"Listen, could you do something for me when you get back to the hotel?" I yelled into the phone.
"Sure. Shoot, Mads."
"I need Felix's address." I filled her on in all I'd learned at the club. (Okay, maybe not all I'd learned. I left out the parts about the leashes and paddles.)
"Okay," she said when I finished. "We'll hit the business center as soon as we get back."
I thanked her (though I wasn't entirely sure she heard me over Mrs. Rosenblatt's hollering) and hung up.
"Now what?" Dana asked.
It was late, I was tired and my stomach still felt wobbly thinking about Felix and the massive fast one he'd pulled over on me. "Let's get a room somewhere."
We piled back in the cab, and asked Mathew to take us to a hotel nearby, preferably one that wouldn't make my Visa wince. Jean Luc had taken care of the travel expenses for the Paris trip, but they didn't cover a detour into London. And, with my designs in police custody, I wasn't entirely sure my bank account had any hope of growing beyond Hamburger Helper size in the near future.
I leaned my head back on the vinyl seat, watching the dark London streets whiz past the window at a rate that sent nausea washing through me again. The more I thought about it, the more foolish I felt for ever trusting a guy like Felix. I'd been the one pleading with Ramirez to get him out of jail. What if it turned out he belonged there? I knew Felix had a moral compass that pointed just this side of North, but had he really offed his girlfriend? Even worse, would he have framed me for it?
I had to admit at that part my stomach clenched the worst. Not that I'd thought I meant anything to Felix. I didn't. And he meant nothing to me. We weren't even friends. More like acquaintances that sometimes bumped into each other.
Lips first.
I closed my eyes, willing myself not to think about it.
Mathew pulled us up in front of the Queen's Cozy Inn and let us out. He gave me one backward glance in his rearview mirror, eyes still wary, before collecting his fare and pulling away from the curb. I had a bad feeling that if Dana and I didn't find the real killer soon, that was the kind of look I was doomed to for life.
After handing over my credit card to the frizzy haired girl on duty behind the desk, Dana and I were shown to a room on the second floor. The bed was standard issue, the duvet a pastel floral print. A scarred dresser sat at one end, a tiny bathroom the other. A television set with rabbit ears sat on the dresser and above that hung a framed lithograph of Queen Elizabeth. The Ritz, it was not. But I didn't care. All I wanted was sleep. Hopefully in the morning things would make more sense.
The room was dark. A single lamp gave off a dim red glow, bathing the room in a light eerily reminiscent of blood. I held my breath, searching through the darkness for him. I wasn't sure who I was looking for, but I knew I had to find him. People were everywhere, bumping up against me, crowding in from all angles. Then I heard the crowd cheering, yelling, hollering. I fought my way through them, pushing and shoving, straining on tip-toe to see around them. He had to be here somewhere. I fought my way through the growing crowd to the front. And, there in the center of the room, standing under a bright red spotlight, was Mrs. Rosenblatt, wearing a leather corset and wielding a long, leather riding crop.
"Hey, Mads, wanna play?" she asked, flicking her wrist, the crop doing a menacing snap in the air. The crowd cheered again.
I turned, ready to run from the room.
When I saw him.
I froze. Unable to look away. Felix. He was watching me from the other side of the room. Staring me down.
Suddenly Mrs. Rosenblatt and the rest of the crowd disappeared. It was just Felix and me. Eyes locked on each other. I tried to speak, but it was like I'd eaten too much peanut butter, my mouth sticky, refusing to open.
Felix closed the distance between us, his eyes intent on mine, a little half smile playing on his lips like he knew a secret that I didn't. He was coming closer, almost floating across the room in slow motion. I tried to speak, tried to move, but my feet were glued to the spot, my limbs too heavy to lift.
Suddenly he was so close he was almost on top of me. "Maddie," he whispered.
He reached and grabbed my arm with on hand, the other lifting above his head, wielding a black stiletto heel.
Then I really did scream.
I sat up straight in bed, sweat pouring down my back, my breath coming out in German shepard pants. My eyes whipped around the room, searching for any remnants of the red light, the crowd, the black high heel. Nothing, just a TV, scarred dresser and photo of the queen. And Dana snoring beside me.
I slowly laid back, adrenalin coursing through my limbs, and closed my eyes. It was just a dream.
One that, in light of yesterday's revelations, seemed all too real. That was it. I had to talk to Felix.
I rolled over and looked at the clock. 7:15. With a groan, I slid out of bed and hopped into a lukewarm shower. I turned my panties inside out and redressed in yesterday's clothes, digging in my purse for mascara and lip gloss. Since the hair dryer in the bathroom didn't work, I twisted my wet hair into a French braid and figured I was halfway passable.
I emerged from the bathroom to find Dana yawing, flipping through channels on the television set.
"You were on channel two," she informed me.
"Swell." I plopped down on the bed.
"And Jean Luc called. He said he needs me for a fitting at one. Sorry, Maddie, this Angel has to get back."
I nodded. "I understand." Not everyone's career was in the toilet. "I'll drop you at the airport. Oh, and by the way," I added as she made for the bathroom, "there's no hot water."
I flipped off the TV as Dana shut the bathroom door and I heard water start to run. The last thing I wanted to encounter this early in the morning was another candid shot of myself.
Instead, I grabbed my cell and tried Felix's number again. As before, it went straight to voicemail. I bit my lip, trying to tell my stomach to shut up.
Instead, I bit the bullet and dialed Ramirez's cell. I prayed hard to the saint of forgiving boyfriends as I listened to it ring once, then twice. On the third ring he picked up.
"That was a dirty trick," he said, his voice hard.
"Sorry?" Only it came out more of a question.
"Where the hell are you, Maddie?"
"Um…" I looked around the room. The Queen stared back at me. "I'm safe."
"That's not what I asked."
"Listen, I just wanted to call to tell you that I'm okay, not to worry, and I'll be back soon."
"Where. Are. You."
"I'm following a lead."
There was silence. Then he muttered a curse in Spanish. "Maddie, detectives follow leads. The police follow leads. Fashion designers draw fluffy little shoes. What the hell are you doing?"
"I have to clear my name, Jack. Do you know I was in the London Times yesterday?"
"London?"
Oops. I slapped a hand over my mouth. "Or so I heard," I added feebly.
"Maddie, listen, you've go to have a little faith in the system. Moreau will get to the bottom of this. But you running around following your so called leads is just going to make things worse. This disappearing act doesn't exactly make you look innocent."
As much as I loved him, it was the "so-called" thing that put me over the edge.
"I'll be back tonight," I said. Then hung up, cutting Ramirez off mid curse.
Ramirez might have faith in Moreau, but the way he'd interrogated me, I certainly didn't. And if I didn't do it, someone else had. Someone that, as of right now, was not only ruining my life, but also getting away with murder.
I just hoped that someone wasn't Felix.
After Dana got out of the shower, we both headed down to the Duck's Head Pub on the corner where we ordered something called bangers and mash for breakfast. Which, when it arrived, turned out to be sausages and mashed potatoes. Personally, I thought it was pretty tasty. Dana, on the other hand, scrunched up her nose and asked the waitress if they had any grapefruit halves. The waitress gave her a funny look, then appeared with a mealy apple, saying it was the only fruit on premises. Dana ate the apple while I made yummy sounds all the way through my sausages.
By the time Dana had hit core, my cell chirped to life in my purse. I pulled it out to see Mom's number on the LCD screen.
"Hello?" I asked, around a bite of mashed potatoes and thick onion gravy. I'm telling you, these Europeans know how to eat.
"We got it." Mom relayed an address she and Mrs. R had found off a peerage directory website. It was in
I thanked her and promised I'd call her later. She said to take my time. After the Cancan display last night, Pierre had warmed to Mrs. R and they were all going on a river cruise up the Seine. I wondered if Pierre had "warmed" or been coerced under influence of champagne. Either way, I told her I hoped she had fun and hung up.
Dana and I quickly finished eating, then paid our bill and asked the waitress the best way to get to
Half an hour later, we were squeezed into one of the smallest cars in existence, Dana's knees practically touching her chin as I tried to figure out the gear shift. The thing handled like a tin can on wheels and every time we went around a corner, I yelled, "Lean," to Dana for fear we'd tip over.
By the sheer grace of God I managed to drive her to the airport without hitting anything. Even though I forgot and pulled onto the wrong side of the street twice.
After getting stuck for only fifteen minutes in the roundabout outside the terminal, I finally found my way to the motorway and headed out of the city, toward
A drive that was actually surprisingly pleasant. Rolling green hills spanned either side of the roadway, groves of tress dotting the landscape and a low, thin fog covering it all like something out of a postcard or an Enya song. Overall it was an effect that, by the time I was passing a large wooden sign that indicated my turn off, had helped diminish the nerves of possibly driving toward a murderer's home.
I drove through a small, quaint village complete with stone chimneys and thatched roofs out of a Thomas Kincaid painting, and up a winding road that led to the address Mom had given me. I made a couple of wrong turns onto overgrown roads that had clearly seen better days, before finally finding the right one. I wound around a grove of trees until a large structure loomed in the distance. My jaw dropped open. It was a castle.
Felix lived in a freaking castle!?
When had my life become a twisted fairy tale?
Granted, it was small by castle standards. A brick structure with green moss growing along the sides. And I could clearly see modern additions had been made – double paned windows, paved driveway and car park, electric lights by the front door. But it still held two large brick turrets that I could easily see Rapunzel throwing a lock of hair from.
I parked my midget car in the massive drive, near a row of green hedges, and approached a huge wooden door that screamed for an alligator-filled moat.
A modern doorbell sat beside the door and I rang it, hearing the sound echo inside. I waited a beat before the door was pulled open and I found myself face to face with dear "old" Auntie.
It took her a moment before recognition registered.
"Maddie. What a surprise," she said, looking behind me as if wondering where I'd come from. She was dressed today in a pair of slim, tailored slacks in a pale peach color that maximized her tan that, if the weather was any indication, was obviously fake. She paired the slacks with a short sleeved, white blouse, the sleeves cut on a bias that showed off the muscular curve of her upper arms. I silently wondered if the castle had a gym built in, too.
"Hi, Charlene. I was wondering if Felix is in?"
A small frown settled between her blonde brows. "Yes. But, I thought you were in Paris?"
"I was. I…" I paused, not really sure how to voice the jumble of thoughts that had been circulating through my head all day. "I need to talk to Felix."
She arched a slim eyebrow, but, ever the polite Brit, stepped back to allow me entry. "Please, come in."
I did, my crutches squeaking against the polished hardwood floor as she shut the door behind me. Inside, the modern conversion of the castle was even more apparent than the outside. In fact, the foyer looked like it could have belonged to any home in Beverly Hills – light airy rugs, sweeping staircase to the right, dark wood side table, and a crystal chandelier hanging above us.
"Felix is in the study," Charlene said, leading the way down a wide hall. "He's been on the phone with his lawyers all day. He was arrested in Paris, you know?" She paused, stopping to look at me. "Of course you know. You were there."
I felt a guilty flush creep up my neck.
"Anyway," she continued, "I flew home with him, though I'm due back in Paris tomorrow. I never miss the Hermes show. Felix is trying to get this matter cleared up to travel with me."
She stopped outside an open door to a large, dark room. "If you'd like to wait here, I'll fetch him for you," she said, flicking on a light for me.
"Sure. Thanks, Charlene."
She nodded, that frown settling between her brows again as she turned. It was clear she wasn't fond of me. But, thankfully, she was too polite to let on. Instead, she swayed those very un-doddering hips down the hall, disappearing to the right.
I took a moment to look around the room she'd left me in. A massive stone fireplace taller than I was stood at one end. Above it were a pair of weapons – a stick thingie with a spiked metal ball at the end and some kind of sword. Very medieval looking. I shuddered. The same hardwood floors continued here, broken up with area rugs in deep burgundies and forest greens. Large, masculine furnishings filled the room, two sofas in dark leather, a pair of club chairs with ornate feet, a handful of end tables and an antique writing desk in the corner. I gingerly perched on the edge of one sofa, feeling like I'd entered a museum where some docent might pop out at any second and tell me to stay behind the ropes.
"Maddie."
My head whipped around so fast I feared whiplash.
"Felix," I squeaked out.
He was wearing his trademarked white rumpled button down and khaki pants, a worn pair of sneakers on his feet. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
I licked my lips, my throat suddenly dry at the sight of him.
"I, uh, need to talk to you. Your phone was off."
He frowned. "The battery died. What's going on, are you all right?" He came into the room and sat down beside me. I immediately jumped up as if he'd shocked me. I licked my lips again as I wandered over near the fireplace. "Me? Yeah, uh, I'm fine."
Again the frown. "What's going on?"
I cleared my throat, not really sure what to say now that I was here. Being careful what I said around Felix was nothing new – let the wrong thing slip out and you were libel to be front page news next to Bigfoot. But being careful he didn't stab me with my own pumps? That I was still trying to wrap my head around.
"Um, well, see, here's the thing. I uh…" I took a deep breath. "Why didn't you tell me you were dating Gisella?" I blurted out.
"Ah." He rose from the sofa, taking a step toward me.
Instinctively, I took one back.
He frowned again, this one deep enough to create little lines between his eyebrow. "We went out a couple of times. Nothing serious. I didn't think it relevant."
"Relevant? Felix, she's dead."
His face became a blank. "Yes. I know."
"Why didn't you tell me you'd been in her hotel room before? That you were at the party? Why did you keep this from me?"
"I didn't. When I got the room key, I told you I'd been seeing her."
"You told me you tricked the front desk into thinking you were seeing her."
"I never said 'tricked.'"
"You could have told me you were with her at the party."
"We had a few drinks, I walked her to her hotel room. That was it."
"And that was the last time you saw her?"
He paused. Then shook his head. "No. I saw her the night she died."
"The night she died?" I thought back to what Angelica had said about hearing a man in the next room. "Ohmigod, you're Mystery Man?"
Felix cocked his head to the side. "Who?"
"You… you were in her room the night she died. You were fighting. You slept with her, then starting fighting."
Felix looked down at the floor, the toe of his sneaker toying with an invisible spot on the rug. He said in a low voice, "Yes, we fought. She wanted me to accompany her to a party the next night. I said I didn't think we should see each other anymore. She got angry."
"Wait, you were dumping a supermodel?" I asked with a snort. "Why do I find that hard to believe?"
He looked up. "Some men are looking for more than a pair of long legs, Maddie."
I wasn't certain, but I could have sworn his eyes flickered to my own short pair currently half encased in a foam Smurf boot.
"So why sleep with her first if you knew you were going to dump her? That's low even for you."
He shook his head. "I didn't sleep with her."
"Angelica heard you. She was in the room right next door."
Again that frown settled between his brows. "I didn't sleep with her, Maddie."
I let it go, focusing on the more important part. "So, you fought, then what?"
"Then I left her."
"Alive?"
Felix took a step closer.
I backed up again and bit my lip. When had his dimples and rumpled khakis suddenly become so menacing?
He cocked his head to the side, an odd look coming over his features. "No, don't tell me."
"Tell you what?" I asked, my hands starting to sweat at my sides.
"Don't tell me that you of all people think…?"
I threw my hands up in the air. "Well, what am I supposed to think? The necklace belongs to you, you were dating the dead woman. Hell, the story about the stiletto in the jugular was printed in your paper. That's a lot of coincidence, don't you think?"
"Ironic. You talking about coincidence."
I squared my shoulders. "Tell me the truth. Did you kill her, Felix?"
He clenched his jaw, his eyes going dark as he took a step forward. "If I was a cold blooded killer," he said, his voice suddenly growing a hard edge, "do you really think I'd confess it to you?"
I gulped, my heart rate increasing tenfold.
He shook his head, a slight movement, his eyes saturated with some unreadable emotion. "I can't believe you'd doubt me. Not after all we've been through together." His voice went low, almost a whisper. "After you kissed me."
So he hadn't forgotten.
"That was an accident," I said, wiping my sweaty hands on my dress.
Felix raised an eyebrow at me. "An accident?"
I nodded, taking another step backward.
Felix took two forward. "Is that what you think?"
I nodded again. "Look, you don't think I meant to kiss you? I mean, I'm with Ramirez."
"Actually…" He took two more steps forward. "…it looks like you're here. With me."
I gulped, my back coming up against the massive stone fireplace.
"Kinda," I squeaked out.
Felix took one more step forward, until he was standing directly in front of me, his body inches from mine. I could feel the heat coming off his skin, the scent of coffee on his breath.
"W-what are you doing?" I asked, silently checking his person for anything that looked like a weapon. Specifically a stiletto heel.
None that I could see. Or feel. His white rumpled shirt lay carelessly over a frame that felt a lot more solid than I'd ever imagined.
"Being deliberate," he said, his voice deep and barely louder than a whisper.
I held my breath.
"D-deliberate?"
But he didn't answer. Instead, he leaned in, his body pressing into mine. Despite the fear tickling my spine, my body instantly responded. My heart sped up, heat pooling in my stomach as my lungs suddenly couldn't get enough air. I felt his belly rising and falling against mine, in sync with his warm breath on my cheek.
He paused there, his blue eyes never leaving me.
Then he slowly closed the gap between us, his lips moving closer until they hovered a breath away. I tasted coffee and toothpaste, felt his lips brush mine.
I closed my eyes in anticipation of what came next.
His tongue flicked out and tasted my lips, so lightly I wasn't even totally sure it happened, before his mouth covered mine in a soft, slow movement. Nibbling, tasting, nipping. Before I knew what happened, I was returning it, doing a little tasting and nibbling of my own. I must have liked what I sampled, because all on its own my body let out a sigh, sinking into his. His hand slid down my side, resting possessively at my waist as he leaned in, pressing his hips closer.
For a half second, the rest of the world disappeared as I went warm in all the right places. All the twisted thoughts running circles through my mind the past twenty-four hours melted away. All I cared about right now were his lips, surprisingly soft, capturing mine, his hands, warm and oddly tender, holding me. The fact that despite his annoying habit of pasting my head on Pamela Anderson's body, I just might be able to forgive a guy that was this good a kisser.
A damned good kisser.
Then somewhere through the fog of hormones shrouding me, a tiny voice in the back of my head piped up. What the hell are you doing, girl? This was a potential murderer. A creep. A tabloid reporter. Felix!
I twisted away, breaking the kiss and sucking in large gulps of air.
"What was that?" I asked Felix.
Only it wasn't Felix's voice that answered.
"My question exactly."
I looked past Felix.
And froze.
Filling the doorway, a death look on his granite features, stood Ramirez.