Alibi In High Heels

ashamed to admit, I didn't have my Euros to dollars calculations memorized and they meant little to me. But from what I could make out of the boutiques she shopped at, Gisella had expensive taste. There were several shops in Paris whose names I recognized, as well as three top tier Italian designers.

'Hey,' I called to Felix.

He popped his head back out again.

'Check the closet, would you?'

'What am I looking for?' he asked, crossing the room and sliding back the mirrored doors.

'A de la Renta coat.'

Felix paused, flipping through her wardrobe. 'And a de le Renta would look like…?'

'Fur.'

He rummaged around. 'She has three furs.'

As much as I was against killing defenseless little animals for the sole purpose of looking cool, I felt my heart clench just a little. 'Three?'

He nodded.

I couldn't help myself, I needed just one little look. I hobbled over to his side. Sure enough, one de la Renta, one Alta Moda, and one vintage Chanel. I ran my hand over the Chanel, making little moaning sounds that were strikingly like the ones I'd just heard on Gisella's camera. 'You have any idea how much this is worth?'

Felix was checking the pockets of the Alta Moda. He shook his head. 'No. Tell me.'

I couldn't. It was priceless. Woman had given their first born for less.

'I can tell you, however,' he said, his face breaking into a smirk, 'how much this one is worth.'

I raised an eyebrow at him. 'Oh really? All right, Mr. Fashion Knowledge. What's it worth?'

Felix pulled his hand out of the pocket, then held it open. In the middle of his palm glittered a necklace, three perfectly cut diamonds suspended from a thick gold chain. 'Exactly five hundred and thirty-three thousand, three hundred and two dollars. Last time I had it appraised.'

I sucked in a breath. 'Your necklace?'

He nodded.

'Do you know what this means?'

'That I don't have to deal with the insurance company?'

'That Gisella had the necklace all along. She really did misplace it.'

Felix stared down at the necklace, turning it over in his hands. 'Or she'd planned on keeping it for herself.'

'You mean Gisella stole it?' I raised one eyebrow in his direction. Now there was something I hadn't thought of. I was just about to ask him what prompted that train of thought when a sound outside the door made us both freeze.

'What was that?' I whispered.

Felix shook his head, shoving the necklace in his pocket. 'I think that's our cue to get out of h-'

But he didn't get to finish, the sound of the door flying open cutting him off. Three policemen in blue uniforms came bursting into the room, practically filling it, guns drawn, arms straight out in front of them.

The first one shouted something in French.

'What?' I asked.

He repeated his command.

'I'm sorry, I don't speak French.'

He pointed his gun at me.

Yikes! Okay, that I did speak. I put my hands up in a surrender motion.

'Look, I can explain. This is Lord Ackerman and we were just here because he left a priceless family heirloom here last time he slept with Gisella.'

'I never said I slept with her,' Felix protested, doing a mirror image of my hands-in-the-air thing.

'Play along,' I whispered out the side of my mouth.

'Maddie, I don't think…'

But again Felix was cut off as the second officer traded in his gun for a pair of handcuffs, which he promptly placed on Felix's wrists, clasping them together behind his back.

'Wait, no, you're making a mistake,' I protested. 'Okay, fine we're not really here looking for a family heirloom. That was just a cover. We were looking for evidence that would clear my name. See, I'm the Couture Killer.'

Officer Number One raised an eyebrow at me.

'No, wait – I'm not really a killer. I mean, just in the press. But it's not true. None of it's true. I mean, yes, I am a designer, that part's true. And I do love couture, in fact I'm actually even showing this year at the Le Croix-'

'Voler!' shouted Officer Number One.

'What?'

'He said we're thieves,' Felix translated, as Officer Number Two patted him down.

'No please, you're getting this all wrong,' I protested. But I realized it was futile, as Officer Number One gestured toward me, prompting Officer Three to pull out a pair of handcuffs of his own. He grabbed my hands, snapping the cool metal around them. (Which, of course, made my crutches clatter to the ground at my feet.) However bad having my picture plastered on the news was, this was worse, much worse.

And then things got even better.

'Capitain!' Officer Number Two shouted to the first guy.

We all turned to face the second officer, holding Felix in one hand. And pulling the diamond necklace out of his pocket with the other.

Officer Number One looked from Felix to me, a smug smile on his face. 'Oui, voler.'

Felix and I looked at each other.

Oh. Shit.

Chapter Seven

No matter what country you travel to, what culture you come from, or what language you speak, there is one almost universal truth about human beings – we don't like to pee in front of each other. Which is why, as I sat on a wooden bench in the square ten-by-ten holding cell, I uncrossed then re-crossed my legs for the gazillionth time since Officers One, Two, and Three had brought me here in handcuffs.

They'd spilt Felix and me into two separate cars and I had no idea where they'd taken him or even if he was in a cell of his own somewhere. Or, for that matter, where my cell was. Somewhere in Paris was about all I knew. I'd tried talking to Officer Number One on the car ride over, but either he didn't speak English or he just didn't want to talk to me.

Luckily, the booking officer had spoken English and explained I was being charged with trespassing, breaking and entering, and burglary. All of which I protested vehemently as I'd been fingerprinted, photographed and shoved into a holding cell to wait. Oddly enough, if you traded in the donuts for croissants, the entire process had been eerily similar to the American one. (Don't ask me how I know this. Let's just say my karma really sucks.)

And similar also was the lone toilet sitting in the middle of the room. I un-crossed my legs again and tried not to think of clear streams, faucets, or waterfalls as I checked out my cellmates. To my left was a short, brunette woman in spandex tights and a stained T-shirt. She was mumbling to herself and her hair looked like she'd attacked one side with a pair of safety scissors. Across the room sat two women in black jeans, flannel shirts and bandanas, looking like they'd walked straight out of Compton. And next to them a woman with stubble on her upper lip in a tube top and hot pants, with a red feather boa draped around her neck.

I glanced at the toilet again, wondering how long I could wait.

I closed my eyes, wishing like anything that I hadn't had the large latte that morning and wondered where Felix was. Surely he explained to the officers that the necklace was his. I mean, you couldn't really be arrested for stealing something that already belonged to you, could you?

Which made me wonder, had Gisella stolen the necklace? She hadn't struck me as the sharpest crayon in the