'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?'
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
