almost long enough to cover them up.
'Well, what do we think?' she asked, twirling in front of the full-length closet mirror.
Mom clapped her hands, giving her sign of approval. 'It's lovely. Maddie, you are a lifesaver.'
'If this doesn't get me laid tonight, I don't know what will.'
I cringed. Big time TMI.
I left Mom and Mrs. R putting the finishing touches on her hair – hairdresser I was not, she was so on her own there – and dragged my tired self back to my room. Where I stripped off my clothes, threw on my ducky jammies, and crawled into bed, visions of jewel thieves, murderers, and unfortunately, post-menopausal women in muumuus getting lucky, all sloshing together in my brain as I fell into a restless sleep.
Somewhere around midnight I awoke from a dream of Ramirez's granite features invading my sleep. At two a.m. it was Felix's lips that jostled me awake. Three-thirty had pink and green palm tress dancing through my subconscious. And by the time I dreamed of myself, on my knees, pleading with Ramirez not to walk away from me again, I woke up to find it was five-fifteen and I didn't have the energy to dream anymore.
Instead, I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed and into a long hot shower. I did a blow dry and hairspray thing, adding an extra layer of mascara afterward in hopes of disguising the sleepless night bagging under my eyes. I did a swipe of Raspberry Perfection along my lips and threw on a pair of jeans, a stretchy black knit top and a low black wedge heeled sandal. A wedge didn't really count as a heel, right? It was more of a platform.
I ordered a pot of coffee and a brioche from room service and made myself wait until 8:30 before hopping into a cab and making my way the few block to the Hotel de Crillon, where I promptly took the elevator to the fourth floor and knocked on Donata's door. I paused, listening for any sign of movement from the other side. None. I waited a beat, then knocked again. Still nothing.
I looked down the hall and spied a maid's cart three doors down. I hobbled over to the open door of the room, where a young, dark haired woman in a pink starched uniform stretched to its limit over her ample derriere was making the bed. I cleared my throat and knocked on the doorframe to get her attention.
'Excuse me,' I called.
She looked up and said something in French.
'I'm sorry, I don't speak French,' I said, doing an apologetic, palms up thing.
The woman nodded, then smiled and responded in heavily accented English. 'I said there are extra soaps on the cart. Take all you like.'
'Oh, thanks. But actually I was wondering if I could ask you a question about room 405.'
She scrunched up her nose, shaking a pillowcase out. 'I suppose.'
'Have you cleaned that room yet this morning?' I asked, wondering if maybe Donata was an early riser.
She shook her head. 'I did not need to. No one had slept in it last night.'
'Why not?'
She shrugged. 'I believe the woman checked out.'
I mentally banged my head against the wall. 'Checked out? Do you know when?'
'Yesterday sometime.'
'I don't suppose you happen to know where she went?'
She shook her head, grabbing a clean set of sheets from her cart. 'No. Sorry.'
Rats.
I thanked the maid, ducking back out into the hallway.
Okay, time to try Plan B.
I pulled my cell out of my purse and dialed the Plaza's main number as I rode the elevator back down to the lobby. I asked for Angelica's room and, after a moment, the woman at the switchboard put me through and I heard the number ringing. Four rings into it, Angelica's sleepy voice answered.
'Bon jour?'
'Hi, Angelica, it's Maddie.'
There was a pause on the other end as if the name didn't register this early in the morning. 'Maddie?'
'The shoe designer for Jean Luc's show.'
'Oh. Right. The killer.'
I rolled my eyes. 'Listen, I was wondering if you knew where Donata went? She checked out of her hotel room yesterday.'
I heard Angelica yawn on the other end. 'She flew back to Milan. She said she had some urgent business to take care of and that she'd be back in time for the show. Why?'
'I just wanted to ask her something about Gisella,' I hedged. 'Speaking of which, why didn't you tell me that you and Gisella shared an agent?'
She was quiet for a moment. 'Look, I know it looks like I was jealous of Gisella,' she said. 'But I wasn't. I mean, yeah she and I were always competing, but I thrived on it. I didn't mind. It kept me on my toes, you know?' she said, throwing another Americanism out.
'It never became a problem? Donata sending Gisella out to jobs instead of you?' I asked, crossing the lobby and stepping outside.
Again she paused, as if choosing her words carefully. And I wondered if there wasn't more than a translation issue going on there. 'It pissed me off a little, yeah. Last month I wanted to do a shoot for Corbett Winston, but Donata wouldn't even set up a go-see. She said it was Gisella's project.'
Corbett Winston. The jeweler. I perked up. 'Did she say why?'
I could hear Angelica's shrug in her voice. 'No. Just that she knew Gisella was perfect for that job. Though, I guess it turned out to be a good thing I didn't get it in the end.'
'Why is that?'
'Well, right after the shoot, someone broke in and stole the diamond necklace Gisella was modeling. Winston didn't want the theft publicized, so the ad campaign never ran. A lot of work for nothing, if you ask me.'
Alarm bells were going off in my head left and right. 'Was Gisella upset?'
'Actually, she didn't really seem to care. She said she got paid the same either way.'
I'll bet. A diamond necklace was a handsome payoff for a few hours work in front of a camera.
'Thanks, Angelica,' I said.
She yawned again. 'No problem,' she replied, then hung up.
I flipped my phone shut and hailed a cab, directing him back the Plaza Athenee as I digested this bit of information, a clearer picture of Gisella's role in all this forming. Supposing Gisella had taken the job at Winston, just to get a lay of the land, so to speak. Then, she'd gone in afterwards to steal the necklace. Or perhaps the partner had? Either way, like the designer showing at Fashion Week, Gisella must have known Winston wouldn't want the media attention of publicly announcing the theft. Instead, they probably filed a very quiet claim with their insurance company and swept the whole thing under the rug. Meanwhile, Gisella and her partner sell the necklace and pocket the profits.
I had to admit, it was looking more and more likely that Donata had something to do with it. That fact that she refused to send Angelica out on the job seemed proof enough. Either Donata was being bribed by Gisella and company to target specific jobs for Gisella, or she was the mastermind behind the whole thing, orchestrating Gisella's movements like a puppeteer.
Suddenly I wondered what kind of 'urgent business' had called Donata away.
I flipped my cell back open as the cab dropped me off in front of the Plaza and hit number one on my speed dial. Before I was even through the lobby, Dana picked up.
'Hello?'
'Hey, it's me. Listen, what's on your schedule for today?'
'I'm being fitted at eight for a second outfit. But after that I'm pretty much free. Why?'
'How do you feel about Milan?'
While Dana went to her fitting, I prayed my Visa hadn't hit its limit as I booked us two seats on a flight to Milan for that afternoon, then went to the hotel business center to research everything I could about the Corbett Winston theft online. Which wasn't much. As Angelica had said, they hadn't wanted to publicize the theft, so only a few
