Alibi In High Heels

right, my legged throbbed today after running around Europe in one heel. Instead, I slipped on a black ballet flat and added an extra swipe of lip gloss as a concession.

I ordered room service in and dialed Dana's number while I waited for my waffles and eggs to appear.

'Hello?' she croaked out.

'Are you up?'

'I am now.'

'I ordered waffles.'

She groaned.

'And a grapefruit half for you.'

'I'll be right over.'

Ten minutes later I opened the door and let her in. She was still in her pajama bottoms, pink with leopard print, and a rumpled T-shirt that read 'Aerobics Instructors Do It In Step'. She flopped onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling.

'Get much sleep?' I asked.

'Some.' She yawned. 'Not enough.'

Ditto.

Luckily, when sleep escapes me, sugar and caffeine are readily available substitutes. Both of which I indulged in as room service arrived with a big plate of waffles and maple syrup and two carafes of coffee – decaf for Dana, regular with loads of cream for me.

I slathered the syrup on, my mouth watering as I watched it make little pools in the waffle squares. I took one bite. Heaven.

Dana scrunched up her nose and dug into her grapefruit. 'So, any thoughts about Donata's killer this morning?' she asked, covering her breakfast with one hand to avoid grapefruit-juice-in-the-eye.

I shook my head. 'Nope. And here's what's been bothering me,' I said, shoveling a forkful of waffle into my mouth. 'Why kill Donata? I mean, assuming Gisella was working with a partner, it seemed like they had the perfect set-up. Why ruin that?'

Dana shook her head. 'Good question. Okay, let's say the partner offed Gisella for a bigger piece of the profits. Or, maybe Gisella was getting sloppy and the partner was worried about someone finding out.'

'The last one seems more likely to me,' I said. 'If he was just greedy, he'd want to keep Gisella around, right? Without her, the scam is over. On the other hand, Gisella was risking a lot by hitting four designers in one Fashion Week. Someone was bound to start putting it together sooner or later.'

'Okay, so the partner's worried about being found out, so he kills Gisella. Lucky for him, you're in town and he can throw suspicion on you with the stiletto thing.'

'Lucky him,' I mumbled, pouring more syrup on my waffles.

'So – why Donata? I mean, it doesn't seem likely she'd go to the police, does it? Not when she had a secret of her own to protect.'

I shook my head. 'No. It doesn't.' I took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. 'Dana, who did you tell that we were going to Milan?'

She paused, grapefruit wedge halfway to her lips. 'Just Jean Luc. Why?'

'Maybe the killer was afraid Donata would let something slip to us?'

'You think?'

I shrugged. 'Either way, the killer must have known we'd be in Milan. Otherwise, there'd be no point in doing the stiletto thing again. He couldn't very well point the finger at me if I'd been in Paris with an iron-clad alibi at the time of the murder. He had to have known I'd be in Milan.'

Dana put her spoon down. 'Wow. You're totally right. Okay, who knew you were going? Jean Luc. Who else?'

I bit my lip. 'No one. I mean, I called Ann for Donata's address. I didn't exactly tell her I was going to Milan, but I guess she could have found out if she tried. And I did ask Angelica about Donata. She could have easily followed me there, I suppose. But the only person I really told was…' I trailed off.

'Who?'

'Felix.'

Dana paused. 'Maddie, there is a chance that he actually did it.'

I shook my head. 'No. I mean…' I thought about it. Then shook my head. 'No. He couldn't have.'

'Maddie, I know you like him-'

'I do not like him. I loathe him.'

She shot me a 'get real' look, completely ignoring my protests. '-but all the clues point to him. And, if he did, that means he must have been the one blackmailing Donata about her past in the first place.'

'Which is completely ridiculous. You've seen Felix. He knows nothing about fashion. There's no way he'd know about a seventies male model.'

'He works at a newspaper. He has all kinds of access.'

I bit my lip. 'True,' I said slowly. 'But what would tip him off? I mean, it isn't the type of thing that you'd go looking for unless you knew it was there.'

'What about his aunt? You said she never misses Fashion Week. I'm sure she knows all the designers and models. Maybe he saw some old fashion magazines of hers. Maybe she said something that had him putting two and two together.'

I felt my brow pucker. 'I don't know, Dana. I mean, it's Felix.'

Dana gave me a look. 'Right. And how much do you really know about this guy?'

I stabbed at a bite of waffle. She had a point. He'd kept a peerage secret and hid his relationship with a murdered model. I suppose it was possible that he had other skeletons lurking in his closet.

'Maddie, don't let one little kiss cloud your judgment.'

My head snapped up. 'I am not-'

But she shot me down with the 'get real' look again.

I shut my mouth. 'Fine. Finish your grapefruit,' I said. 'We'll go visit Auntie Charlene.'

Chapter Fifteen

I finished my waffle, then picked up my crutches and headed down to the front desk, Dana in tow. Back at the castle, Charlene had mentioned that she was coming back into Paris to attend a show today. I crossed my fingers she'd come back to the same hotel.

Pierre, aka Andres, was on duty as I approached. He ducked behind the counter as soon as he saw me.

I looked at Dana, then shrugged. I stood on tippy-toe and peeked my head over the counter.

'Uh, Pie- I mean, Andres?'

'Is she with you?' he whispered, crouching on the ground.

'Who?'

'The loud one. Mademoiselle Rosenblatt?'

I shook my head. 'Nope.'

He did an audible sigh of relief, then stood up, brushing invisible lint off his jacket. 'Thank the gods.'

'I take it the date did not go well?'

He shook his head. 'That woman, she is… how do you say… too much to handle. All she want to do is kiss me. I am not machine. I am man, with feelings!'

I tried to hide the grin tugging at my lips. 'I see. Uh, listen, I was wondering if you could check if someone is a guest here. Charlene…' I paused, trying to recall Auntie's last name. 'Fellows?' I finished.

'Oui, I will check. Uh, you have not seen the Mademoiselle Rosenblatt today?' he asked, still warily glancing over my shoulder as if she might appear from behind one of the decorative white, marble columns.

'No, I haven't.' Which, now that I thought about it, was odd. Surely news of my arrest must have reached Mom. I'd honestly expected her to come bursting into my room with a rib-crusher hug last night, demanding to know what had happened to 'her baby'. Suddenly I felt a little neglected.