Alibi In High Heels

'You and Felix really are made for each other. A couple of nitwits.'

Mom thudded against the door again, inching the chair forward.

'So, um, what now?' I asked. Not that I really wanted to know. But the longer I kept her talking the less she was shooting.

Charlene took a step forward, going nose to nose with me. I could smell Listerine on her breath.

'Now, I hop a flight back to England, I live like a queen on my proceeds until I can convince my dear nephew to marry me, and live happily ever after. The end,' she said.

I took a shallow breath. 'And what happens to me?'

She narrowed her eyes. 'The end.'

I gulped. 'And Mom and Mrs. Rosenblatt?'

That wicked grin spread across her features again. 'Oh, I'm not going to do anything to them. You're going to do it all. You are, after all, the Couture Killer.'

I felt a knot form in my stomach. 'What do you mean?'

Charlene took a step back and unzipped one of the suitcases. She pulled out a pair of black stiletto heels. 'One for each of them,' she said, gesturing toward the bathroom door.

'There's no way anyone would believe that,' I said. Even as I doubted the truth of the words. People already believed me to be a killer, this would just be confirmation.

'Oh yes, they will. Especially when they read your suicide note.'

'Suicide note?' I asked, my voice going small.

She nodded. 'You couldn't handle the guilt. The pressure of Fashion Week was too much for you. You snapped. You killed Gisella, Donata, and then the people closest to you. Then took your own life.'

I felt all the color draining from my cheeks. This chick was seriously whacked.

She took two quick steps forward, grabbing a handful of my hair and hopped me over to the little writing desk, shoving me into the seat, banging Wonder Boot against the side in the process.

I winced, a sharp pain shooting up my leg, but she didn't notice, instead shoving a pad of paper and pen at me. The cool metal barrel of the gun came up against my temple.

'Write,' she instructed.

I gulped, grabbing the pen in my shaky hand.

'I, Maddie Springer,' she dictated.

I stared down at the pages. Okay, fine. I would write. At least it would buy me a little time. I vaguely heard the sounds of Mom and Mrs. R still trying to break down the bathroom door behind me.

In a shaky hand I wrote: I Maddie Springer.

'Leave this note as my last confession.'

I looked up at her.

She shoved the gun at me hard, twisting my head to the side. I felt tears well up behind my eyes.

I wrote what she said, deliberately making slow loops with my letters.

'I killed Gisella,' she said, still dictating. 'I also killed Donata Girardi. It was too much for me, the pressure of Fashion Week. I'm sorry.'

I continued writing, willing someone, anyone to hear us. Where was housekeeping when you needed them?'

'Sign it,' Charlene demanded.

I did. My signature trailing off at the end as I realized this was it. I was officially out of time.

I took a deep breath as I felt Charlene stiffen behind me. She knew it too.

'Now,' she said, her voice oddly flat. 'Stand up.'

I did, on one shaky leg. I could hear Mom and Mrs. R thumping against the bathroom door, but the chair was firmly still in place. I was on my own.

It was now or never.

'Ow, my leg,' I moaned, shifting my weight to Wonder Boot.

Obviously Charlene didn't care if I was in pain. Obviously, Charlene wanted to shoot me. But it distracted her long enough that she glanced down at my foam-clad foot.

That was all I needed. In one swift movement, I kicked my good foot up, my red three inch slingback flying up toward her face. Instinctively, she staggered back to avoid a heel to the head and I lunged forward, head down, arms out, doing the best imitation of a linebacker a girl who only watches football for the tight pants can.

Charlene did an unladylike 'oof,' as I connected with her midsection and went tumbling backwards, the gun in her hand going off and taking out a chunk of the ceiling.

'What's going on out there?' Mrs. Rosenblatt yelled from the bathroom.

'Maddie! Are you okay?' I heard Mom screech.

But I was a little too preoccupied to answer at the moment. I had one hand on Charlene's wrist trying to point the barrel of the gun somewhere other than at my person, balancing on one foot. Charlene grabbed a handful of my hair, ripping backwards.

My head went with it, my eyes rolling back in their sockets.

'I think they're fighting,' I heard Mrs. Rosenblatt yell.

'Maddie, are you winning, honey?' Mom called.

It was hard to say.

I may have had the element of surprise, but Charlene had about five inches on me and liked the gym way better than I did. She twisted her wrist, pointing the gun at my ribs. I moved at the last minute and it went off, shattering a lamp by the bedside.

I leaned my head down (no small task with her hands firmly grabbing by hair) and bit her on the wrist.

'Sonofabitch!' she screamed. I guess being in a fight to the death excused one from good manners.

She dropped the gun, which thankfully fell to the floor, sliding under the bed.

'You bitch!' she cried, diving for the gun.

My turn to grab a handful of hair. I yanked on her blonde roots for all I was worth, and was rewarded with a high pitched screech as she twisted on the floor, her longs legs sweeping my one good one and taking me down with her.

She sat up, then did a WWF wrestler full body slam.

I felt the air rush out of my lungs in one big whoosh.

'Maddie? Baby, are you okay?'

'Claw her eyes out, bubbe!' I heard Mrs. R yell.

Hey, not a bad idea.

I reached up, my manicured fingers digging for her eyes. Only I missed, drawing a long red scratch down her cheeks instead. But it didn't even phase her. She'd tipped over that edge of crazy where she only had one objective. Her lips curled back from her teeth, her pupils wild and dilated, her gaze locked on mine. She reached up and wrapped her fingers around my throat, squeezing with all her might.

I made a strangled sound in the back of my throat, my hands instantly going to my neck, trying to pry her manicured claws from me.

'You are so going to pay,' she said. 'Felix's girly little whore.'

'Hey, he kissed me,' I breathed out. Then kneed her in the pelvis.

She grunted, rolling over and loosening her grip on my throat.

'Right. The second time.'

'The first one was an accident.'

'Accident my arse. He told me you spent the night.' She elbowed me in the face, and I swear I actually saw stars. Huh, who knew that wasn't just an expression?

'In the guest room. I spent the night in the guest room.'

She snorted. 'So you say.'

'Look, I am not – N-O-T,' I spelled out as I slapped her across the face, 'Involved with Felix. He's so not my type.'

'Rich,' she said, racking her fingernails across my cheek. 'Titled.' She grabbed a handful of hair and pulled. 'Tight ass. Not your type?'

I tried to shake my head, but her grip on my hair was too strong. Instead, I wrapped my one good leg around