Alibi in High Heels by Gemma Halliday Read Free Book Online

with Jean Luc."
    "All night?"
    "Yes."
    "So, you are lovers?"
    "What? No. I mean, no, not all night, not like that."
    "Like how then?"
    "I... we... we were working. Until late. Or at least it felt late with the jet lag. Then I went to my own room."
    "Alone?"
    "Yes." I said vehemently.
    "So, you were alone then. No alibi?"
    "What? No, wait I wasn't... I mean..."
    Damn he was good. He'd effectively gotten me to say exactly what he wanted to hear. "Look, I didn't do this."
    "So you say."
    "It's true!"
    "Yet you were alone, you have no alibi, your shoe was used as the murder weapon. And the crime fits your... how do you say... MO to a tee."
    "What MO? No, I'm not a criminal, I don't have an MO! I... I..."
    I was rapidly losing this battle. For all his ridiculous looks, Moreau was good. Too good. So good I had a bad feeling that if he was convinced I'd done this, he'd find a way to prove it. Even if it wasn't true.
    I was just about to pull out my one and only secret weapon - crying like a girl and hoping for mercy - when the door swung open. And a vision in khaki Dockers and a white rumpled button-down filled the doorway.
    Felix.
    "What the hell is going on here?" he asked. "Why is that chap taking her DNA sample?"
    Okay, so white knight he wasn't, but I'd never been so glad to see anyone in my life.
    Moreau, on the other hand, didn't look at all pleased. "And you are?" he asked.
    Felix squared his shoulders. "Lord Ackerman."
    I blinked.
    "Lord Ackerman?" I asked. " Lord ?"
    Felix shot me a look that clearly said shut up. Which I did, clamping my lips together to keep from laughing.
    "I'm sorry, Lord Ackerman," Moreau said, his voice suddenly filled with a note of respect despite Felix's worn Sketcher sneakers and I-just-rolled-out-of-bed hair. "But, this is an official murder investigation." He emphasized the word, throwing a pointed look my way.
    Damned if I didn't feel guilty under his gaze.
    Felix narrowed his eyes at the detective and shot back, " Qu'est-ce que tu fais ?"
    Wow. Item number forty-million I didn't know about Felix. He spoke French.
    Moreau seemed a bit surprised, too, his mustache twitching ever so slightly. But he parried back quickly, responding in rapid French something that prompted Felix to throw his hands up in an exasperated gesture, then shout something back. I watched the two of them go back and forth, wishing like anything I'd taken French in high school instead of ceramics. The ability to make a clay pencil holder that said "Happy Mother's Day" was completely useless right now.
    Finally Felix thumped his hands on the desk, bringing home his point (whatever it was) and grabbed me by the arm, hauling me to my feet. "Let's go Maddie, we're done here."
    I expected the detective to protest, but instead Moreau just watched, his eyes intent on Felix, narrowing above his mustache. (Which was twitching double time now.)
    I tried not to look too smug as we left the room.
    "What did you say to him?" I asked, as Felix navigated the hallways, one hand still firmly grasped around me.
    "I said that if he came near you again without a warrant, I'd have his badge."
    I stopped. "Warrant?"
    We were just outside the tent, police vans and numerous cop cars circled around the courtyard, the long stretch of press and tourists being held back by wooden by police barricades. The main point of interest at the Louvre was definitely not the Mona Lisa today.
    "Do you seriously think he'd get a warrant?" I asked.
    Felix turned to face me, his eyebrows hunkered down in concern. "Maddie, she was killed with one of your designs. And, you have to admit, the shoe to the neck... not a common way to kill someone."
    I gulped. I knew. I also knew I didn't do it. Which meant someone not only wanted Gisella gone, but had tried to make it look like I'd been the one to do it. A disconcerting thought. Sadly, thanks to the L.A. Informer , my past exploits weren't exactly a secret. Anyone could have heard about the shoe to the jugular.
    "That was