Alibi in High Heels by Gemma Halliday Read Free Book Online Page B

Felix show up had been a huge relief. And, I'll admit, the second I'd heard Ramirez's voice I'd instantly felt better. But having him fly halfway around the world just to hold my hand was tantamount to saying that he was right. That I couldn't take care of myself. That I did need a chaperone as badly as he and my mother thought. No way was I admitting that.
    "No, really, I'm fine."
    "You're not fine, Maddie. You're a homicide suspect."
    "Well, sort of, but..."
    "Look, I don't want you there alone."
    "I'm not alone," I said, glancing over to Felix who'd been pretending not to listen to the conversation up to this point.
    "Felix is here."
    Silence. Then, "Felix? As in the reporter Felix."
    "Uh, yeah."
    "The same Felix who got you kidnapped in Vegas?"
    "Uh..."
    "And the same Felix who gave you a gun last spring?"
    "Well, um..."
    "And," he said, really gaining steam now, "the same Felix who looks at you like you're dessert and he hasn't eaten in weeks?"
    "He does not!" I glanced over at him again. Did he? "But, uh, yeah. That Felix."
    "I'll be there by morning." Then he hung up.
    I stared at the silent phone in my hand. Then up at Felix, still looking out the window, pretending not to eavesdrop.
    Great. Just what I needed. A pissing contest.

Chapter Five

    By the time we got back to the hotel, I was beat, mentally and physically, the jet lag catching up to me big time.
    The front of the hotel was crammed with paparazzi. As if the Fashion Week photographers weren't enough, now every newshound in Europe was covering the sensational death of their favorite supermodel. I could see Felix mentally sizing them up, his hands fidgeting in his lap with nervous energy. If there was one thing Felix hated, it was to be scooped.
    The cab driver pulled as close to the front doors as he could manage, then dropped Felix and me off at the sidewalk. I awkwardly angled Wonder Boot out of the cab, sticking the crutches under my armpits and hobbling toward the hotel doors and leaving Felix to pay the fare. Hell, he was related to the queen. He could handle it.
    By the time I made it to the glass front doors, Felix had easily caught up and we pushed our way through the crowd. Unfortunately, the lobby wasn't any less populated, the chatter of reporters echoing off the marble floors. I kept my head down and plowed straight for the elevators, letting out a sigh of relief as the doors closed behind us. Two minutes later I was at my door, fumbling in my shoulder bag for my key card.
    As it turned out, I didn't need it. The door flew open.
    "Oh lordy, Maddie, I'm so glad you're okay!" Mom grabbed me in a big bear hug, knocking both crutches to the ground.
    "Mom, I can't breathe."
    "Sorry." She stepped back. "I was just so worried. You're on every TV station. Not that I can understand most of what they're saying about you."
    "Is it true? Did you stab that model with your shoe?" Mrs. Rosenblatt asked, waddling up behind.
    "Of course it's not true!" Mom shouted, turning on her. Then she paused and leaned in close to me. "Is it?"
    "No! It's just a coincidence."
    "See," Mom shot to Mrs. R. "I knew it wasn't true. I knew you couldn't do the horrible things the TV says you did."
    "What are they saying?" Felix asked, walking into the room behind me.
    "They're calling her the Couture Killer," Mrs. R piped up.
    Felix winced. "Wish I'd thought of that," he muttered under his breath.
    I resisted the urge to kick him. Mostly because I couldn't balance on one foot.
    "Who's this?" Mrs. Rosenblatt asked, gesturing to Felix.
    "This is Felix Dunn."
    "The reporter?" Mom narrowed her eyes. She knew all too well how I'd felt about my head being pasted on Pamela Anderson's body.
    "The one and only." Felix bowed. "I've heard so much about you, Mrs. Springer. It's lovely to finally meet you." He grasped one of Mom's hands in both of his.
    Mom blushed. "Oh, well."
    "And you," he said, advancing on Mrs. R, "you must be the charming Mrs. Rosenblatt. A true pleasure, ma'am." He leaned