The Fashion Police by Sibel Hodge Read Free Book Online Page A

plugged my camera battery into a socket to charge, picked up another camera from Brad’s office and dumped it into my rucksack. Pulling my notebook out, I sat on the edge of Hacker’s desk.  ‘Can you check out these license plate numbers for me, please?’
    ‘Your wish is my command,’ he said as I perched there, looking over his shoulder as he typed in the information.
    I called Romeo while we waited for the results but he didn’t answer, so I left a message asking him to call me back and hung up. The results finally popped up and Hacker pointed at the screen. The three cars from the Cohens’ warehouse came back to legitimate numbers. No surprise there. The Purple People Eater jeep belonged to a Celia James. I wracked my brain trying to remember whether or not I’d ever come across that name before. Nope, nothing doing.
    ‘Who’s Celia James?’ Hacker asked.
    ‘I don’t know. But Fandango’s disappeared, my car’s been broken into, and Celia James has been following me. Methinks all this cannot be a coincidence.’

5
     
    The next morning I woke up bright and early, raring to go. Now that I had something to sink my teeth into, I could feel the old familiar buzz of adrenaline surging through my veins. Amber Fox, Miss Hot-Shit Investigator, was well and truly on her way back!
    I stood outside Fandango’s offices, checking out the view as I waited for the business to open. There were two houses in the vicinity of the old flour mill that could have had a view of what happened. I needed to talk to the owners, but first I wanted to speak to Fandango’s assistant, and I was betting that if it was London Fashion Week soon, they’d still have an immense amount of work to be getting on with, even though their boss was missing.
    I didn’t have to wait long. At eight-thirty, she pulled up beside me in her spanking-new Beemer. I waited until she had poked her skinny legs out the car door before I got out of my own vehicle. She rolled her eyes when she saw me.
    ‘Morning.’ I beamed at her.
    ‘Hunh,’ she snorted, with an expression that clearly suggested I’d personally ruined her morning. Obviously the whack on her head hadn’t improved her manners.
    ‘I didn’t catch your name the other day,’ I said, falling into step along side her.
    A blank expression stared back at me.
    ‘Your name?’ I prompted.
    ‘What’s it got to do with you?’ she asked, scowling.
    I whistled. ‘Wow, that’s a long name.’
    She muttered something under her breath.
    ‘Well, since I’m investigating the disappearance of Umberto Fandango, I’d say it had quite a lot to do with me.’
    ‘Heather Brown,’ she finally snapped, frosty vibes rolling off her tongue in my direction. No, frosty was too warm a word. More like glacial.
    ‘I need to have a look around, and ask you a few questions.’
    She didn’t bother to respond as she unlocked the offices and flipped on the lights. I hurried along behind her as she clacked her way toward the office she shared with Fandango, her Jimmy Choos sending out an unhappy snap with every step.
    I studied her as she took a deep breath at the sight of the bullet hole in the doorframe, the dried smears of blood on the floor, and the residue of fingerprint powder which covered most of the surfaces in the office. She stepped over the bloodstains and placed her briefcase on her desk, glaring at me with defiant eyes. Ms. Ice Queen Brown didn’t seem all that upset about the fact that her boss was missing and possibly dead. Then again, she didn’t seem the type to let anything upset her.
    ‘How’s your head?’ I asked, studying the angle of the bullet hole and taking in the rest of the scene.
    ‘It’s still there.’
    ‘Well, that’s a bonus. Are you sure you’re up to working?’
    ‘I’m only staying for a few hours to sort out some things that can’t wait.’ She shot me a dismissive look.
    ‘So, what happened yesterday?’
    She sighed and lit a cigarette. Tilting her head back,