Gemma Halliday - Alibi In High Heels

I leaned my head back on the vinyl seat, watching the dark London streets whiz past the window at a rate that sent nausea washing through me again. The more I thought about it, the more foolish I felt for ever trusting a guy like Felix. I'd been the one pleading with Ramirez to get him out of jail. What if it turned out he belonged there? I knew Felix had a moral compass that pointed just this side of North, but had he really offed his girlfriend? Even worse, would he have framed me for it?

I had to admit at that part my stomach clenched the worst. Not that I'd thought I meant anything to Felix. I didn't. And he meant nothing to me. We weren't even friends. More like acquaintances that sometimes bumped into each other.

Lips first.

I closed my eyes, willing myself not to think about it.

Mathew pulled us up in front of the Queen's Cozy Inn and let us out. He gave me one backward glance in his rearview mirror, eyes still wary, before collecting his fare and pulling away from the curb. I had a bad feeling that if Dana and I didn't find the real killer soon, that was the kind of look I was doomed to for life.

After handing over my credit card to the frizzy haired girl on duty behind the desk, Dana and I were shown to a room on the second floor. The bed was standard issue, the duvet a pastel floral print. A scarred dresser sat at one end, a tiny bathroom the other. A television set with rabbit ears sat on the dresser and above that hung a framed lithograph of Queen Elizabeth. The Ritz, it was not. But I didn't care. All I wanted was sleep. Hopefully in the morning things would make more sense.

The room was dark. A single lamp gave off a dim red glow, bathing the room in a light eerily reminiscent of blood. I held my breath, searching through the darkness for him. I wasn't sure who I was looking for, but I knew I had to find him. People were everywhere, bumping up against me, crowding in from all angles. Then I heard the crowd cheering, yelling, hollering. I fought my way through them, pushing and shoving, straining on tip-toe to see around them. He had to be here somewhere. I fought my way through the growing crowd to the front. And, there in the center of the room, standing under a bright red spotlight, was Mrs. Rosenblatt, wearing a leather corset and wielding a long, leather riding crop.

"Hey, Mads, wanna play?" she asked, flicking her wrist, the crop doing a menacing snap in the air. The crowd cheered again.

I turned, ready to run from the room.

When I saw him.

I froze. Unable to look away. Felix. He was watching me from the other side of the room. Staring me down.

Suddenly Mrs. Rosenblatt and the rest of the crowd disappeared. It was just Felix and me. Eyes locked on each other. I tried to speak, but it was like I'd eaten too much peanut butter, my mouth sticky, refusing to open.

Felix closed the distance between us, his eyes intent on mine, a little half smile playing on his lips like he knew a secret that I didn't. He was coming closer, almost floating across the room in slow motion. I tried to speak, tried to move, but my feet were glued to the spot, my limbs too heavy to lift.

Suddenly he was so close he was almost on top of me. "Maddie," he whispered.

He reached and grabbed my arm with on hand, the other lifting above his head, wielding a black stiletto heel.

Then I really did scream.

I sat up straight in bed, sweat pouring down my back, my breath coming out in German shepard pants. My eyes whipped around the room, searching for any remnants of the red light, the crowd, the black high heel. Nothing, just a TV, scarred dresser and photo of the queen. And Dana snoring beside me.

I slowly laid back, adrenalin coursing through my limbs, and closed my eyes. It was just a dream.

One that, in light of yesterday's revelations, seemed all too real. That was it. I had to talk to Felix.

I rolled over and looked at the clock. 7:15. With a groan, I slid out of bed and hopped into a lukewarm shower. I turned my panties inside out and redressed in yesterday's clothes, digging in my purse for mascara and lip gloss. Since the hair dryer in the bathroom didn't work, I twisted my wet hair into a French braid and figured I was halfway passable.

I emerged from the bathroom to find Dana yawing, flipping through channels on the television set.

"You were on channel two," she informed me.

"Swell." I plopped down on the bed.

"And Jean Luc called. He said he needs me for a fitting at one. Sorry, Maddie, this Angel has to get back."

I nodded. "I understand." Not everyone's career was in the toilet. "I'll drop you at the airport. Oh, and by the way," I added as she made for the bathroom, "there's no hot water."

I flipped off the TV as Dana shut the bathroom door and I heard water start to run. The last thing I wanted to encounter this early in the morning was another candid shot of myself.

Instead, I grabbed my cell and tried Felix's number again. As before, it went straight to voicemail. I bit my lip, trying to tell my stomach to shut up.

Instead, I bit the bullet and dialed Ramirez's cell. I prayed hard to the saint of forgiving boyfriends as I listened to it ring once, then twice. On the third ring he picked up.

"That was a dirty trick," he said, his voice hard.

"Sorry?" Only it came out more of a question.

"Where the hell are you, Maddie?"

"Um…" I looked around the room. The Queen stared back at me. "I'm safe."

"That's not what I asked."

"Listen, I just wanted to call to tell you that I'm okay, not to worry, and I'll be back soon."

"Where. Are. You."

"I'm following a lead."

There was silence. Then he muttered a curse in Spanish. "Maddie, detectives follow leads. The police follow leads. Fashion designers draw fluffy little shoes. What the hell are you doing?"

"I have to clear my name, Jack. Do you know I was in the London Times yesterday?"

"London?"

Oops. I slapped a hand over my mouth. "Or so I heard," I added feebly.

"Maddie, listen, you've go to have a little faith in the system. Moreau will get to the bottom of this. But you running around following your so called leads is just going to make things worse. This disappearing act doesn't exactly make you look innocent."

As much as I loved him, it was the "so-called" thing that put me over the edge.

"I'll be back tonight," I said. Then hung up, cutting Ramirez off mid curse.

Ramirez might have faith in Moreau, but the way he'd interrogated me, I certainly didn't. And if I didn't do it, someone else had. Someone that, as of right now, was not only ruining my life, but also getting away with murder.

I just hoped that someone wasn't Felix.

After Dana got out of the shower, we both headed down to the Duck's Head Pub on the corner where we ordered something called bangers and mash for breakfast. Which, when it arrived, turned out to be sausages and mashed potatoes. Personally, I thought it was pretty tasty. Dana, on the other hand, scrunched up her nose and asked the waitress if they had any grapefruit halves. The waitress gave her a funny look, then appeared with a mealy apple, saying it was the only fruit on premises. Dana ate the apple while I made yummy sounds all the way through my sausages.

By the time Dana had hit core, my cell chirped to life in my purse. I pulled it out to see Mom's number on the LCD screen.

"Hello?" I asked, around a bite of mashed potatoes and thick onion gravy. I'm telling you, these Europeans know how to eat.

"We got it." Mom relayed an address she and Mrs. R had found off a peerage directory website. It was in Hertfordshire, which, once Mom pulled up a Yahoo map, she informed me was just north of London.