Gemma Halliday - Alibi In High Heels

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 her middle and pinned her to the ground. "No."

"Oh really?" She wiggled, twisting out from under me. "Then what is?"

My mind instantly flashed on a dark stubbled jaw, a sleek panther trailing down one thick bicep, and a pair of dark espresso eyes.

But instead of answering, I rolled to the right, twisting Wonder Boot under me and pinning her beneath its bulk. I grabbed both her hands and sat on her chest.

"Ha! Who's girly now, huh?" I asked.

She narrowed her eyes at me. Then looked to her right.

We'd rolled along the floor until we were right next to the bed. And the gun.

Oh shit.

In one swift movement she reached up and had the gun in both hands.

A wicked grin overtook her features. Made all the more creepy looking by the fact that our tussle on the floor had her white blonde hair sticking up like an Edgar Winter Mohawk.

"Get off me," she seethed between clenched teeth.

I put my hands up in a surrender motion and slowly stood up.

"What's going on out there. Who won?" Mrs. Rosenblatt asked from the bathroom.

"Shut up!" Charlene yelled. Punctuating this by shooting at the bathroom door.

I thought I heard Mom's voice shout a "Holy shit," but my mother never swore.

"You," Charlene said, straight-arming the gun at me. "You have been more trouble than you're worth. Up against the wall."

I complied, my hands still up, backing up until I felt my back hit the wallpaper.

"Just tell me one thing," I said, doing a silent prayer that someone – anyone – had heard the gunshots.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "A dying request?"

"Why kill Gisella? Was it because she was getting sloppy?"

She shook her head. "Gisella was always sloppy. She was so obvious no one would have ever suspected her."

"So then why kill her?"

Her eyes went cold. "Because of Felix. I killed her because she was dating Felix. Felix was mine! He wasn't supposed to marry her. There was no way I could let that greedy little stick figure ruin everything. Felix belongs to me. That castle belongs to me!" She paused, reigning in her volume. "And, so, I had to put an end to our business arrangement."