A High Heels Haunting (9 page)

And I almost believe it as my breathing started to regain a normal tempo, my pulse slowing.

Almost.

Until I spied my purse sitting on the seat beside me and remembered the job I’d signed on for tomorrow. 

Modeling shoes. 

No, it couldn’t be…

But as I reached across the console and ripped the info sheet from my purse, my heart caught in my throat as I saw that it was. 

Tomorrow I was shooting an ad with Blake for
Maddie Springer's High Heels Seduction line
. 

It was a breezy night.  The wind whipping at my bare skin.  I looked down.  I was clad only in an oversized T-shirt with a big red Stanford S on it, my legs exposed beneath.  And the wind was picking up, rushing over me so that little goosebumps appeared on my arms.  Why was I outside, dressed like this?

The noise.  That’s right, I’d heard a noise outside.  I was afraid it was the dog.  Blake’s dog.  Sometimes he got out at night.

I called his name softly.  “Here, boy.  Here, Rufus.”

Only the wind answered, gusting through the trees, making little ripples on the surface of the pool.  I tiptoed closer to the edge of the water, squinting through the darkness at the thick bushes that flanked the patio.  Were they moving? 

“Rufus?” 

Or was it just the wind?  I couldn’t tell.  It was so dark, the moon a tiny sliver in the sky, giving off no more light than a flickering candle.  I should have brought a flashlight with me.  Where did Blake keep his flashlight? 

I was about to turn around and go back into the house to get one. 

But I was too late.  A pair of hands
were
on my shoulders.  Strong and rough, shoving me forward.  So unexpected, I lost my balance immediately, pitching forward, arms out to break my fall as I hit the water. 

The cold sent a shock through me and I involuntarily took a breath.  Only water came rushing into my mouth instead of air.  I tried to cough it out, to propel myself upward.  But it was no use.  Those hands were still holding me.  Pushing me down.  Instead, I tried to turn around.  I needed to see him.  Who was doing this to me?  Why?  What had I done to them?  I thrashed to the left and right, unable to see anything in the dark, the water clouding my eyes, my lungs stinging, burning, begging for just one little sip of air. 

But he wouldn’t let me have it.

I felt my eyes closing, my limbs growing heavy, the fight slipping out of me.  I focused everything I had left into one more movement and flipped my head around to see him watching me.  Watching the life slip out of me as his hands held me under the water.  I couldn’t believe it.

It was him.

*   *   *

“You!” I screamed. 

I blinked my eyes against the darkness.  I was dry.  In my apartment.  Alive.  Breathing.  Air was pushing in and out of my lungs, not chlorinated water.  Pushing quickly, too, on the verge of hyperventilating.  I bit my lip, steadying myself to get my bearings. 

I’d fallen asleep on the sofa, the TV on, a
Cheers
rerun blaring as Tabby curled up at my feet.  I wasn’t sure how long I’d been there
,
but it had been light when I’d fallen asleep.  Fully dressed.  I
'd
dropped the red heels on the floor when I came in.  I quickly kicked them away from me now as if I could kick the dream away too.

His face.  I’d seen his face. 

Only I couldn’t.  I mean,
she
had, but it had been dark.  I could only make out the outline.  It had been a man, tall, short hair, Caucasian.  But that was all I’d been able to see.  Or maybe that was all I wanted to see. 

It had to have been Blake.  If he’d really been asleep, and she’d fought that hard, he would have woken up.  He would have heard, and come out to the pool, saved her.  There’s no way he could have slept through that struggle. 

I strained my memory trying to get more details out of the face, but nothing came.   

But she’d seen him.  Angel had known who her killer was as she’d watched him drain the life out of her.

The thought sent a shiver up my spine
,
and I quickly got up and turned on the light.  In fact, I turned on every light in my apartment.  How could he do something like that?  Actually watch the life go out of someone.  It was beyond me.  But one thing I knew for certain.

“I won’t let him get away with it, Angel,” I said to my empty apartment.  “I promise.”

*   *   *

I dressed with determination the next day, putting on the sexiest thing I owned, a white, clingy dress that ended just south of my derriere and plunged just north of my belly button.  I contemplated the white slingbacks Danielle had prompted me to buy, but instead I picked up the discarded red heels.  They were what started this whole thing.  It seemed only fitting I wore them to end it.

I pulled up in front of the Victorian on Market that the receptionist had directed me to and was quickly ushered into a room much like the previous set I’d been on.  Only this one was dressed up to resemble a scene from ancient Greece.  White columns, grape vines and lots of gold streaking through the background.  Crew members ran back and forth putting the finishing touches on the set and arranging the array of lights as a man in all black stood behind a camera lining up shots.
  I caught a glimpse of a petite blonde that I recognized as the designer, Maddie, shouting last minute directions at everyone. 
 

Blake was already there, next to a wardrobe rack, being fitted in a white toga.  I had a moment of doubt as he flashed his lopsided grin at me, raising a hand in greeting.  But I swallowed it down.  Angel did not kill herself.  And Blake was the only other person there.

I pasted a fake smile on my face, holding onto that thought as I waved back.

“There you are, my love,” R.J. said, bustling up beside me.  Alec followed a step behind, his hands in his pockets as he surveyed the set.

“And don’t you look fabulous today?” R.J. exclaimed, giving my dress a once over.  He shot me a grin showing off all five hundred of his teeth.  “Got a hot date later?”

I glanced over at Blake.  “I hope so.”

“Well, let’s get you in wardrobe,” Alec prompted. 

“As promised, you will be fully clothed this time.  You’re the Goddess of Shoes,” R.J. said.  “And Blake gets to be your love slave.”  He winked.

I felt bile rise in my throat.  My love slave.  Like he’d pretended to love Angel?  Like he’d made love to me?  God, I wasn’t sure I could pull this off.  I looked down at my heels.  But I had to try.  For her.

“Great,” I forced out.

R.J. continued to fill me in on the mythology behind my character as a thin, mousy wardrobe girl whisked me into a white, draping dress that ended just below my knees.  It was shot through with gold accents that the hairdresser mirrored in my locks, gold ribbons pulling my curls up into a crown around my head.  And on my feet were a beautiful pair of gold high heels – a strikingly modern touch to the ancient scene.  The photographer in black led me out onto the set and posed me, leaning my back against a white pillar.  Blake appeared a moment later.

I bit my lip, squelching the rush of emotions at being so near him.  Disgust at what he’d done mingled with the memory of the night I’d spent in his arms.  How could I have been so wrong about him?   

The photographer told Blake to kneel at my feet.  He did, giving me a secret smile that said he was enjoying the intimate pose.  I did my best dominatrix look back.

"Perfect!" I heard Maddie yell, then the
photographer
started clicking away.

“You look hot in a toga,” Blake whispered.

“Shh.  I’m working, slave boy.”

His mischievous grin grew.  “Yes, goddess.”

I turned my head the other direction, hardly able to look at him without wanting to throttle the man. 

Somehow I made it through the shoot without vomiting.  Even with Blake giving me the moon eyes the entire time.  By the end, I felt like I’d run a marathon, though the shoot had lasted only a couple of hours.  When it was over I quickly rushed back to wardrobe, changing into my own clothes.  I took a few deep breaths, telling myself I could do this.

“Hey, kid, you okay?” R.J. asked, coming up behind me as I was strapping my shoes on.

“Yeah, fine,” I lied.  “Why?”

“You sound like you’re hyperventilating.  What’s wrong?  Something going on between you and Blake?”

I shook my head.  Then paused.  If there was anyone who might have insight into Blake and Angel’s relationship, it was R.J. 

I leaned in close.  “R.J., I think Blake killed Angel.”

His mega sized smile dropped.  “Alec told me you’d been asking questions, but I didn’t believe you seriously thought Blake could have anything to do with Angel’s death.  I told you, he tried to save her.”

I shook my head.  “I know, but… but I’m certain.”

He leaned in.  “You have proof?”

“Yes.”  I bit my lip again.  “Well, not exactly.  I mean… look, you’re going to have to trust me on this.  I know who killed Angel.”

R.J. stared at me for a moment, his expression unreadable.  He opened his mouth to say something.

But didn’t get the chance as Alec joined our little group.

“That was fantastic, Kya.  I’d be surprised if I’m not looking at the next Heidi Klum.”

“I don’t know about that,” I said, my eyes still on R.J.  His brow was furrowed, his lips set in a thin line, digesting what I’d just told him.

“You’re just being modest,” Alec joked.  “I can tell you’re going to have a long future with Parker models.”

“A girl can hope.”

“Wow, killer dress, Kya.”

I froze, feeling Blake come up behind me, his hand skimming the small of my back.

He did a low whistle.  “That thing should come with a warning label.”

“Thanks,” I said, putting on my best poker face.    

“Got plans tonight?” Blake asked me.

“No,” I said, slowly.  “Why?  Did you have something in mind?”

Blake’s eyes twinkled with a look that could only be called wicked, that dimple creasing his left cheek.  “One look at that dress
,
and I’ve suddenly got just one thing on my mind.”

I pasted a smile on my face and gave him a playful swat on the arm.  “Down boy.”

“Tell you what, come back to my place and I’ll cook you dinner.  Ask the boys, here, I’m an excellent cook.”

I turned to R.J.  He’d seemed to regained his composure somewhat, though his mega-watt smile was still absent.  “Oh, it’s true.  The man is a wonder in the kitchen.  Have him make you his mushroom lasagna.  It’s to die for.”

I’ll bet. 

But, instead, I did a grin that was all teeth.  “Blake, I’d love to.”

*   *   *

Maybe going home alone with a killer didn’t top the list of smart things Kya’s done in her lifetime.  But visions from a dead woman were hardly conclusive proof of his guilt.  If I wanted to get any sort of justice for Angel, I had to get something real.  I had to get Blake to confess.  My only hope was that I could get him comfortable enough to confide something damaging to me.  And I knew if I was going to do that, I had to get him alone.  

So, after two plates of, I’ll admit, delicious lasagna, Blake and I retired to the living room.  I sat on the sofa with my legs tucked up under me as Blake handed me a glass of cabernet.  Which I had no intention of drinking.  If I was going to pull this off, I needed all my wits about me. 

“That was delicious.  I can see a girl’s going to have a hard time keeping her figure around you.”

Blake grinned, sitting himself down beside me.  Close beside me.  I involuntarily inhaled his warm scent and couldn’t breathe for a moment.

“I don’t think that will be a problem for you,” he replied, running a finger lightly down my arm.  It was a small gesture, soft and intimate. 

I sucked in my lower lip to keep from pulling away.   

“So, have you done work for
Maddie Springer in the past
?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation toward Angel.

He nodded.  “Yeah. 
She
like
s
to keep familiar faces in
her
ads.”

“Like Angel?”

Blake’s eyes clouded over.  “Yes.  She worked for them.”

“I know.”  I held up one foot.  “I bought these because of her picture.”

His eyes hit the floor as he idly swirled the cabernet in his glass.  “Yeah.  I remember that shoot.”

“It must have been hard dating her.”

His head lifted.  “Hard?”

“Dating a model I mean.  Men always looking at her.  The jealousy.  I bet you two fought a lot?”