On the Avenue (27 page)

Throwing a glance over her shoulder, Madison walked up to the abandoned warehouse. She followed the scarred walls down to what had obviously once been an entrance. Two huge doors, barely on their hinges, creaked as a gust of wind blew through the streets. She pulled open the first one. A musty odor assailed her senses. It was pitch-black inside.

As she took slow steps forward, she reached for Clarence and breathed a sigh of relief when his hand closed over hers. She kept going, trying to etch out of the shadows something that would tell her she wasn't in an underground cave. The wind howled outside. The rafters high above shook with a clatter. She let out a little yelp when she heard the front doors slamming shut.

Now she was sure they were standing somewhere in the middle of the wide, uneven floor.

She cleared her throat nervously. It was time to declare herself. “Theo?” she called out. Her voice spiraled through the darkness. Then she heard a loud
pop
that made her heart jump into her throat.

Above her, a series of lights clicked on. They ran along the ceiling, illuminating the broken windows, the rutted ground, and a tall scaffolding that wound all the way up to the third story.

“Theo?” Madison shouted again. “Theo? Can you hear me?” When the silence enveloped her, she turned around and saw Clarence standing a few feet away, beside an open fuse box. She hadn't even felt him leave her side.

He was staring back at her. The gleam in his eyes was cold. He reached into his lapel pocket and pulled out a half-smoked cigar and a book of matches. “Theo isn't here,” he said, the matchbook slipping from his shaky fingers.

“What?” Madison's voice was a whisper.

“Theo isn't here,” he repeated quietly. “And he isn't coming.”

She watched as Clarence bent down to retrieve the matchbook. As he did so, a sprinkling of loose tobacco poured from his lapel pocket and into the air; the little black remnants swirled and spun, hitting the floor soundlessly. And in that terrifying moment, Madison understood everything. She knew exactly why she had been brought here—and for what grim purpose.

“Just
listen
to me!” Theo shouted.

He was standing inside the lobby, pressed up against the wall. Park and Lex had each grabbed pillows from the couch in the reception area, and now they were holding them out like weapons. Steven Hillby stood just to Theo's right, a threatening look in his eyes.

“What the
hell
are you doing here?” Lex screamed back. “Don't try to kill us, because we're armed.”

“That's… that's right!” Park said. She touched a
hand to the pocket of her jeans and held it there, as if reaching for a gun.

Theo let out a long sigh. “Search me if you want to! I'm not here to hurt you—I'm not a killer.”

“Two murders don't make you a killer?” Lex snapped. She swung the pillow and slammed him broadside in the head.

Theo let out a grunt as the impact shook his jaw. “Don't you understand? I came here to explain everything to Madison,” he said breathlessly. “Where is she?”

“You should know, moron!” Lex answered. “You're the one who directed her to 110th Street!”

“What are you talking about? I haven't even spoken to her!” Theo's tone was tense but firm, the look in his eyes was serious.

“Fine!
Texted
her!” Lex shrieked. “If you don't come clean, I swear to God, Theo, your balls will be hanging on our Christmas tree this year!”

“Wait a minute!” Park's voice rose high into the air. Slowly, cautiously, she lowered the pillow she'd been holding and took a step back. She grabbed Lex's arm, instructing her to do the same. Then she stared at Theo and said calmly, “What's going on? You have exactly thirty seconds to tell us. The truth, by the way.”

The doorman grabbed Theo's shoulder as if to rough him up.

With a wave of her hand, Park ordered him to stop. He did.

Theo stepped away from the wall, wiped the sweat from his brow, and took a deep breath. “For the last sixteen hours, I've been hiding out with my parents at my uncle's condo on Sutton Place,” he began. “
I
wanted to talk to the cops and explain myself, but my parents wouldn't let me—not without their star lawyer, and he's flying back from Sydney right now because of this mess. I—”

“You're babbling,” Park told him coolly. “Get on with it. Why the hell did Annabelle turn you in? Why does everyone think you're guilty—including us?”

“Annabelle did it to get back at me,” he replied quickly. “She and I had a fight Friday night. We broke up. She knows that I”—he gulped—“she knows that I love Madison.”

Staring at him, Park flashed back to the pictures Chicky Marsala had snapped of Theo and Zahara Bell—and their very obvious confrontation. “We know you saw Zahara Bell Friday night just before she was killed,” she told him. “We have proof of that.”

“You're right, I did see her,” he admitted flatly. “But I didn't kill her. And I didn't know about the gossip column she was planning to publish.”

“But you argued with her,” Lex said. “You were angry with her. Why?”

Theo cleared his throat and looked down at the
floor. His shoulders sagged, as if too much weight were upon them. “West International—the whole company—is going through some serious financial trouble right now. My parents are freaking out. Investors all over the world are freaking out. It's not something the general public knows yet, but Zahara knew. And I knew that she knew. She's always hated my father—hated all my family.”

He paused and took another deep breath. “Anyway, on Friday night, I
did
leave the ballroom for the ten minutes Annabelle's blabbing about. I needed a break. I was upset seeing Madison there. I got totally emotional and I felt really fucked up. I thought maybe I'd go outside and smoke a joint. But on my way out, I saw Zahara coming in. She was on her way to the bathroom. Our eyes met. I guess I must've given her a dirty look, and that's when she sniffed and raised her nose in the air and … and insulted me.”

Park, listening attentively, dropped the pillow onto the floor. “What'd she say?”

“She had a little smirk on her face,” Theo explained. “And she looked at me and said, ‘I'm glad you can still afford Armani.’ Then she chuckled. And
that's
when I totally fucking lost it.”

“You grabbed her arm,” Lex muttered. “It was a pretty physical confrontation.”

Theo's eyes widened slightly, as if in shock. “Yeah, I did. How'd you know? You saw it?”

Lex shook her head. “
I
didn't see it. Neither did Park or Madison. But someone did.”

“And then what happened?” Park pressed, her eyes locked on Theo's face. “That couldn't have taken you ten whole minutes.”

“It didn't,” he said. “The whole argument lasted maybe twenty seconds. I was all worked up. I went out through the sculpture garden and had a smoke. I guess I stood there in the quiet for a few minutes. Then I went back to the ballroom. That's what really happened, and Annabelle's trying to pass it off as something suspicious just to get back at me.” He raked a hand through his hair, visibly on edge. “I
swear
I'm telling you the truth. You think I snuck out of my uncle's place in disguise and made my way over here to play more games? When twenty thousand reporters are waiting to snap my pic? When the cops are waiting to arrest me?”

“Why didn't you just explain that to Annabelle Friday night?” Park asked him. “Wouldn't that have saved you a lot of trouble? I mean …
duh.
”

“I didn't wanna tell her that I'd gotten into an argument with Zahara Bell just before Zahara was killed,” Theo replied. “I didn't want to tell anyone. But Annabelle went and opened her big mouth anyway, and that's why I'm wanted for questioning. Now, can you please tell me where Madison is? I came here to explain everything to her.”

“She's gone.” Park told him about the two threatening text messages they had all received, and about the one just under an hour ago that had sent Madison on her way.

“What?” Theo shouted. He grabbed his own cell phone from the pocket of his jeans and held it out. “Here. Go through everything if you don't believe me. I had
nothing
to do with any text messages.”

“But then …” Park threw a confused glance at Lex and began pacing the floor again. She reviewed the facts in her mind—Theo's initialed charm in Lex's closet, those missing ten minutes, his refusal to speak to the police, even the ashes in the picture of Zahara Bell's face. Hello? It all spelled guilt. But then why the hell was her gut telling her to believe what Theo was saying? When she looked up from the floor, she saw her own uncertainty reflected in Lex's eyes.

Who the hell is doing this to us?

“Then it can only be one other person,” Lex whispered.

Park knew she had insinuated Jeremy. The very thought of it infuriated her, but the anger quickly died away and was replaced by frustration. She lowered herself into a chair. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over her cheeks, causing her mascara to run. “Lex,” she said weakly, “please give me my purse.”

Lex did her sister's bidding, going over to retrieve
the purse sitting on the coffee table in the main reception area.

Park took it and quickly unzipped it. Then she sat up straight in the chair and sighed. “This isn't my purse. This is Madison's purse.” She inspected the brown leather hobo handbag. “Shit. She took my purse by mistake. They look so similar. I guess …I guess she got confused.”

“Just use her mascara,” Lex said.

Park began rifling through the handbag. She saw the digital camera, Madison's sunglasses and favorite pair of cashmere gloves, several pens and ballpoint markers, scraps of paper emblazoned with the St. Cecilia's logo. Even now, in the midst of all this confusion, it amazed her that Madison was so damn
messy;
she appeared neat and organized, but the proof was in this handbag. Park gave it a good shake and reached inside. Her fingers closed over something hard and smooth. She pulled it out. It was a black Chanel compact case, the edges scarred and nicked. She held it up. “This isn't Madison's,” she said.

“No, it isn't.” Theo stepped forward. “She doesn't use Chanel. She uses Clarins. We both use Clar—” He stopped short of admitting what no guy with great skin wanted to admit.

“Whose is it?” Lex asked.

Park opened the compact and knew immediately that it wasn't actual makeup. Not exactly. The mirror
was dirty, and the round spongy applicator looked old and crusty. The floor of the compact was loose, a hairline crack running along one side of it. A tiny piece of paper stuck out from beneath. Park flipped the compact over; both the mirror and the applicator fell into her hand, and the small rectangular floor swung out as well.

There, pressed into the very bottom of the dismantled compact, was a folded sheet of white paper. Park carefully tugged at one edge. It slid into her fingers. She unfolded it slowly, careful not to tear it. Her eyes began skimming the neat print, the little nuggets of gossip grouped in descending order beside names and dates. And as her breath caught in her throat, Park knew she was staring at the final piece of the puzzle— Zahara Bell's list of informants, the very sources who had enabled her gossip column. The people who had spilled their intimate knowledge and fueled a campaign of ruin.

“Oh, my God.”

Lex and Theo, both leaning over Park's shoulder, gasped.

The piece of paper shook in Park's fingers as she found the entry bearing Madison's name and, just beside it, Theo's name. Beneath the names Zahara Bell had written two damning sentences:
Forbidden love spells corporate chaos. Thanx, Chauffeur Clarence.
The Hamilton entry continued, listing several facts
about Hamilton Holdings, Inc., that were not public knowledge—including the intended date of the longawaited hostile takeover of West International that Trevor Hamilton and his executive board had been planning for years.

No. It can't be.

Park shot to her feet. She couldn't believe her eyes. It was impossible. A lie. Another piece of Zahara Bell's vicious propaganda. But even as the shock soared through her brain, Park knew the sheet of paper was the single most irrefutable piece of evidence they had.

It's Clarence. He was Zahara Bell's informant. He killed her.

“I can't believe it!” Lex shouted. “How could we not have seen it?”

Park looked down at the handbag. “How—how did this end up in Madison's purse? This is Zahara Bell's compact—Zahara's handwriting. How the hell …?” She stared at Lex, desperately seeking an answer.

“Never mind that!” Lex shrieked. “It's Clarence! And Madison is with him
right now
!”

“Where?” Theo's voice rose anxiously. His hand snapped around Lex's wrist.

Park quickly folded the sheet of paper up, stuffed it back into the compact, and dumped it into the handbag. “110th and First Avenue,” she said. “Come on! We have to get there now!”

They burst out of the front doors, leaving Steven Hillby gaping behind them. Fifth Avenue was mercifully quiet. Park stopped at the curb, suddenly remembering that without their limo, they had no ride.

“Let's just hail a freaking cab!” Theo said.

“There's no time!” Park shouted back.

“Look!” Lex pointed to the cab parked across the street. The driver had gotten out, and he was disposing of a McDonald's meal in an overflowing trash can. The driver's-side door was ajar, the engine still running.

Without a word, they ran across the street.

“Sorry kids, I'm off duty,” the driver called out as they approached.

Lex grabbed the handle of the driver's-side door and hopped in behind the wheel. Park and Theo dove into the backseat.

“Hey!” the driver screamed, running toward the car. “What do you think you're doing? Stop! Stop!”

“Sorry, sir!” Lex yelled. “We'll be back as soon as possible.”

“Hurry!”
Teeth gritted, Park kicked the back of the driver's seat.

Lex jumped. And then she threw the cab into gear and slammed her foot down on the accelerator.