The Fashion Police (33 page)

‘Did you find Bates?’

‘No, I think someone’s tipped him off that we’re looking for him. I checked his usual hideouts, but there’s no sign of him. I’m guessing he’s done a disappearing act somewhere. But the good news is that after you left the police station, I did charge the Cohens with Heather’s murder and the robbery of the fashion collection and diamonds.’ He stroked my hair.

‘Well done, you.’

‘No, well done you. You just solved one of the most high profile cases we’ve ever had. I’m really proud of you, you know.’

‘Yes, but it wasn’t exactly the outcome I’d hoped for. I feel so sorry for Tia and Umberto.’ I exhaled a deflated sigh. ‘But I suppose at least Brad will be pleased that he won’t have to pay out the insurance claim on Callum’s stolen van.

‘Speaking of Brad…I’ve been feeling bad about telling you that you shouldn’t be working for him. I trust you completely, and I know that you wouldn’t…go back to him. It’s just that he’s obviously still in–’

‘I bet I know where you’ll be able to find Callum,’ I cut him off. I didn’t want to have this conversation. I wanted to be in denial. ‘And it’s somewhere that you’d never think of looking in a million years.’

‘Where?’

I gave him Bernie Crumpleton’s address.

‘How do you know that?’ He rolled onto his side, propping up his head in his hand, looking amused. ‘Do I even want to know how you know that?’

I tapped the side of my nose. ‘I have my ways.’

‘Well, I have some news that might cheer you up.’

‘What, Janice has been suspended, pending investigation?’

‘How did you know that?’

‘Just a wild guess.’ I smirked.

‘And the Chief Constable wanted me to tell you that you can have your old job back.’

I stared at the ceiling, looking, but not really seeing. My head spun like a twister at a hundred miles an hour.

‘What’s wrong?’ Romeo rolled on top of me. ‘God, Amber, you’ve been moping around, biting your fingernails to the quick, willing this to happen for the last six months.’

Exactly. So, what was wrong? Why did I feel so indifferent now about one of the biggest turnarounds of my life? I should’ve been ecstatic about this news. I should’ve been swinging from the chandeliers – although the fact that I didn’t have any in my apartment may have been a slight hindrance, but at the very least I should’ve been skipping around the room, whooping for joy. Instead, I felt like I was a little kid again, desperately waiting six months for Christmas to arrive, only to find that it was a huge anti-climax. I suddenly realized that I’d spent months craving for this to happen and now…now it just didn’t seem right. Had I finally moved on?

Maybe I needed to start a new chapter in my life. Maybe I just liked that fact that I had more freedom working for Brad, instead of dealing with all the rules and regulations of the police force. It would be good to make it under my own steam with no one breathing down my neck for once.

Or maybe I just didn’t want to face the prospect of never seeing Brad again.

 I forced a smile and tried to muster up some happiness. The knife of guilt that had permanently impaled itself in my chest gave a painful twist. ‘Nothing’s wrong. Come on, let’s eat. I’m starved.’ I turned my cheek to avoid him.

****

The next morning I got up late. After all that had happened in the last few weeks, I seriously deserved a lie in. Romeo had already left for the station, mumbling something about arresting Bates.

I pottered around the house, drinking coffee and asking life advice from Marmalade; generally doing anything I could to put off making a decision about whether to accept my old job back or not. Marmalade’s advice seemed to consist solely of sleeping, eating, and snoring, which probably seemed like quite sound advice under the circumstances. It wasn’t until he started licking his bits and bobs that I thought he was really onto something. If only us humans could do that, we’d save ourselves a whole heap of trouble with the opposite sex.

Mum rang in the midst of my dilemma. ‘Hi, honey. I wanted to congratulate you on the good news.’

‘Mmm.’

‘What does that mean? Aren’t you happy?’

‘Yes – no – I don’t know.’

‘Well, you don’t have to make a decision right away, do you? Why don’t you have a think about things for a while?’

‘I have made one decision, though.’

‘What’s that, honey?’

‘I think I’ve definitely decided that I’m going to move in with Romeo. What do you think?’

‘Wow! That’s fantastic news. What did Romeo say?’

‘I haven’t told him yet.’

Mum paused for a second.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘How can you say “think” and “definitely” in the same sentence? And don’t you think that it’s a bit strange that you’re letting me know before Romeo? Surely, he’s the one you should be telling first.’

‘Are you trying to get me to change my mind?’

‘I’m not even sure you’ve made up your mind.’

‘Mmm.’ I hung up.

****

I decided to head in to Hi-Tec. I knew there were some loose ends that needed to be tied up there before I made any decision. Sliding into the Lemon, I turned the key. Nothing happened. Not a chug or a choking noise or even a mini splutter. I gave up after a few more tries and slammed the door. I thought about kicking it, but I didn’t think it would help, so I set off walking to the office.

I toddled down the road with the sun shining down on my back and the birds twittering away in the trees, so completely lost within my own head that I didn’t notice when a black limo pulled up alongside me and Sally jumped out of the driver’s side, followed by Tracy. Actually, Tracy didn’t jump, he kind of hobbled, what with the plaster cast over his foot and all. He looked quite fetching with the bandage on his head, as well. At least his accessories matched.

Tracy
grabbed hold of one arm, while Sally grabbed the other, and they lifted me off the ground. I looked like one of those cartoon characters as my legs carried on a walking motion in thin air.

‘What now?’ I huffed.

‘My boss wants to talk to you.’ Tracy glared at me. He didn’t look too pleased to see me again, but the feeling was mutual.

The passenger door to the limo creaked open, and I got bundled inside. Sally and Tracy clicked the locks shut, and stood outside the door with arms folded and legs spread in a wide stance, looking like they’d watched the Sopranos too many times.

‘Hey!’ I cried, then froze in surprise. Sitting in the other passenger seat was Mr. Hottie Model from Fandango’s office. ‘Who are you?’ I asked, thinking that the tinted windows and locked doors made me feel like I was stuck in a crypt with a blood-sucking vampire.

Mr. Hottie held out his hand and motioned for me to give him something.

I frowned. ‘What?’

‘You have something I want.’ He looked me up and down slowly, then licked his lips.

I gulped. ‘I’m not on the menu.’

‘Nobody likes a smart-ass.’

‘And nobody likes a clever-dick either.’

‘Give me your rucksack.’ He snapped his fingers.

I rolled my eyes and handed it over.

I watched with confusion as he tipped the contents out onto the space between us.

‘Aha!’ He picked up Brad’s camera, turned it on, and flicked through the pictures. ‘Where’s the one of me?’ he looked up sharply.

‘Which one of you?’ I said, racking my brains to try and think what he was talking about. That’s when I had a sudden brain wave. The photo he wanted was on my camera, which just happened to be safely stashed at the office in exactly the same place where I’d left it to be recharged, which also happened to be a good bargaining point. It meant that he wouldn’t kill me, at least not right away.

‘Don’t play the innocent with me. You took a photo of me at Fandango’s office, and I want it back.’

‘Oh, I get it now. I know who you are,’ I said.

‘I know who you are.’

‘I said it first.’

‘Do you want a medal?’

‘You’re the new secret Godfather of the Fetuccini family.’ I stared him in the eyes. ‘And no one could identify you because you’ve never been caught on camera…until now.’

He clapped his hands slowly. ‘Bravo, Ms. Fox. So, where’s the camera?’

A sudden thought popped into my head. This was my chance to help Fandango and Tia, and a way to make sure I didn’t end up wearing last season’s unflattering concrete boots. And it had to work, because otherwise, I might be the first person in history to die from crapping themselves. ‘Who else knows that Umberto Fandango is really Carlos Bagliero?’

‘Only me and Enzo Fetuccini.’ Mr. Hottie’s cell phone rang. He answered, nodded a few times, said ‘no’ and ‘yes’ a few times, followed by ‘uh-huh,’ and hung up. ‘I’ll rephrase my answer. Enzo’s dead now. I’m the only one who knows about Fandango.’

‘I’ve got a proposition for you.’

He looked me up and down again.

I shivered.

‘Does it involve you lap dancing on me, naked?’ He raised an eyebrow.

‘Er…no.’

‘Pity.’

‘Several copies of the photo are in very safe locations all over the world. Places where you’ll never find them,’ I fibbed. ‘I promise never to release the photo to anyone as long as you promise to leave Umberto Fandango alone and never tell anyone about his past, so that he can get his life back to the way it was before Fetuccini found out.’

Mr. Hottie considered this for a few moments, head tilted to one side, eyes coolly summing me up.

‘If Fandango, Tia, or I wind up dead, I’ve left instructions for the photo to be released to the press, Interpol, the FBI, and the UN.’

‘Why the UN?’

I shrugged. ‘Why not? I have a personal hotline to the Secretary General. So, you only have two options, really. If the photo gets released, it will put a stop to your undercover crime career overnight, not to mention that fact that the Corleone and Rossi families will probably want to accidentally-on-purpose shoot you in the head now they can identify you. On the other hand, if the photo remains a secret, Fandango can get on with his life, you can continue with yours unhindered, and we’ll all still be alive to enjoy it. It’s a win-win solution for everyone. So, why don’t we forget this conversation ever happened?’

He stared at me. Finally, he said, ‘What conversation?’

‘Good choice.’ I pushed open the door, whacking Tracy on the back of his knees. His legs crumpled out from underneath him, and he fell onto the floor, banging his head in the process.

‘Can I shoot her, boss?’ Tracy wailed.

‘Ha! You could try.’ I eyed his foot.

‘No, you idiot.’ Mr. Hottie stared with distaste at Tracy, who was struggling to get up without putting any weight on his plastered foot. Then Mr. Hottie looked up at me. ‘Any time you fancy doing the lap dance, let me know.’ He gave me a smile like he’d already seen me naked, and liked what he’d seen.

****

At precisely three p.m. Fandango and Tia strolled into Hi-Tec’s office, bearing gifts of champagne and a platter of hors d’oeuvres, which included the fly poop.