On the Avenue (23 page)

Tears smarting her eyes, Madison stopped explaining. She felt too ashamed to continue. She wished the ground would just open up and swallow her whole.

“Wait a minute,” Lex said, holding up a hand. “Are you trying to tell me that you and Theo got busy in my
closet
?”

“Not your closet, your room. My room was too messy,” Madison blurted out. “The walls were covered in plastic and plaster. There was paint everywhere. I never meant for it to happen and I—I … I'm sorry. To both of you. To Daddy. To the company. I'm sorry. I've ruined everything with this stupid nonrelationship.”

Lex, her cheeks flushing with rage, looked as though she were about to explode. She huffed. She puffed. She clenched her fists together. And then she said exactly what was on her mind: “
Eeewwwww!
That's
rank.
How could you do a thing like that?”

“I don't know. Passion, I guess.” Madison wiped a tear from both of her eyes. “But that's why Theo's charm was in your room. Afterward, as he was getting dressed, he mentioned to me that it wasn't around his neck, that he'd lost it. I guess it fell off while we were … you know … and maybe when I walked out of your bedroom I kicked it into the closet without even realizing it. But he's not a murderer. He didn't have anything to do with this.”

“Actually, I think he did.”

Madison and Lex whirled around.

It was Park who had spoken those five powerful words, Park who was sitting cross-legged on the bed with Madison's purse spilled out before her and the forgotten digital camera in her hands. Now she lifted the camera like a prize. “Did you happen to see the rest of the pictures in here?” she asked, posing the question at Madison. “That chicken man certainly knew what he was doing, and it explains why he came here looking for us. It explains
everything.
”

Madison grabbed Lex's hand, and together they went around to the opposite side of the bed. “I haven't seen anything in that camera,” Madison said.

“I don't want to think about it! I would've thrown it away if you hadn't found it.”

“Then brace yourself.” Park held the camera out so that its screen could be viewed more clearly. She clicked the Forward arrow, and the first picture came up. It was of the museum's Grand Ballroom, all glittery and crowded in the initial stages of the gala. Several more followed—of various socialites standing together, of Madison at the podium giving her opening remarks, of the stunning floral centerpieces that had adorned the tables. But it was the fifth picture that Park froze and zoomed in on.

It showed Theo West standing next to a very live Zahara Bell, in what looked like the corridor where the coatroom was located. They weren't smiling. In fact, the next picture—taken only seconds after the previous one—was of Theo's red and seemingly enraged face; his lips were pulled back from his teeth, and he was clearly in the process of berating Zahara Bell. The pictures followed in chronological order, five in all of Theo West, Zahara Bell, and their tense standoff. In the final picture, Theo's right hand was closed around Zahara Bell's wrist; she was turned to one side, as if trying to break away. The photographer had obviously captured them in moments of struggle and outright discord. It was plainly evident from the clarity of the pictures that Theo and Zahara had been fighting about something.

Madison stared down at the little screen, unable to believe her eyes.

“And there's the outfit Zahara Bell had been wearing when she first arrived at the Met,” Park said. “Not exactly a Lex Hamilton original.”

“It's actually Dior,” Lex said, leaning over to get a better look at the gorgeous dress in the picture.

“Maybe Theo had the Triple Threat cocktail dress hidden in the coatroom,” Park offered calmly. “He forced her in, strangled her, and then dressed her. And all so that he could draw us into this and try to ruin us. But why would he steal the Avenue diamond? He doesn't need the money.”

“Isn't it obvious?” Lex snapped. “To throw off the police. To confuse everybody. He probably never imagined that Zahara's assistant was going to spill the beans about the gossip column, or that she even knew about it. Taking the diamond makes it look like a total robbery.”

Madison shook her head. “This doesn't prove anything,” she stated firmly. “The pictures, the charm—it's all circumstantial evidence. Theo's not a killer. I know he didn't want our relationship being broadcast, but he would not have killed for it.”

“But he
did
kill for it!” Lex shouted. “We've solved the damn crime!”

“Stop it!” Madison yelled back. “That's not true. We didn't solve anything.”

“Let me ask you something,” Park said, turning to
face Madison. “Think back on your little rendezvous with Theo in Lex's bedroom. At any time, did you leave Theo alone?”

Madison opened her mouth to speak, intending to blurt out an instant and forceful
no.
But as the question seeped into her brain, she froze. Her breath caught in her throat. She stared guiltily at Lex.

“Well?” Park prodded. “What's the answer?”

“Yes.” Madison closed her eyes. “Afterward, I went into the kitchen to get us both something to drink. It didn't even take me three minutes.”

“Twenty seconds is all you need to grab the dress off the carousel and stuff it in your backpack,” Lex told her. “Did he have his backpack with him?”

“Yes.”

“And did it look bunchy and full?”

“I don't know.” Madison sat down again on the edge of the bed. “I didn't actually see Theo leave. I was standing in the kitchen when he called out to me from the foyer. He said he had to get going. By the time I got there, he was on the other side of the door, and I only saw him from the neck up.”

“Ha!”
Lex snapped. “
Hellloo?
I spy a killer. Somebody get me an electric chair.”

Madison dropped her head into her hands.

“I think we should all get dressed and go to the police station,” Park said evenly. “We have to turn this evidence in to Detective Mullen.”

“Wait!” Madison cried suddenly. She reached out
and gripped Park's arm. “I know Theo didn't do this. I know it's all just a misunderstanding. What about the other people Zahara Bell was planning to trash in that column? You can't just forget that Jeremy was at the gala too. That his scarf was around Zahara's neck. That he was in the antechamber when Chicky Marsala was killed. He's just as allegedly guilty as Theo.”

“On the face of it, he is,” Park said gently, slowly. “Everybody is, including us. But when did Jeremy ever get into Lex's room? When would he have had the chance to steal the dress from her closet?”

“He had a key, he could've come in here anytime!” Madison shot back.

With a sigh, Park looked down at the camera in her hands. She pressed the little button, and another picture flashed into clear focus. It was of Jeremy Bleu, his black scarf—the first murder weapon—hanging loosely around his neck. Park clicked again. The next pic popped up. Behind her, Lex gasped in horror. It was a clear shot of Zahara Bell in death, lying on the coatroom floor, the black scarf wound around her neck. Next shot: a close-up of the scarf and the bluetinged pallor of Zahara Bell's skin.

“Oh, my God,” Lex whispered. “
This
is why the paparazzo went crazy when we got hold of the camera. He walked into that coatroom and took these disgusting pictures of Zahara Bell. He knew she was dead long before he snapped the pic of you and Jeremy.”

Park nodded. “Chicky Marsala saw something. He saw
someone.
But he decided to take these pics so he could sell them for a lot of money instead of opening his mouth and saying something. What does he gain from reporting what he saw to the cops? Nothing. No money.” She held the camera up, staring intently at Madison. “It's obvious what these pics are.”

“A chronology of the murder,” Madison stated flatly, her tone grim. “And so you think it all points a finger at Theo. That's what you're saying.” She gulped over the lump in her throat. “You're saying I'm in love with a killer, right? Well—I won't believe that!”

Park stood up. “Look, Madison, facts are facts, and right now the facts paint a very suspicious picture of Theo—and Jeremy. Maybe one of them did snap. Maybe one of them knew Zahara was planning to publish that column and thought killing her was the best way to stop it from being published. I don't know the answer. But I
do
know that
we're
going to suffer from this, and so is the company. Whoever killed Zahara Bell wants to take us down with him, and it's poor Lex who's gonna get the brunt of it.”

The anger left Lex's face. A moment later it was replaced with genuine hurt. “I worked
so
hard to design those clothes,” she said. “And now it's going to be the laughingstock of the whole industry. Of all the dresses in the world, why did Theo—or the killer— have to pick one of
mine
?”

“It was a smart plan,” Park admitted quietly. “We are, after all, archenemies of the West family. What better way to ruin us than to tie us to two murders? Theo totally knew what he was doing.”

Madison listened. She knew what Park had just implied—that the rendezvous she and Theo had shared three weeks ago had been nothing more than a calculated piece of his plot. By gaining access to her heart, he had inevitably gained entrance to the penthouse. Thinking about it in those terms was painful. Considering it as the truth made her want to crawl under the bed and die. But what if it was true? Maybe she didn't know Theo totally and completely.

Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the ringing of cell phones—all three of their cell phones, in unison, announcing the simultaneous arrival of text messages. They stared at each other. They reached for their phones. The message typed out on all three screens couldn't have been more direct:

GO TO THE POLICE AND YOU DIE IN FLEECE

“Fleece!” Lex shrieked, slamming the phone closed. “This killer is a sick puppy! Who dresses in fleece, for God's sake?
Fleece?
Ugh.”

“Relax,” Park said. “None of us is going to die in fleece. I think the killer is just trying to be catchy or something.”

Madison locked eyes with Park. She waved her cell phone in the air, indicating the text message. “Jeremy or Theo? One of them is playing games.”

Park nodded. “I don't know. But we have to find out.”

Madison stood up. She went over to the window and drew back the drapes. She stared down at the empty stretch of Fifth Avenue, at the mob of reporters clogging the front of the building. Her family's name. Her father's respect. Both would crash and burn if she didn't take hold of the reins and tackle the situation. There was too much at stake. There was too much to fear. She couldn't let emotion guide her.

You know what you have to do. You were raised to handle scandals like this. When the publicity is bad, turn it around and use it to your advantage.

Inwardly, Madison nodded. Yes, she knew what she had to do. What they
all
had to do. It was basic math, a simple equation in the complicated scheme of their lives. She turned around and stared at her sisters. “You're right—we have to move on this. We'll make a statement to the media declaring our innocence.” Her eyes suddenly hardened into a nononsense gleam. “But let's do it in style. Lex, go to your closet and select Triple Threat outfits for me and Park to wear. And put one on yourself. We're going to hit the Avenue and show the world that we aren't guilty of anything—and that we have nothing to be ashamed about.”

Park folded her arms across her chest. “So we're not going to bring the camera to the cops?”

“Not yet,” Madison answered. “Don't you see? This has turned into a game. Our little killer is desperate. He doesn't know what to do next. He got rid of Zahara Bell, and that didn't work. He got rid of Chicky Marsala, but
we
have what Chicky wanted. If we turn the camera in, we can't shake him down—and I
want
to shake him down. But I still think there's something else— something we have or know that the killer wants.”

“Like what? He's bound to make another big mistake soon,” Park said. “The killer has the Avenue diamond, and the diamond's curse is starting to take hold. We
have
to get that diamond back.”

“Yes, we do.” Madison bit down on her lip. “That would brighten our reputations again. That would put us back on the right track. We need to control the publicity now so that it'll work in our favor. And if we turn that camera in to the cops, it'll look worse for us.”

Park was half smiling, half shrugging. “So you want to hit the Avenue in Triple Threat clothing. The same clothing that Zahara Bell was found dead in. The same clothing that's being splashed all over the newspapers. Are you thinking what I
think
you're thinking?”

Madison nodded firmly. “Yes. We're going to announce the start of a new company today, a new division of Hamilton Holdings, Inc. We're going to launch the Lex Hamilton/Triple Threat fashion line
for the world to see. And we're going to do it
now
— while we can take advantage of the publicity. Someone's trying to bring us down, and this is the best way to make sure we stay on top.”

“My own label!” Lex shouted, smiling from ear to ear. “You've finally come to your senses!”

“I guess I have,” Madison whispered. She turned and stared out the window again. A huge plan was unfolding in her head. She saw a well-lit runway, beautiful clothes, hundreds of glowing headlines eclipsing the negative ones of today.
Triple Threat Fashion—A Global Enterprise.
What better way to turn bad press into profit? Trevor Hamilton had taught them well; he wouldn't expect anything less than a smart, bold plan right now—a plan that would ultimately bear his very name.

Madison felt a sudden surge of energy shoot through her blood. If she, Park, and Lex played the game correctly—if they navigated the media storm exactly as they had been raised to—the Hamilton name would be more powerful than ever in just a few days.

Together, they were a force not even a killer could stop.