In the Club Page 8

  “For God’s sake—something more royal!” Madison ranted.

  “That’s enough!” Connelly shouted, his voice echoing across the main floor and the empty upper levels. “I’m not gonna stand here and listen to your craziness! All of you, go on outside and let us do our jobs! You’re on the verge of interfering with justice. In case you didn’t notice, I have a killer to catch!”

  At that precise moment, a ruckus erupted from the long, dimly lit hallway beside the cascading waterfall—two arguing voices, two bodies seemingly locked in mortal combat. A male uniformed police officer was tugging a reluctant female onto the main floor; their arms were entwined as they stumbled into the light.

  “I found this little lady hiding in one of the bathrooms!” the officer said, shoving the girl forward.

  “Concetta!” Lex cried. “Oh my God! What happened to you?”

  Concetta Canoli looked totally wrecked. Her face was streaked with wet mascara. The left side of her Missoni gown was torn. Her hair was matted to her forehead in a ring of sweat. Instead of answering Lex’s question, she heaved a sigh and began sobbing. Her whole body trembled, and the gown lifted and fell with her heavy breaths.

  That was when Madison and Park noticed her feet—her right one was tucked into a hot pink stiletto, and her left one was bare.

  Detective Connelly’s jaw dropped.

  “Oh, heavens to Saks,” Madison whispered.

  Park simply stared, unable to believe what she was seeing.

  And Lex, seeing the second half of the hideous pair of shoes, let out an ear-shattering scream.

  “Your—your shoe,” Park stammered. “Concetta, did you…?”

  Concetta’s swollen eyes shifted to the cage. To Damien Kittle’s body. Her sobs grew louder and more strained. “I…I don’t know what happened,” she cried. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “What’s going on is pretty obvious,” Detective Connelly said, walking over to Concetta. He pointed at her bare foot. Then he pointed to the hot pink stiletto beside the body. “Do you remember taking off your shoe, young lady?”

  Slowly, she shook her head.

  “Do you remember maybe arguing with Damien Kittle? Getting mad at him?”

  “No.”

  “Do you remember whacking him in the head and killing him?” Connelly yelled, the question a clear accusation.

  “No! I didn’t do it!” Concetta cried. She looked pleadingly at Madison, Park, and Lex. “Tell him I’m innocent. Tell him! Please—tell him I didn’t kill Damien!”

  But as Detective Connelly snapped handcuffs on Concetta Canoli’s wrists and led her out of the club a few minutes later, Madison, Park, and Lex could only watch.

  6

  Where Smart Girls Keep Their Secrets

  They dove into the waiting limo. Heads bent. Backs hunched. Arms thrust out like swimmers racing across a pool. It was the only way to avoid a sudden media backlash.

  The short walk from the club’s front doors to the sidewalk had been totally hazardous. Police officers and extra security guards had managed to keep the screaming reporters at bay, but the barrage of camera flashes had persisted, cutting through the night with blinding force.

  Madison was the first to fly into the limo. Her butt hit one end of the cushioned leather seat, and she had to steady herself to keep from slamming against the side door. She dropped her purse and reached out her arms, yanking Park in beside her. Lex, agile and quick as a cat, didn’t need any help: she did a little tuck-and-roll move, using the magic purse as a pillow, slamming into the seat and simultaneously pulling the door closed.

  “Monsters!” Madison screeched, waving her fist at the tinted windows. Cameras couldn’t penetrate the dark glass, but the flashes continued.

  Park and Lex leaned their heads back and sighed.

  Their new chauffeur, Donnie Halstrom, was a twenty-seven-year-old medical school dropout from Virginia. Tall, beefy, and painfully introverted, he had paid his way through college as a racecar driver. Speed was in his blood. He’d been working for the Hamilton family for less than two months, but he already knew the routine.

  Everything was about making a fast getaway.

  Donnie didn’t wait for Madison, Park, or Lex to tell him to slam down on the accelerator. The moment the back door clicked shut, he took off.

  “The beginning of a nightmare,” Lex said quietly. She reached into her purse, found a lavender velvet eye pillow, and slapped it over her forehead.

  “I can’t take any more,” Madison cried. “My nerves are totally shot! We’ve probably aged five years in the last hour!” She turned toward the bar and mini-refrigerator beside her and frantically searched for the small bottle of champagne. She found it, and then began looking crazily for a carton of milk. Her special—and very strange—antistress concoction was completely in order right now.

  But Park leaned forward, snapped her fingers to get Madison’s attention, and said, “You won’t find milk in there. I got rid of it.”

  “You what?” Madison yelled.

  Park shook her head. “That disgusting little brew you mix isn’t healthy. It’s full of fat and empty calories. And I won’t have you burping up the limo all night.”

  “You had no right to do that!”

  “Listen to yourself, Madison,” Park told her calmly. “You’re hysterical. And what’s the point of that? Nothing good comes out of it. Just sit back, take a few deep breaths, and maintain.”

  Unwilling to give up, Madison stared at Lex—and at the bottomless magic purse.

  “No milk in there,” Lex murmured. “The last time you made me carry around a pint, it spoiled.”

  Madison dropped her face into her hands. “I just want to go home,” she sobbed. “I want to forget that this happened and wait until someone tells me Damien isn’t dead.”

  “You’ll need a Ouija board if you wanna talk to him,” Lex snapped. “He’s gone. And his murder is only the beginning of the story. Can you imagine what’s gonna happen at school when word gets out that Concetta Canoli killed him? St. Cecilia’s Prep will never live this down.”

  Madison stole a glance through her fingers. “You don’t really think Concetta killed him,” she said.

  “I don’t want to think that,” Lex replied, exasperated. “But what other choice is there? The evidence stared us right in the face. And who knew, by the way, that Concetta had such horrible taste?”

  “An open-and-shut case,” Park said. “And for the record, I’ve known about Concetta and her shoe thing for a long time, but a pair that ugly really is scary.”

  “But how did she do it?” Madison asked, finally sitting back and taking a deep breath.

  “Maybe she didn’t.” Park shrugged. “Like Detective Connelly said before Concetta was brought out of the bathroom—anyone there could’ve killed him. The club was filled with people.”

  “Will you please make up your mind?” Lex shook her head. “You just said it’s an open-and-shut case!”

  “It could be,” Park said. “I’m just posing theories. Concetta was supposedly dancing in the cage with Damien, and plenty of people probably saw them in there. But did anyone maybe see her exit the cage at some point? Think about it. The spinning strobes, the craziness of the dance floors—it was pretty wild. I mean, aside from Theo, who else did we see dancing close to us? The only person I remember is Julian Simmons.”

  “Theo!” Madison suddenly wailed. “Oh my God—I completely forgot about him.” She reached into her purse, pulled out her cell phone, and tapped out a text message.

  Lex crinkled her nose. “Theo probably ran back home to avoid negative publicity. That loser wouldn’t want anything to do with this.”

  “Shut up!” Madison waved the cell phone at her. “He was nothing but nice to you tonight.”

  “Both of you, be quiet.” Park clapped her hands. “Can either one of you answer my question? Who else did you notice dancing close to us on the main floor?”

  It was silent for a few
seconds. Then Lex said, “I saw Emmett with Rebecca Franklin. And Chloe Marx and Penelope Renton.”

  “And I saw Billy Wright,” Madison added.

  “So that leaves six St. Cecilia’s Prep students out of the equation,” Park said. “No one who was dancing with us on the main floor could’ve killed Damien.”

  “Yeah, but there were about fifty other kids from school at the opening tonight.” Lex threw up her hands. “And how would we know where any of them were when Damien got clocked in the head? I mean…the evidence against Concetta is circumstantial right now, but maybe it is as simple as it looks. Maybe she did kill him.”

  “A crime of passion,” Park whispered.

  “Or maybe even something more than that,” Madison offered. “I mean, Damien was our friend, and so is Concetta. But when you think about it, how much do we really know about either one of them? We all have secrets. I just can’t bring myself to believe that Concetta would be that stupid—stupid enough to kill him right then and there.”

  “When you think about it, though…it wasn’t a sudden violent act,” Park said. “It wasn’t a homicidal impulse. Planning went into this. Think about the Mozart Requiem—that didn’t come from one of the DJs. Which makes me think—the DJs must know something, or they must’ve seen someone suspicious. I so wish we could’ve stayed at the club and questioned them ourselves. The Requiem was all part of the production.”

  “That’s totally true,” Madison said. “I hadn’t even thought of that. Everyone knew Damien had a passion for classical music, especially Mozart. So it was premeditated.”

  Lex ran both her hands through her hair, then reached up and turned one of the air-conditioning vents toward her. “People do pretty sick things in the heat of passion,” she said. “Concetta had probably been burning up about this for months. Maybe she told Damien she had the hots for him and he kept turning her away. And Damien was always flirting with everyone. It probably drove Concetta nuts. What if she finally just snapped? She seemed happy to see him tonight, but what if that was all part of her plan? We were witnesses to that—how giddy she acted when we were all standing together. So then they go into the cage and start dancing, and at the right moment she takes off the stiletto and wham. Turns his head into meatloaf.”

  Madison placed both hands on her stomach. “Please, don’t mention food. Especially meatloaf.”

  “You pretty much constructed a good crime there, Lex.” Park gave a nod of approval. “It’s absolutely plausible. But if it was so planned out, why would Concetta leave the shoe in that cage for everyone to see?”

  “Because she panicked,” Lex said. “Because in that awful moment, she freaked out and went into shock herself. Or maybe she just got dizzy and ran. I don’t know, but she obviously doesn’t have a brilliant criminal mind. So what it really all boils down to is a botched crime of passion.”

  The possibility, while all too sad and shocking, couldn’t be discounted. Concetta Canoli was a well-liked member of the St. Cecilia’s Prep student body, but she’d had a very public crush on Damien Kittle. Everyone knew that much.

  Suddenly, Donnie Halstrom cleared his throat. “Uh, girls? I’m taking you home, right?”

  “No.” Park’s voice was firm. “Take us to school, Donnie.”

  Madison sat up straight. “What?”

  “Whatever you say,” Donnie said. The limo picked up speed as he steered it onto the FDR Drive.

  Park looked at Madison and Lex. “Personally, I think there’s more to this crime than meets the eye,” she told them. “I don’t know if I believe Concetta killed Damien just because he might’ve rejected her. For all we know, they could’ve been having a little relationship already. Concetta obviously has some secrets, and there’s only one place a smart girl keeps her secrets.”

  “Her locker,” Madison and Lex said in unison.

  “Exactly.” Park clutched her purse tightly to her stomach. “Donnie, step on it a little, will you? I want to get to school before the cops do.”

  The limo smoothly picked up speed.

  Lex sighed. “I hate breaking into school after hours.”

  Ten minutes later, the limo came to a stop on the west side of Fifth Avenue and Seventy-ninth Street. The Gothic façade of St. Cecilia’s Prep glowed like a jewel in the night. Madison, Park, and Lex reached into their purses and pulled out black silk scarves; reserved for emergency purposes, the scarves were long and wide and fringed, perfect for avoiding the press at a moment’s notice or, in this case, for breaking into a building. They tied the scarves around their heads and across their chins.

  Park leaned forward and stretched her arm over the limo’s partition. She tapped Donnie on the shoulder and said, “Wait here. If Dad calls, tell him we’re safe, and that we’re trying to comfort our friends.”

  Donnie nodded in his usual, quiet way.

  Park popped the door and stepped out onto the pavement. Traffic was blessedly light. She led the way across the street, past the front entrance of the school and along the side of the building. Trees shadowed them as they stared up at the zigzagging fire escape that spiraled up to the roof.

  “You’re both insane,” Madison said. “I can’t climb up there! I’ll get sick if I look down.”

  “Then don’t look down,” Lex replied sharply. “And stop being such a baby.”

  Madison pursed her lips and shivered.

  “Hurry,” Park said. “Give me a boost.”

  Lex cupped her hands together and gestured her head at Park’s feet.

  “Wait!” Madison cried. “What floor are we climbing to? How are we gonna get in?”

  Lex sighed. “The same way we’ve all snuck out—through the science lab window. It’s been broken for centuries, and it’s only two stories up. Now be quiet!”

  Park slipped out of her shoes and dropped one of them into the magic purse, holding the other under her arm. Then she stepped into Lex’s cupped hands as Madison supported her from behind.

  “Nice and easy,” Lex said.

  Park hoisted herself high, looking like a ballerina as her right leg stood rigid and her left leg kicked up behind her to balance herself. She stretched as much as she could. The ladder to the fire escape was still a few inches out of her grasp. Carefully, quickly, she grabbed the shoe from under her arm, held it up and out, and hooked the heel around the first rung of the ladder. She gave a hard tug; the ladder creaked once, then slipped down and locked into place.

  “That’s it!” Madison said happily. “See? You can totally do your own stunts when you start filming the movie!”

  Her weight unsteady in Lex’s hands, Park eased herself onto the ladder and climbed up to the first landing. The steel was cold beneath her bare feet. She waited until Madison and Lex were beside her before mounting the stairs to the second level.

  They took fast, quiet steps, ignoring the few cars that drove by the building. But when one of the cars slowed suspiciously, headlights gleaming, they each froze in place and struck statuelike poses.

  Lex put her left hand on her waist and lifted her right one into the air, looking like a mannequin.

  Park assumed the rigid posture of a soldier in salute.

  Madison, panicking for a split second, went down on one knee and folded her hands as if in prayer.

  The car kept moving.

  “That was close,” Madison said. “What if someone calls the police on us?”

  Park shrugged. “The three of us forgot our homework and didn’t want to wake the nuns by ringing the bell of the convent,” she said, again using her nonchalant, unaffected tone. “Who could blame us for wanting to be good students?”

  “Okay,” Madison whispered. “I guess that could work—if we’re unbelievably lucky.”

  At the landing to the second level, Park ignored the secured door and went instead to the window a few feet to the left. She placed her palms flat against the glass pane and pushed it up.

  One by one, they climbed over the sill and eased themselves into the sci
ence lab. Lex lowered the window back into place.

  The room was nearly pitch-black. A scant ray of light from the hallway cut into the darkness, outlining the long marble tables and microscopes, the cabinets that held various test tubes and chemicals used for chemistry lessons. The air-conditioning had been turned off. It smelled musty.

  Park moved to the door and opened it completely. She stepped into the threshold, poking her head out to scan the long second-floor hallway. It was empty. She waved Madison and Park forward, and together they began the long, dangerous trek down to the main level. Only two of the overhead chandeliers were on. Long shadows stretched along the walls and spilled into the other classrooms. They had to move silently: the convent of the Order of Our Lady of the Avenue was attached to the school, accessible through several adjoining corridors. One loud bang or misstep, and Mother Margaret would come flying out to greet them.

  “This is so creepy,” Lex whispered. “I feel like we’re totally being watched.”

  “Well, we’re not,” Park said. “So just lose the fear.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.” Madison reached out and slugged Park’s shoulder. “Do you have any idea how much trouble we’ll get into if we’re caught?”

  Park dismissed the suggestion with a wave of her hand.

  They made it to the end of the hallway. Next came the staircase; though it was carpeted, the wood beneath was old and creaky. Park pressed a finger to her lips, then gestured with her fingers, indicating that they take the steps in synchronization.

  Lex hooked her hands around Park’s waist, and Madison hooked her hands around Lex’s. They descended the staircase in a tightly linked chain, freezing whenever a creak pierced the silence. Lex, stuck in the middle, nearly lost her balance twice as the weight of the magic purse strained on her shoulder.

  All the lockers at St. Cecilia’s Prep were located on the first floor, in the west wing of the building. The wing also housed a small theater, two indoor tennis courts, and a master chess room. It took Madison, Park, and Lex nearly two minutes to make it across the east wing and into the lavish student court, where the lockers stood in neat, gleaming rows. Nearly six feet tall and made of solid cherry wood, each locker held enough space for two school uniforms, several pairs of shoes, a tennis racket, two coats or jackets, and one or two shoulder bags; a built-in jewelry case was attached to the back of each door, and the uppermost shelf was wide enough to store an array of cosmetic products.