Chapter Eighteen Petra
Chapter Eighteen
PETRA
I emerge from the shower in one of the Kensington Club bedrooms. Leopold is on the bed, buttoning his shirt. The mirror with cocaine residue and a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill are still lying on the coffee table. He tucks the gun he always carries into his waistband.
‘Good coke, right?’ I nod toward the table.
‘Only the best for my clubs,’ he agrees.
‘Are you free this afternoon?’ I ask him. ‘It’s fun having you back in the city. You were away in LA so long.’
He blinks at me for a moment. ‘Didn’t Georgia tell you? The bridesmaid dress fitting got moved to today.’
‘She didn’t tell me.’ I rub at my hair with the towel, pushing up a wave of blonde spikes.
‘Probably slipped her mind,’ he says, nonchalantly.
I turn to hide my annoyance. Absolutely nothing slips Georgia Kensington’s brilliant mind unless she’s deliberately decided it will happen.
Beneath the halo of dark curls, she’s every bit as smart and slick as her professional appearance suggests.
Leopold always takes his youngest daughter’s side, so I’ve learned not to cause drama.
‘Why move the fitting?’ I ask.
‘Keep the media guessing, and tighter security. It will be easier to manage the narrative of Simone’s murder if Adrianna isn’t getting papped at New York dress stores. You’re seeing your magazine editor later, right?’
‘I am. But I still don’t get it, Leopold,’ I tell him. ‘You really want me to leak details of Simone’s death? You’ve spent the last day making sure the story doesn’t get out.’
I pick up a hairdryer and a brush. Start blasting my short hair into its regular punkish style.
He sits on the bed. Checks his phone. ‘The best press is proactive, not reactive,’ he says, looking tired.
‘I can’t hide it forever. And you don’t leave silences.
That causes speculation. Just drip a few details to your magazine editor today.
Not too much. Let them dig around and think they’re clever. It makes for bigger coverage.’
I walk across the room, sit astride him. Kiss his mouth. The cocaine high hasn’t dropped away yet, and I want him to stay.
‘You’re so smart,’ I say. I can feel his gun digging into my hip.
‘Nightclubs are ten percent furnishing and ninety percent PR,’ he says, with a small smile. ‘Smoke and mirrors.’ Leopold loves bragging about his business knowledge.
His cell rings and he stands, literally levering me off. I push the frown away as he takes the call.
‘Hello?’ He listens for a few minutes, his face growing increasingly dark. ‘OK.’
He hangs up and turns to me. ‘Goddamn NYPD have decided their lives aren’t glamorous enough.’
‘What do you mean?’
His mouth sets in a tight line. ‘Those clowns won’t admit they can’t find the killer, so they’re coming after Adrianna’s bridesmaids.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Something about access to a storage closet.’ He hesitates. There’s a pained expression on Leopold’s face.
‘What is it?’ I ask impatiently. I hate it when people make me guess their feelings.
‘Adrianna’s bridesmaids,’ he says slowly. ‘They can be trusted, right?’
Is he actually admitting he might have got something wrong? I tilt my head.
He twists at the edge of the linen sheet. ‘It’s just. People … girls … they get obsessed with Adrianna,’ he says. ‘You’ve seen it. It’s … crazy.’
Of all the people who will never understand devoted fandom, Leopold is top of the list.
I put my hands up to cup his face, long white fingers sliding around his smoothly shaved jaw. He lets me take the weight for a moment.
‘It’s just like you first said,’ I assure him. ‘NYPD are messing it up. Looking for clues in the wrong places.’
‘You’re right.’ He pulls back, nodding. ‘I picked the bridesmaids. Nothing gets past me.’
Leopold looks thoughtful. ‘It’ll take the cops a few hours to get warrants. If this wedding has any chance of going ahead, you and the other girls need to be out of the city by nightfall.’
‘OK,’ I say. ‘Then I guess I’d better go. If you want Simone’s death story leaked, I have a date with a magazine editor.’