High-Heeler Wonder (Killer Style 1)

Chapter Twelve

“I tell women not to believe everything they read about fashion.”

—Geoffrey Beene

Using his sunglasses as a shield, Tony peered at Carlos Castillo’s clothes while they waited for Ivy Rhodes to answer her door. Maltese Security’s IT guru looked like he bought all his clothes at a ComicCon booth—black Chuck Taylor high-tops, dark-wash jeans, and a black Firefly T-shirt. A leather strap angled across his chest, leading down to a brown messenger bag with a blue telephone booth airbrushed on the flap.

“’Los, we work with the fashion industry, we’ve got to get you some decent clothes.”

“No way, man. You see a tech guy in a nice suit, run the other way, because he doesn’t know jack shit about what he’s doing.”

Okay. He might have a point.

The door opened the two inches Ivy’s chain lock allowed.

“You don’t look like any of the Jehovah’s Witness or Mormon missionaries who always seem to turn up at”—she glanced at her watch—“eight o’clock on the dot. Man, the missionaries do love to get rolling early.”

Carlos smiled at his shoes. “Ivy Rhodes?”

The IT guy’s light Spanish accent softened her name and she reacted the way most girls did when Carlos hit them with the rolled Rs—she relaxed and smiled coyly. Tony had seen it a million times. ’Los never noticed.

“Uh-huh?” Her eyelashes fluttered.

“Carlos Castillo with Maltese Security.” ’Los held up a black business card. “Can we come in?”

The fluttering stopped abruptly. “We?”

Tony stepped into her two-inch-wide field of vision. “Hi, Ivy. We need to talk about Sylvie.”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “Is she hurt?”

“No. We just need to ask you some questions.”

“Give me a sec.” She shut the door and slid the brass chain out of the lock, then swung the door open, half hiding behind it. “Come on in.”

Tony and Carlos strolled in. Ivy towered at least four inches taller than Carlos. In bare feet. Stopping in the middle of her OCD-neat apartment, Tony gave the studio a once-over while Carlos eyeballed her computer setup. Getting access to Ivy’s laptop and computer files was ’Los’s area of expertise, which was why he was taking the lead on this interview. For once, Tony got to be good cop.

Carlos wandered over to her writing desk. “We know you told the world about Sylvie being the High-Heeled Wonder, but there’s more to it than just that. Isn’t there?” He stopped next to her closed laptop.

“What do you mean?”

He tilted his head speculatively. “It’s gotta be hard to watch someone else rise when you’re on your way down.”

Her lips thinned. “A great ass and a shitty personality. Are you sure we didn’t date at some point? Because you sure would fit in with most of my ex-boyfriends.” She eyed him warily. “Look, I want to help Sylvie but…” She reopened the front door. “I’ve already said everything I have to say.”

Carlos g

lanced down at the laptop and drummed his caramel-colored fingers against a purple elf sticker on the lid.

It wasn’t the tack Tony would have taken, but he couldn’t deny ’Los was getting a reaction.

Ivy shut the front door with a firm thunk that rattled the chain lock. She shoved a hand into her pocket and withdrew her ninety-day chip, rubbing it between her fingers like a talisman. “I never broke into Sylvie’s and I didn’t take her laptop. Search the place, if you don’t believe me.”

Carlos shook his head. “We know why you took it, but it’s too late. We already know all the e-mails came from you.”

She nearly snapped the chip between her fingers. “What e-mails?”

Something in her agitated tone must have connected with Carlos because his expression softened. “The e-mails threatening Sylvie with bodily harm if she didn’t close down her blog. All of which came from your IP address.”