High-Heeler Wonder (Killer Style 1)

Anders sat behind his desk, framed by the French doors that led out to the landing overlooking the store. The cramped space lacked any other furniture, but the sun’s rays streamed in from a skylight, highlighting the purplish streaks in Anders’s hair. The dye job may have been his trademark, but it only exaggerated his gaunt, clammy skin. He turned his bloodshot, dilated eyes on them. “So, do you feel free now that you’re out of the closet, or are you regretting all your bitchery?”

Sylvie didn’t even twitch. “Does it matter?”

“God, yes. Inquiring minds and all.” He steepled his fingers, tapping the tips against his chin.

Taking advantage of Anders’s focus on Sylvie, Tony slipped the transmitter out of his pocket and palmed the device. The size of a postage stamp, the black plastic stick-on device could be hidden anywhere, but he needed it on the desk for the best reception. Anders’s desk was piled high with squares of fabric, colored pencils, sketch pads, a telephone, and a computer. He needed to stick the micro-transmitter to something that wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“I didn’t out myself. Someone did that for me.” Sylvie’s voice cracked on the last words.

“Now, doesn’t that just break my heart? As if. Count me in the camp that’s thrilled your secret is out.”

Tony flicked off the transmitter’s protective coating with his thumbnail and casually leaned against the corner of the desk. His hand landed just behind the computer monitor. Perfect.

He stuck the transmitter to the monitor’s underside. It wouldn’t go undetected forever, but should be good long enough for his purposes.

Mission complete, he turned to the next order of business and asked Anders in a deliberately accusatory voice, “How long have you known Sylvie was the High-Heeled Wonder?”

Rolling back his chair, Anders slid his dead-eyed gaze to Tony. “Eons now. Her little friend Ivy let that slip when she fell off the wagon. How is our girl doing, by the way?”

“Just fine,” Sylvie gritted out, not falling for the dig.

“I take it you two reconnected?” Anders’s expression was snide. “Amazing. The way she tells it, you abandoned her once your site made it to the big time. She’s quite bitter.”

“And you took advantage of that, didn’t you?” she muttered.

“I only take what’s offered.” Anders stood and leaned forward with his palms flat on the desk. “But I’m in a generous mood today, so this time let me offer you something—good advice. Shut that stupid blog down.”

Tony couldn’t have asked for a better opening to really set the designer off. “She can’t. Someone has hacked into it. You wouldn’t happen to know who’s behind that?” he asked belligerently.

“Me?” Anders stumbled back, blinking rapidly. His skin turned a mottled red. “Why, I can barely get my wireless printer to work.”

Guilt, or surprise? Unease tickled the back of Tony’s neck. “Where were you Monday morning around eleven?”

Anders pulled a white handkerchief from the pocket of his silver-striped pants. He took his time unfolding it and then blew his nose. After giving the results a look-see, he refolded the handkerchief and stuffed it back in his pocket. “Visiting suppliers, not that it’s any of your business.”

Just the kind of alibi that left a lot of wiggle room. “Can anyone confirm that?”

“I’m sure they could, but this interview is over.” Anders pushed a button on his phone. “Marvin, our guests are no longer welcome. Please show them out.”

Marvin appeared in the doorway almost before his boss had finished uttering the order. After another ten-second elevator ride, the bodyguard ushered them out with a curt warning not to return.

“That wasn’t exactly productive.” Sylvie fished a pair of sunglasses out of her bag as they hustled through the store.

“I wouldn’t say that.” As soon as they crossed the doorway and emerged on the sidewalk, Tony took out his cell phone, hit mute, and dialed the number associated with the SIM card implanted in the transmitter.

Anders voice came through loud and clear. “I said get her on the phone. Now!”

Tony hung up and texted the go signal to Cam so he could monitor the voice traffic from Maltese Security’s office com center.

“What was that all about?” Sylvie asked.

He could lie to her, but the deceptions had started to come too easy. His self-disgust grew with every heartbeat, weighing him down. “I planted a bug in his office.”

She blinked. “Isn’t that illegal?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” The question came out gruffer than Tony had intended and she jumped. He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Throngs of people swarmed around them, hurrying on their lunch breaks, but for Tony, Sylvie was the only other person in the w