Copycat Killer (Psychic For Hire 1)

ou’ll have to go old-school.”

“You betcha,” she says, winking. She disappears off to the undercover stores to get ready.

Forty minutes later she returns, dressed in a full-length scarlet ball gown that drapes lovingly to her curves. A mink is clasped around her elegant shoulders with a glinting diamond brooch. Faux mink no doubt, knowing Remi. The mink conceals the bullet-proof protection bracelets on her upper arms.

Most striking are the changes to her hair and face. Her normally bright red hair is now a gleaming deep brunette, styled in elegant waves around her face, which itself is markedly different. Her jawline looks more pointed, her forehead broader, her nose softer and given an up-tilted effect. All with the expert application of make up and shading and a hint of magic. Thick false lashes make her eyes look huge and almond-shaped, and they are now a striking crystal blue rather than her usual hazel-green.

The whole overall effect is that she looks very little like herself and very much like someone else.

She gives them a twirl. “What do you think?”

Monroe’s mouth has dropped open. He doesn’t seem capable of saying a word.

“Sexy,” says Leo in a perfectly professional tone.

She rolls her eyes. “Not that. Do I remind you of anyone?”

“You look remarkably like Lynesse Jones,” says Storm. “I assume that’s the effect you were going for?”

“Don’t men always want what they can’t have?” she retorts. “I’ll wager any woman who looks like Lynesse is likely to catch Caprio’s eye.”

“I’ve had my fill of wagers,” says Storm.

“You look great,” says Monroe.

Remi blushes ever so slightly. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she says, eyeing up the tux that Monroe has changed into.

“Enough flirting, kids,” says Leo. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Monroe is more than ready to do so. Storm can’t tell if the kid is more excited about a date with Remi, or being undercover, or the fact that he will be driving Remi to the embassy in a newly-minted blue Jaguar E-type Zero loaned from the Agency.

Leo and Storm follow the Jaguar in separate surveillance vans. On arrival, Remi and Monroe toss their keys to a parking valet and head inside, her arm tucked into his as she navigates the red-carpeted entryway stairs in her high heels.

Storm finds a spot to park his van near the front entrance. Leo drives his around to cover the back. Storm keeps his ear on the audio feed from Remi and Monroe’s wires. Shortly after entering, Monroe murmurs into his hidden mike, “We’ve got eyes on the prize.”

Storm grins. He knew Caprio had to be in there.

“Gonna walk right by him,” murmurs Remi. Then a minute later, “Done. The bee has noticed the honey.” She sounds amused.

“Hard not to notice when you gave him that look,” says Monroe, sounding a little sulky.

“That’s right, baby,” she purrs at him. “Act all jealous and I bet it’ll make him more determined to win me over.”

The couple spend all of ten minutes flirting and laughing over glasses of champagne at a prominent position at the bar before Caprio comes over to buy Remi a drink.

“But I’ve got one right here,” Remi says, giggling.

“Yeah, she’s already got one,” says Monroe, trying to sound threatening.

Storm wishes there was a hidden camera to keep an eye on the scene, but conducting video surveillance inside the embassy would have been a step too far. His imagination fills in the blanks. He imagines Remi is batting those ridiculously large false lashes at Caprio.

“A lady like you deserves a special drink,” Caprio says to her. “Not that swill.” He arrogantly orders the barman to make up a drink to his specifications.

“So tell me,” he says to Remi. “You must be a succubus, am I right?”

“Nuh-uh,” she says in a teasing voice. “Guess again.”

“It’s none of your damn business what she is!” snaps Monroe.