In the Club (6 page)

“Good evening, ladies!” he purred, instantly rubbing up against Lex. “You’re looking smashing.” He grabbed her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it.

“Oh, Damien, you’re such a charmer!” Lex laughed and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“A snake charmer, maybe,” he replied with a grin.

“That’s a great suit,” Madison said. “Who are you wearing?”

“Zegna. His suits make me look innocent, don’t they?” He made an angelic face, rolling his eyes heavenward.

“It’s totally impossible for you to look innocent,” Lex said. “You’re too much of a devil.”

“Hey, Damien, you look pale.” Park stepped toward him and gave one end of his sleeve a tug. “Have you been partying too much already?”

He shrugged. “It’s possible, I suppose.” He wiped a trail of sweat from his forehead and coughed. “I’m extremely tired. Long day.”

Staring at him intently now, Lex noticed the unusual pallor of his skin and the bright blotches on his forehead. “Have you been sneaking drinks from the bar, Damien? You
know
high school students aren’t supposed to be drinking.”

“Ha! That’s a good one! I’m probably just tired because all the ladies keep begging me to dance.” He shot a glance at Madison. “How ’bout you, Mads? Take a spin with me on the floor?”

“I can’t,” she replied. “My boyfriend’s here.”

“And speak of the devil,” Damien said, gesturing his head over her shoulder.

Madison turned and saw Theo West climbing the stairs. The moment their eyes met, she smiled.

Theo was tall and handsome, an all-American playboy. The Hugo Boss suit Madison had picked out for him last week accentuated his long, firm physique. His hair was combed neatly and parted to one side. “Hey,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and planting a kiss on her lips. “I was looking for you downstairs. Why’d you disappear?”

Madison shook her head. “We had some…business to take care of up here.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, are you having a good time?”

“The best.” Theo nodded at Damien, then set his eyes on Park and Lex.

“Hi, Theo,” Park said cordially. “Glad you could make it.” She air-kissed his cheek.

Lex kept her expression stony but, remembering Park’s earlier admonishment, allowed the barest hint of a smile to shine through. “Hi,” she murmured, and then steered her gaze over Damien’s shoulder.

“You girls look beautiful,” Theo said.

Lex nodded. “We know.”

“I think what Lex
meant
to say was thank you,” Park said, an edge in her tone. She shot Lex her sternest stare.

“So come on then,” Damien shouted. “Let’s party!” Spinning around, throwing his arms out wide, he shook his chest like a female stripper and purposely shimmied toward Theo.

Theo’s eyes widened in stunned surprise.

“You ever dance with another man, Mr. West?” Damien whispered. “Could be brilliant between us.”

“Uh…no…I don’t think so,” Theo answered, his cheeks flushing a vibrant red.

Lex burst out laughing.

“Hey, look. Here come Concetta and Emmett,” Madison said excitedly. “Lex, the suit you did for him looks
amazing
!”

Emmett McQueen didn’t just walk toward them—he strutted as though he were commandeering a catwalk during Fashion Week. His hips swayed, one foot crossed directly over another, and his right hand sat firmly on his waist while his left swung in the air. He got to within two feet of Lex and came to a sudden stop. Then, keeping his eyes cast downward, he pivoted ninety degrees. He repeated the well-rehearsed move until he had modeled the suit front and back. His Prada man-purse hung from the fingers of his left hand.

Lex thrust the ugly florals at Madison and broke out in applause. “You’re
awesome
! Where are the damn photographers when you need them?”

“My whole body feels like gold,” Emmett said. “I swear, sister, you should be livin’ in Mee-lann and designing with the rest of those eye-talians.”

Madison sighed a bit too loudly. “Those
Italians,
Emmett, happen to be artists. And Lex is a New York girl.
Milan
is much too far away.”

Emmett sniffed, not bothering to hide his distaste for Madison. They had never liked each other. The highbrow, straitlaced Madison and the snippy, catty Emmett just didn’t get along. She thought he lacked discretion; he thought she lacked personality. It was a relationship best kept at bay.

Now Emmett dropped his eyes to the pseudobouquet nestled in the crook of her left arm and said, “Those look like plastic flowers. Were you runnin’ late, sweetheart? Couldn’t stop and get yourself some real ones?”

“They’re
not
plastic,” Madison shot back coldly. “They’re…they’re…” Her voice faded as she clamored for an excuse.

Park instantly came to her rescue. “They’re actually pieces of a new headdress we’re thinking of producing,” she said seriously. She plucked three of the green stems from the pseudobouquet and slipped them into Madison’s hair. She pretended to arrange them, but the end result was a wilted mess that made Madison look like a flower girl on crack.

“Yes, they are,” Lex chimed in, using her best bluffing voice. “It’s a new style just coming out of Paris. Very trendy. Oh—look at how they catch the highlights in your hair, Madison. Don’t you think so, Theo?”

“Uh…yeah. Totally.” Theo coughed. “Breathtaking.”

Madison had gone paler than a jar of Crème de la Mer. Tearing the stems from her hair, she scowled at her sisters and put a hand on Concetta’s arm. “Darling, you look fabulous. Is that Missoni?”

Concetta nodded and smiled. Then she tossed her head from side to side, showcasing her silky, straight locks. “I wear it well, don’t I?”

“Beautiful,” Park said.

“You should be on a catwalk too,” Lex commented.

Concetta giggled.

Julian Simmons suddenly burst into the group. “What’s up, bitches?”

“Can’t you address us more politely?” Madison snapped.

Julian laughed, then ground himself suggestively against Park. “As long as I get to dance with this here beauty, I’ll undress you any way you want.”

“I said
address,
not
undress.
” Madison turned away from him.

“Catch you later, baby,” Julian said, winking at Park as he walked away.

“Well,” Park said, sighing. “He really is a charmer.”

Concetta trained her eyes directly on Damien Kittle. The lusty stare was so apparent, so painstakingly obvious, that everyone else in the group went silent.

Damien, thankfully, didn’t make a snide remark.

Concetta inched her way closer to him. “So, um…how’s it going?”

“Fine, love. I’m preparing to dance up a storm.”

“So am I!” Concetta giggled again. She twirled a strand of hair in her finger and bounced up and down on her left leg. “Feel like…going out there with me?”

Damien shrugged. “Well, certainly. Let’s get to it.” He nodded at Madison, Park, Lex, Theo, and Emmett. “Cheerio!”

As he and Concetta headed for a spin, Madison turned to Park and Lex. “Well, we have to get to the main floor stage. It’s about time to make our opening speech.”

“I guess it is,” Park said. “Dad’s probably waiting for us.”

“Yeah. Let’s get this party started!” Lex bumped Emmett with her hip. “You owe me a dance, McQueen!”

“My body’s on fire for you, sweet pea.” Emmett winked, but the wink was aimed straight at Theo.

Back on the main level, the traffic had grown thicker. Cameras flashed like lightning. Champagne bottles were being popped open and more than half the St. Cecilia’s Prep student body had shown up. Cheers went up as Madison, Park, and Lex sifted through the crowds. Hand in hand, they walked to the large stage just beside the waterfall, where their father, Trevor Hamilton, was immersed in conversation with Donald and Ivanka.

Trevor was a tall, debonair, solidly built man. His gray hair was pushed back from his angular face. His blue eyes twinkled when he smiled. He had turned fifty in January, and his skin showed the subtle signs of aging—delicate lines on his forehead and around his mouth, a slight puffiness to his cheeks. He was a tireless entrepreneur, jetting from one continent to another on an almost weekly basis. It was no wonder he looked tired. And, unlike most famous men of his years, he refused to undergo plastic surgery of any kind.

When he saw Madison, Park, and Lex step onto the stage, he smiled and indicated the microphone that had been set up for them.

Madison walked into the spotlight smiling. “Welcome to Cleopatra!” she said, her voice booming across all four floors. “On behalf of Hamilton Holdings, Inc., and my sisters, Park and Lexington, I would like to welcome you to the hottest new club in the
world
!”

Raucous cheering shook the air. The ten photographers who had been permitted access to the event were snapping one pic after another.

Madison raised her hand in a perfect windshield wiper wave. Then she casually began unfolding a smooth sheet of paper—the speech she had prepared. But before she could launch into her intellectual spiel about the myths and legends of Egypt and the dangerous glamour of the great queen Cleopatra, she felt Lex bump her from the spotlight.

“Hey, everybody!” Lex said into the microphone. “Let’s party! Let’s get freakin’ wild!” She let out an ear-piercing scream that prompted the DJs to take it to the next level.

Music exploded over the speakers and the crowd surged onto the dance floors, a wave of gyrating bodies.

Lex threw her arms up, flung her head back and forth, and launched into a carefree dance.

“You stole my spotlight!” Madison screamed over the music. “I worked on this speech for days!
Days!
” She shook the sheet of paper at Lex, slapping her with it.

“Honey, we’ll all listen to your speech at home, okay? I promise.” Park’s voice, though barely audible, was reassuring. “Right now, though, why don’t you just hit the dance floor? Theo’s waiting for you.”

Madison bared her teeth at Lex before disappearing down the stairs.

Park shoved Lex out of the spotlight and into a darker corner of the stage. “So now what?”

“Whataya mean?” Lex asked, coming off her dance high.

“Neither one of us has a date,” Park said. “I guess that means we’re destined to be wallflowers tonight.”

“Never!” Lex screamed. “Not having dates is
way
better than having them! It means we can do whatever we want! Come on!” She clasped Park’s wrist and dragged her back onto the floor.

And so in the middle of the crowd, strobes spinning and music thumping, Lex and Park danced the night away. They managed to steal Madison from Theo’s grasp for a few minutes, long enough to form a triplet-power triangle in the shadow of the great waterfall. It went on for nearly two hours—nonstop dancing, one set after another, bodies packing every level of the club.

But it all came to a crashing halt shortly after midnight.

Madison, Park, and Lex were swaying to a beat when the overhead lights suddenly dimmed. People paused to glance up. Confusion registered everywhere. Then came the whine of the speakers—a loud screech that quickly burst into an eerie classical tune set to chanting.

Madison recognized it at once. “It’s a Mozart Requiem,” she said, instinctively reaching for Lex’s hand.

“What’s going on?” someone called out.

“Hey, look!” another voice shrieked.

The Requiem grew louder as one of the suspended cages glided down from the vaulted ceiling. It descended slowly, almost gracefully, stopping only three feet from the floor. A spotlight illuminated what lay inside the wrought iron bars.

It was Park who saw the trail of blood dripping from one end of the cage. It was Madison who screamed.

And it was Lex who instantly recognized the body of Damien Kittle.

5

Stiletto

E
ven as chaos erupted around her, Lex kept her cool and darted for the cage. She shoved through the crowd like a bulldozer and didn’t stop until her hands were firmly wrapped around the cold iron bars. Her heart was thudding in her chest. Her ears were ringing. And the spooky Requiem echoing throughout the club was sending shivers up her spine.

“Damien?” she called out. “Damien, is this one of your jokes? Damien? Answer me!” Her words were swallowed up by a chorus of other sounds—the music, several high-pitched screams and cries. Finally, in sheer desperation, she hoisted herself up, using the bars for leverage, and knocked open the cage’s door. The whole box swayed from side to side as she tried to maintain her balance. Then, holding her breath, she forced herself to stare down at the ugly picture sprawled out before her.

There was no doubt that Damien was dead. His body was motionless, lying facedown, his left arm flung over his opposite shoulder. And there was blood—lots of it: little splatters and specks and a solid, oily stream oozing from his head. A thin trail of crimson spilled over one side of the cage, tiny drops hitting the dance floor below.

The breath shot from her lungs.

“Lex!” Madison was staring up at her, a panicked look on her face. “Oh my God! What’s going on? Is he okay?”

Theo was beside Madison, his hands clasped protectively around her shoulders. “Lex, you should get down from there!”

“Is he okay?” Madison asked again.

“He’s dead,” Lex said flatly. The shock of her own words made her feel dizzy.

“Dead?”
Madison wailed. “Are you sure?”

Lex glanced down at her sister and Theo. “I’m sure. He’s totally dead.”

“No!” Madison cried. “That can’t be!”

“Jesus Christ,” Theo whispered.

Madison broke from his hold. “Maybe Damien’s just unconscious! Maybe he needs help—”

“Madison!” Lex snapped. “I’m looking at him right now, and he’s, like,
graveyard
dead.”

A flurry of whispers shot through the crowd. Several security guards rushed across the dance floor. The eerie music suddenly stopped.

“Theo,” Madison ordered, “go make sure the police and an ambulance are coming. Now!”

With a nod, Theo pushed past the crowd and disappeared through the entryway.

“Somebody up there, lower that cage to the ground!” Madison yelled. She was staring at the ceiling, talking to the invisible technicians. “Hello? Does anyone hear me?
Lower that cage!
” Her voice echoed like thunder, and a few seconds later, the cage creaked as it came to a complete rest on the floor.

A new round of screams pierced the air. Now everyone in the club had a bird’s-eye view of Damien Kittle’s corpse, and the harsh end it had met.

“Okay, everybody please stay calm.” Somehow, Park had made her way back to the stage. She was standing at its brightest end, a wireless microphone in her hand. “Let’s all take a deep breath and start moving toward the exits.” She motioned left and right, her arms outstretched and crisscrossing. She looked like a stewardess performing an evacuation demonstration. “There,” she said, pointing to the left. “An emergency-exit light is blinking above the side doors. Please exit the club promptly, thank you.” Despite the even tone of her voice, the instructions went unheeded.

People were scrambling around the cage, eager to get a look at the carnage. Cell phone cameras flashed. In a matter of moments, there were at least two dozen St. Cecilia’s Prep students standing there, gasping, shaking their heads, crying openly.

Lex was trembling. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the sight of Damien’s unmoving body. Everything around her disappeared—the music, the crowd, the club itself. She was rooted to the spot, and yet a part of her wanted to bolt from the building and pretend this was all a nightmare.

“He was bludgeoned.”

Lex nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned and saw Madison standing beside her. “What?”

Another wave of protests erupted from the crowds as security guards began pulling people outside.

“The wound on his head,” Madison said quietly, “that’s where all that blood’s coming from. Someone popped him right behind the temple.”

“It’s so…
gross.
” Lex cupped a hand over her mouth.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please prepare to exit the building immediately.” Park’s voice again, echoing through the speakers. “The highly attractive security guards are now directing you toward the exits. There’s really nothing to see here. It’s better if everyone just meets outside. Thank you!”

Madison waved her hands in the air to get Park’s attention, motioning her over to the middle of the floor. That was when she locked eyes with several of her classmates. The faces staring back at her were all pale, sweaty, and scared.

“The cops will be here soon,” Lex said. “I guess…we should…” She looked at Madison, waiting for instruction.

But the panic was evident on Madison’s face. “I don’t know what to do! We all
know
what’ll happen once the cops get here. I mean, for God’s sake, all they need is our name and a body and
poof
—instant slander.”

Park had made it through the crowd. She climbed into the cage quickly. She threw a glance at the body, gulped, and then trained her eyes on Madison and Lex. “Okay, first things first. Where’s Dad?”

“I saw him leave over an hour ago,” Madison said. “He has a meeting in Miami in the morning.”

“Shit. I forgot.” Park ran a hand through her hair. Short, steady movements. Matter-of-fact tone. Not a trace of fear on her face. “So,” she said, “what’ve we got?”

“He was bludgeoned.” Madison’s voice broke. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“And just to think how much fun we were all having,” Lex whispered. Her own eyes had gone glassy.

“I know,” Park said. She put her hands on both of their shoulders. “This is shocking and insane and totally twisted, but now’s not the time to fall apart. We’re standing here doing nothing, but we have to do
something.
”

“I don’t want to go anywhere near poor Damien’s body,” Madison cried. “I don’t think I have the courage.”

Park tightened her grip on their shoulders. “Of course you do. We all do. When you get right down to it, this club belongs to us, and that’s the first thing everyone will be blabbing about. Now come on—let’s get ready. We have to inspect the body.”

Lex nodded.

After a beat, so did Madison.

Park led the pre-investigatory procedures. She opened her purse, pulled out her compact, and flipped it open. She immediately applied a fresh sheen of blush to her cheeks.

Madison, her hands still trembling, winced at her own reflection. She was pale, and the corners of her mouth looked dry. She ran a light pink gloss over her lips, then smoothed out the edges with a wad of tissue.

It took Lex a little longer to sift through her magic purse. When she finally found her compact, she reached for her eyeliner and quickly worked some color around her eyes.

“Okay,” Madison said. “I think I feel a little better.”

“That’s because you look beautiful.” Lex pointed to Madison’s lips. “I love that shade. It totally highlights your cheekbones.”

“It’s a new variation on pink berry.” Madison sniffed, holding back her tears. “I have an extra one. I’ll give it to you when we get home.”

Park took slow, careful steps across the huge cage. It was at least twenty feet long. She circled Damien’s body, stopping only a few inches from his twisted arm. She leaned over and, holding tight to her purse, swept her eyes over the trail of blood.

“Wait,” Madison said. “You’re never supposed to disturb a crime scene.”

Lex nodded. “I know, I know. The smallest movement can contaminate forensic evidence. I’ve been reading all about it.”

“We’re not disturbing the crime scene,” Park said nonchalantly. “We’re…checking to make sure that Damien isn’t actually still breathing. I mean, what if he needs CPR or something?”

“Okay, that works.” Madison drew closer to the body.

Park squatted down and gently pressed her right hand to the side of Damien’s neck. “Well, he definitely doesn’t need CPR.” She shook her head sadly. “He’s dead. And this wound on his head…”

“What about it?” Madison asked.

“It looks…
ugh.
It’s all matted with blood and…other stuff.”

“What other stuff?” Lex walked around to Park’s side. She squatted down and leaned in even closer. “Look at the strands of hair around the wound. There’s, like, a weird glitter to them.”

“Did Damien use any special kind of hair gel?” Park asked them both.

It was Madison who answered. “How would we know? But I would guess that he didn’t. I’ve never seen a glittery shine to his hair before.”

“Neither have I.” Lex stood up. “But I don’t get it. What was he killed with? Where’s the weapon?”

“Good question.” Park shifted her weight onto her knees as she continued her close inspection of the body. Unable to find a comfortable position, she swung her purse off her shoulder and handed it to Madison. Then she ran her hands through her hair and knotted it into a bun at the back of her neck.

“You
don’t
want to be photographed like that,” Madison warned.

“I know. But it’ll only be a minute. I think…” She rested both her hands on one side of the body and gave it a little shove. “I think he’s lying on something. His back is arched, like there’s something pressing into his stomach.” She glanced up, a determined look in her eyes. “I’m gonna roll him over.”

“Be careful!” Madison whispered fiercely.

Using all her weight, Park managed to lift Damien’s body a few inches off the floor of the cage—just enough to catch a glimpse of what he was lying on top of. She couldn’t help but gasp. “Oh, my God.”

Madison took a step back. “What is it?”

“Lex, honey,” Park said quietly. “I don’t think you should look. It’s…”

“It’s what?” Lex asked.

“It’s something really,
really
gross.” Park closed her eyes and shook her head in a gesture of complete horror. She gave the body a final, hard push, grunting as it rolled over.

Damien’s back hit the bars of the cage. The side of his face came into view.

And so did the object he had been lying on top of.

It was a large, garish hot pink stiletto; its straps looked like they were made of vinyl, and the blue rhinestones studding both sides were unmistakably plastic. By all accounts, the ugliest piece of footwear on the planet had just been discovered.

The moment Lex saw the stiletto, her eyes began rolling into the back of her head. She dropped her magic purse and grabbed on to the sides of the cage for support.

“Catch her!” Park shouted.

Madison’s arms bolted out and encircled Lex.

“I’m feeling…faint,” Lex whispered. “Please tell me I’m hallucinating.”

But she wasn’t. Her disdain was echoed by the crowd of onlookers.

Madison pulled Lex into a tight embrace, cradling Lex’s head against her shoulder. “Don’t look,” she whispered into her ear. “It’s not something anyone should see.”

“The final insult,” Park said angrily. “That’s the murder weapon. There’s blood on the stem of the heel.”

Madison gasped. “Is it…?”

Park looked up and closed her eyes as she nodded. “It’s a steel-tip stiletto,” she said quietly.

Her face still buried in Madison’s shoulder, Lex let out a horrified wail.

“Come on now,” Madison said. “Be strong. Think of what poor Damien had to endure.”

Lex lifted her head. “
That’s
the most awful part of all,” she sobbed. “To think that Damien’s last moments were spent struggling against…against…” She mustered her strength and stared down at the stiletto. “Against
that
! I can’t accept it!”

Park was still kneeling beside the body. She leaned over it again, trying to inspect the wound. “Lex,” she said. “I think you should see this.”

“I mean, who on earth would be that sick?” Lex ranted. “What kind of a killer would use such an appalling weapon?”

“Lex?” Park tugged on the hem of her sister’s dress.

“And where would you even get something so ugly?” Lex continued. “What reputable retailer would sell something like that? I—”

“Lex!”
Park’s voice was sharp.

“What?” Lex drew a tissue from her purse and dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

“I know you don’t want to do this, but you have to. I need your expertise.” Park waved her down to the floor. “Look at the wound on Damien’s head, then look at the stiletto.”

“Why?”

“You’re the one who knows about shoes. Just do it!”

With a reluctant sigh, Lex squatted down again. “How much can I possibly take in one night?” she sighed. And then all thoughts dissolved as her eyes swept from the gaping, bloody wound to the steel tip of the stiletto. She studied the shoe intently, taking in every last detail, from its mammoth size to the high arch.

“Well?” Madison asked.

“It’s the murder weapon,” Lex said. Her voice was firm and confident, all traces of fear gone. “The wound is about three inches wide. It’s circular, just like the stiletto’s tip. The tip is only about a quarter of an inch wide, but that means the killer popped Damien in the head with it and dragged it, creating a gash. But…”

“But what?” Madison’s voice rose.

“The stiletto’s straps are vinyl and very weak,” Lex said. “Not at all the same tensile strength as leather or snakeskin. The killer obviously held the shoe from the front end and then struck, but there isn’t any damage to the front end at all. That’s pretty weird. I would’ve expected at least some minor stress in the vinyl.”

“And what exactly does that mean?” Madison asked, growing impatient.

“It means that I’m ninety-nine percent sure this was the murder weapon.” Lex pointed at it. “But I’m still a little confused. I know it has a steel tip and everything, but is that really enough to kill a person? Maybe at the right angle it could do a lot of damage, but actually cause
death
?”

“It’s called blunt impact trauma,” Park said. “We’ve been reading the same books, Lex. I’m sure you’ve got it right. I
knew
you’d pick it up faster than any autopsy person.”