Brian gave Emma a big smile.
“Me, too, although I’ll have to work around Ben and Alice’s schedule.” Liz slid off her stool in her excitement.
Emma felt her spirits lift. “There’s Nikki St. Clair, although Chuck didn’t seem to think much of that angle.”
“Nikki?” Brian’s head swiveled in Emma’s direction. “Who’s Nikki?”
“She’s the blonde who was with Guy that night at the restaurant. When I arrived at L’Etoile.” Emma shuddered. “She was draped all over him.” Her lips curled in disgust.
“Oh, no!” Arabella exclaimed, dropping the peignoir she was working on.
“What’s the matter?” Emma, Brian and Liz all rushed to her side.
“It’s nothing. I just pricked my finger.”
“Do you want me to get—”
“No.” Arabella shook her head. “I was just afraid I might get blood on the fabric.” She examined the stretch of lace carefully. “Fortunately, I don’t seem to have done any damage.”
Emma thought of the blood pooling under Guy’s head and felt her stomach turn over.
“I think we need to track down this Nikki.” Brian began putting his tools away. “Was she someone local?”
“Uh, not exactly. She must have come down with Guy from New York. You’d know her if you saw her. She’s a rather well-known lingerie model.” Emma thought Brian’s eyes lit up, and she had a pang of what felt an awful lot like jealousy.
“Do you think she’s still here in Paris?” Arabella snipped the end of her thread.
“It’s possible. I know Guy’s return flight was for tomorrow. If she came down with him, she probably planned to leave with him as well.”
“I wonder where she’s staying?” Brian said.
“Probably the Beau. That’s the Beauchamp Hotel and Spa,” Liz explained, obviously noticing the confused look on Emma’s face. “It’s brand-new. And very swanky. Just the type of place a model would want to stay.”
“I think it’s time someone had a chat with this Nikki St. Clair,” Emma said.
“I’ll go with you,” Brian said quickly.
“I’ll—” Liz began at almost the same time, but she bit off what she was about to say, and Emma noticed her exchange a knowing glance with Arabella.
“Why don’t you call the hotel and see if Miss St. Clair is registered, and I’ll go get cleaned up.” Brian brushed at his jeans.
“Sure.” Emma pulled her cell phone from her pocket.
“And tomorrow I’ll start chatting with some of the other shopkeepers.” Arabella piped up. “Maybe someone saw something last night.” She folded the garment she’d been working on and turned off the lamp. “I know Angel lives over her shop, although how she can stand it with the smell of all those hair chemicals, I don’t know, but perhaps she just happened to be looking out the window.”
“Or someone might have been working late taking inventory,” Brian added.
Emma felt a flicker of hope. Maybe they could find some other suspects for Chuck to chase, and maybe then he’d leave her alone.
THEY got a later start than anticipated. Brian’s father needed help creating a new window display. While Emma waited, she made herself her favorite dinner, one that she hadn’t had since departing for New York—grilled cheese and tomato soup. She’d called the Beauchamp Hotel earlier and discovered that a Nikki St. Clair was, indeed, registered there.
Since Brian was going to be late, she ran through her evening yoga series. A few downward facing dogs, cobras and forward folds took the kinks out of her muscles and back, and five minutes in child’s pose helped restore her equilibrium. She felt almost cheerful when Brian knocked on her door. He led the way down the stairs and out to the parking lot, where he gestured apologetically toward the red pickup truck waiting in one of the spots. “I hope you don’t mind riding in the truck. It’s perfectly clean,” he reassured her, glancing at her dress.
“You forget. I’m used to riding the subway. Having your own
“Me, too, although I’ll have to work around Ben and Alice’s schedule.” Liz slid off her stool in her excitement.
Emma felt her spirits lift. “There’s Nikki St. Clair, although Chuck didn’t seem to think much of that angle.”
“Nikki?” Brian’s head swiveled in Emma’s direction. “Who’s Nikki?”
“She’s the blonde who was with Guy that night at the restaurant. When I arrived at L’Etoile.” Emma shuddered. “She was draped all over him.” Her lips curled in disgust.
“Oh, no!” Arabella exclaimed, dropping the peignoir she was working on.
“What’s the matter?” Emma, Brian and Liz all rushed to her side.
“It’s nothing. I just pricked my finger.”
“Do you want me to get—”
“No.” Arabella shook her head. “I was just afraid I might get blood on the fabric.” She examined the stretch of lace carefully. “Fortunately, I don’t seem to have done any damage.”
Emma thought of the blood pooling under Guy’s head and felt her stomach turn over.
“I think we need to track down this Nikki.” Brian began putting his tools away. “Was she someone local?”
“Uh, not exactly. She must have come down with Guy from New York. You’d know her if you saw her. She’s a rather well-known lingerie model.” Emma thought Brian’s eyes lit up, and she had a pang of what felt an awful lot like jealousy.
“Do you think she’s still here in Paris?” Arabella snipped the end of her thread.
“It’s possible. I know Guy’s return flight was for tomorrow. If she came down with him, she probably planned to leave with him as well.”
“I wonder where she’s staying?” Brian said.
“Probably the Beau. That’s the Beauchamp Hotel and Spa,” Liz explained, obviously noticing the confused look on Emma’s face. “It’s brand-new. And very swanky. Just the type of place a model would want to stay.”
“I think it’s time someone had a chat with this Nikki St. Clair,” Emma said.
“I’ll go with you,” Brian said quickly.
“I’ll—” Liz began at almost the same time, but she bit off what she was about to say, and Emma noticed her exchange a knowing glance with Arabella.
“Why don’t you call the hotel and see if Miss St. Clair is registered, and I’ll go get cleaned up.” Brian brushed at his jeans.
“Sure.” Emma pulled her cell phone from her pocket.
“And tomorrow I’ll start chatting with some of the other shopkeepers.” Arabella piped up. “Maybe someone saw something last night.” She folded the garment she’d been working on and turned off the lamp. “I know Angel lives over her shop, although how she can stand it with the smell of all those hair chemicals, I don’t know, but perhaps she just happened to be looking out the window.”
“Or someone might have been working late taking inventory,” Brian added.
Emma felt a flicker of hope. Maybe they could find some other suspects for Chuck to chase, and maybe then he’d leave her alone.
THEY got a later start than anticipated. Brian’s father needed help creating a new window display. While Emma waited, she made herself her favorite dinner, one that she hadn’t had since departing for New York—grilled cheese and tomato soup. She’d called the Beauchamp Hotel earlier and discovered that a Nikki St. Clair was, indeed, registered there.
Since Brian was going to be late, she ran through her evening yoga series. A few downward facing dogs, cobras and forward folds took the kinks out of her muscles and back, and five minutes in child’s pose helped restore her equilibrium. She felt almost cheerful when Brian knocked on her door. He led the way down the stairs and out to the parking lot, where he gestured apologetically toward the red pickup truck waiting in one of the spots. “I hope you don’t mind riding in the truck. It’s perfectly clean,” he reassured her, glancing at her dress.
“You forget. I’m used to riding the subway. Having your own
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