The Infamous Frankie Lorde 1, page 16
“Told you,” I said, a tiny smile appearing on my lips.
“What was that?” he asked, disgusted.
“Basically, sour cream and fish eggs,” I answered.
“What the—” Ollie sputtered, taking a glass of water off a passing tray and gulping it down. “Why would they serve that?”
“Because each one of those cost about two hundred dollars a pop,” I said, keeping my voice down as we moved through the party.
“That’s insane,” he whispered.
“That’s the life of the rich and famous,” I replied.
“Country foie gras toasts with pickled grapes?” a different waiter offered, displaying his tray in front of Ollie and me.
“Do I want this?” Ollie asked me.
I slowly shook my head.
“No thanks,” Ollie said to the guy sullenly. When the waiter was gone, he asked, “What was it?”
“Fatty duck liver,” I said.
“Aren’t rich people supposed to eat better than the rest of us?” he asked, shaking his head.
“You’d think,” I said, continuing to mingle, all the while searching for Miles.
When we finally found him, he was already deep into the crowd. Nearly backed into a corner near the balcony that overlooked the pool and beyond, the blond-haired billionaire was animatedly talking to someone who was dressed up like a life-sized Oscar statue.
Discreetly positioning Ollie in front of me as a cover, I studied Miles as he interacted with people. Every few minutes or so someone new would approach him, cutting into whatever conversation he’d had going on. Like a well-oiled machine, he would politely excuse himself from whoever he was talking to in order to schmooze with the new potential donor for roughly two minutes before moving on to the next. There was no visible line of people waiting to talk to him, but after ten minutes or so, I knew that there would be no shortage of guests looking to take up his time.
That meant I was going to have to cut in if I wanted my two minutes with the real estate mogul.
And I needed every bit of those two minutes to do what I had to do.
A man had just wandered up to Miles and shook his hand before introducing him to his lady friend, who was lit up like a Christmas tree—literally.
“I’m going in,” I said to Ollie, never taking my eyes off Miles.
“Already?” he asked, his voice coming out in a squeak.
“You don’t have to do this,” I reminded him. I felt like I needed to give Ollie one last out. A chance to keep his side of the road clean. An opportunity not to turn out like me.
And for a second, I thought he might take it. Part of me hoped he would take it.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he stood up as straight as his outfit would allow and jutted his chin out with resolve.
“No, I’m ready,” he said, sounding more confident than I knew he felt.
“Really, Ollie,” I said quietly, catching his eye. “I can do the rest of it on my own.”
Ollie shook his head and forced a smile. “And let you have all the fun? Yeah, right.”
I smiled and took hold of his hand as I brushed past him. Then, with a reassuring squeeze, I left him standing there as I walked toward Miles.
“Mr. Miles,” I said, coming up behind him. The words came out low and confident. With the accent and a new raspiness I’d added to my voice, there was no way I’d be mistaken for a schoolgirl.
“Yes?” he responded before he’d even turned around to see who was talking to him.
As his eyes fell on me, though, I saw them widen in surprise before settling into his trademark laid-back, overly confident look. It was brief, but I’d been watching his face for any reaction and was happy my entrance had had its intended effect.
“I’m sorry, Gary,” he said to the man he’d been talking to, though his gaze never left my face. “It was really great to meet you, but duty calls.”
The man looked disappointed but nodded like he understood.
“Oh, of—of course. Y-yeah,” he stammered, glancing sideways at his date and looking embarrassed to be dismissed in front of her. “I’ll just, uh…find you later.”
“Sounds good,” Miles said, though I could tell he’d already forgotten about the guy.
And then we were alone.
Well, as alone as we could be with several of Miles’s bodyguards standing mere feet away and a few hundred guests milling around us.
“I’m Christian Miles,” he said, though it was clear he expected me to already know who he was. “And you are?”
He held out his hand, but I didn’t take it. I was in control of this situation.
“Let’s just say I’m a fan of your work,” I said, letting a tiny smile escape my lips.
“Really?” Miles said, his eyes twinkling with delight. “And what have I done to earn your admiration?”
I shoved my hands into the hidden pockets of my dress and shrugged coyly.
That was Ollie’s cue to get moving—me placing my hands in my pockets—and I knew he would be approaching us soon. And that meant things were about to happen real fast.
Inside my pockets, I wrapped my fingers around the duplicate cell phone while pressing Record on the device I was holding in my other hand.
“Oh, you know,” I said. “All the charity work you’re a part of.”
“Ahhh, yes, that,” he said, waving it off like it wasn’t a big deal.
“I think it’s so…heroic when people of your stature use their fortunes to help others,” I said, reaching out and picking a piece of lint off his jacket. “You should really consider starting your own foundation, you know? The Christian Miles Foundation, maybe? I could be your first supporter.”
Miles’s eyes followed my hand as I pulled away.
“I like that. The Christian Miles Foundation,” he mused out loud. “But I’ve learned over the years to leave certain things up to the experts. Besides, there are plenty of other things I’m good at.”
Barf.
Like swindling hardworking people out of their money, I wanted to say, but stayed focused.
“So I’ve heard,” I said, nodding.
“Mr. Miles! Mr. Miles!” I heard Ollie call out in his fake British accent. My back was to him, but I could imagine him waddling up to Miles, every bit the opposite of my polished elegance.
As Miles’s attention was pulled toward Ollie, I turned as well, trying my best to give off an air of disgust and annoyance at the person interrupting us. Miles saw my reaction and winked at me. Ew.
“I’m really sorry about this,” he muttered to me. “Everyone wants their five minutes, you know…I’ll get rid of him.”
“No,” I said, sounding reluctant. “If it helps the charity…”
“Mr. Miles!” Ollie said, sounding slightly out of breath from the whole production. “I just wanted to say what an honor it is to have been invited to such a smashing event. Really smashing.”
I forced my face to remain neutral, though I was tempted to laugh at how thick Ollie was laying it on.
And to his credit, he was actually doing a great job. I could see Miles’s face begin to redden with embarrassment.
“Well, thank you,” Miles said, clearing his throat and shooting a hurried glance over at his security team, who were standing by silently. “We’re very happy you could attend. But if you could please excuse me—”
At this, one of the beefy-looking guards started to move toward Ollie, and I fought the urge to shoot my friend a warning look. If they shuffled him out of there too quickly, I’d have to change the plan, and that would bring all sorts of unexpected variables to the situation.
As if reading my mind, Ollie quickly moved into the space that Miles and I had been sharing, nearly pushing me out of the way in the process.
“And the idea of a masquerade ball? Well, I just had a jolly good time coming up with my costume.” Ollie continued to jabber on as if I didn’t exist. “In fact, well, you’ve just got to see this!”
Before any of us could stop him, Ollie reached up to his neckline and pulled on a cord that had been hiding inside his jacket. Suddenly, a four-foot halo of feathers fanned out around his backside, looking exactly like a peacock’s tail. It was magnificent, and I knew it was a showstopping moment for Ollie. He’d been so proud when he’d told me about it, and part of me wanted nothing more than to halt everything and enjoy it with him. But then, as I’d been expecting, one side of his tail fell on top of me, knocking me forward and into Miles’s arms.
I grabbed on to Miles’s jacket clumsily as I fought to keep from completely face-planting on the ground.
“Oh, my!” Ollie exclaimed, watching as we stumbled over each other. Then, as if he were looking for help, he turned his whole body away, covering the two of us in tail feathers again and preventing anyone from seeing what we were about to do.
Seconds later, Miles’s security team had swooped in and were doing their best to get both of us back on our feet and Ollie as far away from us as possible.
“So sorry, old chap,” Ollie said to Miles, looking embarrassed as he backed away.
“You ripped my dress,” I said, horrified, looking down at my outfit.
“Truly sorry,” Ollie repeated. Then he began to move back toward us as if he intended to help fix the fake tear I’d just made up. “Here, let me just help…”
I stepped away and put my hands up in front of me to stop him.
“No, don’t,” I said forcefully. “You’ve done enough.”
“Don’t go—” Miles began, trying to come up with an excuse to make me stay.
But I was finished there.
“I’m sorry,” I said, placing my hand on his arm lightly to reassure him. “I’ll just go…fix myself up. The fundraiser needs you. I’ll be fine.”
And then I turned around and sped off toward the main house to find a bathroom as Miles stood there, openmouthed, watching me leave.
Once I was inside, I headed straight for the first bathroom I could find. As luck would have it, somebody was on their way out as I showed up, so I brushed past him and locked the door behind me.
Inside the guest bathroom were a chaise lounge in one corner and a lit-up vanity against one of the far walls. I skipped the toilet and sink and went right over to the vanity and sat down on the tufted chair in front of it. I studied myself in the mirror. A few feathers were out of place, but besides that, I didn’t look any the worse for wear.
I smiled as I thought back to the scene we’d made minutes before. I had to hand it to him, Ollie had really put on a show. In fact, the whole thing had been better than when we’d rehearsed.
Ollie had been a natural.
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Someone’s in here!” I called out, hoping the person would just go away.
But then the knock came again, and I sighed.
“I said—” I began before I was cut off.
“It’s me,” I heard Ollie whisper loudly through the door, still in his British accent.
Standing up from the seat, I rushed over to the door and opened it just wide enough for him to slip inside.
“How did I do?” he asked, looking concerned.
“Well, I think you officially pissed Miles off,” I said.
“Darn,” Ollie said with fake sincerity. “And I was hoping we’d be friends. Did you get it?”
A slow smile emerged on my face as I shoved my hands into the pocket of my dress and pulled out the cell phone I’d stolen from inside Miles’s jacket.
“But of course, dear chap,” I answered in my own fake British accent, and held it up for him to see.
Entry Thirty-Four
I turned the phone over in my hands and found the smarmy billionaire staring back at me, his smile glowing white and his face wrinkle-free. I cringed as I remembered him flirting with me and fought the urge to smash the jeweled smile off his face.
Instead, I ran my fingers across the precious diamonds that made up the picture and held the phone up to study it closer.
It looked exactly like the one I’d replaced it with. Only, this one was real, while the other was not.
“Yowza,” Ollie said as the diamonds shimmered in the bathroom light. “Definitely an upgrade from my phone.”
“Yeah, but yours doesn’t make me want to gag,” I said, turning it off so we couldn’t be tracked.
“So what next?” Ollie asked as I reached back into my pocket and started pulling things out and placing them in front of us.
A roll of tape.
A compact of loose face powder and a makeup brush.
A pair of latex gloves.
“I need Miles’s fingerprint to get into his treasure room,” I said.
“And we’re going to get that by…putting on makeup?” he asked, watching me curiously.
“Beauty is key,” I responded, snapping each of the gloves as I secured them on my hands.
I picked up the compact and dipped the makeup brush into it gently. I held the brush up for Ollie to see before blowing the excess powder into his face jokingly.
As he sputtered, I leaned back down and lightly ran the brush and powder over the screen of Miles’s iPhone until it was covered. With another gentle blow, the excess powder flew away, leaving a bunch of smudged prints.
All except for…bingo!
There was one perfect thumbprint.
Grabbing the tape dispenser and ripping a piece off, I carefully lowered it onto the now-visible print. With a slight tap of my finger, the sticky side of the tape did its work, and I stood back up with a perfect duplicate of Miles’s thumbprint.
“So cool,” Ollie said, squinting at the final product.
“Right?” I said. “Who knew makeup could be so useful?”
I took another piece of tape and enclosed the print so it wouldn’t smudge before I could use it. Then I placed it back in my pocket.
Finally I pulled off the gloves and picked up the compact, displaying both to Ollie like a magician showing off for his audience. Then, with more flourish than was needed, I dumped the rest of the powder inside one of the gloves and tied it off in a knot at the top.
“What’s that for?” Ollie asked, looking confused as I shoved the empty compact and brush back into my pocket along with the tape dispenser and the single empty glove.
I could’ve tossed it all in the trash, but you never leave behind evidence of any kind. Much safer to dispose of it all later, when it can’t be tied back to the crime.
“Most people think a print is all you need to pass a fingerprint ID, but they’re wrong,” I explained. “What people don’t realize is that the fingerprint-recognition technology wants more than that. It wants the finger, too.”
I held the latex glove up to show him that when it was filled with the powder, it resembled a real live hand.
“The scanner would know if we just put the piece of tape down with the print. It’s smart. It would know there was no finger backing it up,” I said. “But attach the fingerprint to this…”
I placed the piece of tape with Miles’s fingerprint on it on top of the thumb of the glove and held it up for Ollie to see.
“…and suddenly you’ve got what will pass as the hand that the fingerprint belongs to.”
Ollie gave me an impressed look and started to clap slowly.
“This is why you’re the master,” he joked, bowing to me grandly.
I curtsied in response before placing the powder-filled glove in my other pocket.
“Okay, wish me luck,” I said, giving him a smile as I reached for the bathroom door. “I’ve got a secret room to break into.”
Entry Thirty-Five
As I snuck off to break into Miles’s man cave, Ollie wandered back to the party. The next part of our plan had him keeping an eye on Miles to make sure he didn’t come back into the house while I was robbing him blind.
Smoothing down the feathers of my dress, I sauntered past the guests mingling in Miles’s living room and disappeared down the hallway I knew led to the office. As soon as I was out of sight, I pressed the button on my surveillance scrambler so my whereabouts from there on out couldn’t be traced. When the hallway veered off to the right, I followed it, knowing that Miles’s office was just ten feet beyond.
Unfortunately, so was another of Miles’s security team. He spotted me right away and unfolded his arms as I approached.
“Um, is someone supposed to be retching into the crystal vase out there?” I asked him wide-eyed, pointing behind me.
As soon as I said it, the guy took off past me to take care of the supposed incident.
And as I’d hoped, he’d left me alone outside Miles’s office.
Rushing over to the door, I paused, looking over my shoulder one last time before slipping inside.
As I pulled the door shut behind me, I was enveloped in darkness. I blinked in an attempt to help my eyes adjust but gave up after a few seconds and pulled out the tiny penlight I’d stashed away for just such an occasion.
The light was small enough that it wouldn’t alert anyone outside that I was in there, but it would at least get me across the room and over to Miles’s desk without running into anything.
I pulled out Miles’s leather chair and tried to sit down in the poufy dress, but after a few attempts, I just kicked the chair away behind me. I heard it hit the far wall with a tiny clang and grimaced at my bad judgment.
When nobody came rushing into the room to investigate the noise, I got to work pulling out everything I’d need to get into Miles’s treasure room.
I laid each item side by side like a doctor does her tools before surgery. There was something about the act of getting everything in order that was oddly calming.
The latex glove.
