Chapter 7 Chapter Six

Kelly Harris has exploded in the fashion world like fireworks.She's in her mid-twenties, African-American, with a complexion of melting honey and a face that's a photographer's dream.With intelligent and gentle brown eyes, sexy full lips, lovely long legs, and a figure that evokes erotic reveries.Her dark hair was trimmed in a deliberately disheveled mess, with a few strands scattered across her forehead.Earlier this year, readers of Ellie and Miss magazines voted Kelly the most beautiful model in the world. After she finished dressing up, she looked around the top floor building, and as always, she felt a magical feeling in her heart.The apartment is magnificent.Located in the 4th arrondissement of Paris, Rue Saint-Louis is an island only for the upper class.The residence's double doors lead to an elegant hall with high ceilings and soft yellow wainscoting, and a living room with a mix of French and English Regency furniture.From the platform, you can cross the Seine River and overlook the Notre Dame Cathedral on the opposite bank.

Kelly is looking forward to the weekend.Mark will take her out and give her another overjoyed treat. I want you all dressed up and full of makeup, baby.You'll love where we go. Kelly smiled to himself.Her husband is the best man in the world.Kelly glanced at his watch and sighed.I'd better start now, she thought.There is still half an hour left for the show to open.After a few minutes, she left the apartment and walked down the hallway to the elevator.At the same moment the door of the adjoining apartment opened, and Mrs. Josette Lapointe came into the corridor.She was a little Ball-of-Fat woman who always had a kind word or two for Kelly.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Harris." Kelly smiled. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Lapointe." "You are so beautiful today, as always." "Thank you." Kelly pressed the elevator button. A dozen feet away, a stocky man in overalls was correcting a wall installation.He glanced at the two women, then turned his head away. "What about modeling?" asked Mrs. Lapointe. "Very good, thank you." "I must strive to see you at the fashion show as soon as possible." "Come anytime, and I'll be happy to make arrangements for you."

The elevator arrived, and Kelly and Mrs. LaPointe went in.The man in overalls took out a small walkie-talkie, said a few words to it hastily, and left quickly. The moment the elevator doors were about to close, Kelly heard the phone ring in her apartment.She hesitated.Time is running out, but it might be Mark calling. "You go first," she said to Mrs. Lapointe. Kelly stepped out of the elevator, searched for the key, found it, and ran into the house.She rushed to the ringing phone and grabbed the receiver: "Mark?" A strange voice said, "Nannette?" Kelly was disappointed: "I don't know anyone with that name."

"Excuse me. Wrong type." Wrong type.Kelly put the microphone back. At that moment, there was a loud noise, and the whole building shook accordingly.Moments later, there was loud talking and screaming.Terrified, she ran to the corridor to see what happened.The sound came from downstairs.Kelly ran down the stairs, and when she finally reached the lobby, she heard excited voices coming from the basement. Uneasy, she went down the stairs to the basement, and stopped in amazement. She saw the broken elevator and the horrible bloody corpse of Mrs. Lapointe inside. Kelly felt dizzy.poor woman.A minute ago she was alive and well, but now... and I might die in it with her.If it wasn't for that phone...

A group of people gathered around the elevator, and sirens sounded in the distance. I should stay here, Kelly thought guiltily, but I can't, I have to leave.Looking at the body, she whispered, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Lapointe." When Kelly arrives at the fashion salon and steps through the stage doors, Pierre, the neurotic fashion coordinator, is waiting for her. He lunged at her. "Kelly! Kelly! You're late! The show has started, and—" "I'm sorry, Pierre. There was—a serious accident." He looked at her in horror: "are you hurt?" "No." Kelly closed his eyes for a while.The thought of stepping off the stage immediately after what she had witnessed made her sick, but she had no choice.She is the star of the show.

"Quick!" said Pierre, "quick!" Kelly heads to her dressing room. This year's most authoritative fashion show is being held at No. 31 Cambon Road, the salon where Chanel was founded.The freelance photographer leaned against the edge of the front seat.There were no empty seats, and the back of the room was full of spectators, everyone was eager to catch a glimpse of the next season's popular styles for the first time.The room was decorated with flowers and streamers for the occasion, but no one noticed.The real draw is the long skywalk - a river of colour, beauty and fashion.There was music in the background, its slow, sensual rhythm accentuating the action on stage.

While cute models moved back and forth gracefully, a voice-over from a loudspeaker explained the fashions on stage. A dark-skinned Asian woman walked along the bridge: "...a satin cashmere top with stitching on the edges, paired with colorful trousers and a white shirt..." A slender woman with blond hair and blue eyes swayed across the overpass: "...wearing a black cashmere turtleneck and matching white cotton slacks..." A graceful redhead appeared: "...a black leather jacket, and a pair of black cocoon trousers, with a white sweater..." A French model: "...pink, three-button mohair top, pink cable-knit turtleneck jumper and black rolled trousers..."

A Swedish model: "...a navy satin cashmere top and trousers and a lilac satin shirt..." What follows is the moment everyone has been waiting for.The Swedish model stepped down and the runway was empty.The voice over the loudspeaker said, "It's swimming season now and we're proud to introduce our newest swimwear." The anticipation was building, and at the height of it, Kelly Harris showed up.She was wearing a white bikini, a bra that barely covered her firm, youthful breasts, and briefs that hugged her hips tightly.When she flaunts her way onto the catwalk, the effect is hypnotic.Then burst into applause.

Kelly smiled in thanks, circled the overpass, and disappeared. Backstage, two men were waiting for her. "Mrs. Harris, if I could take a minute of your time—" "I'm sorry," Kelly said apologetically, "I have to change immediately." She turned to leave. "Wait a minute! Mrs. Harris! We're the Marshals. I'm Inspector Durner, and this is Inspector Steinau. We've got to talk." Kelly stopped: "Police? What are you talking about?" "You're Mrs. Mark Harris, aren't you?" "Yes." She was suddenly filled with anxiety.

"Then I am sorry to inform you—your husband died last night." Kelly's lips were dry. "My husband—? How—?" "Obviously, he committed suicide." There was a roar in Kelly's ears.She could barely understand what the Inspector was saying: "...Eiffel Tower... midnight... note... very sorry... deep sympathy." None of these words are true.They are scattered sounds that don't make any sense. "Mrs--" I want you all dressed up and full of makeup, baby.You'll love where we go. "Must be—wrong," Kelly said. "Mark wouldn't—" "I'm sorry." The inspector watched Kelly closely. "Are you all right, ma'am?" "It's okay." But my life just ended. Pierre rushed to Kelly, holding a beautiful striped bikini: "Honey, you have to change quickly. There is no time to waste." He tucked the bikini into her arms, "Quick! Quick!" Kelly slowly let the bikini slide to the floor: "Pierre?" He looked at her in surprise: "what?" "you wear." A limousine drove Kelly back to the apartment.The manager of the salon offered to send someone to accompany her, but Kelly declined.She wants to be alone.Now, as she walked through the gate, Kelly saw the building manager, Philip Sandel, and a figure in overalls, surrounded by a group of residents. One resident said: "Poor Mrs. LaPointe. What a horrible accident." The man in overalls held up the two jagged severed ends of a thick cable: "It wasn't an accident, ma'am. Someone broke the safety brake of the elevator."