The Crime At The Michaela Dupont Crown Event

"Brielle, Brielle! I have a couple questions for you!" "Brielle Everlee, over here please!" I muttered 'ugh' at the paparazzi people, and continued up the stairs that were heavily carpeted with red velvet lined with gold trimming. The flashing lights of the cameras made me dizzy. I sighed mentally and wished that I had brought my famous sunglasses 'Brielle Glare', so I wouldn't go blind. The paparazzi people wouldn't let up though, with the cameras. They wanted to take pictures of me, well, the dress I designed. It had a blue tulle skirt and a see-through lace top adorned with sequins and glitter. It wasn't my best work, but my sewing was quite beautiful, meticulous, was the right word. Each stitch perfectly sewn, each thread neat and straight. I felt the security guard gently grab my elbow as he pulled me away from the yearning crowd. All the people down there wanted to speak with me, get insiders on my new lines of the freshest fashions. None of them truly wanted it though. None of them truly cared about me. They just wanted to get information before anyone else, and take all the credit for it, name themselves the heros and heroines of the news. Sickening. It made me almost joyous to watch their faces fall as I went up the stairs. To hear them yell for me to come down and talk to them. I laughed slightly. The security guard turned to me. “Alright Miss. Everlee?” he asked. “I’m fine, thank you,” I answered back. He nodded, fished a key out of his pocket, and opened up a white gate that the velvet stairs led to. “Enjoy the Michaela Dupont Crown, ma’am,” He said. “I will,” I answered back, and stepped in the room. I caught my reflection in a mirror, I looked stunning. As always. As soon as I made a few more steps in, a woman came to join me. “Hello, Brielle, stunning dress, did you make this one?” I nodded and smiled at Dionne Fay, another fairly famous designer. I noticed that she was wearing one of my limited edition earrings. I touched them with my silk glove and smiled. “Thank you, they look quite exquisite on you,” Dionne beamed and put her hand to her heart. “Thank you, darling. I think with your kindness, creativity, and fashion pieces, you will win the crown. It would look best on you, you know,” she said. It was my turn to put my hand to my heart, “Thank you, madam, have a good evening, alright?” I asked. She nodded vigorously and stepped out of my way. “Good luck!” “To you as well,” I answered coolly. I walked away from her to get to the center room. The place where all the lovely people socialized and drank and ate top of the line foods. I smiled as I made my way through. The people waved to me, and I smiled back. I went to the drink dispenser and filled up a crystal glass with lemon water. I then retreated to a white velvet couch so I could sit and wait for the events of the night. I listened as the light piano music wafted through the air like an aroma. People watched me and whispered. I was the belle of the ball. People were intimidated by me. Interested by me. I had earned the same of the silent beauty, mainly because I kept to myself at events like this, sitting, observing. I was probably the most dangerous person at all the events I attended. Nobody knew who I was. They just saw me as Brielle Everlee, famous fashion designer, silent beauty. None of them truly knew me. I knew all of them. I knew that Henri Lambert was once a wanted man in Paris. I knew that Sophie Rio was once an addict. I knew that Nora Bowler had a gun under her dress. It was funny, really, that this young woman thought she was being sly. The outline of the gun was practically bulging out of the white skirt, and the main atrocity of it was the coloring! The camo color of the gun clashed with the skirt. Badly. I did my best to hold back my lemon water. I slowly got up from the couch and walked in front of Miss. Bowler. She eyed me, and that’s when I knew who she wanted to use the gun on. Me. Her nemesis. I laughed, and turned to walk to her. “Hello, Nora, lovely evening?” She nodded, and smiled, “Yes, it is, your dress is fine, where did you get it?” she asked me. “My dear, I made it,” She strained her smile, which amused me. “It’s quite lovely,” I turned the corners of my mouth up. “Good luck to you, Nora dear,” “You too,” Lies. Lies spilled out of her mouth like water did out of a flood gate. I walked past her, and in the process, whispered ‘I know’. I knew she heard it. She tensed up, shifted her weight, and moved the weapon from its place to her matching handbag. She did it easily, I respected her for that. But it was also silly that she didn’t put the thing in her handbag before, but not all people are bright. Some of their lightbulbs are a little too dim, and now I knew one person who was like that. I smiled lightly and made my way to the showing room where once lucky person would be chosen to earn the Michaela Dupont Crown. I didn’t know who was going to win this time, it was quite unclear, but I had a feeling that nobody would win. Maybe this would be the last of the Michaela Dupont fashion shows. I didn’t know though, so I couldn’t say. I stayed a distance away from a group of people to maintain my mysteriousness, and followed them into the showing room. People in atrocious suits ordered us by last name. I was number 21. We went into the backroom, and the crown caught my eye. It was freshly polished, each individual diamond and gem shining like a star. It would match perfectly with my outfit, and for the first time in a while, I wanted something. The people went by quickly, but I took little notice of them. My eyes were on the crown the whole time, taking note of the different colors. Blue streaks in orange gems, sparkles in the diamonds, the way the light reflected off the gold headpiece, not a blemish or fingerprint on the old metal. I took my attention off of it though, when the person next to me started to walk down the catwalk. I had been at this long enough to know what to do. I started down the aisle with a straight face, the audience cheered. I knew how to make the dress move in a way that made people love it, I knew how to set my shoulders to make me seem light and airy. I finished the walk and stepped down from the stairs and let people photograph me. I stopped mid session and walked away. I sat down on a velvety seat (it seemed everything here was made of such a material), when I noticed somebody looking at me. She had on a pretty outfit. She observed the room, glanced at the crown, then at me. She was standing next to the crown, and had a microphone infront of her, so she was obviously the announcer of who would win. She cleared her throat once the final of the people finished modeling, and smiled. "Hello, the judges have chosen the winner of the Michaela Dupont Crown," she carefully opened a white envelope. 'Nor-' I smiled as the bullet flew through the air, striking the woman in the chest. Nora Bowler should have kept the gun under her dress.