A Crime of Fashion (10 page)

“Good, Axelle! With this attitude you will soon hit the top!”

I said goodbye, then sat silently for a moment. I couldn't believe Claude had decided to book me – and I said so to Ellie.

“He must be desperate to know what you found in his phone,” she whispered.

“What?” Sebastian said. “You looked in his phone? No wonder he's after you. You didn't tell my father that part of the story, did you?”

“No, I forgot,” I answered.

“I bet.”

“Shhh,” I said, drawing their attention to the garden. Inspector Witt and Claude La Lune had just walked out onto the terrace, which we could just see from our hiding place.

“My father has known the La Lunes for a long time,” Sebastian said. “He used to be Chief of Police for this district. Over the years he's worked quite a bit with them. They have a well-known art collection, a few pieces of which have been stolen in the past, although they're hardly the only designers in Paris to have had that problem. But beyond that, the La Lunes – mostly Belle, actually – have had the occasional run-in with fashion-obsessed fans. She's even had a couple of serious stalkers.”

Ellie nodded. “I remember two years ago, the first time I did their show, Belle came with bodyguards.”

“Well, it's too bad she didn't have them with her on Saturday night,” Sebastian said.

Finally, Claude and Inspector Witt went back inside. Still keeping flush to the wall, we crept to the back corner of the house. From there we crawled onto the terrace and carefully manoeuvred ourselves between the various outdoor chairs and tables until we were close to the house. The moon was high overhead, and behind us the perfectly clipped lawn lay like a sea of silver in the evening light.

In front of us, soft lamplight shone through the glass doors, throwing squares of light across the flagstones of the terrace. The group was assembled in a large drawing room in the middle of the house. The room's high ceiling dwarfed them; like a forest of white and gold, the walls and columns sprang up at the sides to support a canopy of carved cherubs overhead. Large vases of lilies sat on gilded surfaces.

Inspector Witt, meanwhile, sat with his assistant in a small study just to the left of the drawing room and directly opposite the iron patio table I was hiding under. I panicked as I saw him suddenly get up from his chair and walk straight to the large window opposite me. Certain he'd see me, I began to back out from my hiding place, but, after opening the window, he put his pipe in his mouth and turned to lean with his back against the window sill.

“At times like this, Thomas,” he said to his assistant, “I miss smoking.” There was a pause before he said, “Thomas, would you please call the maid in?”

Like a snake, I pushed myself along on my stomach until I was behind one of the large potted shrubs just under the window, Ellie and Sebastian beside me. I didn't have a clear plan in mind – just to have a quick look around and hopefully stumble upon something interesting.

For now, I waited and listened, pushing my translation skills to the limit, as Inspector Witt's deep, melodious voice wafted out into the night…

Another
occurrence
was right! It seemed Darius La Lune, Belle's second oldest brother, had vanished too.

A meeting had been arranged for five o'clock between the family members, my aunt, and Philippe de Vandrille – the same group, minus Belle, that had met for dinner last Saturday night. Originally, the meeting had been scheduled to discuss the launch of the new La Lune “Juno” handbag – but, naturally, given Belle's disappearance, the question had become how to go forward without her.

Amazingly for a fashion meeting, everyone – with the exception of Darius – was on time and at the house by five. They started the meeting at approximately 5.10 p.m., without him. But Darius never showed up. By six, everyone was feeling nervous, the same unvoiced thought running through their minds: maybe he wasn't late – maybe he was gone. At that point Fiona had asked Philippe to call Inspector Witt.

According to the maid, everything in Darius's room was in order – nothing out of place, nothing suspicious. And he wasn't the type to seek attention with outlandish stunts. On the contrary, he always left a message if he went out, even if only for a walk through the garden. Serious and discreet, he'd been hard at work on a book about eighteenth-century fashion and style at Versailles. The maid had been the last to see him, in his bedroom, at approximately four o'clock.

“And did Darius say or do anything that struck you as unusual before he disappeared?” the inspector asked.

There was the slightest hesitation before the maid said, “No…no, not really…”

“Any little thing?” Sebastian's father pushed.

Again a short pause. “Well, Darius likes to write notes. He always has a notebook on him – a small La Lune leather one – and he also keeps blocks of different-sized Post-its on his desk and next to his bed…”

“And?”

“And on his desk upstairs is a note he must have written this afternoon – or in any case laid on his desk this afternoon – only…”

The inspector remained quiet while waiting for the maid to continue.

“Only this note wasn't written on a Post-it; it was written on the back of a used red envelope – and he's written his sister's name on it. It wasn't there when I tidied his room this morning – not that I make a point of looking at his notes, mind you…”

“Of course not,” the inspector murmured smoothly.

“I left it on his desk. It might be nothing at all…”

“Sometimes the tiniest things are of the greatest importance,” the inspector told her. “His bedroom is upstairs, is it not?”

“Yes, sir, directly above us.”

“Good. Well, I have just a few more questions to ask you – pure formality – and then I'd appreciate it if you'd show me the note upstairs.”

I didn't wait to hear the rest. If I moved quickly now, I had a chance of seeing that potential clue.

“We've got to get upstairs,” I whispered to Ellie.

She was looking upwards. “Some of the windows are open…maybe we could climb up. It would be easier than trying to go through the house right now.”

I followed her gaze. “You're probably right. And look at that,” I said, pointing to a wooden rose trellis. It covered the entire back facade (excepting doors and windows, obviously), and nearly reached the upstairs windows. “If it can hold our weight, we could make it into that window,” I said, pointing just above. The window was open a few centimetres and the room beyond was dark.

Sebastian crept out from behind a chair and carefully put his weight on the trellis. It held. Then he climbed a metre or so – it still held. “I think it's all right,” he whispered. “Let's try.”

Great. My charming sidekick was already trying to run the show.

Whatever. As long as he didn't touch anything until I got up there.

At the top it was tricky because he had to push the window open while keeping his balance. He had only the top of the trellis to stand on, a drainpipe to hold, and the window was at shoulder height. But, finally, he managed and the window swung open – hitting the wall as it did. I panicked for a moment, hoping the sound hadn't carried – but Rose, who was sitting close to the window in the drawing room, must have heard something, as she opened the patio door and stuck her head out. I held my breath and signalled to Sebastian to hold still while she looked to the left and right, and down the lawn.

“Don't be silly, Rose, it's only your imagination – as usual,” I heard Claude say from inside. Finally, with a last look straight past Ellie and me, she went back in and locked the door. Whew! Ellie and I breathed out and Sebastian pulled himself in through the window.

Ellie was next. She climbed up quickly – it took her less than a couple of minutes to get in. Then it was my turn. I went up easily and at the top clasped Sebastian's waiting hand. He pulled me in and smiled at me. “That was a good idea,” he said.

“Thanks, I have them all the time,” I mumbled into my scarf, keeping my head lowered as I pretended to readjust it.
He's just being nice, Axelle
, I told myself.
He's
not
solving this case with you
.

The maid was right – Darius's bedroom was directly above the study Inspector Witt was using. We were in it.

And she hadn't been exaggerating – Darius loved to write notes. His bedroom left us with no doubt of that. Differently shaped Post-it notes were layered over every flat surface – walls included. They covered everything. Some were in ink, others in pencil. All were written in his neat spidery scrawl.

“I wouldn't light a match in here,” Sebastian said. “I've never seen so many notes.”

While Ellie kept watch at the door, Sebastian and I quickly went through the room. Rapidly I scanned as many notes as I could, hoping to find something, anything, that might lead to Belle. Then I found the desk. I pulled my jacket sleeve down over my hand and switched the desk lamp on, and there, on top of a teetering yet tidy pile of papers, letters and notebooks, was the red envelope. There were four words written on the back:

Belle

Le Vau

passages

“Strange. Le Vau was a famous architect – but, like, three hundred years ago.” Sebastian was peering over my shoulder. “And
passages
– what could that mean?”

I took out my phone and photographed it. “Maybe he found something that links them all together? I mean, have you noticed how precise his notes are? Every single one is very specific. Like, his whole personality seems to be specific.” I pointed to a table at the foot of his bed. “Look, there are notes and books everywhere, but they've all been set down in a very orderly, neat way.”

A door slammed downstairs. The inspector was on his way up. I switched the desk lamp off and slipped my phone back into my pocket. Drat! We needed to find somewhere else to hide so we could keep searching for clues.

“So…?” whispered Sebastian as we crossed the room.

“So I don't think Darius would've put those words together on the same piece of paper unless he had a good reason to…”

“Do you think that's maybe why someone got rid of him? Because he was onto something?”

“Maybe…”

At that moment Ellie called to us. “They're coming up the stairs now. We have to go!” Gently shutting the door behind us, we followed Ellie down the corridor and into the room next door. “It's large enough to hide in easily,” she whispered. “I took a quick look.”

We slipped in just as Inspector Witt reached the top of the stairs. A few moments later his footsteps passed us on his way to Darius's bedroom.

“Is this Belle's bedroom?” I whispered.

We opened the curtains to let in some moonlight. The room was large and light. A low bed was in the middle of the room and swathes of colourful fabrics, some patterned, some more muted, lay over every surface – much as the notes lay everywhere in Darius's bedroom. A chandelier made of feathers hung from the ceiling and an artwork of neon light shone over the bed. A guitar leaned against the desk. Even in the gloom, everything somehow seemed young and fresh and fun. A large photo in a silver frame caught my eye. It was Belle – with her father, Patrick, in healthier days, on a beach, turquoise water lapping at their feet. In the background I could make out her siblings Claude, Rose, Darius and, presumably, Dom, as a toddler, playing in the surf.

“It must be,” answered Ellie. “She dresses exactly like this room looks. Oh my gosh – look at this! It's her dressing room.”

I peered in through the door she'd opened. Belle's dressing room was enormous. Without the lights on it was impossible to make out the far wall. Sebastian switched them on. “No one will see the lights,” he said. “There's no window.”

Unlike the jumble of pattern, colour and texture in her bedroom, Belle's dressing room was ordered and neat to a fault. Everything hung according to colour and length. Shirts, dresses, skirts and jackets all hung in their own sections. Hats were overhead, and behind the cabinet doors her jumpers and jeans were presumably laid out in a similar fashion.

“And look at her shoes!” Ellie whispered. “There must be at least two hundred pairs!”

“Make that one hundred and ninety-nine
and a half
,” I said, pointing to the first cupboard on the left. There was a dark hole where one shoe was missing – apparently one half of a pair of platform heels.

“Oh, I know that shoe,” Ellie said. “It's from last year's La Lune Autumn/Winter collection. They weigh a ton – the heel is solid wood, you know,” she added, as I lifted the shoe off the shelf. “I have the same pair in burgundy, although, I have to say, they look fab in this dark green.”

“Why do you think one is missing?” I carefully wiped my prints off the heel of the shoe before placing it back on the shelf.

“Maybe it's getting repaired?”

“At this time of the year? Why would she be wearing dark velvet shoes in spring?”

“Hmm. You have a point. But maybe Belle does her shoe maintenance off season…”

Suddenly we heard the inspector coming towards the bedroom. I quickly flicked the light off in the dressing room with my elbow as Ellie and Sebastian hid in the racks of dresses. I joined them just as we heard Inspector Witt open the door to the bedroom. His voice carried easily to the open dressing room.

“We've been over all of her rooms, haven't we, Thomas?” he asked his assistant. “Good. Good. But would you please keep it as it is until further notice?” Then they left, shutting the door behind them. Slowly we stepped out of the layers of chiffon and silk.

“Axelle, I really need to get out of here – now,” Ellie whispered. “If I get caught in this house my career'll be over faster than you can say Chanel.”