A Crime of Fashion (20 page)

Slowly, Simone nodded her head. “It was a phone call – I thought it might be Philippe. I thought maybe he'd guessed that I was the only person aware of his secret identity.” Her eyes crinkled with mischief as she smiled at me. “Funny that two people in the same week should ask me about her.”

As nonchalantly as possible I asked, “Did the caller give you their name?” I knew the answer, of course. As I waited for her to say it, the hairs on my arms slowly stood on end.

“Yes, he was called David. David le…something. I can't remember…”

David le Néanar!

Dom found me just after I'd left Simone. Once again, I'd completely forgotten about our plans and, frankly, after what I'd just learned the last thing I wanted to do was to spend the next two hours discussing fashion with Dom – regardless of his amazing eyes. Surprisingly, all I wanted was to find Sebastian and talk to him. But how could I get out of my date with Dom? I decided to take the direct approach.

“So, are you ready?” he asked smoothly as he came up behind me and put his arm around my waist. He had my leather jacket in hand and was holding it out for me to slip into.

“Uhm…actually, Dom…I'm afraid I have to cancel our plans.” I felt like an idiot as I said it, but I really had to talk through the case – and not with Dom.

Dom looked taken aback but tried to make light of it. “What? Don't tell me you've decided to see Paris from the back of a scooter?” he asked with a smile. The allusion to Sebastian was clear. “You English girls have a strange idea of what is interesting.”

Great. How was I going to explain that although I'd be leaving with Sebastian, my meeting with him had to do with work and nothing else – never mind that quick look we'd shared earlier.

“Yeah, well…” I said lamely as I fumbled to find the right words. Dom's eyes were a major distraction.
Come on, Axelle, focus, focus!
“Listen, Dom, I'm really, really sorry but I can't make it tonight. I've been looking forward to spending some time with you” – I felt my cheeks turn red as I said this – “but I'm afraid I have work to do and it's important.” I said it with as much finality as I could muster. “I'm sorry…”

He wasn't buying it. I could tell by the way he was looking at me as he rocked back and forth on his pointy-toed shoes, his hands deep in his pockets. In fact, he looked downright angry.

“Work? Is there some show starting after midnight that I don't know about?” he asked sarcastically. “Or is
Teen Vogue
doing an early-morning shoot?”

I flushed, but less with embarrassment than anger. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sebastian watching.

Dom turned to leave, but before walking away he swung back to me and said, “By the way, I have a couple of options on you for next week. They could definitely help your career but, I don't know, maybe you're not so…motivated. Let's see…maybe…” He didn't finish what he was going to say. Instead he shrugged his shoulders and left.

Excuse my French, but what a jerk!

I stood staring after him practically spitting at what he'd insinuated. He'd clearly hinted that his confirming me for the modelling options depended on whether or not I went along with his after-work plans. What an ASS! How dare he? Was this how fashion operated? Was this normal? Ughh!

“I guess your plans have changed?” Sebastian was smiling as he came up to me.

“Yes. Definitely,” I answered through gritted teeth, turning to him. “Tell me something, Sebastian…”

He looked at me and raised his eyebrows.

“When I told you that I'd be meeting up with Dom, you didn't have a fit, did you?”

He shook his head. “Why should I? You're free to do whatever you want.”

“Do you think you can promise me something then?”

“What?”

“That you won't change.”

After that, Victor, Ellie, Sebastian and I slipped out of the crowded party as quickly as we could. Sebastian suggested that we all go out for coffee but Ellie had to get straight to Giambattista Valli for a last-minute emergency fitting and Victor had a Hollywood actress he'd promised to get colour-ready for tomorrow morning.

“I'm glad we're alone,” Sebastian said as he led me past the red ropes. “I have something to tell you. My father called me…”

“Well, I have something to tell you too – something new.”

“Then how about an ice cream before I take you home?”

He didn't have to ask me twice – I was always up for an ice cream. He suggested he leave his scooter where it was and that we walk to the restaurant.

Café Ruc is one of the best places to fashion-watch during the shows. Its proximity to the Louvre ensures a steady stream of models, designers, editors, buyers, hair and make-up artists and photographers. And while everything on the menu is good, I had the sneaking suspicion that Sebastian and I weren't the only ones ordering their vanilla ice cream swimming in a rich, hot chocolate sauce.

After ordering, Sebastian asked, “So who goes first?”

“You do.”

“Okay. My father called me while you were talking to the retired secretary.”

“Madame Baillie. And?”

“Well, it seems someone definitely planted Belle's drawings in Blossom's bag at the gallery.”

“How do you know?”

“Video footage – but it's impossible to say who the person is. And no one at the party can remember. It looks like it was a woman but nobody has been able to recognize her.” After a moment's pause he added, “You know, I haven't seen you look this intense since the first time I saw you and you had those ridiculous fake glasses on.”

“Did they look that fake?”

“Yes they did. So what do you think?”

“Who has a solid alibi for their whereabouts on Sunday night, at the time the drawings were planted?”

“Two people: first, your aunt, obviously, as she was with you. She'd just picked you up from the station. And Philippe: he was at his office, with his partner. Otherwise, the La Lunes were at home but all in their separate rooms. After dinner that night they each went their own way, and that house is so big that you could cross Paris and come back and no one would be any the wiser. Now it's your turn.”

Between mouthfuls of the most delicious ice cream, I told him what I'd learned from Simone.

“What a weasel,” he said.

“I thought the same.”

“It must be Philippe,” Sebastian said. “He clearly has the strongest motive. Even if he doesn't know that Patrick is his father, surely Violette would have told him about the history between her Uncle Hector and the La Lunes. I mean, he'd have to be made of steel not to feel entitled to fair compensation and an apology – for his family's honour alone!”

“But if it's important to him, why didn't he do something earlier? Why wait until now? He is a lawyer, after all.”

Sebastian shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe he's got some kind of long-term plan?”

We both fell silent as we finished our ice cream. Finally Sebastian asked, “When did you say your mother arrives?”

“Friday morning – but, hopefully, my aunt will keep her busy until the La Lune show – it's at six o'clock. After that, we'll be joined at the hip.”

“Which means we have just under forty-eight hours to get to the bottom of this…”

“Exactly.”

Sebastian offered to take me back to Aunt V's, but I said I'd prefer to walk.

“Well, just be careful,” he said, “and if you think you see a black Peugeot saloon car following you – call me!”

I promised, and left. After cutting across the Tuileries Park, I crossed the river and was home in no time.

Fortunately for me, Aunt V was still out. At this late hour I definitely wasn't in the mood for one of her fashion interrogations. I quickly checked my phone for the details for tomorrow's
Elle
job: 12 p.m. at Pin-Up Studios in the 14th
arrondissement;
we'd be shooting beauty which, Hervé helpfully told me, meant facial close-ups, for a half-day only, and I was to arrive with clean hair and face. Apparently, Hervé was still waiting for the details of Friday's La Lune show.

I wanted nothing more than to go to bed, but something was bothering me. As I headed towards my bedroom I glanced at my watch and saw that it was just shy of midnight. Ellie should be finished. Quickly I wrote her a short text, and ten seconds later my phone rang.

“So what's up?” she asked.

I told her what had happened between Dom and me. “Is that the way fashion works?” I asked. “I mean, he clearly threatened to confirm me or cancel me depending on whether I went out with him!”

Ellie was silent for a moment.

“Listen, Axelle, I'm sorry that had to happen to you…and I'd be lying if I said that sort of thing never happens. It does. But – wait, wait – let me finish before you get mad. It happens,
but you have the right to decide whether you want to play along with it or not
.”

“But isn't what he did illegal or something? I mean—”

“Illegal? I don't know,” Ellie said, interrupting me. “There are those – like Dom – who try to play that game, especially with the new girls – but the majority don't. You can't be professional and a perv at the same time! Talk to Hervé about it. It's the agency's job to protect us and to see that things run smoothly. We pay them for that, remember?”

She had a point.

“And a woman can come up against that kind of thing no matter what kind of job she has. I have a cousin who works in the City, in banking, and she gets crap thrown at her all the time. Talk to Hervé about it. It sounds like Dom should have his wings clipped. He's a spoiled brat who thinks the rules don't apply to him.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

“I thought you were seeing him because of the case…”

“I was, I think. Maybe a bit for his eyes, too.”

“Yeah, well, pretty is as pretty does, don't you think?”

“Absolutely.” I hung up with a smile. Talking to Ellie had helped.

My last thought of the day was of Belle and Darius. Belle had been missing since Saturday, Darius since Monday. How was Darius holding up without his medication? Were they eating? Drinking? Would they be alive by the time I found them? The thought of finding two dead bodies was gruesome.

Hurry
, I told myself,
hurry, hurry
.

Belle was alone again.

She'd wriggled to Darius to check his breathing. It was shallow, but he was alive, thank God – but then their captor had come in before she'd made it back to her bed. Not a noise had been made, no threat given. She'd simply been dragged across the room, then pulled through a door and left on the damp floor of the room next door.

A silent tear made its way down her smudged cheek. She was beginning to lose hope…

Grrr…grrr…grrr…

Miu Miu was awake. Her blue-grey whiskers tickled my exposed ear and when she saw my eyelids slowly open her purring went up a few decibels. It reminded me of Halley at home. As soon as I so much as crack an eye open her tongue is all over my face, her smelly breath drying so quickly that by the time I make it to the bathroom I can hardly stand the smell of my own face.

At least Miu Miu doesn't lick.

I got out of bed and walked to the large window overlooking the awakening street. The heavy blue silk curtains shimmered in the early morning light and as I opened the window wide a fresh spring breeze blew some of my notes off the desk. It was another capricious spring day and it seemed more than likely that a storm would break by midday.

I'd just sat back down on my bed and had taken out the packet of letters – I continued to reread them in the hope of finding something important I'd missed – when I heard Aunt V outside my door. “Axelle, I know you have a late start this morning and that you'll be shooting for
Elle
this afternoon. Is there anything else you plan on doing?”

“Good morning, Aunt V!” I crossed my room and opened the door.

Aunt V gave me a quick peck on the cheek then pulled away. “I'm running late. Ooh… And what kind of pyjamas are those?” She was looking at my pink PJs as if they were some kind of contagious disease. “Aren't you a little old for hearts, Axelle?”

I admit my PJs are a little on the corny side – and, as Jenny likes to point out, they look similar to ones I had when I was six. But they're super-soft and, well…I like them for that. “They're soft,” I answered with a quick shrug of my shoulders before changing the subject. “Anyway, I thought I'd do some research this morning. Then I'll meet Sebastian after
Elle
.”

“What'll you do then?”

“I don't know. It'll depend on what we find today.”

“Good.” There was a pause as she looked at me, her eyes unblinking. I stood riveted in my doorway, nearly flinching under her relentless stare. My aunt can look pretty intense sometimes – scary almost – and this morning was one of those times. Finally she spoke.

“Well, I hope you're getting closer. We've got to get
Chic
's name cleared.”

Whew. I let my breath out and slumped against my door, relieved her stare had broken, relieved that she was leaving.

Or so I thought.

Suddenly I saw her eyes flicker over my slumped shoulders and towards my bed. Quickly I straightened back up, turning slightly to block her view, but I was too late! “Since when do you write letters, Axelle?” she asked.

Stupidly I'd left the packet of letters – with one unfolded – on my bed. “Uhm…since…always.”

“Always?” She fixed her gaze on me.

“Uhm…yes. It was Gran's idea. She…uhm…thought it might be a good exercise for me to imitate as many kinds of handwriting as possible. To get inside the minds of different personality types.”

I stood calmly, hoping she'd buy my story. I didn't want her reading the letters – it would lead to too many questions, primarily about how I'd found them. Although…although why was Aunt V even curious about them? I mean, it could be any kind of paperwork on my bed, right? Since when had she ever expressed any real interest in me beyond my wardrobe?

As I shifted my weight she brought her eyes back to me, the letters apparently forgotten. “Uhmm, Aunt V?”

She arched an eyebrow at me.

“Your bag. It's leaking.” Strangely, from one corner of her blue crocodile-skin handbag liquid was dripping.

“Ah.” She looked down. “So it is. It must be my water. Hydration – important, you know, during the shows.”

I bent low to wipe it with a tissue.

“Don't bother, Axelle,” she said quickly. “Carmen will clean it up.”

“Okay.” I stood up again. “By the way, last night—” I wanted to tell her about Simone Baillie's revelations, but I was cut off.

“I'm sorry, Axelle, but I'm running late. I have to go. Tell me later. I'll be home late again tonight, so if I don't see you this evening, I'll see you tomorrow. Call if you need anything…” she said with a quick wave of her fingers.

Whatever.

One thing was for sure though, I thought, as I stood watching her leave, bag clutched tightly – if
I'd
had water dripping from
my
bag, she'd have had a fit!

I went back into my bedroom and fetched the book on Le Vau before heading into the kitchen for breakfast. As I munched on my fruit salad, I delved into the world of Louis Le Vau. Apparently, King Louis XIV was his greatest patron and the royal palace of Versailles his crowning achievement. But, apart from that, it seemed he'd worked for everyone who was anyone in seventeenth-century Paris. As I flicked through the pages, a black-and-white photograph of a large stone mansion caught my eye. The caption underneath said it was the
Hotel de Buismont
. I knew that
hotel
in French meant “mansion” but who or what was
de Buismont
? And why did the mansion look so familiar?

Of course! I nearly upended my bowl of fruit salad as I pushed my chair back from the table and ran to my aunt's sitting room. I sat at her desk and flicked her computer on. And there it was, on Wikipedia, in the first sentence:
The Hotel de Buismont, designed by Louis Le Vau, and better known today as the La Lune mansion, was built in 1665 for wealthy financier, Salatin de Buismont.

No wonder it looked familiar – the Hotel de Buismont and the La Lune mansion were one and the same! Presumably Darius knew this too…

But what about the word
passages
in his note? What did it mean? Or could
passages
really be as straightforward as it sounded? Like the passages in a house? Or, more specifically, the passages in a house designed by Le Vau?

Back and forth I flipped through the pages of the book, hoping my hunch was right. I scanned the dense text until I found the words I was looking for:
secret passages
. According to the book, the houses Louis Le Vau designed were full of them.

And what was easier than disappearing via a secret passage?

“Well done, Sherlock.” Sebastian had just arrived.

“That's Holmes to you.”

He laughed. “I thought you might say that.”

“If I didn't have to do
Elle
, I'd follow this lead myself.”

“I know. But don't worry, I'll dig – hard. And I'll keep you posted.”

Great. I'd just noticed I'd put my jumper on inside out. Not surprising, considering that after calling Sebastian I'd realized I was still in my heart PJs. At least I'd managed to brush my teeth and hair. I stretched and poured myself another glass of orange juice. I still had half an hour before I had to leave.

“By the way,” I said, as I handed him the day's
Figaro
, “did you read your horoscope yet? Apparently you're going to make a major discovery today.”

“And according to your horoscope, romance is in the air for you this week.” He was grinning.

“Yeah, right,” I said, recalling Dom's anger last night. “Fat chance.”

“Are you so sure?” He was leaning back, still grinning, but his eyes didn't leave mine.

I quickly turned back to the computer, hoping I looked sufficiently absorbed by the Wiki entry on Le Vau.
Come on, Axelle, focus, focus. Ignore your sidekick's broad shoulders and killer smile.
Easier said than done. Somehow my annoying sidekick had morphed into a distraction – of the cute kind. I wasn't sure when or how it had happened but, honestly, I'd need a blindfold to ignore Sebastian now – which, incidentally, wouldn't have been a good thing on the clue-gathering front.
You have a case to solve, remember, Axelle?
I told myself.
Besides, you're working with him – you have a
working
relationship with him.
And that's how you need it to stay – I mean, imagine if…no, don't go there. Not now, anyway. Argh! I have to solve this case.

I took a breath, turned, and met his stare. Shrugging my shoulders, I said, lightly, “Who knows? Anything could be possible this week.”

“I guess time will tell.” He was still grinning at me, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Uh-uh,” I mumbled and quickly turned back to the computer.

After a moment he said, “What I don't understand is that my father and his team searched the entire La Lune mansion and didn't find any sort of secret passage, and yet…” He hesitated as he grappled with filial loyalty. “And yet I'm sure you're right – there must be a secret passage in that house. It would certainly explain the noises Rose has been hearing.”

“Yeah, and Dom too. Anyway, while a secret passage in the house might explain how the kidnapper moved within the house without being seen, it still doesn't explain how the kidnapper has been able to get in and out undetected.”

“Unless…” He was looking out the large open window towards the river.

“Sebastian…?” He'd stepped out onto the narrow balcony.

“What did you say my horoscope said?” he asked.

“That you'd make a discovery today?”

“Well, I think I've just made it.” He stepped back in and turned to leave. “I'll pick you up after
Elle
,” he called over his shoulder. The door shut with a bang as he ran down the stairs.

I arrived at Pin-Up Studios in time to join the
Elle
team for lunch in the studio cafe, and by five o'clock the shoot was finished. It was a beauty shoot, a gold and shimmery summer make-up story. We shot three different photos, each one focusing on a different aspect of my make-up: eyes, lips and skin. This meant that my make-up was changed three times. I'd asked the digi-tech guy to take a photo of me (with my phone) in each of the different make-up looks I'd worn. I'd show them to Hervé when I saw him next. Apparently, bookers love to see whatever images a model can bring back from a shoot. The afternoon went by quickly, but, still, not quickly enough: by the time we'd finished I was itching to follow up my clues.

Sebastian picked me up outside of the studios and drove towards the Seine. However, along the way he suddenly motioned to me with his hand that he wanted to stop. He zigzagged through the traffic, then zoomed up the Boulevard Saint-Michel. A few moments later we parked on a tiny side street tucked away in the residential part of the sixth district behind the Luxembourg Gardens.

“I need to show you all that I've found out and we need to do it somewhere quiet…somewhere we're not likely to be overheard. And, anyway, we have some time to kill,” he added mysteriously, as he led me to the park, “because what we're going to do is better done in the dark.”

I followed him to a small space enclosed by trees and crawling vines. Opposite us, against a backdrop of spring green, a large fountain was set into a high wall. A Greek god hovered on top, surprising the lovers underneath. Water cascaded gently into a long, narrow basin. The air was quiet and humid, twilight on its way. “It's the Medici Fountain,” Sebastian said, as he dragged a second chair to one of the small metal tables flanking the water.

He loaded our table with folders and maps.

“Your idea this morning about the possibility of secret passages was spot on. And your comment last night about getting out of the mansion while dragging Belle and Darius didn't go unnoticed,” he added with a smile. “In fact, it's what triggered my idea this morning as I looked out from your balcony towards the river. I'll show you what I mean.” He struggled to get one last folder out of his sack. “
Et voilà
!” Excitedly he laid a floor plan of a house out on the table.

“It looks old,” I said, as I scanned its sepia-toned lines and elaborate handwriting, “really old…”

“It is. This is a copy of the 1665 original. It's the floor plan of the La Lune mansion. Fortunately for us, most of Le Vau's work is well documented – even if it's sometimes difficult to get hold of. With a bit of help from a friend – he's a history geek – I found all of this at the
Bibliothèque Nationale
. And I was told that all of Le Vau's big projects have secret passageways.”

Slowly, I traced what appeared to be one of them with my finger.

“What you're running your finger along is the longest secret passageway in the house,” Sebastian said, “but it's so well concealed that unless you happened to have been there when the construction work was going on, you'd never know it exists. That passage connects with another one in the opposite wing, via a secret door in the library. It ends in this passageway, then connects to a hidden staircase which runs the entire height of the house from cellar to attics. It also connects to another secret passageway which runs the length of this wing.”