A Crime of Fashion (5 page)

“Aunt V, please, I—” At that moment, Aunt Venetia's phone rang. It was the
Chic: Paris
office.

“Yes,” she answered curtly. Within three seconds Aunt V's face had drained of colour. “
What
? Is Ivan on it? Right. Well, get moving. We want damage control now.” She hung up and collapsed into the nearest chair.

What was going on? I waited as Aunt V slowly stood up then paced up and down the length of the room a few times, her hand held out to silence me. Finally, after a deep breath at the opened window, she spoke.

“Axelle.” Aunt V hadn't quite yet regained her full composure, but, as her mind began to move beyond the shock, her colour slowly revived. Finally she seemed to come to a decision. What she said next took me completely by surprise. “Axelle, do you really believe you can find Belle La Lune?”

I was sure it was a trick question.

“Well?” she asked again, turning to face me.

I looked at her closely and saw that it wasn't a trick question. Her gaze was steady, not a trace of irony or sarcasm played upon her features, her jaw was clenched. She was serious. “Well…yes, I do believe I can find her,” I answered.

“Good, then do it – quickly.” She paused again as she struggled with what she was going to say next. Then, “I'll help you as much as I can. And I'll start by telling Miriam that you really do want to model – after all, the best way for you to infiltrate this world is to become one of us.” She quickly reapplied some lip gloss then snapped her purse shut. A long angry breath escaped her before she said, “The police have just called my office. You remember Blossom Ing, my assistant?”

I nodded.

“Well, last night Blossom was at a party at an art gallery in the Marais district…and copies of Belle La Lune's drawings –
Belle's drawings!
– of the new Juno bag fell out of her shoulder bag. And it's just my luck that Harlan Forbes – European editor-at-large for my biggest rival – found the drawings!” My aunt could barely contain herself. She resumed pacing the room as she told me the rest.

Harlan had, of course, immediately recognized Belle's distinctive handwriting and understood the importance of what he held in his hand. As a consequence, Blossom had been held at the police station for questioning and safe-keeping until early this morning. Of course, she denied having ever seen the drawings – let alone having stolen them – but this was the first clue anyone had found concerning Belle's disappearance; the police were not going to let her go just like that. It was being said that Blossom must have ties to a ring of Chinese counterfeiters to whom she was going to feed the drawings. It would be worth millions to counterfeiters to have the drawings of the bag before the bag itself was even launched. They could have the fake article out on the streets just as the genuine ones were hitting the shops.

The fact was, as long as Blossom was considered a possible accomplice and suspect in the disappearance of Belle La Lune, and no matter how discreetly the entire matter was dealt with, no amount of perfume would cover up the scent of suspicion which now clung to Blossom's employer: Aunt V and
Chic: Paris
magazine.

I stood in shock as Aunt Venetia gathered her scarf and handbag and headed for the door.

“Come on, Axelle,” she said, “we haven't got a moment to spare.” Then, as she placed her hand on the doorknob, she stopped and turned to me, her voice deep as she coolly said, “Oh, and, Axelle, this will remain between you and me. I'm afraid your mother's well-laid plans are about to take a detour.”

Back at the booking table, everyone was waiting to hear what punishment I'd been given.

You should have seen the looks on their faces when my aunt smiled gently and announced, “My niece and I are delighted that you have offered to represent her as a model.”

Talk about a stunned silence. And it looked as if smoke was coming off of Hervé's head – but that might just have been the light.

Suddenly a loud clapping pierced the still air. It was Miriam. “All right, everyone, get moving! We have a new girl and she has to be at Chanel in two hours. We don't have one minute to waste! And, Hervé, you can be Axelle's booker.”

My new status brought everyone to attention. I was quite probably a first for the agency, in that I hadn't even been modelling for a day and already one of the world's leading fashion houses wanted to see me. Actually, not just see me, but to actually try clothes on me!

“Let's start with Axelle's hair,” Miriam said, as she looked me over. “Hervé, get Victor on the line. She needs a cut.” I could hear some snickering about needing pruning shears. “And a bit of colour.”

“Yeah, but—” I tried to catch Hervé's attention, but to no avail.

“And clothes, she's got to wear something else. What
is
she wearing, by the way?”

“Oh my goodness! Those glasses!
Quelle horreur!
Call
Docteur
Douai now!”

“Yeah, but my glasses—” Again I was cut off.

“And shoes! We need to get her a pair of heels and she has to learn how to walk properly before seeing
anyone
.”

“And, Hervé, make sure you book a manicure and pedicure at Victor's too!”

“Axelle, these are the numbers for the agency: this is Hervé's and this is the general number. I'll give you Miriam's too, just in case.”

“Oh, and this is the address for your casting. It's around the corner on the Rue Cambon. You'll go with Ellie.”

I tried one last time to explain the truth about my hair and glasses – about the little secret I'd been keeping – but I wasn't given a chance. With a last, “
Au revoir et bonne chance!
” I was pushed out the door.

Ellie laughed when she saw my look of shock and confusion. I followed her into the lift as I tried to make sense of what was happening. “Axelle, you didn't seriously think the agency would send you on a casting without polishing you up a bit first, did you? Let me just tell you that no matter how gorgeous or stunning a girl is, when she signs up to be a model, she gets polished.”

“Yes, but what I've been trying—”

“Axelle, there are no buts. You have to have a makeover – or the fashion machine will spit you out before they've even had a proper taste.”

At that moment the first of two things happened. As we descended in the old-fashioned cagelike lift, Mr Leather Jacket whizzed past us on the stairs, stopping at the bottom to open the door for us. Catching my eye, he gave me one of his wicked smiles. Then, as I stood there grinning stupidly back, I could have sworn he paused for a second, almost as if he wanted to say something but then thought the better of it. Whatever. He turned quickly and left the building. As I pulled opened the large entrance door and looked out onto the busy street, I caught sight of him speeding off on a scooter.

Then, as I stood holding the door open for Ellie while she fished her phone out of her bag, the most gorgeous guy came heading directly towards me. I continued holding the door until he walked through it – not that he acknowledged me. He simply walked through and didn't stop chatting on his phone until he saw Ellie, at which point he hurriedly put his phone away and stopped to greet her. Ellie introduced me and, with a vague look in my direction, he acknowledged my presence with a curt nod. They chatted for a moment and Ellie mentioned that Miriam had just taken me on as a new model. “Good luck,” he said as he turned to leave – and as he stepped away I heard him mutter, “You'll need it,” under his breath.

As Ellie and I walked away from Miriam's, she said, “Dom La Lune is gorge, isn't he? He has the most amazing green eyes.”

“Is he from
the
La Lune family?”

Ellie nodded. “He's Belle's younger brother. He's a photographer. He works a lot with Miriam's agency. In fact, he's on his way up to drop off some test shots he did for Miriam of a new girl. He told me his whole family is upside down because of Belle's disappearance. I mean, who can blame them?”

I didn't say anything else. And while I was excited that I'd just brushed shoulders with a La Lune, I'd have to get a lot further a lot faster if I wanted to crack this case before leaving on Sunday – or before the police solved it. I could only hope that the other La Lunes were easier to engage with.

“Sorry to distract you from your daydreaming, Axelle,” Ellie said, as she linked her arm through mine and pulled me in the direction of Victor's, “but we have a lot to do before we go to Chanel. And, more importantly, you promised to explain to me why you need my help – and I want to hear everything because, whatever it is, you made it sound important and mysterious…”

I forgot all about Dom's eyes and Mr Leather Jacket's cryptic smile. Looking up, I let the sun hit my face for a moment. Even though I'd only just met Ellie, I instinctively knew I could trust her. So I told her about my desire to find Belle. I told her everything, starting with my being dispatched to Paris as punishment, as we made our way to Victor the hairdresser's on the Rue du Mont-Thabor.

Standing at an exclusive-yet-discreet-looking doorway we rang the bell and waited until we were buzzed into an inner courtyard filled with potted trees of varying size and shape. On the far side of the courtyard was a glass door with a simple
V
etched into it. Large floor-to-ceiling windows were to the left and right of it. Music and laughter echoed round the courtyard walls. Victor himself came to the door to see me in; his curiosity was palpable. “Miriam says you are the next big thing!” he said loudly above the din of the hairdryers.

“Although,” he continued as he slowly looked me up and down, “I have to say,
ma chérie
, you're actually more of a small thing. But, no matter – small can be beautiful. And it certainly will be by the time I've finished with you!”

I'd never been in a salon like Victor's. It certainly made a change from the local hairdresser's I occasionally (and grudgingly) visited at home. High ceilings and gilded mirrors gave the space an undeniably glamorous feel, yet Victor's funky touch prevented things from becoming too elegant or stiff. His receptionist clucked round me like a mother hen before taking my jacket and helping me into a crisp white dressing gown. Then I was whisked away to sit behind the privacy screens at Victor's station.

Just as I sat down, Aunt Venetia arrived – after sorting things out with Miriam, she'd come to oversee my transformation. “Victor, it has to look natural yet sophisticated, not too trendy but edgy,” she said.

“Yes, exactly,” Victor said, as he searched for the right brush to tackle my growth with.

“Before you start I have to tell you that my hair—” Once again I was cut off. Did anyone in fashion let anyone else speak?

“Axelle, this is no time to tell us about your hair. Victor's the best, people are waiting, and we haven't got much time,” Aunt Venetia said crisply.

“Yeah, but—”

“No buts!” Aunt V and Victor said in unison.

Frustrated, I ducked the brush Victor was about to take to my hair, slipped out of my chair, and dashed to the loo I'd spotted near the entrance. In one swift movement I jumped in, shut the door and turned the lock.

I took a deep breath then adjusted the light, turning the dimmer up as brightly as it would go. I wanted to take one last good look at myself. I'd been hiding behind my glasses and thick hair for so long that sometimes I forgot what I looked like underneath it all – not that Jenny ever did, but she was under oath. Anyway, I loved the anonymity my disguise gave me – after all, no one ever looks twice at girls with bushy hair and big glasses.

Slowly I took my glasses off and folded them, before setting them on the side of the sink. My eyesight was just as sharp without them – I'd never needed glasses. Then I lifted my hands to my “hair” and gently searched through the teased mass for the clips I used to stick the extensions on with. Another couple of minutes and they were all out. Gently, I ran my fingers through my real hair. Soft and brown, it fell in jagged chunks to my shoulders.

“
Hallo?
Axelle?
Petite chérie?
” It was Victor knocking on the door. “We aren't going to do anything drastic to you – promise! – we just want you to look your best!” Then, after a pause: “Your aunt and Ellie have left to pick you up some new clothes. Why don't you step out and we'll go over everything together. There's no need to be frightened. I won't do anything you don't agree with. I promise.”

Taking another deep breath and a last look in the mirror, I gathered together my glasses and hairpieces. Then I opened the door and watched as Victor's face registered the change. It would be an understatement to say I'd surprised him.

By way of explanation, I handed him what looked like a brown angora rabbit with glasses on top of its head. Then, without waiting, I walked past him.

“
Ma chérie
,” Victor said, once we were back at his station, “you're the only girl I've ever met who intentionally disguised herself so that she looked worse than nature intended.”

“I had my reasons,” I said and left it at that. I wasn't about to get into any explanations.

“Yes, well, it's a surprise – but an enjoyable one,” he said, applying some kind of honey-brown-colour-gloss-shine-something-or-other to my scalp with what looked like a special plastic paintbrush. “Your hair is in good condition considering, and actually your cut is okay. Later Chrystelle will shape it a bit, but I like the jagged edges. It suits you to have hair that isn't too pretty, if you know what I mean. You look good a bit boyish and wild. I'm adding a gloss to give it some shine and a touch of colour to darken the lengths a bit. That's it.”