A Crime of Fashion (9 page)

After a few minutes he held up his notepad to show me a very good cartoon likeness of his father. Stifling a smile, I shook my head at him. Inspector Witt looked at me. “I'm sorry you don't agree, Mademoiselle Anderson,” he answered. Now Sebastian was smiling. “But,” continued the inspector as he leaned far back in his desk chair and sighed, “there is nothing I can do.”

“But whoever it was, they tried to hit Axelle,” Ellie protested.

“Or perhaps they were simply driving dangerously and you are reading more into Claude La Lune's anger than is actually warranted.” Inspector Witt stood up and carefully arranged a checked scarf around his throat. Obviously, the meeting was over.

“I'm sure Claude's lying about some things,” I said.

“Ah!
Ma chère mademoiselle
, you will see as you get older that we all have things we lie about! Claude La Lune is hardly alone in that. However, I'm afraid I fail to make the same connection that you do between his anger and his possible lies, and the black Peugeot that you say tried to run you over.” The inspector left his office and walked briskly down the corridor towards reception. Ellie and I followed him, protesting all the way. Sebastian was behind us.

“Listen!” The inspector stopped suddenly and turned to face us. “I am worried about Belle La Lune – very worried. I don't know whether she's alive or dead and so far the leads…well…” He shook his head. “I haven't a moment to spare. If you really do find something, please let me know. It has been lovely meeting you both. Mademoiselle B,” he said as he shook Ellie's hand. “Mademoiselle Anderson,” he said, turning to me – but he never had chance to shake my hand because at that moment his phone rang.

“
Oui
,” he said gruffly into the phone. “
Quoi? Avec les mêmes suspects?
” And then after a pause: “
J'arrive tout de suite
.” He hung up and slipped his phone back into the breast pocket of his trench coat. “I'm sorry – I have to go. I'm afraid there has been another…
occurrence
…at the La Lune mansion. Sebastian, would you please see the ladies out,” he said over his shoulder as he stepped out the door. And then he was gone.

Ellie and I looked at each other in shock.

Another occurrence? What did that mean? And he'd said
les mêmes suspects
– that meant the same suspects. But who was he talking about?

“Quick, we have to follow him!” I said as I caught the closing door and wrenched it open again. We ran out, but the inspector had vanished without a trace. Furthermore, there was no taxi at hand, and I certainly had no idea where the La Lune mansion was. Ellie knew it was nearby but she wasn't sure how to get there.

“I know where it is,” said a voice we'd completely forgotten about. Sebastian motioned for us to follow him as he jogged past. This was no time to ask questions – Ellie and I exchanged glances then quickly fell in behind him. “It won't take us more than three minutes to get there if we run,” he said over his shoulder. “It's on the Rue de Varenne. Come on!”

We ran up the Rue de Bourgogne until we dead-ended at the Rue de Varenne. In front of us was the stone wall of the Rodin Museum, and just to the left an even higher stone wall adjoined it. It loomed over us in the evening gloom, blackened with age, imposing and spooky.

“This is the La Lune mansion – or, rather, it's behind this wall,” Sebastian said. At that moment, the heavy wooden gates swung open as a police car slowed to enter. “Quick,” Sebastian whispered, “this is our chance!” He motioned for us to duck down and follow. As the car eased through the opened gate, we crouched low and ran alongside it until we'd slipped past the gates and were in the courtyard. At that point the car turned left towards the main door and we…well, let's just say I'm sure the three of us could have won an Olympic gold medal in the long jump that night. Before the car had finished its turn to the left we jumped into the bushes on our right, just in time to avoid being exposed in the full glare of the house lights.

I lay on my back, panting, Ellie and Sebastian beside me.

“I was right,” whispered Ellie as she turned towards me. “I'm having
much
more fun with you around. I mean, I haven't had this much excitement since the safari story I shot in Africa last winter. A mad elephant took our tent down. Of course, this is more serious. I hope we find Belle…”

I heard murmuring from the direction of the open front door, and the sounds of opening and shutting car doors reverberated around the courtyard. Slowly I turned onto my stomach and lifted my head above the low hedges. Police were coming and going, and about ten cars were parked in the courtyard – Inspector Witt's among them. More interesting, however, was the sight of so many members of the La Lune family rushing out of the house to greet Inspector Witt, who was getting out of his car.

“They're all there – except for Darius…and Patrick,” Sebastian said.

“Darius is Belle's second brother. He writes about fashion history,” Ellie whispered, confirming what Victor had told me earlier.

“And Patrick is Belle's father,” Sebastian added. “They say he never leaves his bed any more.”

Near the door stood a sticklike young woman with frizzy hair and flat shoes. She had to be Rose, Belle's only sister and the second eldest sibling after Claude. I remembered Victor saying Rose was shy and awkward – and tonight, at least, she certainly looked it. She was in charge of the company's accounting.

On the bottom step stood an aloof and silver-haired woman: Fiona, Patrick's wife. As Fiona Purseglove, she'd been a famous model in her youth and her icy beauty had graced many a magazine cover, according to Aunt V. Today she was better known as the driving force behind the La Lune Fashion Design Foundation, a family charity celebrated for its yearly fashion design competition for underprivileged students.

The black-clad figure with the camera I recognized as Dom. He repeatedly lifted his camera to his eye, capturing every moment of the unfolding drama. Even in the semi-dark he looked gorgeous. The lack of light only served to accentuate his pallor and green eyes. He looked like a runway vampire.

A tall, well-dressed figure was standing one step behind Fiona. He clearly wasn't old like Fiona but he was a bit older than Claude and Rose.

“Who's that?” I whispered.

“That's Philippe de Vandrille, the family lawyer,” Sebastian answered.

Aha…so he was the one who wasn't sure about Claude's alibi.

Behind Philippe stood Claude. Even among this select group of fashionistas, his look stood out in a way that spoke of innate style – as well as long hours in front of the mirror.

“You know, they fell out a few years ago – Claude and Belle, I mean,” Sebastian told us. “They had a struggle to see who'd be in charge of the company – and Belle won. They say his jealousy knows no bounds.”

No surprise, then, that he'd stepped so quickly into his sister's shoes.

I became engrossed with watching the assembled cast on the steps. Their status and wealth seemed to seep from their pores, and, despite the present tragedy, each gave the impression of having only one thing on their mind: themselves.

Then another elegant shadow emerged from the house.

“Something must be done about these police uniforms,” she declared, glancing about her. “They really are an embarrassment to French fashion.” Aunt V looked, as usual, effortlessly chic. Her hat cast a wonderful elongated shadow on the wall behind her.

“By the way, I believe your story,” Sebastian whispered, as I watched my aunt join the others. “Your hit and run story. Not that I'm sure the La Lunes would go so far as to kidnap one of their own, but—” We ducked as Sebastian's father walked right past us, talking on his phone. “But,” Sebastian continued in a whisper, “I find their extreme closeness and glossy perfection a bit spooky. And thanks for not letting on earlier with my dad. He's known Miriam for ages through work – she's often passed on some useful tips – but if he knew that I'd been there to hear about this,” he said, nodding towards the La Lunes, “a case
he's
in charge of, he would not be amused – especially not this week. I'm supposed to be at the police station all day for work experience.”

Inspector Witt had finished his call and was greeting the group at the front door. It was the perfect distraction for our next move. Crouching low, we moved out from the cover of the hedge and crawled across a gravel path to the nearest car – a large 4 x 4. As quietly as possible, we slid under it and continued to watch the proceedings from this closer vantage point.

“So you were at Miriam's to find out about Belle?” I asked Sebastian.

He nodded. “I live just around the corner from here. I've known the La Lunes my whole life – Dom and I even went to the same school, although he was two years ahead of me. Anyway, it's an intriguing case and it's happened on our doorstep, so to speak. How could I not want to be involved?”

“And did you find anything out at Miriam's?”

“Not anything that hasn't been in the papers. I'd actually hoped to see Dom there – he's in and out of Miriam's quite often – but I had to get back to the police station. Like I said, it's work experience week.”

As the La Lunes, Philippe, and my aunt slowly made their way into the house, we slid out from under the 4 x 4 and made a quick dash for the side of the house. Standing flush against the wall, we waited for Sebastian's dad and the other police officers to follow them in, until the door was shut and the courtyard silent.

“I can't believe I'm sneaking around the La Lunes' house,” Ellie whispered to me. “If there is such a thing as a fashion god, I hope she's looking out for us.”

Yeah, me too
, I thought. My aunt would be about as thrilled with my trespassing as she was with cheap synthetic fabrics – in other words, not at all.

“You never told me your reason,” Sebastian whispered.

“My reason?”

“Your reason for being brainwashed into modelling,” he said with a flash of his grin. “When I first saw you at the agency this morning, you seemed like someone who had resolutely planned to stay at arm's length from fashion since birth.”

I smiled. “Let's just say that using the modelling as a disguise while I look for Belle gives me much more freedom than the alternative.”

“Which is?”

“Which is trailing behind my aunt with a laptop and fashion-appropriate outfit.”

“And you think you can solve this?”

“I don't know – but I'm going to try.”

“Well, as we're on the same trail, maybe we should join forces?” He was smiling at me, his eyes sparkling.

I was actually happy darkness had settled – because his suggestion didn't make me smile. I didn't know how to tell him that I wanted to solve this mystery solo – without a sidekick. I needed to do this on my own. It was my only chance of being taken seriously by my parents. And while I was appreciative that he'd led us into the La Lune compound, I didn't really want things going further.

Then, after a moment, he said, “By the way, you were right to lose the hair and glasses. You somehow look more like yourself, if you know what I mean.”

Great. Now he was an admiring sidekick! I said nothing.

The high walls of the courtyard blocked out all street light. Overhead, the clouds swept quickly past, their undersides glowing against the black sky. Standing back from the house, half-hidden by shrubbery, I watched as a white-gloved butler moved from room to room, turning on lights and drawing curtains. But, even in the darkness, the house didn't fail to make an impression. It was huge and creepy, with a grandeur that felt oppressive. The vast garden – it was nearly a small park – surrounding the house was beautifully landscaped. I could just make out formal parterres and beyond those a large lawn that descended to a water basin and fountain. The lawn was flanked by wide flowering borders, all encircled by a high stone wall.

But, pretty as it was, it wasn't why I'd snuck in. I wanted to search for clues – and this was more than likely my one and only chance. “Is there any way of getting in?” I asked.

Sebastian flashed me his grin. “I was hoping you'd say that. Obviously, there's no way of going through the front of the house,” he whispered. “But maybe around the back…”

“I've been in one of the La Lunes' shows here – sometimes they hold them in a tent in the garden or even in the house,” Ellie said. “I know that at the back of the house the rooms all have doors that open onto a large terrace that overlooks the garden. If we're lucky, one of those doors might be open…”

It was worth a try. Keeping our backs to the wall, we began creeping round the house. The sound of our footsteps on the gravel was muffled by the splashing water of the fountain, and, luckily for us, the police were inside now – although I did notice that two guards were stationed at the front gate.

We'd gone halfway along the side of the house when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.

“Allô? Axelle?” It was Hervé, calling to tell me that I'd been booked by Lanvin and La Lune as well as Chanel. “Since I work as a booker never once have I seen a total newcomer be booked by three such prestigious fashion houses – and in the same day!
C'est incroyable!
” He told me he'd call me later with my job details for tomorrow's La Lune photoshoot. “By the way, where are you? It is very quiet. And why you whisper?”

Clearly I wasn't about to tell him that I was spying on the La Lunes after having snuck into their compound. “I'm uh…we're…we're watching videos of the shows from last autumn and I don't want to disturb Ellie. You know how you have to concentrate to catch every move the models make…”