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 fur
ther.
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…”
“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 the
re 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.
A Crime of Fashion Page 8