Model Under Cover--Dressed to Kill

by Carina Axelsson

  “Funny, Holmes.”

  Sebastian crouched low and I clambered up onto his shoulders. Once he was standing I easily reached the first bar and pulled myself up. I climbed a bit higher and leaned back down. Sebastian jumped up and grabbed my wrist, placing his feet against the wall as he did so. I managed to pull him up just enough that he could reach the first bar with one hand, and we began to climb.

  It wasn’t easy. Some of the bars were missing and it took all of my concentration not to look down as I stretched to reach the next one. It was only the thought that if I fell, Sebastian was just below me to catch me, that enabled me to continue. Finally, though, after one last effort, I pulled myself up and out of the shaft. I rolled onto the ground and closed my eyes.

  The heat was surprising. After being underground for so long, and now dripping wet, I’d forgotten that it had been a warm day up above. As our eyes adjusted to the light, we gazed at the abandoned buildings around us, but there was no time to lose. It took us a short while to navigate our way out of the complex and eventually, after scrambling over a low wall, we found ourselves on a busy road. Sebastian flagged down a taxi almost immediately. The driver threw us a few suspicious looks in his rear-view mirror – we hardly looked like the average tourists, but he only asked us if we were okay. Sebastian managed to reassure him in his broken Italian.

  Luckily, from the short description we gave him, the driver was able to find his way back to Sebastian’s scooter. After Sebastian found some coins in his pockets, he paid the driver and we ran to the scooter. It was still parked where we’d left it, but the seat looked slightly wonky, and marks around the bodywork made it plain someone had tried to break the lock. Fortunately they hadn’t succeeded. Perhaps a passer-by had interrupted them?

  “Whoever decided to show us underground Milan was probably the one who did this,” Sebastian said. “And I bet they’ll try coming back here later on, when it’s dark, to open it properly.”

  “Well, then they’ll have a nice surprise when they see it’s gone.”

  “Yeah, but when they realize their little plan didn’t work, won’t they decide to have another go at us?”

  “They might – so I guess we’ll just have to be more careful from now on, Watson.”

  Sebastian’s phone had no more battery left, and mine was running very low. He attached his to his scooter charger while I checked mine for messages and emails. Now that I was back on the street and had a signal again, an assortment of notifications came pinging through. But I had so much running through my mind about the case, that it was difficult to change gear and think about what I’d missed while we’d been underground. How long had we been gone?

  Tomasso had been calling like mad. And so had Lucas – and Ugo! Ellie had also called a few times. Argh! I’d completely forgotten about my appointments – not that I could have done anything about them. But Tomasso would be furious. And Rocco Rosa’s fashion book launch party! It started at 7 p.m. – I checked the time; there was only half an hour to go!

  I thought about the party – Ellie was going to introduce me to Coco Sommerino D’Alda – and who knew who else might be there. Ugo perhaps?

  Maybe Sebastian could come with me? He gave me the thumbs up when I asked him. It was a book launch, after all, and the invitation had been for me plus a guest. I gave him the address, and then called Ellie.

  I told her we’d had a rough afternoon and that we’d have to meet her at the party. I couldn’t help but purse my lips as I looked down at my clothes though. They’d definitely seen better days – and no doubt so had my face and hair, but I needed to go the party and I really didn’t have time to go back to the flat and change. Because it was a cocktail-hour book launch, it wasn’t as if the guests were going to be hanging around for ages.

  Ellie suggested we meet at the Park Hyatt hotel just around the corner from the book launch and agreed to bring clean clothes for me and to call by Sebastian’s Pensione and pick up a few things for him too.

  Next I called Tomasso. “Axelle! Oh mio Dio! I cannot believe it! And I was just about to call the police! Seriously! Where have you been?”

  It took me a couple of minutes to calm Tomasso down and assure him that I was still in one piece. “I’m getting too old for this job! Madonna! What you’ve done to me today is not funny!”

  I apologized and told him that I’d fallen ill while sightseeing.

  “Well, o-kay-ay, no problem, Axelle,” Tomasso said. “I’m just thankful that you are fine. So we are back at the square one. I’ll reschedule the appointments you missed for tomorrow or later in the week. Take it easy and I’ll email you your details for tomorrow’s Cutie-Pie booking now.”

  My shoulders slumped as I came off the phone to Tomasso, I was so relieved he’d bought my story. But a moment later I was standing straight again as I remembered that I had to call Lucas!

  “And I have to call Francesca,” Sebastian said as if reading my thoughts. With our backs turned to one another, we made our calls.

  “Lucas is meeting me straight after the party,” I said as I hung up and turned around.

  “And Francesca is meeting me there. She was going anyway,” Sebastian made sure to add pointedly.

  I listened to the messages from Ugo – he’d left me two – but I was reluctant to ring him back. I wanted to catch him by surprise when I asked him about Professor Greene. I needed to see his reaction face to face, and judge his honesty for myself.

  Sebastian started up his scooter, while I checked myself out with my mirrored compact. What I saw wasn’t great – I’d have to wash up at the hotel. Sebastian was all set to go, so I hopped onto the scooter and we left.

  The plan was to meet Ellie at the ritzy Park Hyatt Milan hotel, where she usually stayed when she was in Milan for the shows. She was meeting a group of her fashion friends there before heading over to Rocco’s party. “It’ll be easiest if you change at the hotel,” she said. “And don’t worry, they know me well, so it won’t be a problem. I’ll be in the bar in the main lobby. If you don’t see me then just ask for me when you walk in.”

  Ellie might only be a couple of years older than me, but sometimes, like now, when she talked about the most glamorous hotel in Milan as if it was just some kind of casual crash-pad, I realized what five years of modelling – with the last two at the top – can do to a person. Not that she was obnoxious about it – but to her, glitz and glamour were just part of her everyday life – at least when she wasn’t hanging out with me or her family in London.

  From the outside, the hotel is so sober and discreet that its nineteenth-century stone façade, with no tacky signs, was easy to miss. Only the sight of four dark-suited security officers standing outside with earpieces signalled that the building was not exactly average. According to Ellie, the First Lady of the United States, an A-list Hollywood actor and Naomi Campbell had all stayed there in one week.

  The liveried doorman nodded hello as we walked through the hotel entrance. I saw his eyes widen just a touch – our soggy clothes, perhaps? – but he was too polite to show more than mild surprise. Ellie saw us immediately. She was with her friends, sitting at a table under the enormous glass cupola that soared upwards from the lobby. She handed us our clean clothes and linked an arm through mine, ready to lead me to the Park Hyatt’s bathrooms.

  “Don’t forget, Elisabetta, Ugo, Francesca, Ginevra, Kristine and Alessandro.” I ticked the names off on my fingers as I reminded Sebastian. “We need to know exactly when they worked at Falco Ventini.” Sebastian had offered to double-check a few facts and dates once he’d got changed.

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll see you in a minute.” He headed off in one direction and Ellie led me in the other. Once in the bathroom, I pulled out the clean dress and Converse she’d picked up for me.

  “And you forgot this,” Ellie laughed as she handed me the thick invit
ation to the book launch. “You can’t get in without it. Tomasso sent it over to Mrs B’s this afternoon.”

  I changed in a stall while she asked me about my day and although I didn’t have the time to go into detail, I filled her in on the basics.

  “Wow! Honestly, Axelle, you’re lucky to be in one piece – and out of there. It sounds like someone was hoping you’d get lost for good.”

  “Well, today wasn’t their lucky day…” Now that the nightmare was over, I wasn’t particularly keen to talk about it. Ellie seemed to understand and asked, “So your background checks and asking around haven’t led to any big discoveries?”

  “Annoyingly not,” I said as I pulled the dress on – it was black, sleeveless and pretty cool. “The only thing that the suspects have in common – independent of the fact that they are all Ugo’s friends and all work in fashion – is that they’ve all worked for Falco Ventini, in one capacity or another. More specifically, with the exception of Ginevra, it seems they were all working for him at the time leading up to his death. Sebastian is double-checking that now. I have no idea whether this is important or not, but at this point it’s the only lead I have that connects them all to each other at a specific place and at a particular time.”

  “Okay. But what can that possibly have to do with Elisabetta being poisoned?”

  “I have no idea, but I won’t know unless I look into it. Like I said, it’s all I have for now. Well, that and the sneakers…”

  “The sneakers?”

  I explained to Ellie about how Elisabetta had had a pair of sneakers in her basket yesterday.

  “Maybe they were someone else’s?” Ellie said.

  “Maybe. But while she was talking out loud to herself she said she had to do something important that night – meaning last night. And then she died. And the more I think about those two things the more curious I am about them. The trainers, especially, are out of character – at least according to Marzia. And what was it that she had to do that was so important? Could it be that she needed the sneakers to do it?” I thought of my afternoon and how I’d had been chased, followed, trapped and more. “Or did she simply have to do something that required some kind of physical effort?”

  “Good questions, Nancy Drew. Ooh, perfect!” Ellie cooed as I stepped out of the stall. “I love that dress.”

  “H&M, High Street Kensington, in case you’re wondering.”

  “Thanks for the info.”

  I went to the mirror, took my make-up bag out of my rucksack and tried to clean up my face and hair as best as I could. Surprisingly, my hair didn’t look too bad. The mixture of tunnel grime and aqueduct water had somehow congealed to give it fantastic texture. It fell in chunky strands to just past my shoulders – and without any frizz!

  “Your hair looks amazing, Axelle,” said Ellie. “Good choice of product.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  But my face was a different matter. Using a moist tissue I wiped away the dirt and spiderwebs. Then I added some powder, mascara and lip gloss, and brushed my eyebrows with some eyebrow gel. I added some blush for good measure, too. It was as good as it was going to get.

  “We better get going,” Ellie said. “You have to meet Coco and this party isn’t going to last long.”

  “Ellie, can you introduce me to Coco’s mother, too? Didn’t you say she’d be at the book launch?”

  “Yeah, she’ll be there. And she’s really cool. Why?”

  “I need to ask her about Falco Ventini and his last few years there.”

  “Well, she’ll know all about that. Come on.” Ellie linked her arm through mine and we walked back to the lobby. There we met up with the others, including Sebastian, and together we walked the short distance to the book launch party.

  Rizzoli Galleria is located in one of the oldest shopping malls in existence – the stunning Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. The high-vaulted ceilings glittered far above us in the soft evening light that streamed through its glass roof. Fantastic mosaics ran along the top of the buildings, made of gold and coloured tiles that twinkled gently. And although many of the stores, like Prada and Louis Vuitton, had closed for the day, the galleria was still busy and crowded. A hubbub of laughter and chatter could be heard from the busy terraces where people were eating and drinking.

  Though the Rizzoli bookstore was closed to the public, inside it was clearly running on full steam. Dazzlingly bright, its interior was white with clean spare lines, high ceilings and dark wooden floors. Bookcases lined every wall and a simple staircase, right in the middle of the store, led to the various floors. The fashionistas were out in full force and a number of paparazzi were waiting outside, but fortunately Ellie and her friends quickly became the focus of the photographers’ lenses, so Sebastian and I were able to slip in unnoticed – and I made sure to keep my rucksack with the cards in it tucked tightly underneath my arm.

  “What did you find out?” I asked Sebastian as we headed towards a quiet corner away from the crowds and the bar.

  “Well, it turns out all of them were working for Falco right up until his death.” Sebastian stopped as he took a couple of orange juices off a passing tray. “Also, it seems there was a lot going on in Falco’s last year. Apparently his last collection was his most intensive and beautiful – ever. And then he became very ill just after showing it. And his business was struggling too. So good stuff and bad stuff. It must have been a tough time.” Sebastian took his phone out and showed me various articles he’d saved.

  “Wow, his last show was a real biggie…” Sebastian clicked on a video of it. I admired the rich, Byzantine fantasy of bejewelled dresses and accessories. The hair and make-up were stunning too. The models all looked like princesses from an extravagant dream, their hair lustrous and either pinned high or left long and loose. On their heads they wore jewelled crowns of varying sizes and styles – and sometimes flowers too; rich, dark-red carnations and wine-coloured roses that matched the deep tones of their matt lipstick. But the dresses! They were a lavish parade of shimmering tunics, sparkling shorts, jewelled corsets and gem-encrusted lace gowns and more spectacular than any I’d ever seen.

  “Amazing, right?” Sebastian said.

  I nodded as I surfed through the other articles he’d bookmarked for me to read.

  “Can you send me all of these articles?”

  “Will do. By the way, all the reviews for his last show were amazing. And when you read the articles they all say that he’d never worked harder. Of course, his financial difficulties might have motivated him.”

  I nodded. “When I was doing my background reading on Ugo I came across a lot of information on how close Falco was to bankruptcy. It seemed he spent too much – he thought of himself as an artist first and foremost and totally ignored the business side of things…”

  I suddenly felt that excited buzz that comes over me when my detective gut feels it’s onto something. I still had no way of tying any of this to Elisabetta’s death, but my instinct was humming – and that felt great.

  As if picking up on my vibe Sebastian asked, “So what’s your plan for tonight?”

  “I’m going to meet Coco – although now it’s actually her mother I’m more interested in.”

  “To ask about Falco’s last year?”

  “Exactly. And then I’m hoping that Ugo might be here, although I’d like to surprise him somewhere quiet. He’s so smooth that if he sees me first, or if we’re distracted by other people, he’ll have time to plan what he wants to say. And then let’s see who else I bump into.”

  “Like Lucas?”

  “Yes, like Lucas. Although I won’t be bumping into him in here – he’s not invited so I’ll have to keep my eye out for him. He said he’d be at the entrance later. I do need to find out more about the tarot cards…”

  “And I bet Mr Moony-Eyes would love to
answer.”

  “If it helps me with the case…”

  Sebastian rolled his eyes.

  “By the way, check that out…” I nodded in the direction of the entrance. Cameras were flashing and everyone was staring as Alessandro entered.

  “Do you see what I see, Watson?”

  Sebastian nodded. “He’s limping.”

  “Exactly. And he definitely wasn’t when I saw him at the casting yesterday. I’m going to need to find out how that happened. As soon as he’s worked his way further into the room, I’ll ‘bump’ into him.”

  “Absolutely, Holmes.”

  We watched for another minute and Sebastian asked, “And what’s my objective for tonight?”

  “Listen out for rumours. Anything to do with Falco’s last year or that last show or whatever. Keep searching for anything that might give one of the suspects a motive. We also need to find out what Elisabetta wanted to do last night and why she had those trainers in her basket – not that I know how I can find out anything more about them without looking through her personal effects.”

  “Which, no doubt, are still in the hands of the police.”

  “Probably.”

  Sebastian was smiling at me.

  “Care to share what’s on your mind, Watson?”

  “It makes a change, you know, to see you without a bat in your hair.”

  “I’m glad your humour is intact, even after the day we’ve had.”

  “But, seriously, your hair looks nice…”

  Our eyes locked for a moment – and then Francesca’s voice rang out from behind us.

  “Sebastian!” she cried excitedly. “There you are!” She looked stunning, in a short red dress that hugged her curves. High, gold platform heels and some long beaded drop earrings added a touch of fun and funk to her outfit. Her dark wavy hair was loose and in her hand she held a leopard-skin clutch.