Model Under Cover--Dressed to Kill

by Carina Axelsson

  My mind was whizzing. Lavinia had said that Falco had done much of the sewing on the most bejewelled dress alone. Because he’d loved it. Now I couldn’t help but wonder if the “jokers” had been right. “You mean, he swapped the stones so that he could sell on the real jewels?”

  Ugo nodded. “That was the gossip, anyway. That he was going to use the jewels to save his business.”

  “But that sounds mad…”

  “Yes, but Falco almost had a touch of madness about him. It was the kind of thing I could imagine him doing… Whether he actually did it or not, I have no way of knowing. But I think Elisabetta believed he had. Again, I have no proof. But she hinted at it.”

  “But how would she have known, when nobody else did? There are lots of people going in and out of the atelier just before the shows start. Surely if Falco had switched the jewels someone would have seen him?”

  “Not necessarily. Falco liked to work alone and he was fast with his hands – and he was the boss. No one ever questioned him. And, as you know, Elisabetta and Falco were very close. She was his in-house stylist at Ventini, but in a sense she was more like a muse to him – he asked her opinion on everything and he loved to have her around. Both had unhappy family backgrounds; each found a kindred spirit in the other. So if any of this is true, I can imagine that if he told anyone anything about it, then he would have told Elisabetta. He really trusted her, you know – and for good reason. She was very loyal and more like family for Falco than Francesca ever was. He knew Francesca traded on his name and he didn’t like it.” Ugo stopped to shrug his shoulders. “As far as the jewel switch goes,” he continued, “Falco always did love a good story and in the end he was taking so much medication for the pain – it’s hard to know what to believe.”

  “If the story was true, have you any idea how he might have sold the jewels?”

  “Well that’s just it,” said Ugo. “I don’t know. But, again, I have the feeling that Elisabetta did. But then that would mean the rumour had to be true – and is it? Who knows? And the people who would know – the women who bought the dresses – haven’t complained. At all. There hasn’t been one client who has called us up to accuse us of switching the jewels on their dresses for fake ones.”

  “But did the client know to expect real jewels on the dress?”

  “Absolutely. There was a lot of press about it – and, in part, the dresses were spectacular because of it. As far as I know, though, the clients have all been thrilled. I’ve even seen photographs of a couple of them wearing the dresses at huge balls. And some went straight to private collections – people collect haute couture, you know. Anyway, we can hardly call the clients up now and say, ‘By the way, before he died Falco may have switched the real jewels on your dress for fake ones. Could you have a look for us, please?’! I could just imagine what the Ventini company board would say. Why stir up all that trouble when no one has complained?”

  Checking the dresses seemed the best way to verify the rumours, I thought. But if they were all in the hands of clients – and those clients had never complained, what could I do?

  “Anyway,” Ugo continued, “on Monday night, at my after-party, Elisabetta surprised me by suddenly asking to speak with me privately. We went into my study and she started talking about the rumour of the jewel switch and how she had something important to do on the following evening – the night of the day she died – and that Falco’s ghost would finally be happy. I cut her off immediately. I was completely exasperated with this rumour nonsense! It wasn’t the first time she’d brought the subject up – but I wanted it to be the last. I told her to forget Falco and to let sleeping dogs lie. I reminded her that we’d never had any clients complain.”

  “What did she say to that?”

  “She told me that I had no idea what I was talking about and that everything was fine and going according to plan. Whatever that meant.”

  So that was the subject of the loud discussion between Ugo and Elisabetta on Monday night. I asked Ugo if he realized that the others had heard them arguing. He looked sheepish. “I may have sounded a bit forceful – but it was only because I wanted to make her think. I mean, her career had just hit a new high and here she was banging on about Falco’s ghost. I know she loved him, but enough was enough!”

  Hmm… It seemed that Elisabetta believed Falco had switched the jewels on his haute couture dresses. But that didn’t mean it was a fact. Somehow I would have to find out… In the meantime I said, “Ugo I have to ask you again what it was you were doing at Professor Greene’s office yesterday morning. I know you were asking about the tarot cards – but why?”

  Ugo took another deep breath. “This is going to sound crazy…”

  “Try me.”

  “As you know, Elisabetta died suddenly and I know she left no will. But she had mentioned to me a few times that if anything should happen to her, she had three tarot cards that she wanted to leave me. According to Elisabetta they were antique and valuable. But she never told me what they looked like or where they’d come from – in fact, I thought it was odd that she treasured them so much – she always teased me for reading my horoscope! Anyway, for whatever reason, these cards were special to her and she wanted me, and only me, to have them. Now, of course, there’s no chance I’ll ever get them. She only had one brother and everything will go to him, even though they were not on good terms. Apparently he’s a drug addict – and I know from Elisabetta that he is always desperate for money. She’d loaned him a lot in the past – but he was draining her to the end.”

  So that, I thought, is probably why Elisabetta had financial trouble…

  “I think,” Ugo continued, “when he gets his hands on those cards he’s definitely going to sell them. He lives here in Milan, and I contacted him to give him my sympathy. He had no idea who I was. I asked about the cards and he wasn’t interested in listening to me explain why I wanted them. He told me he would sell his sister’s things to the highest bidder and then slammed the phone down. I guessed that he would contact private dealers, and possibly the auction houses, to sell anything of value that Elisabetta owned. That’s when I thought of Professor Greene – I’ve approached the auction houses, too, by the way. Anyway, I went to ask the professor to please, please call me immediately if someone called Rinconi tries to sell him three antique tarocchi cards. I’d like to buy them, I don’t care how much they cost, because I know Elisabetta wanted me to have them.”

  Now I finally felt sure that the three tarot cards I’d found were the same three that had belonged to Elisabetta. I didn’t have any way of proving it completely, but how else did they get into the dressing room of Megastudio on Tuesday morning?

  “Why didn’t you tell me all of this on Tuesday, Ugo?” I asked. “Why didn’t you tell me about Falco’s supposed jewel switch? Elisabetta might have been in danger because of it.”

  “First of all I don’t believe the rumour,” Ugo argued. “Surely one of the clients would have complained by now if it was true! And then, under the circumstances, it was the last thing I was going to bring up! I was already under suspicion. You should have seen the way the police were looking at me that day. I thought if I started telling them about this crazy rumour of switched jewels they would think I was totally mad. And if they believed me, they might think I knew where the jewels were or something! I might just as well have handed myself in right there and then. And what if my theory ended up being totally wrong? All I would have done was bring a ton of speculation and bad press to bear on my reputation, Ventini’s reputation, and Elisabetta’s. On the other hand, if I had been certain it was all true – well, that would have been a different matter.”

  He had a point. “So you called me.”

  Ugo nodded. “I didn’t know what to do so I called my old friend Cazzie and she immediately mentioned you. I thought, perfect, she’s not police, no one will suspect her of anything and
if she figures this all out without me saying anything then I can keep my low profile and get justice for Elisabetta at the same time.”

  “Well, it sounds good on paper, even I can see that. But the reality is far more complicated…someone else is after those cards and someone tried leaving me for dead yesterday. I need to know what is so important about them. And where Elisabetta got them from.” The answer to the last question popped into my head as soon as I said it. Surely the cards had to have come from Falco? Hadn’t Lavinia said yesterday that Falco collected tarot cards? And Francesca had inherited some.

  Ugo shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I know that Falco was into tarot, although he never spoke about it. Maybe he gave them to her? But why give three antique tarocchi cards to someone who isn’t interested in them? Elisabetta could be so secretive, you know – like Falco. They had that in common.”

  Ugo got up and poured us each a glass of water. “I promise you, now I’ve told you everything I know, Axelle. Really. I’m sorry I wasn’t upfront about this all from day one – but I was terrified. To be honest, I’ve never been so frightened in all my life.”

  I nodded slowly and decided to take him at his word.

  “But from now on I’ll be totally open with you. I promise. I really need to know the truth about why Elisabetta was killed. Please, Axelle, please…you’ve got to help me solve this. For all our sakes…”

  “Then I need you to do something for me.”

  “Anything. Just say it.”

  “Can you call Lavinia? I met her last night and she told me that she’d personally handled the sales of the jewelled dresses from Falco’s last collection. Maybe she sold one to someone living here, in Milan? If so, I’d like to see the dress up close and perhaps speak with the owner. Could you arrange that for me?” I couldn’t tell the difference between a real jewel and a good fake one, but I might learn something from the owner. It was worth a shot.

  “Okay, I’ll call her now. I have no idea if there is still a dress in Milan but I’ll ask. I know most of them went to overseas buyers.”

  “Well find out for sure, please. And perhaps it’s best to tell Lavinia that it’s for that project you and I are supposed to be doing together – so she doesn’t get suspicious. I can always come clean with her later.”

  It was nearly eight-thirty. I had to get going. “Can you call me when you hear back from her?”

  “Absolutely. Anything else?”

  I was about to say no when I thought of something. “Is there a logbook at the Ventini atelier? A record of the comings and goings of the employees?”

  “Yes, there is. Everyone has to sign in – not just the employees. It keeps track of everything – deliveries, clients, that sort of thing.”

  “Great. Do you think you could get me the logbooks from the period leading up to the last collection until the day Falco died?”

  “Yes, no problem. I’ll get those for you as soon as I’m at the office. Where should I send them? Or will you pick them up?”

  I was going to be busy shooting all day and I didn’t want them delivered to the shoot because it could raise questions. I suggested Sebastian pick them up directly from Ugo. So he gave me the Ventini address and his direct office number, too.

  “Now may I ask you a question, Axelle?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “How is it that you have the three tarocchi cards?”

  I smiled. “I found them at Megastudio, in the dressing area, near the spot where Elisabetta died. I tried to give them to the police – and I’ll have to eventually – but on Tuesday, anyway, they weren’t interested.”

  “So those must be the cards she was talking about…”

  “Seems so.”

  Ugo took a long, deep breath. “Will you keep me posted on everything?” His black eyes gazed directly into mine.

  “I will. And you?”

  “Me too.”

  And this time I believed him.

  I dashed out of Ugo’s and grabbed a taxi. I was shooting on location today at the Villa Necchi Campiglio. And while it wasn’t far from Ugo’s, it was on the other side of the neighbouring Quadrilatero della Moda, Milan’s chic, old-money shopping district. With only a short while remaining before the team met up, I didn’t have time to waste.

  Cutie-Pie was a newcomer on the international fashion stage. What had started as a local Italian store was now on its way to becoming an international brand. And an important factor spurring that growth was the high-profile ad campaigns they’d started producing a few years back.

  Cutie-Pie liked to book models who were up-and-coming – they preferred young and trendy girls whose edgier looks reflected the style of their product. Their advertising campaigns were a modelling agency’s dream: trendy clothes, great photographers, the best hair and make-up, good pay and high visibility in the hottest fashion magazines. And sometimes that same high visibility even helped launch a model into the big time. Ellie had done their first campaign two years earlier and on the back of that she’d been booked for her first big US Vogue story.

  And while I wasn’t sure that would happen to me, this was nonetheless a plum job. I was one of two models who would be fronting this season’s campaign, although today I would be working alone. I would also be on location the whole day rather than in a studio. After Tuesday’s experience I was relieved – especially because, in Milan, the vast majority of studio shoots happen at Megastudio.

  It’s always hard to say what a location shoot will be like. If the client is a prestigious brand or magazine, you’ll be shooting in some of the most amazing places in the world. And the hotels, location buses and food will be fantastic. At other times conditions will not be so nice and you might be lucky to get a ham sandwich after having a few photos taken under a bridge on the outskirts of some industrial town.

  Today I’d be shooting at the Villa Necchi, a stunning Art Deco house built by a family of wealthy industrialists. Cutie-Pie had rented it for the day.

  After I arrived and said hello to everyone on the team, the first thing I did was to message Sebastian and ask him to pick up the Ventini logbooks from Ugo. I also asked him to check through them and note anything unusual. Later on tonight we’d go over them together.

  The day went by relatively quickly. My hair and make-up was sleek and minimal. I looked polished, but not overdone. Dewy skin, pink lips, pretty eyes and straight, glossy hair. And because I’d already had the clothes fitted to me, there wasn’t anything to pin or adjust. Plus, because the stylist had seen me in the clothes the day before, she already had a good idea as to how she wanted to shoot them – and where in the house they would look best. The bright patterns and different textures of the fabrics contrasted nicely with the cool elegance of the house’s interiors. Patchwork coats made of swathes of colourful suede, patent-leather knee-high boots, and prim-looking dresses with short, short skirts gave a sleek but funky 1960s vibe to the campaign.

  There was, of course, talk about Elisabetta’s death – especially when I mentioned that I’d been at the shoot at Megastudio on Tuesday. But no one on the team had anything to add to what I’d already uncovered and the general assumption seemed to be that she’d died after eating a leaf from Ugo’s monkshood plant by accident. There were a few muttered comments, though, about Ugo and why he’d keep a poisonous plant at his home.

  I, meanwhile, thought about what I’d learned this morning from Ugo. If I went with the assumption that the tarocchi cards I’d found had indeed belonged to Elisabetta, then I had to wonder why anyone else wanted them so badly. Was it their financial value – or something more?

  Another thing I couldn’t understand was why Falco would have given the cards to Elisabetta when surely he must have known that she didn’t like tarot, didn’t believe in it, and even laughed at it?

  Also, if they were so valuable – and Falco
had probably told Elisabetta that they were worth a small fortune – then why was she carrying them around with her in a tatty envelope in her basket on an average working day? Were they somehow connected with the “important” thing she’d wanted to do that evening? Then again, why was I focusing so much on the tarot cards? It’s not as if I had any conclusive evidence that linked them to Elisabetta’s death. I’d just happened to find them on the day she died. They’d probably just slipped out of her basket. And yet it seemed someone wanted them badly enough to try stealing them from me – aside from Ugo, two other people had already talked to Lucas about them, too.

  I suddenly thought of something else: Elisabetta had been mugged and had her flat burgled this last spring. Could those events have been connected with the tarot cards?

  I quickly messaged Ugo:

  Hi Ugo, when Elisabetta was mugged and burgled was anything taken? Could it have been about the tarot cards?

  He replied straight away:

  Hi Axelle, E told me the mugging was random. As for the burglary, nothing was taken. Elisabetta never figured out what the burglar was after – thought it might be her brother looking for money.

  Argh! My frustration knew no bounds. I took a deep breath. My hair was being restyled for the last shot before we had our lunch break, and I had just closed my eyes when my phone vibrated again. Another message from Ugo: Lavinia had tracked down one of the dresses! In fact, she’d tracked down the dress. That deep red, show-stopping finale from Falco’s last collection. And it was here in Milan, less than a ten-minute walk away from where I was now.

  It had been sold to an overseas buyer, but the client who’d bought it had an apartment here in the city and part of her haute couture collection was kept in the apartment. And, according to Lavinia, she’d been a good friend of Falco’s and she’d be happy to help me with my “research”. She’d even asked if I’d be able to meet her at her home that evening.