London

by Carina Axelsson

  “Yes.”

  “And it states that he died at his club after supper…”

  “So?”

  “So his brother ‘drowned’ and his mother ‘died in an accident at their home.’ Those descriptions both sound fairly vague, don’t you think? Like, where did Julian drown? And what kind of accident did Clarissa have? And take a look at this…” I clicked onto Clarissa Vane’s page and waited while Sebastian studied the photos of her early modeling career and read about her jet-setting days as a fashion muse.

  “She was beautiful,” he said.

  “She was. But again there are no specific details about the way she died.”

  “Should there be?”

  “Well, if Johnny’s father’s death was clearly documented, then why not the deaths of Johnny’s mother and brother?”

  Drowned. The word kept turning in my mind. I went back to the file with Gavin’s pictures and scrolled down to the old photo. “I mean, look. I’m pretty sure the boys are standing in the Thames here. And the fact that Gavin focused on this particular image makes me wonder whether that’s where Julian drowned.”

  “You’re thinking it could have happened near Westminster? Where Gavin was found?”

  “Something like that, yes,” I said before turning back to my computer. “Maybe that’s why Gavin was there. Maybe there’s some connection.”

  Sebastian raised his eyebrows at me.

  “You don’t have to give me that look, Watson. I know I’m leaping to a lot of conclusions,” I told him. “Of course, for all I know Julian could have died in the bathtub at home. Either way, I think we should find out what exactly happened to him and his mom. Old newspaper clippings might be a good place to start. The deaths must have been reported somewhere.” Quickly I checked the references at the bottom of the Wikipedia article.

  “Hmm…” I said as I motioned to Sebastian to look at my screen again. “For the deaths of his mother and twin brother, they list an old article in Vogue as their reference. But”—I rapidly scrolled down to where they mentioned his father’s death—“here they list the Times.”

  “So?”

  “So his father’s death came first, right?”

  Sebastian nodded. “I think I see what you’re getting at, Holmes. No newspaper—and certainly not the Times—would have let the subsequent deaths of James Vane’s son and wife go unreported. Three tragedies make too good a story to miss, and the journalists couldn’t have resisted linking them together. So the Times archive must have the details of all three deaths.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m thinking, Watson. Let me have a quick look…”

  I tried searching for old articles about the Vanes—with no luck.

  “It’s not that easy,” Sebastian said. “To access old material, you need to subscribe to the archive that’s storing it or ask them directly. But that’s something I’m good at. I’ll access the Times archive online first thing tomorrow morning and start with that. Anything else I can do?”

  I nodded as I finished my milk shake. “It would help if you could find out more about Gavin’s background, friends, and so on. I know the police have been looking into it—although Tallulah is convinced they’re only going through the motions—and I’ve been through his phone and emails, but there may be something we’ve both missed, or that he kept well hidden.”

  “I can look into his background, no problem.”

  I went back to studying the old photo again. I just couldn’t seem to leave it alone. There was part of a brownish ring in its upper left-hand corner that I’d noticed when I was on the Tube earlier. Now, in the bright-neon light of the diner, it looked like a stain from a cup of coffee or tea—and it didn’t look old. To my eye, the ring appeared too dark and well defined to have been made years ago.

  “You’re convinced there’s something more to this picture, aren’t you, Holmes?”

  I shrugged. “Well, why did Gavin include it on the stick when it wasn’t part of his Harper’s Bazaar brief?”

  “Maybe he just liked it?”

  “Tallulah said the photos on the stick were an edited selection. He sent the same choice of images, minus the old one, to Harper’s Bazaar. She checked his emails.”

  “The old one really wasn’t part of the shoot then…so why include it on the stick?”

  “Exactly, Watson.”

  Sebastian had finished his milk shake and sat quietly watching me. “What are you thinking about now, Holmes?” he finally asked.

  “Still the past, Watson.”

  Sebastian waited silently for me to continue.

  “Let’s assume for a moment that Gavin discovered something thanks to the old photograph, that maybe the photo is a clue to something important that happened around the time it was taken…”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, maybe someone wants to keep Gavin’s ‘discovery’ hidden. Maybe that’s why he was attacked. Maybe it was about more than just stealing the flash drive—maybe they were trying to silence him.”

  Sebastian’s expression was grim. “You’re talking about attempted murder.”

  “I know,” I said. Hearing Sebastian say out loud what had been floating at the back of my mind for a few hours sent a shiver down my spine, but it meant this case was now even more urgent. I had a sudden thought. “Do you think you could find out if anyone besides close friends and family has called the hospital or tried to visit Gavin?”

  Sebastian raised his eyebrows at me.

  “Better to be safe than sorry,” I said. “If they tried to get him once, surely there’s a chance they’ll try again.”

  “Good point, Holmes,” Sebastian said, turning toward me, his voice low. “But if you’re right about Johnny’s brother and mother, how do you solve a mystery that happened in the past?”

  “I don’t know, but I guess I’ll have to find out.”

  As we spoke I continued to search online and noticed something that had escaped me while I’d been researching on the Tube earlier: Clarissa Vane’s only sibling is the fashion stylist Caro Moretti (née Carolyne Ryder).

  I knew Caro! I’d met her when I was in New York doing the shows (and solving my last case). She’s been styling for Jorge Cruz since he first began designing and would no doubt be in London to help him with his resort collection show later this week. There was even a good chance I’d see her tomorrow at my Jorge Cruz fitting. But what a surprise to learn that Clarissa Vane was her sister! Even Charlotte hadn’t mentioned it. Then again, their names were so different, and Clarissa had died so long ago that I supposed not many people knew or remembered.

  Caro was also the only surviving relative of Johnny and Georgie mentioned online. Could she have become their guardian after Clarissa died? If I could find a moment or two during my fitting, I definitely needed to ask her some questions.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Sebastian asked after I’d told him about Caro Moretti.

  “Well, it’s important to establish who the children in the picture are, and I should have the perfect opportunity to do that when I see Caro tomorrow.”

  “And what about finding out where it was taken?”

  “I looked a bit today, but maybe tomorrow one of us can go farther up and down the river…perhaps at the end of the day sometime.”

  “That’s fine with me. By the way, Holmes, can I have my own copy of the photo?”

  I pushed my copy of the old picture to him.

  “Thanks. So I’ll start with hunting down the newspaper reports. That seems to be most important. And what about you? Do you have lots of appointments?”

  “I have a fitting with Belle La Lune first thing. I’m hoping that, knowing the business as she does, she might be able to tell me something about the Vanes.”

  “When will you see Caro?”

  “After Belle, I go straight to my Jorge Cruz fitting.
I expect Caro will be there, so I’ll take another copy of the photo with me.”

  “And after that?”

  “After that I’m off to Marylebone to the Johnny Vane head office. Johnny won’t be there, but I want to check out his headquarters. I may able to ask a few questions and hopefully find a way to meet his sister, Georgie. Anyway, my castings are all in the morning. Then in the afternoon, I have a three-hour booking across town for Teen Chic.” With Josh Locke, I reminded myself. Argh!

  Sebastian nodded. “Good. So while you’re doing that, I’ll look into Gavin’s background and check out the situation at the hospital. Shall I try to find out exactly where Johnny grew up?”

  “Yes, Watson, that would be helpful.” I thought again of how Johnny had grown up in Notting Hill. “He can’t have lived far from here. Hopefully the address will be given in the reports you’ll find. And…”

  “Yes?”

  “Maybe you could try tracing the Vane nanny too. Apparently she’s still very close to Johnny. Ellie said her name was Jane.”

  Sebastian nodded. “Will do…” Then he went quiet for a moment before asking, “And what about actually spending some time with you? Is that going to happen at all?”

  His voice was teasing—but his eyes weren’t. A pang of guilt shot through me as I looked at him. I thought again of how often I’d complained lately about us never seeing each other…and yet here he was, in the flesh and right in front of me—and I had a case to solve! I wanted to be with him—badly—but I also had to get Gavin out of danger. Argh!

  “How about meeting for lunch and going over whatever new leads we’ll have gathered by then? I’ll have some time between my morning castings and the Teen Chic shoot.”

  “Perfect. I’ll take whatever I can get,” he said, smiling. “I suppose this is what happens when you date an undercover model. So where should we meet?”

  “That depends on what we find out between now and then…and where it leads us next.”

  “Good point, Holmes. So it sounds like we have a plan.”

  “Yes, we do, Watson.” I smiled.

  What we didn’t have a plan for was how to say good night.

  As we left the diner, Sebastian slipped his leather jacket gently around my shoulders. He took my hand, and we walked the short distance to my house in silence.

  At first it was a bit uncomfortable standing outside my house with him. Saying good-bye in person and saying good-bye on Skype are two very different scenarios—and we were more used to Skype. But finally Sebastian stepped forward and gently ran his finger down the side of my face, cupped my chin in his hand, and gave me that look. I nearly melted under his touch.

  He slowly ran his hands down my sides until they settled around my waist. Then he leaned into me and kissed me hard. This, I thought as I felt his lips move over mine, is what it should be like to be with someone—so much better than lots of wishful thinking over a cold computer screen.

  Even though I really, really liked Sebastian, I didn’t like how little time we spent together, and how that made both of us upset. Have you ever spent three months apart from the person you like? And is it possible to stay together with someone when you know that you’ll only get to see them for a few days every couple of months at best? I got depressed just thinking about it.

  We finally pulled apart and stood gazing at each other—or rather, Sebastian gazed at me. I was too fidgety and couldn’t hold his stare. The night was bright. The high moonlight overhead illuminated the houses and church on my street with a pale, silver light as we stood in the shadows thrown by the rosebushes that grow like wild-haired sentries on either side of my gate.

  “I’ll look into everything we discussed,” Sebastian said. We both edged out of the shadows and into the bright light of the pavement as he spoke. “And then meet you for lunch.”

  “I’ll send you a message as soon as I’ve finished my appointment at Johnny Vane, speaking of which—”

  He interrupted before I finished my sentence. “Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “I know, if I find out anything important I’ll message you. Right away—I promise.”

  I smiled. It was nice to work with someone who knew me so well.

  “Good, thanks.”

  I slipped his jacket off my shoulders and handed it back to him. He leaned into me quickly and kissed me on the cheek.

  “À demain, Holmes.”

  “À demain, Watson.”

  I watched him turn and leave before I started toward my door.

  But as I reached for my key I heard him call out to me softly. “Axelle?”

  I turned back and faced him.

  “It was nice to see you tonight.” Then he smiled and disappeared.

  Same here, Sebastian, I thought as I pushed open my front door and Halley hurled herself at me.

  WEDNESDAY MORNING

  Seen from the Side

  As I woke up bright and early, the images from Gavin’s flash drive kept flitting through my mind—although Halley’s enthusiastic morning greeting did push them out of focus for a few minutes.

  Waking up with Halley always involved lots of dog kisses all over my face and ears, as well as some excited jumping around on my bed. I tried to get into the shower before too long, however, because as cute as Halley is, West Highland white terrier saliva smells quite strong when it dries on your face.

  Foremost on my mind as I got ready was how I was going to manage to meet Johnny Vane. Charlotte hadn’t sounded too positive about me actually seeing him at his offices today, but I needn’t have worried. As it turned out, Belle La Lune arranged an introduction.

  Belle—like Jorge Cruz and Marc Jacobs—was in London to present her resort fashion show. Fashion houses sometimes travel to other cities to show their resort and pre-fall collections in between their normal spring-summer and autumn-winter collections. For example, Chanel and Christian Dior, both Paris-based fashion houses, have shown their resort and pre-fall collections in cities far from home, like Vienna and New York City—even Dubai.

  This time around, Belle was opting to show the La Lune resort collection in their new London store, which was why my appointment to meet her was at the very fashionable Connaught Hotel, just around the corner from her store in Mayfair. She’d brought a large part of her in-house team with her. Belle wasn’t just staying at the Connaught; she was holding her castings and fittings there too.

  As my mom drove down Porchester Road and cut through Hyde Park, I read the message Tallulah had just sent me:

  Any progress? I’m going to see Gavin later. I’ll let you know how he is… PS: I didn’t know you were going to Chic House yesterday—looks like you had fun!

  Fun? What was she talking about? I wrote back:

  Some progress, yes, but expect more later today. I’m following a couple of strong leads. And yes, I was at Chic House yesterday—for a casting.

  I refrained from mentioning that “fun” was the last word I’d use to describe the tedious meeting with Jacky—followed by my annoying encounter with Josh Locke.

  Tallulah wrote back right away:

  Great news. I definitely want to hear more info as soon as you have it…BTW since when do castings involve holding hands with major pop stars?

  Now what was she talking about? I wrote back and she answered with a link. I clicked on it and found a photo of myself, cropped at the knees and shown from the side. If you knew me well, you could tell it was me. Otherwise, I was hard to identify. But one thing was clear: it looked as if Josh and I were holding hands and gazing, love struck, into each other’s eyes. Worst of all was the caption underneath the photo: Does Josh Locke have a new mystery love?

  We must have been snapped by the paparazzi just after he pulled me up outside the revolving door. I was standing on my own two feet, but I remember he’d held on to my hands while I regained my balance.

 
What would Sebastian think if he saw this photo?

  ARGH!

  “Axelle, is everything all right?” my mom asked. “You’ve gotten awfully quiet.”

  As if I didn’t have enough on my plate between my new case and all the castings and bookings Thunder kept throwing at me—now I had this to deal with too! The only bright spot in the whole mess was that I was unidentified. Besides upsetting Sebastian, the last thing I wanted was a team of paparazzi following me around as I tried to fly under the radar and search for clues.

  In answer to my mom’s question, I held out my phone to show her the picture.

  “Darling, it’s Josh Locke! You didn’t tell me you knew him—and judging by that photo, I have to say it seems you know him quite well. When were you going to tell me?”

  It took all my self-control not to jump out of our car. “Mom, I met Josh Locke yesterday accidentally at my Teen Chic casting. I spoke to him for, like, five minutes, because he ran into me and knocked me over just as I was stepping outside. Some random paparazzo must have been lurking behind a car or something and taken these pictures with a telephoto lens.”

  “It certainly looks romantic.… Does Sebastian know?”

  “I hope not. And, unfortunately, I’m going to work with Josh Locke today. For some bizarre reason, Teen Chic booked me for the job.”

  “Then he must like you.” Mom smiled at me.

  I looked at her. Honestly, what planet did she come from? And could she ever—ever—see things from my perspective for just one minute? “Mom, he’s so arrogant. Trust me, we did not get along. I couldn’t believe it when Charlotte confirmed the booking, because the editor hardly stopped talking on the phone long enough to take a proper look at me.”

  “Oh, Axelle, I’ve heard Josh Locke is absolutely charming. I’m sure he’s not arrogant. He’s famous—that’s different.”

  I rolled my eyes. My mom was such a closet celebrity fan that it almost hurt. “Anyway,” she continued, “at least you’re not mentioned by name, so I doubt you’ll have any paparazzi following you around today—or jealous fans.” She giggled. “He must have masses.”