London

by Carina Axelsson

  I should have seen that one coming, I thought. Belle was a huge fan of Josh. “When did you see Belle, by the way?”

  Josh smiled. “Earlier today. I had a fitting just after you were there for yours.”

  “What? You had a fitting for the show? Are you going to be in it?”

  Josh laughed and shook his head. “No, not for the show—for my next tour. Belle will be making some of my suits.” He stood watching me, smiling. “Axelle, don’t look so surprised. I am a singer, you know. I do have a band. And I do go on tour.”

  It had been so normal just talking to him, alone on set, that I’d completely forgotten about Josh the superstar. Furthermore, the idea of going to see his grandmother with him still hadn’t sunk in. I mean, that was totally normal, right? Like it or not, I was starting to see Josh in a different light.

  I had a twinge of conscience as a thought suddenly popped into my mind. Was I becoming one of the fans I’d been so eager to keep myself apart from?

  “I think I’d forgotten about the whole singing and pop-star side of your life,” I said.

  “Well, if forgetting about all of that helps you to talk to me, then please put it out of your mind, okay?” he answered as he leaned in to me. “I look forward to seeing you tonight.”

  I didn’t know what to say. As he walked from the room, throwing me an over-the-shoulder smile, I stared down at my backpack and started busily packing my things away.

  Within a few minutes I was out of the studio and in a cab. (I’d never make it across town in time to change for the La Lune party otherwise.) It pulled out of the parking lot and turned a corner, and I caught sight of Josh in the distance. He had a beanie pulled down over his head and a guitar case over his shoulder. (I hadn’t even realized he’d brought a guitar with him to the studio.) He was walking home on his own—he’d told me he lived a twenty-minute walk from the studio.

  “No, thank you,” I’d overheard him say when the editor from Teen Chic offered to call him a car. “I could use the fresh air. Besides,” he’d continued as he pulled the beanie and sunglasses out of his backpack, “with these on I should make it to my front door unnoticed.” That didn’t seem like superstar behavior at all.

  Hmm…Jenny’s words came back to me again. Maybe she was right. Maybe it’s not just criminals who have more sides to them than the eye—or my eye anyway—can see.

  I think I was becoming a fan.

  WEDNESDAY EVENING

  Moonlight on the River

  “Axelle, are you ready? We should get going. Ten more minutes, all right?” my mom called from downstairs.

  “Yes, fine! I’ll be down in a few,” I called back.

  While I’d been at the studio working with Josh, Belle had sent me a super-cool trouser suit to wear to her party. (She’d called my agency to organize it.) The skinny black pants were topped off with a La Lune tuxedo jacket. I wore it with a white T-shirt I’d found a couple of weekends earlier at Portobello Market. It had a loud, multicolored design down the front. I finished the look off with a pair of Converse.

  Hmm…I took a last look at myself in the mirror on the inside of my closet door and realized there was no way my mom was going to let me through the door with the Converse on—not if I was wearing a T-shirt. (She’d no doubt have something to say about that too.) On the other hand, I needed the Converse for the boat trip later—and I preferred them anyway.

  A compromise came to mind, and I quickly kicked off my Converse and put them into my favorite black-leather clutch bag. It had large gold studs all over it and was one of the few designer pieces I really liked. Most importantly, it could just hold my pair of Converse, my phone, and my lip gloss. Then I dug a pair of red satin strappy sandals with heels (a gift from Belle La Lune) out of my closet and slipped them on. Yes, I thought, they’d do. They stood out against the black of my suit and picked up on the red on my T-shirt, but most importantly, they’d please my mom. They were, in fact, perfect for an early-summer garden party, but I’d change into my Converse as soon as I could.

  I ran my hands through my hair. It looked fine—surprisingly. Often after a shoot, it would end up a mass of hair product and leftover hairstyles. Combing and washing everything out could take a while. But Sam hadn’t put much product on my hair this afternoon, even though he’d straightened it. It fell brown, glossy, and straight to just past my shoulders.

  My makeup, meanwhile, still looked fresh, and although it was heavier on the eyes than I’d usually like, Priscilla had applied it with a light touch. Even my mom thought I should leave it, so I did. A swipe of lip gloss was my only personal contribution to my look for the night. Before leaving my bedroom though, I remembered to squash my glasses into my clutch. After all, I never knew when I might want to blend into the crowd.

  I flew down the stairs, and sure enough, before we’d made even made it out of the house my mom asked me if I had to wear a T-shirt.

  “Cara Delevingne always wears one,” I answered, which instantly silenced Mom. I secretly thanked Cara yet again. Because of her, I get away with a lot of sartorial choices that my mom would otherwise veto. Cara Delevingne is a super-successful model, and clearly wearing Converse, beanies (another of Mom’s pet peeves), and T-shirts hasn’t affected this. In fact, it may have helped.

  I kissed Halley good-bye, got in the car, and fifteen minutes later, Mom was dropping me at the Orme Square Gate leading into Kensington Gardens.

  “Have fun and don’t forget to thank Belle again for my ticket to the fashion show tomorrow. And call me if you’re going to be back later than ten thirty, okay?” Mom said.

  I assured her I would, then stepped out of the car just as Ellie arrived.

  It was a warm evening and the sky was clear. Soft orange turned to a pale hazy blue as purple clouds scudded high above. The large topiary yews decorating the impressive palace orangery cast their shade in the gentle June twilight. Kensington Gardens are attached to Kensington Palace, the London home of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. Was I likely to spot the young family as I walked through the royal park? No, probably not. Were the gardens beautiful? Yes, absolutely—and a perfect setting for Belle’s soon-to-be-unveiled Alice in Wonderland–inspired resort collection.

  Like the palace, the Orangery is built of brick and has white-framed windows, and despite being part of the royal residence, it can be rented as a private venue. An excited murmur of laughter and chitchat drifted out on the cool evening breeze as Ellie and I approached the party. Twittering birds and clinking glasses were the only other sounds in this beautiful green haven, smack in the middle of London.

  A large and elaborate bunny cage—from a distance it resembled a bird aviary—stood underneath one of the large yews. Shaped like a fanciful castle, it housed several white rabbits that were busily munching on fresh lettuce. Waiters in exquisite costumes—some dressed as the Mad Hatter, others as the Queen of Hearts—carried trays of canapés.

  On any other day I might actually have enjoyed the party. But now that the day’s modeling was done, thoughts of Gavin and the threat he was under crowded my mind. I was impatient to find out how Sebastian had gotten on at the hospital. And of course my whole reason for being at the party was to meet Johnny and see if I could figure anything out. Small talk and exotic juice drinks were not what this night was about. Not for me anyway, I thought as I watched Ellie. We’d just arrived and she already had a large glass of sparkling cranberry juice in one hand, a plate full of nibbles in the other, and a well-known Italian fashion designer on her arm.

  A moment later, a voice I knew well surprised me from behind.

  “Here you are!”

  It was Chandra Rhodes, supermodel (and someone I met while working on my last case). She was wearing the most amazing silver strapless jumpsuit. Its spare lines and sparkly shimmer set off her tanned skin, untamed hair, and amazing face to great effect.

  She’d just fl
own in from New York City, where she was based, and was here to do the La Lune fashion show, along with a couple of other big jobs. Knowing how familiar Chandra was with the fashion business, I couldn’t help asking her about the Vanes. Caro—whom I’d spotted in the distance—seemed like a good person to start with.

  “Have you seen Caro, by the way?” I asked, nodding in the direction of a group to our right where Caro stood, dressed in an all-white trouser suit.

  Chandra nodded. “I did and she looks fab in white. We’re actually working together tomorrow, shooting an editorial for Love magazine.”

  “By the way,” I said, “I bet you didn’t know that Caro is Johnny Vane’s aunt.”

  “I had no idea! Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “Caro was even Johnny and his sister’s guardian after their parents died.”

  Chandra slowly shook her head. “Wow. I never would have guessed. I’ve done some of his shows, you know, and I’m on option for his upcoming perfume campaign.” She smiled suddenly and said, “You know how he’s always wearing those fingerless gloves and silver rings, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, apparently he never takes them off. I’ve heard his skin is so pale underneath that when the gloves are off, it just looks as if he’s swapped them for white ones.” Chandra shook her head and laughed.

  “Has he always worn them? The gloves, I mean.”

  “I think so…”

  “But why? There must be more to it than just fashion.”

  Chandra shrugged her shoulders. “I doubt it. Everyone likes a trademark look, after all. Besides, the gloves really set off his rings.”

  Just as Chandra said this, Ellie wandered back over and immediately positioned herself between us, stretched out her long arm, and took a picture.

  “Party or no party,” she said, as Chandra noticed a makeup-artist friend and moved on, “I have to feed my Instagram beast. And soon, Axelle, I promise you—you’ll start loving it too.”

  I was a newbie to Instagram. The idea had come from Thunder. Charlotte and Charlie had made it clear to me in our first meeting that having an active account where fans could follow was a determining factor in a model’s career.

  “Not that it’s a factor that’s easy to measure…but all things being equal, when a client has two girls on option, they’ll check which girl has more followers—and that’s the model they’ll book,” Charlotte had said. I’d found that hard to believe, but after talking to other models, Charlotte and Charlie didn’t seem to be exaggerating. They’d opened an Instagram account for me that same day.

  “Come on,” Ellie said, as she slipped her phone into her tiny clutch. “I think it’s time someone introduced you to Johnny Vane. I know Belle was going to do it, but that could take all night.” She nodded across to where Belle stood surrounded by journalists and bloggers. “And this,” Ellie continued, “is the perfect time to interrupt him. I happen to know that the shoe designer who’s cornered him against that tree is not someone he wants to speak to. Shall we go?”

  I nodded and linked my arm through Ellie’s. Together we walked to where Johnny was standing.

  He was indeed relieved to see Ellie and me. “Ah! You’ve been taking our small world by storm, haven’t you?” he said to me after Ellie introduced us.

  He was dressed as usual in one of his iconic, black biker jackets. Heavy black boots, black jeans, and a T-shirt completed his look. And while that may all sound a bit rough and rocker, on him, with his graying stubble and hair, it looked edgy and cool. His hair stood on end in soft spikes, and last but not least, on his hands he wore the studded fingerless gloves showing off his many silver rings.

  “I’ve been enjoying myself. Modeling is much more interesting than I’d ever imagined,” I answered. We made friendly chitchat for a few minutes until I gave Ellie the signal to leave by coughing. As soon as she’d moved away, I turned to Johnny and said, “I’m actually writing a story about you for my school magazine. With your big anniversary coming up, I thought the timing was perfect. Plus loads of the girls at my school absolutely love your biker jackets—not that we can afford them! I wondered if I could ask you a few quick questions now, if you could spare a moment…?”

  “Go ahead,” he said. “Ask away.”

  “Well, like I said, I’ve been doing some research on you, and I came across this photo. I wondered if you could tell me a little about it.” I pulled my copy of the photo out of my clutch bag and handed it to him.

  Whether he was more unsettled by the sight of the photo or the fact that I had a copy of it, I didn’t know, but he swiftly turned his look of surprise into one of interest.

  Then he teasingly said, “Well, now I’d like to ask you a question…” His eyes and voice could pass as light-hearted, but he still held the photo firmly in his hand, I noticed.

  “Okay.”

  “Where did you find this photo?”

  “A friend of mine, Gavin Tempest, gave it to me.”

  “Ah, Gavin. He just shot a story on me for Harper’s Bazaar. How clever of him to help you out with your story,” he added.

  “Yes,” I answered. “He’s nice that way…”

  “And do you know where he got the photo from?”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea. He just said there was something very interesting about it. I thought perhaps you could tell me what it was.”

  Johnny looked at me sharply.

  “Listen, Axelle, I’m happy to answer questions that deal with my work. Anything other than that, and I’m afraid this is not the time and the place, all right?”

  He turned to leave, but I didn’t want to let him go without pushing more. Forgetting what Charlotte had told me about not throwing false accusations around, I quickly said, “It almost sounds as if you’re trying to hide something. Are you?”

  He stopped in his tracks and slowly turned back to face me. He watched me for a moment, his eyes dark and intense. “Axelle, since you don’t seem to have understood, let me be blunt. You’re being incredibly pushy about things that have absolutely nothing to do with you. I don’t know what you’re after, but my advice to you is this: keep your thoughts and questions to yourself. Do you understand?”

  At this moment we were joined by a highly respected fashion journalist and another fashion designer. Before turning to them, however, Johnny spoke under his breath to me. In a menacing growl, he said, “Take care, Axelle—and I do mean that.” Then he thrust the copy of the photo back at me. “You’d better keep this. After all, you seem to find it more interesting than I do.”

  What was that all about? I thought as I reeled back from Johnny. I watched as he stood, all smiles, talking to the journalist and designer. Aggressive one moment, all nice the next—talk about night and day. He was just like Charlotte had said.

  I was feeling unsettled after questioning Johnny. His words were close to an outright threat. But why? Gavin came to mind, and thinking of him lying in the hospital didn’t help. I was suddenly thirsty and headed toward the nearest waiter, but before I reached him, both Sebastian and Josh found me.

  Sebastian was wearing a black suit with a white shirt and black tie. His hair was tousled in that way I liked, and I could see from his eyes that he had a lot to tell me. But at exactly the same second that he approached me with a glass of cranberry juice, Josh greeted me with a glass of sparkling elderflower water—and a plate full of nibbles.

  I saw Sebastian bristle slightly, and he was just about to say something when Josh acknowledged him with a slight nod before turning to me. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said. “And you look absolutely stunning, by the way.”

  Sebastian’s expression went from initial surprise as Josh hijacked “our” meeting to outright irritation. I carefully took the food from Josh and the drink from Sebastian.

  “Thanks for these, Josh,” I said. “I’m starving. I h
aven’t eaten since we had those snacks at the studio.”

  “You mean when you accessorized me with your prawn salad?” He laughed.

  I saw Sebastian turn to leave, but I pulled him in by the arm and said, “Josh and I worked together today for Teen Chic.”

  Sebastian nodded curtly. “And did you have a good day?” he asked.

  “Actually, yes,” I answered.

  “You sound surprised, Axelle,” Josh said, laughing again. “Personally, I knew I’d have a good day as soon you were confirmed for the booking.” He looked at me as he said it, and I could feel the color rise to my cheeks. Sebastian nearly snapped the stem of the glass he was holding, and right then, I would have given nearly anything to disappear into one of the Queen of Hearts costumes. Josh, on the other hand, was smiling broadly. “And I’m looking forward to taking you to see my grandmother tomorrow morning,” he added.

  I felt Sebastian tense up, but I had to answer Josh. After all, he was doing me a favor. I was really hoping it would make a difference to the mystery—but how was Sebastian supposed to know this? Obviously, I couldn’t say that out loud now, here, in front of Josh.

  “She’s really curious to meet you, you know,” Josh continued. “I’ve never brought any girl friend of mine to her house, so don’t be surprised if she asks you a few questions too.”

  Argh! Why did girl friend and girlfriend have to sound the same? Sebastian looked at me, eyebrows raised.

  “Well, I’m really looking forward to meeting her too, Josh,” I said lightly. “It’s really sweet of you to take me to see her.” Turning to Sebastian, I quickly added, “Josh’s grandmother used to be a model in the sixties and seventies, so I’m going to ask her about what it was like working back then.”

  I hoped that with this veiled explanation Sebastian would understand that all this was for the sake of the case…but my words didn’t seem to register as I’d hoped. He turned and said, “Why don’t I leave you two to talk about it? I’ll find you later, Axelle.”

  He was gone before I could say anything.