London

by Carina Axelsson

  I wanted to run after Sebastian, but I couldn’t just leave Josh. He was talking about how and where it would be best to meet the next day. Why was everything so complicated? Josh chatted for a few minutes more (I wasn’t really listening because I kept trying to look for Sebastian over his shoulder), and then we were joined by Chandra and a few other models.

  As soon as I could, I slipped away and found Sebastian. He was talking to Belle. Not forgetting her promise, she immediately asked me if I’d like her to introduce me to Johnny Vane. I told her that Ellie had introduced us, and after another minute she left to greet some late arrivals.

  “Well, someone is certainly into you,” Sebastian said as soon as Belle left us. He was fiddling with his shirt cuffs and wasn’t looking at me. Clearly he was referring to Josh.

  “I doubt that very much,” I answered. “Josh and I could barely stand the sight of each other when we started work this afternoon.”

  “Well, you seem to have moved on since then.” He looked at me, his eyes dark.

  I shrugged my shoulders and looked away for a moment before turning back to him. I was annoyed. I mean, Sebastian and I hadn’t seen each other for weeks on end, and now, suddenly, because he was in town, I couldn’t talk to anyone else—even when it might help me solve my case? “We’re friends, Sebastian, and absolutely nothing more. Besides, I only met him yesterday!”

  “Ah!” he said, his eyes still on me. “So you do acknowledge that if you got to know him better you could be more than friends?”

  “Huh? No, that’s not what I meant.”

  “But it’s what it sounded like to me.”

  I sighed. “Sebastian, could you please stop pairing me up with Josh Locke? He’s a new friend I made at work today, okay? Nothing more.” Was it always like this with famous people? That as soon as you talked to one, people immediately had to pair you up with them? “Although,” I continued, “I’m really curious about meeting his grandmother. I’m hoping she can shed some light on Clarissa Vane’s past for me.”

  Sebastian was watching me in that way he had, his light, gray-blue eyes piercing in their directness. His hands were deep in his pockets as he stood, feet apart, and looked at me from under his tousled hair. I couldn’t really tell what he was thinking, but it felt as if a giant question mark hung in the air between us. What was that about? I thought. Ellie would have said that Sebastian was feeling more than a touch of jealousy. But the idea of Josh and me being an item was ridiculous. I mean, we barely knew each other.

  I bit my lip as I remembered how I’d felt when I’d thought that Sebastian was seeing someone else in New York. We’d both been there at the same time, and I was certain that the gorgeous model he kept meeting was his new love interest. It turned out I was wrong, but seeing them together had not been easy. At all.

  Argh! At the rate I was going, I’d soon need a neat Clue-like solution to my relationship with Sebastian too.

  I took a deep breath.

  Axelle, I told myself, you’re at a beautiful party. You have a case to solve, and a photographer’s life will remain in danger until you do so. Don’t think so much, and just do what you need to do. Now.

  “Sebastian?” I said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can we talk about the case, please?”

  Sebastian gave me a weak smile and then, taking me by my hand, led me to a wrought-iron gate. It was embedded in a stone wall, behind which lay a hidden, sunken garden. He tried the gate and it opened. Still holding hands, we descended through a couple of thickly planted terraces until we reached a large, rectangular water basin. The only sound was a gentle splattering from the small fountain at its center.

  We found a bench and sat down. The heady scent of the early summer blooms was especially fragrant in this space, and the garden was so quiet that the party could have been miles away. Sebastian was still holding my hand, but he let go of it as he started to speak and we were back to being detectives.

  “First things first,” he said, reaching into an inner pocket of his jacket, pulling some folded slips of paper from his notebook, and handing them to me. “I managed to track down a few more newspaper reports, and you were right. The Times, among others, did report on Julian and Clarissa Vane’s deaths—and they said a lot more than the Wiki entries we looked at last night.”

  I unfolded the reports and read through them. The details on Julian’s death were pretty sparse, and disappointingly, they still didn’t tell us where along the Thames Julian had drowned.

  As for Clarissa, the accounts in the paper were a little more sensational than Wikipedia’s or Mr. Rivera’s:

  Clarissa Vane died tragically yesterday afternoon after falling down the stairs of her Notting Hill home. She died instantly. There is no suspicion of foul play… Vane had been seen at various parties all week, including one the night before…

  Several of the articles hinted somewhat dramatically that Clarissa might have been partying too much and that had contributed to her fall.

  “Thank you for this, Watson,” I said as I handed the articles back to him.

  “I’ve also found out a little bit more about Jane Wimple,” Sebastian said after a moment. “She grew up in Lyme Regis where her parents owned a shop. She left when she was quite young and seems to have come straight to London and started modeling quite quickly. She’s never married, but she has five brothers—or at least she had five brothers. I don’t know whether they’re all still alive. Frankly, I couldn’t find much on her at all. She wasn’t a famous model, and apart from a couple of early fashion magazine interviews that mention her—and then only in connection with Johnny Vane—I didn’t find anything else about her.”

  Despite her lofty fashion connections, Jane was a bit of a dark horse, I thought. “It’ll be interesting to check out her house tonight. At this point, just catching a glimpse of her through a window would interest me.” I still hadn’t even seen a photo of Jane. Till now I’d heard little about her, and although I was hoping that Josh’s grandmother would enlighten me with more details the next day, I still wanted to see her, but just seeing her house was better than nothing.

  I often find that looking at a person’s house—the way it’s decorated, its location, the overall feel and vibe that the place gives off—can give away a lot about a person’s preferences and lifestyle. I looked up at the sky quickly. Ideally, we’d check the house out once the sun had set. The darkness would help us to spy, as long as there were lights on inside and the curtains weren’t closed!

  “Did you make it to the hospital?” I asked Sebastian.

  “Yes,” he answered. “Apparently there’s no big improvement in Gavin’s condition, but he’s stable. And from what I saw, it would be difficult for anyone to get to him again. He’s being checked on often, and any visitors are strictly accounted for. I was actually asked to leave. Even so, it would help if the nurses and receptionists could keep an eye out and let us know if anyone else even tries to see him. Do you think you could ask Tallulah to talk to them?”

  “Good idea.” I took my phone out and sent Tallulah a quick message while Sebastian studied Google Maps. “What are you looking for?” I asked.

  “Well, instead of taking the Tube, it might be more fun to walk from Jane’s place on St. Leonard’s Terrace down to the river. From there we could get a clipper to the Embankment.” He looked at me. “What do you think, Holmes?”

  I smiled. “You said earlier that a boat trip could be romantic…”

  “And I’m saying now that it will be romantic. Come on, Holmes, time to go.”

  In one swift movement Sebastian stood up and offered me his hand. I took it and together we walked out of the hidden garden and back into the excited fray of the party.

  We made our way to the Orangery, where I changed my heels for the Converse in my bag, while Sebastian went to find Ellie to tell her that we were leaving. I was sittin
g on a bench under one of the large topiaries, just tying my laces, when I felt someone sit down next to me. It was Josh. I looked up and immediately noticed that Josh’s fame cloud was in full force. We were getting lots of surreptitious glances.

  “So are you all right with me picking you up tomorrow, Axelle?” he asked.

  I’d only fleetingly thought about Josh’s offer of a lift to his grandmother’s. Sebastian wouldn’t like it, but then again, it would save me time—something Gavin and I were desperately short of at the moment. Without much more thought, I nodded. “Yes, I am. What time?”

  “Well, we have to be at my grandmother’s at ten, and she’s in Marylebone…so how about nine thirty?”

  “Fine. And thank you.”

  “Are you always like this?” he asked suddenly.

  “Like what?” I asked as I finished tying my Converse.

  “Different?” He was leaning back on the bench, an amused smile on his lips.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, we’re at an amazing fashion party and yet you’re putting on your Converse, getting ready to leave early and go who knows where. You’re not going to another party, are you?”

  I didn’t say anything. And Josh laughed. “And that’s another thing—you don’t talk just for the sake of talking, do you?”

  “Why would I?”

  “Because a lot of girls do around me.” He was quiet for a moment. “Anyway, go ahead and keep me in the dark…but I’ll see you in the morning. You can share the juicy details of your mystery outing then.”

  “Very funny.”

  He stood up and offered me his hand. I didn’t take it.

  “I don’t bite.” He smiled.

  “How do I know?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  I laughed, then reached up and took it—but Josh didn’t let go after I’d stood up.

  “Are you sure you have to go?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Positive. But I’ll see you tomorrow,” I answered as I slipped my hand out of his.

  Then I said good-bye and went to find Sebastian.

  I didn’t really know what I was feeling as I walked away. Maybe a bit thrown—because the more I spoke to Josh, the nicer he seemed to be.

  From the Orme Square Gate, Sebastian and I walked to Notting Hill Gate Tube station and caught a train for Sloane Square, the nearest station to Jane Wimple’s address. I quickly sent Mom a message to say that Sebastian and I were leaving the party to go for a walk along the Embankment. I also made a point of explaining that we’d catch a cab home together and I’d be back just before midnight. She answered saying no problem as long as we stuck together, and that she’d wait up for me.

  As soon as we sat down, I told Sebastian about my meeting with Johnny and then compared it to my interviews with Caro and Georgie.

  “All I can say, Axelle, is that you’d better be careful. You may have flushed the beast out, so to speak,” Sebastian said. “Johnny sounds quite threatening. And Caro’s reaction was odd as well.”

  “I know, but I had to provoke them. I’ve got to start getting some answers soon.”

  “Fine. But from now on, don’t wander about on your own. Remember what happened to Gavin? You’d better stick with Ellie or me at all times.”

  “I will,” I said. “But it’s not only myself I’ve put in danger. Whoever sent Gavin the photo could be at risk too. Let’s presume they wanted Gavin’s help and sent the photo as a clue. They most likely wouldn’t have told the others that they’d sent it. But now that I’ve shown it to everyone but Jane and told them all how it came to be in my hands, well…they—Johnny, Caro, and Georgie—must be asking themselves which one of them sent it.”

  “Shouldn’t you let Jane know somehow that you have the photo? It would be interesting to see how her reaction compares to the others. Maybe she can be provoked into saying something,” Sebastian asked.

  “Yes, Watson. Good point. I think I might try my luck when we get to her house.” I looked at my watch. By the time we got there, it would be about ten p.m. “If I see she’s up, I’ll try knocking on her door.”

  “And show it to her in person?”

  I nodded. “I’ll need some kind of excuse though. It is a bit late to just turn up at someone’s door. But who knows? If she’s there, she might be willing to answer some questions.”

  The walk from Sloane Square to St. Leonard’s Terrace was a short one. The mild, dry weather had held and the pretty square was busy. To our right as we left the station, people were sitting outdoors at the Colbert and Botanist restaurants. King’s Road was lively; people were window-shopping or chatting at the small tables set up on the pavement outside some of the restaurants. I couldn’t, however, shake off the feeling that we were being followed by someone and had been since we left the La Lune party.

  “Funny you should say that…” Sebastian said when I told him. “I sort of had that feeling when we left the party too, but I haven’t actually seen anyone. Have you?”

  “No…well, apart from a shadow that I just caught out of the corner of my eye, but then again, it could have been anything. I’m probably just thinking too much about the case.”

  “And? Any idea yet who might have sent the photo to Gavin in the first place?” Sebastian asked as we walked past the Saatchi Gallery.

  I shook my head. “No, not enough of an idea anyway. And there’s always the chance that some random troublemaker is behind this. Johnny is famous enough to have them. Although attacking Gavin is pretty sick. But if one of the four did send Gavin the photo—and I’m assuming one of them did—then their reactions haven’t helped me much so far. I mean, Caro seemed uninterested, nearly dismissive, and then she was bustled away before I could ask more. Georgie didn’t say anything, but I got the feeling she knows something. Then again, I could say that about Caro. The way she was so dismissive about it might tell us something…”

  “You mean perhaps she’s just a good actress?”

  “Umm-hmm, something like that. On the other hand, Johnny was aggressive. He growled and thrust the photo back at me. Of all of them, he definitely seemed the most rattled—but why?”

  “Could be any number of reasons,” said Sebastian.

  “Well, at least I have a better idea of who Caro, Johnny, and Georgie are now. If we could just figure out who sent the photo, that would help us to work out what secrets they’re covering up.”

  “What? Secrets? Now you think there might be more than one secret?” Sebastian asked.

  “Possibly. There were two ‘accidental deaths’ after all.” Just as I said this, we reached St. Leonard’s Terrace. Jane’s dainty house sat more or less in the middle of the pretty and elegant block. Built of red brick and with large sash windows on the first and second floors, her house was the smallest on the street. Or to put it another way, her house seemed to be the only one that had kept its original Georgian proportions. No rooftop additions or side extensions marred its dollhouse dimensions. The windows were lit, and even in the evening light, the house sparkled with cleanliness and order. Two neat topiary obelisks in black cast-iron urns sat on either side of the short flight of steps that led to her bright-red door.

  “Does she own this house?” I asked.

  “I didn’t look into that,” Sebastian said. “But I can… Why?”

  “It’s an expensive address. A house like hers—even if it is small—must cost a fortune.” I knew the street well. My mom had redecorated one of these houses for a rich banker. “If she owns it, I’d like to know how—with her modest beginnings and working as a fit model, private secretary, and then nanny—she was able to afford such a upscale address.”

  Sebastian nodded as he quickly scribbled something in his notebook.

  Suddenly we caught sight of an old lady moving in what looked like the sitting room. “That must be her!” I sa
id. “She’s still up. I’m going to try knocking on her door now.”

  “Have you thought of a good cover story?”

  I nodded as I pulled a small pen and my copy of the photograph out of my clutch bag. “This,” I said, as I quickly waved the photo in my hand, “is my cover. Not that it’s a great one, but it’s the best I can do right now.” Then, using my clutch bag as a writing desk, I rapidly scribbled Jane’s name and address on the back of the photo and the names Johnny and Julian Vane on the front.

  “What are you doing?” Sebastian asked.

  “You’ll see,” I said before leaving him behind and quickly crossing the street to her house. I opened the dainty gate that led into Jane’s front yard and walked up to the front door. An old-fashioned wall light illuminated the door. I found the buzzer and rang. To my surprise, the door opened almost immediately.

  The lady I’d seen through the window was standing in front of me. Tall and slim, she was dressed in trousers and a jacket. A large, colorful brooch was pinned to her left shoulder. It looked like one of the pins I’d seen on the accessories table at Johnny Vane’s.

  “Jane Wimple?” I asked.

  She had a curious way of looking at me. Almost as if she couldn’t see me—and yet it felt as if she was carefully taking in every detail of my appearance. “I was expecting someone else entirely,” she said. “And, yes, I am Jane Wimple, although I don’t think I can do anything for you. Do your parents know you’re out?”

  She wasn’t unkind, just brisk and very sure of herself. She started to close the door, but I pushed my arm against it and quickly said, “I’m sorry it’s late, but I have an old photo here that I came across this evening. It has the name Jane Wimple and this address written on it. Here…” I handed her the photo. “I thought it might be yours.”

  At once she stood still, opening her door wider to get a better light. She studied the photo, but without budging from the threshold.

  Meanwhile I quickly looked into her hall. An oriental rug in hues of faded oranges and blues lay on the stone-flagged floor. In front of me a staircase ascended, and through the door to the left, I glimpsed a pretty room decorated in tones of yellow. Beside the bottom step of the stairs, a large polished-brass umbrella stand held a small collection of umbrellas and canes, each a different color, pattern, and length. Beyond that, the house seemed to be as neat on the inside as it was on the outside.