London (20 page)

“Axelle?”

I gave up trying to explain. There were too many conflicting thoughts running around in my head at the moment. In lieu of a verbal explanation I simply handed him my phone. “Scroll through it all,” I said.

Josh took it and did just that. He carefully looked at the long list of emails and Instagram and Facebook messages featuring both our names that I'd received just since I'd been with his grandmother. He handed me back my phone. “I get it. You don't really want to be seen with me because of all of this.”

I said nothing, but I felt a sort of awkward half smile freeze on my lips. “Hmm…”

“Don't worry, Axelle. Your honesty is refreshing.” He laughed suddenly. “You're the first person in I don't know how long who hasn't jumped at the chance to be seen with me in public. I mean, some people will even call the press to let them know that they'll be showing up with me.” He watched me for a moment. “But stop looking at me like that,” he said as he teasingly pulled my beanie down over my eyes. “I totally understand. You haven't upset me at all. So relax.” He suddenly went quiet and then looked at me through narrowed eyes. “You certainly are different.”

I wasn't sure, but I think he meant it in a good way.

Halley Undercover

“Halley,” I said as we jumped off our train and walked toward the exit of Bond Street Tube station, “you're about to get your first proper dose of the fashion world.” She hadn't accompanied me to a show yet, but I already knew there was one thing Halley would love about today's fashion show—the fully loaded buffet table Belle was sure to provide backstage!

Ellie was waiting for me just outside the station. She was wearing aviator sunglasses, long skinny jeans, and a T-shirt under a really cool light-peach-colored jacket. A pair of strappy gladiator-style heels and an enormous, slouchy shoulder bag rounded off her outfit. Her long hair was tied loosely on top of her head.

“Axelle,” she said as she bounded toward me, “your hair! What's happened?” I couldn't blame her for asking. A glance at my reflection in a shop window revealed that my hair hadn't calmed down at all since I'd left home earlier that morning. In fact, the moist London weather had worked its magic. My hair was frizzier than ever. Forget the tumbleweed effect—it looked as if a giant sponge had sprouted underneath my beanie.

“I'll admit it's not my best look…”

“At least your beanie puts it under some kind of control—although I'm surprised you can keep it on your head over that.” She laughed.

“Thanks, Ellie.” She had a point though.

“Well, you know what I mean… Did you leave home with wet hair again this morning or—” She stopped suddenly midstride and looked at me, eyes wide, before saying, “Wait, wait! Your hair and the beanie and glasses have nothing to do with leaving your house early this morning, have they? Or the case you're working on. I bet this is all to do with the photo of you and Josh, right? You're in disguise!”

I nodded.

“In that case, have you talked to Belle about it?” Ellie put her hand on my arm, abruptly stopping us both again.

“With Belle? Why would I talk to her about it?”

“Because it's highly probable there'll be a few paparazzi waiting for you outside the main entrance to the store. You've got to keep out of their way. So let's go in through a different entrance.”

I hadn't thought about any of this! If just spending a few minutes with Josh Locke at a party was this complicated, then what was it like being his girlfriend? I said nothing as Ellie took her phone out and called Belle. I was just thankful to have Ellie thinking about all of this on my behalf. A minute later she hung up and said, “All done. Belle understood and she'll send someone over here to take us in through a mews entrance. We can go out the same way afterward. Anyway, I totally get why you want to avoid more photos, Axelle, but didn't you see Josh this morning? Or was it his grandmother?”

“Both.” I brought Ellie up to date on the morning's events.

“And Josh is going to be here for the show too, right?”

I nodded. “Uh-huh…he offered to drive me here from his grandmother's.”

“But?”

“But I didn't want to be seen and photographed getting out of his car with him. I've had enough attention—crudely manipulated, I might add—to last me a long, long time.”

Ellie laughed. “You must be driving him bananas,” she said. “I bet it's been a long, long time since anyone has refused anything Josh has asked for once, let alone twice! I think it's great!”

“Well, I'm not doing it intentionally, you know.”

Ellie turned to look at me. “All I can say, Axelle, is that I think Josh Locke likes you…and I have to tell you that the more you refuse him, the more he's going to want to spend time with you. So just be careful.”

“Careful of what?”

“Hurt feelings—his.”

“What do you mean?”

“Does he know about Sebastian, Axelle?” Ellie asked as she turned to me.

I didn't say anything. Why hadn't I introduced Sebastian to Josh as my boyfriend when I'd had the chance last night?

“I know about the distance between you and Sebastian and all of that…but you two really fit together, and besides, I've
seen
you together. You guys click.”

Ellie stopped and laughed at the confused look on my face. “Typical! You should focus a bit on your own life, Axelle, not just on those of your suspects.”

Honestly, I didn't feel like looking into my own personal life too deeply right now. It was too confusing. Because although I really, really liked Sebastian, the main question circling around my brain was: how could it ever last?

Ellie's words were still reverberating in my mind while I had my hair styled fifteen minutes later. Inspired by the
Alice in Wonderland
theme of the collection, our hair was to be worn stick-straight, with the bare minimum of product, depending on the hair type. A tiny headband was the finishing touch. I'd met head hairstylist Xavier when I'd walked for the La Lune show in Paris, and he'd flown in especially to do this show. He wanted lots of movement in our hair for this show. “Think that you are zee Alice, girls,” he told us backstage in his heavy French accent. “Your hair must reflect your innocence as you go down zee rabbit tunnel!”

Whatever, Xavier!

As for the headbands—Belle's weren't the classic, thin black bands of the Alice images we all know. She had teamed up with a famous Austrian crystal producer and had the most eye-catching line of delicate, bejeweled headbands specially designed. They were slim but twinkled like a million little stars as the light reflected off their hand-cut facets. Light blues and pinks, brilliant greens and purples, and more rainbow-colored hues vied with each other for attention. They were beautiful and no two were alike; each model had her own. Needless to say there was a lot of backstage “oohing” and “aahing” as we compared our respective headbands.

Our makeup, on the other hand, was all about the eyeliner. Otherwise our faces were to be left relatively bare. Foundation and powder were kept to a minimum, with only a light dusting of pastel pink blush across our cheeks and a swipe of pink gloss on our lips. It was a very pretty and fresh look, and while I was still wearing way more makeup than I ever did in “real” life, at least—I thought, as I looked at myself in the mirror—I could still recognize myself. And I could walk outside without people looking at me as if I were a slimy-skinned alien with ten legs, which was how I often felt when I left a fashion show with my hair and makeup intact!

As Shawna, the hairstylist, applied the straightening iron to lengths of my hair (it had already been straightened with a blow-dryer, but she needed the iron to get that really stick-straight finish), I leaned back in my chair and wrote a new list in my mind. I had yet to make a big breakthrough, but I did have a few new leads to follow:

The new photo. Why was it delivered to my house this morning and who sent it? Was it meant to be a clue?

Caro Moretti. She'd had some kind of boyfriend trouble with her sister, Clarissa. What had happened? And how did it end? What was their relationship really like?

The newspapers. Why did reports of her death insinuate that Clarissa had been drinking or taking drugs when she fell on the staircase at Dawson Place? Jodi Lipton was certain that Clarissa's addictions had been under control three months prior to her death. So why did the papers report otherwise? What was their source? And how could this be important?

Clarissa. Why was she scared? What had been frightening her just before she died?

I zoned out for a while as Shawna quietly worked on my hair and Halley snoozed under my chair. But ten minutes later I snapped to when my phone vibrated with new message alerts. My mom was on her way and couldn't wait to see me in action. Tallulah would also be at the show and was hoping to meet with me afterward. And Charlotte and Charlie from Thunder would be coming as well to watch me walk live for the first time.
Argh!
As if I didn't have enough to think about, now I had to worry about not tripping over my high heels and falling flat on my face in front of my mom and my agent!

Speaking of which, my phone vibrated again just as a stylist strapped a pair of incredibly high snakeskin stilettos onto my feet. I contorted myself like a yoga master to reach into my shoulder bag and grab my phone without moving my feet. It was a message from Sebastian:

Holmes, Jane's house is owned by Johnny Vane.

Hmm…I thought, that was interesting—and it raised a few questions:

Had Johnny bought it for her as a gift? Or for himself as an investment? It was a very expensive house on a very expensive street. How could Jane afford to pay for the upkeep? Did Johnny help her with maintenance too?

I wrote back:

Interesting, Watson.

And then we moved our meeting back half an hour to four thirty. I wanted to make sure I'd have enough time with Tallulah after the show. But before putting my phone away, I asked Sebastian for his help with one last thing:

If possible, could you please check up on news reports (in the social pages) of a quarrel between Caro and Clarissa over a man? Would have happened around 1976, about a year before Clarissa died.

Sebastian:

No problem, Holmes. Will do. See you soon. And good luck with the show!

The volume of the music had shot up, and we were called to get in formation. It was showtime! Like a human rainbow we stood in line, our gorgeous pastel-colored dresses shimmering under the bright lights as Belle gave us one last once-over, adjusting lapels and tightening waistbands with the deftness born of years of styling.

“You all look amazing! Remember, you're in a magical wonderland. And don't forget that you're also strong, powerful, and able to handle whatever anyone throws at you. You're Alices for the twenty-first century!” Then the first model was called, and within seconds the show was underway.

I was relieved that, even though Josh had been watching the show, I wasn't singled out for extra attention after all the publicity we'd had that morning. This might partly have had to do with the way Belle had constructed her runway—which wasn't, in fact, a real “runway,” but actually more of a meandering path through the first floor of the store. This meant that space was more constrained. The photographers had only a second to catch us as we walked past them, and they were too close to the invited guests to call out names or make loud comments.

Apparently Josh had also taken to heart what I'd told him and shown him on my phone earlier. He was careful not to make any eye contact or pay me any undue attention as I walked past him. No doubt some of the photographers were looking to see if he would.

Whatever.

But while the press attention may have been dying down, my phone was still vibrating like mad. A fair number of angry and threatening messages were still coming through on my Instagram and Facebook feeds. I decided to ignore them all.

My mom came backstage and found me. “Axelle, darling, you looked absolutely amazing,” she chirped loudly. “I'm so proud of you!” Mom loves the backstage ambiance and was watching the proceedings unfold around her with great curiosity. As I changed into my own clothes I could see how her eyes took in everything: the buzzing journalists, Belle being interviewed, and even Belle's backstage mood board. My mom said hi to Ellie and was delighted when I introduced her to a few of the other models I knew. Then she tried to get a few hair and makeup tips while the stylists packed up their equipment.

“Mom,” I finally said, “I have to go. Tallulah is waiting for me. She's here now.”

“Ooh, that's lovely, Axelle.” My mom smiled. “Is she going to interview you again?”

“Hmm…yes, she is,” I said, thinking that a discussion of how the case was going might almost be described as an interview.

“Good. Well, I have an appointment I have to dash off to anyway, but I absolutely loved seeing you do your stuff, darling. Listen, should I take Halley with me? She'll have to sit in the car while I have my appointment, but I'll be going home after that.”

Halley looked up at the two of us, then barked at me. “I think that means she wants to stay with me, Mom,” I said, laughing. “And just so you know, I'll be meeting up with Sebastian on the way home. I think we'll go out to dinner once we've dropped Halley off.”

“That's fine, Axelle. I'm going to a gallery opening but I won't be back too late. All right?”

I said good-bye to my mom, and taking Halley's leash, I went to find Tallulah. Instead Josh found me.

“There you are,” he said as he pushed his way across the crowded backstage frenzy. “You looked great. Listen, I have to meet my U.S. record company right now, but can I see you later? Or tomorrow?”

My eyes widened. He'd totally caught me off guard despite Ellie's warnings.
Why can't I just sink into the floor
, I thought. I couldn't think how to answer.

At that moment, however, Tallulah called me. “I'm sorry, Josh,” I said. “But someone's waiting for me downstairs. I have to go.” I wanted to disappear before a journalist caught sight of us together. He looked disappointed and was about to say something but then seemed to change his mind. “Fine. I understand,” he finally said. I quickly waved good-bye and left.

The La Lunes had invited Tallulah to the show because of her status as a blogger with a huge following. She could sell more items for a fashion brand with a single Instagram photo or YouTube video than any expensive ad campaign in a magazine or newspaper. Come collection time, designers threw invitations and plenty of other freebies her way.

I met her on the first floor in the shoe department at the back of the store. She looked slinky and businesslike as she paced back and forth in her very high-heeled black boots, speaking into her phone. She wore a long, diaphanous black skirt underneath a denim jacket. And the most amazing ear cuff I'd ever seen was on her left ear. It looked like a small group of asymmetrical lightning bolts. I couldn't make out how the jeweler had set the tiny diamonds to look as if they were suspended.