Model Under Cover--Dressed to Kill Read online

  “Uh huh.” I felt like a hare caught in the headlights of an oncoming train. She wasn’t just hijacking my weekend – she was now hijacking the last moments I had to solve this case, too! I couldn’t let it happen.

  “Um, but, Mum, there’s no point in coming out today. Seriously. I’m busy the whole day with bookings and tonight Ellie and Sebastian and I have plans to meet up with a few new sus—” Jeez! I nearly said suspects! Argh! “Friends – new friends. And so we’ll be busy. Very busy. It’s men’s fashion week so the city is buzzing…”

  “Oh don’t worry about me, Axelle. I’ll be in late tonight – too late for dinner. I’ll probably catch the last flight out. But don’t change your plans on account of me – if I have the time I’d be delighted to meet your new friends.”

  Not if you knew that one of them trapped me underground…

  “I can’t wait, darling – we’re going to have so much fun! I’ll call you later to let you know when I land. And then first thing tomorrow morning we can start! The new autumn collections are probably in the stores! I’ve got to run now, though, Axelle. Bye, darling – or should I say ciao!”

  “Sure, Mum. Great!” Grrr!

  “From the little I overheard I think I can guess what happened,” Ellie said with a giggle as I hung up.

  “My mum is arriving tonight and she has no idea about what’s going on – and somehow I have to keep it that way.”

  “Is she flying BA?”

  I nodded. “She always does.”

  “Well if your mum is catching the last flight from London to Milan, it’s at 8.25 p.m. which means she’ll land at around 11.30 p.m. or so.” One thing about models: they all know the routine fashion flights by heart. “In any case,” Ellie continued, “she won’t be in town until midnight. Can you wrap this case up by then?”

  I nodded. “I’ll have to.”

  “I’m sure you can. Besides, Sebastian and I are free to help you so…”

  “So we’ll do it.” I smiled and Ellie and I high-fived.

  “Ooh! Excited about the show, are we, girls?” cooed the hairstylist, Stefano, as his reflection suddenly appeared in the mirror in front of us. He was wearing what looked like a cowboy’s holster – only instead of pistols it held hairbrushes.

  He started fussing about with my hair while the make-up artist worked on Ellie. I, meanwhile, went back to looking at the images of the cemetery.

  Stefano couldn’t help noticing. “I did a shoot there once.”

  “What? At the Cimitero Monumentale? They allow that?”

  “No. It is totally forbidden, but this was very early on in my career and it was for some test photos. We wanted to do a haunted story – all very Goth, you know. We had the most amazing long black coats that the stylist had managed to pull from a young designer. So we all dressed as if we were there for a funeral and the photographer hid his camera, of course. I even brought flowers – like a wreath you put on the graves, you know?”

  I nodded.

  “Anyway, once we found a good spot, the model quickly posed and then we took the shot.”

  “How many shots did you do?”

  Stefano was teasing my hair at the back of my head so it stood straight up and I couldn’t see his reflection any more. “We did a few. The model had to change behind the bushes. Once she even changed in one of the mausoleums of some rich banking family. That was a bit creepy!”

  “I bet…”

  “But the whole place is creepy. Have you been?”

  “No. But I’m planning on going this afternoon.”

  Stefano nodded. “You should definitely see it – it’s amazing. And it’s so big you’ll have the place to yourselves.”

  Perfect, I thought. “You weren’t there for Falco Ventini’s funeral, were you by any chance?”

  “No. I wasn’t important enough to be invited,” he laughed. “But I went to the memorial service at the church of Santa Maria Grazia, that was open to the public. A lot of people went. But the funeral at the cemetery was by invitation only. The crème de la crème of Italian fashion was there, of course… Now if you could bend your head forward a little bit, like that, yes, perfect, I’m going to straighten this section at the back.”

  While Stefano concentrated on applying the tongs to my hair I suddenly wondered whether there were any photos of Falco’s funeral online. I googled it but no images came up. Then I tried Instagram. I typed #ventinifuneral into the search box and to my surprise a number of pictures came up.

  I scrolled through them, looking at each one carefully. Needless to say, I recognized quite a few of the mourners. Ugo was in many of the photos, as were Elisabetta, Francesca, Ginevra and Lavinia. Kristine, Coco and Alessandro were also in some of them. Then one photo caught my eye.

  Hmm…it looked like another coincidence. Or was it?

  Annoyingly it’s impossible to zoom in on Instagram pictures so I quickly did a screenshot of the image that interested me and emailed it to myself. A minute later I had it on my tablet screen and zoomed in for a closer look. The quality of the image wasn’t great, but it did help.

  The picture had been taken by someone who’d been standing a little way back from the ceremony. The priest was speaking and Falco’s family and friends were standing around what I presumed to be the Ventini family crypt.

  The crypt appeared to be carved directly into a massive boulder. It looked like something out of a kid’s illustrated Bible, designed to resemble a saint’s or hermit’s cave. The entrance was through an austere classical portico, with steps and columns; the rest of the crypt’s exterior was composed of natural, unpolished boulder. What caught my eye, however, was a tiny sculpture on top of the crypt, just beyond the portico roof. The quality of the photo wasn’t the best, but what I saw was a small figure, dressed in robes and on horseback. I felt the hairs stand up on my arms and neck.

  “Axelle, please keep still,” Stefano said through a mouthful of hairpins.

  Annoyingly, when I zoomed in close the figure lost any kind of distinct shape, so I had no way of verifying whether it was a lady riding the horse. But it looked a lot like the image on the tarot card…the robes were very similar, and the horse was lifting one of its front legs. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the statue was on top of the Ventini family crypt.

  No way!

  At that moment the make-up artist who’d been working on Ellie finished with her and left to touch up one of the guys. Stefano had also finished with me and moved on to Ellie. He turned the hairdryer on and without a word I passed my tablet over to Ellie.

  She looked at it and then turned to me with wide eyes. “It’s the figure on the card, isn’t it?” She spoke loudly enough for me to hear her but with the din of the hairdryer in Stefano’s ears I doubt he picked up anything we said.

  “I think so, yes.”

  “Where is this?”

  “You’re never going to believe it…it’s on Falco Ventini’s family crypt at the cemetery.”

  “What! The one we’re going to later?”

  I nodded.

  “You’re amazing, Axelle. I don’t know how you figure these things out.” She high-fived me again.

  “I don’t know if it means that the gems are there…I’m only following my gut.”

  “Yeah, well I’ve never known your gut to fail you and it can’t be a coincidence that that image is on Falco’s family crypt.”

  I smiled as my grandfather’s words came back to. “No, actually, I don’t think it can…”

  “Anyway, whether the gems are there or not I still have to figure out who poisoned Elisabetta. And I have to confront them by this evening.”

  Lei-Lei’s “designer” was in fact a young duo. Pierro was Italian and Lena, American. Apart from their spare, edgy designs, and dislike of patterned fabrics, they were famous
for their commitment to ethical fashion. #Fashionconscience was their mantra – and it was all over the place. As show time approached they came by to give us all a pep talk. They wanted us to project a certain attitude as we walked down the runway. We were to imagine ourselves as cool geeks with super style and a strong fashion conscience. Lei-Lei’s collection was made up of minimalistic separates in tones of white, grey, black and a vivid midnight blue – and all were made from ethically-sourced materials and free of any animal products. So, no leather or fur – not even silk. “Remember that you guys are eco-warriors with clean consciences. At Lei-Lei we leave a super-low carbon footprint, we love this planet. And you are all a part of that. Be cool, be stylish – but have a fashion conscience. Feel it! Feel real! All right, let’s go!”

  Suddenly the music blared: it was show time. We’d each be going out twice. The crowd was an enthusiastic one, and the Lei-Lei front row was packed, as usual, with every celebrity vegetarian and vegan in existence. I finally saw Alessandro – he opened the show – and Ginevra too, in the front row, when I walked onto the runway (though somehow I doubted either of them was vegan). I didn’t spot Sebastian, but guessed he was somewhere in the back.

  For the runway floor Lei-Lei had commissioned a special rug. It was shaggy and resembled the green moss you find on the forest floor. Amazingly, from a distance it looked like the real thing – but it wasn’t. Which, according to their show notes, was their point (“Plants feel pain, too!”).

  It was a wonderful surface to walk on and for once I felt that even if I did fall, I probably wouldn’t break anything. The vibe was great and everyone was enthusiastic and happy. I stepped out, and, if I wasn’t relaxed, at least I didn’t feel as nervous as usual. Of course the fact that the guys were the main focus of the show helped, but the Lei-Lei shows were known for being fun too.

  FASHION CONSCIENCE.

  The words were lit up and beamed around the show space. They’d appear in one colour and on one wall, stay lit for a few moments, and then suddenly appear in a different colour and on another wall. It was pretty cool, actually. I wondered whether that sort of lighting set-up would work in my bedroom at home.

  FASHION CONSCIENCE.

  The words went round and round in my head. And then, out of the blue, my hospital dream came back to me – and I remembered the snippets of conversation that had been replaying through my mind earlier. But now they were starting to fit together.

  FASHION CONSCIENCE.

  A clean conscience.

  Of course! In the end it’s what everyone wants, right? But I’d been so intent on seeing only one thing that I’d made myself blind to other possibilities.

  Lavinia, Tavi, Falco, Francesca, Ginevra, Elisabetta, Ugo, Alessandro and Kristine. Everything they’d said now held new meaning. And even if it still didn’t point directly to the killer, it explained a lot…

  As I stepped out on the runway, my legs moving to the beat of the music, some of the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. Like shards of coloured glass, they shifted and moved slowly, finally revealing a pattern and overall design.

  The show passed in a haze of thought and although I did my best, I felt as if I was moving on autopilot for most of it. “You guys did a killer job out there!” yelled the designers as we all swarmed backstage.

  If only they knew.

  I needed to connect the two strands of this case. There were the tarot cards and the gems, and then there was the killer. They all met up at some point, but where and how? And why?

  For the stones, I felt certain that someone wanted them. People wanted the tarot cards, too. Because they led to the stones? But then why kill Elisabetta, the only person who understood the meaning of Falco’s clues?

  Who else knew for certain about the gems being switched? Were they the ones after the tarot cards?

  Acording to Ugo and Tavi, Falco was secretive. Also, Ugo had said that the only person he could imagine Falco confessing the truth about the jewel switch to was Elisabetta. Based on that, it didn’t seem far-fetched to think Falco wouldn’t have told anyone but Elisabetta about the tarot cards either.

  Anyway, Axelle, you have a motive, I said to myself. And a plan. It’s time to flush out the killer…

  As Ellie and I changed quickly, I made a quick call to Ugo at work. I told him that I needed a piece of Falco’s personal stationery and asked if he had any left.

  “Falco’s stationery?”

  “Yes, Ugo. And it’s urgent.”

  “Fine. I’ll have a look, hold on.”

  He came back on the line after a moment. “Yes, we still have some. How much do you need?”

  “One page of notepaper and an envelope, please. I’ll come and fetch it now, if you can leave it at reception.”

  “Yes, okay.”

  “Oh, and one more thing – do you think you can sign it at the bottom? But not with your signature. I need you to sign as Falco…”

  I wasn’t totally comfortable with the idea of asking Ugo to forge Falco’s signature but there was no other way. A killer was loose and I felt a fake Falco signature would up my chances of catching them.

  “You mean, like, copy his signature?”

  “Yes. Please. I know it’s an unusual request, but this may be our only chance.”

  “Just his name?”

  “Yes. I’m assuming you’ve got a reference for it – you know what his signature looked like?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Ugo, sounding a little bewildered.

  “Well, make it a little sloppy, if you can.”

  “Okay.” Ugo was obviously curious but too busy to ask me any more questions.

  “And Ugo?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did Falco have a large hospital room?”

  “Huh? His hospital room? Your questions always throw me. Um, yes, Falco had a large hospital room with its own private bathroom. Anything else?”

  “No, not now, thanks. But I’ll call you later – and hopefully with some good news.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Me too.”

  I finished dressing and then Ellie and I headed for the door. We were just about to make it out through the exit when Alessandro showed up. “You, yet again?” he said. “I can’t seem to avoid you.”

  “Are you trying to?”

  Alessandro laughed off my comment, but I’d noticed a sinister flash in his eyes as I’d answered him. He stepped back and disappeared. I hooked my arm through Ellie’s and we turned. But as we stepped away I caught Ginevra watching me, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. I waved at her and continued on my way.

  I sent Lucas a quick message as we rushed outside.

  Sebastian was already there, waiting for us just down the street from the show exit. Ellie gave a quick wave and hello to the waiting paparazzi and fashion bloggers and then followed me as I made my way to him. I had to pick up Falco’s stationery and then see Lucas but there wasn’t space on the Vespa for three, so Ellie parted ways with us. “I’ll do my appointments and you do yours, then why don’t we meet at the cemetery?”

  I nodded. “Fine. Can you be there at 4 p.m.?”

  “You bet – and in trainers and leggings.”

  “Perfect.”

  Sebastian and I wove through the traffic smoothly and quickly. At the first light, I asked him, “And? What did you think of the show?”

  “Well,” he shouted above the din of the traffic, “clearly I have to work on my wardrobe – and my pout!”

  When we arrived at Ventini, I jumped off the scooter, ran into the building and picked up the waiting envelope. Ugo had scrawled Good luck on a Post-it note. I smiled as I took it off. This afternoon I’d definitely need all the luck I could get.

  Ten minutes later we turned onto the small street where Professor Gree
ne’s office was. Sebastian opted to wait outside on his scooter.

  “I’m sure old Moony-Eyes would prefer to meet with you alone. Besides, I told Francesca I’d call her.”

  That awkward feeling immediately came between us again.

  “Fine.”

  “See you in a few minutes, then.”

  Sebastian was already searching for her number so I went in alone. Lucas was waiting for me.

  “So how can I help?” His eyes were the lightest green I’d ever seen – it was hard to ignore them, especially as he kept them focused on me. I took a deep breath and said, “Lucas, you told me that two people had called you asking about the three antique tarocchi…”

  “Yes…”

  “Well, I need you to call them back…”

  I took the three cards out of my rucksack and slowly handed them over to Lucas. I had to give them to him. I didn’t like doing it – especially when I knew I should really be handing them in to the police, but I didn’t have a choice. Besides, if my plan worked then they’d be back in my hands again later tonight.

  I explained to Lucas that I needed him to tell the anonymous callers that he had found the cards they were looking for. I asked him to call both of them in about one hour – I’d let him know when the time was right – and tell them that someone called Rinconi had just brought three antique tarocchi in to sell. If they wanted to buy the cards they were to come to the office within the hour because he already had another buyer lined up – a serious collector, who was leaving town in an hour and wanted to take the cards with him.

  Of course that was all a lie – I only wanted the two callers to believe that they had an opportunity to buy the cards. Hearing this, I thought, would make the suspects move quickly – no doubt they’d want to get their hands on the cards as soon as possible. I also told Lucas that it was imperative that the two buyers didn’t see each other. I asked him to schedule some time between the appointments.

  “Fine, I can do that…but can you tell me why? Or are you going to be all mysterious again – not that I don’t like it,” he said, with an intense stare.

  Did he ever stop flirting?