Stolen with Style (24 page)

“Or the stolen diamond had been stolen again.” Sid finished my sentence for me.

“Exactly. A double theft… And that's when my confidence really took a nosedive.”

Sebastian got up and poured water for everyone, while I stretched my legs.

“Why?” Cazzie asked. “You've done brilliantly.”

“Thanks, Cazzie, but if you'd spoken to me yesterday afternoon, you'd have found out otherwise. I was frustrated beyond anything I've ever known—and I was really beginning to believe I'd bitten off more than I could chew. Don't forget that I had no tangible clues to go on. The studio had been swept clean; the diamond had been stolen three days before I landed here; and for the sake of discretion, I couldn't
openly
investigate its disappearance.”

I stopped and took a deep breath. “I have to backtrack for a moment. One thing I did glean from finally confronting Chandra about her part in the diamond's disappearance was that we could substantially narrow the time frame during which someone could have seen her take the stone—because, of course, that was crucial. Without Brandon having seen Chandra slip the diamond into her shoulder bag, how would he have known where to take it from later when they said good-bye?

“And based upon what Cazzie told me about when she had last seen the diamond, I knew that it must have been taken the first time—for Chandra's prank—within a few minutes of the fire alarm going off. Ironically, Cazzie”—I turned to look at her—“kept her handbag on her arm for the rest of the afternoon, thinking the diamond was still in it and safe on her arm. Only it wasn't—because it had already been taken by Chandra and then stolen from her.”

I saw Cazzie slump slightly in her chair at this recollection.

“Then—together with Chandra, Ellie, and Sebastian—I even did a reenactment of that all-important time frame, but nothing, absolutely nothing, came of it.”

“It was a real-life game of shadows and phantoms, wasn't it?” Chandra said.

I nodded. “At times I definitely felt I was grasping at fog. A fog of revenge—although I didn't know it then. Brandon's ultimate purpose was simply to make Cazzie sweat. Stealing the diamond was a convenient way to make her feel what it's like to have your career held in the palm of someone else's hand. It was a spoiled rich kid's game taken to the extreme. And of course, he felt quite certain that you wouldn't go to the police—at least not right away, because it would be such an embarrassment. He boldly assumed he'd have some time to play with you, and he was right.”

Cazzie began to protest. “But his career wasn't—”

“I'm not saying that's what you did, Cazzie. I'm saying that's how Brandon felt. It came out very clearly in the way he talked after Sebastian punched him.”

“I'm sorry I dumped everything on your shoulders, Axelle,” Cazzie said.

“Don't worry,” I said, “I asked you to. Besides, I had Sebastian's help. Unfortunately, the texts Brandon sent didn't give anything away. It wasn't until we got to the last one that I really understood how simple the plan was—that he really did intend to return the diamond to Cazzie and in precisely the same way he took it, slipped back into a handbag just as it had been slipped out. It was all quite stylish and surprisingly simple—as befits a crime of fashion, I suppose…”

“But up until yesterday afternoon you still didn't know who was responsible, right? So how and when did that click for you?” Sid asked.

I tipped my head back and sighed. I quickly glanced at Sebastian and saw the corners of his mouth lift into a small smile. Like me, he was no doubt thinking of last night's near kiss and Pat's untimely interruption.

“That was a stroke of good timing—or luck—whatever you want to call it,” I continued. “Last night I stood in front of the door into Miriam's apartment building and watched Miriam—she's my agent,” I added for Sid's benefit, “walk in. I continued to watch as the door swung shut behind her. The top half of the door is glass, and as I stayed standing there, I saw
in
the
glass
a lady walking behind me. I had my back to her—it was her reflection that gave her away. That was my ‘aha' moment, and suddenly everything shifted very dramatically.

“The people who I'd most believed couldn't have seen Chandra—those with their backs to her, those facing the screen of a large computer—were now the suspects with the best view of her! I'd simply forgotten that a computer screen is reflective. Especially if the image on the screen is dark—and last night Cazzie confirmed for me that the shots Peter and Brandon would have been looking at on-screen were indeed dark. Again, the basic style and simplicity of the theft are surprising.”

“Of course,” I continued, “it was another stroke of luck for Brandon that he saw Chandra take the diamond. When he caught sight of her in his computer screen, sneaking into the dressing area just as everyone was dashing to the windows because of the activity on the street below, he saw the perfect chance. He was well aware of her reputation as a prankster and guessed what she was up to from her furtive movements. He would have taken the diamond no matter what, but stealing it from Chandra and having her confuse—or even cover up—his tracks was too good a chance to pass up.”

There was a brief moment of silence while everyone digested this. I took a sip of water and then
I
asked a question. Looking at Sebastian, I said, “How did you know that I was facing trouble?”

In answer, Sebastian took his cell phone out of his pocket, searched for something on it, and then passed it to me. “Read that,” he said.

I've lost my phone! Borrowing this one. Am heading back to Miriam's. Meet me?

This was Brandon's one and only really dumb move, I thought as I looked at the text message he'd sent Sebastian.

Sebastian agreed. “It might have been better for his purposes if he hadn't sent anything,” he said. “It's not that it doesn't ring true—in fact, he does a fairly good approximation of your brief style. It's more like
why
? I can only think that he must have been very nervous by this point. And obviously he felt unsure about what might happen at your meeting. Regardless, he clearly wanted me out of his way. He must have seen me and assumed I was going to look for you.”

“But how did he get your number? And when did he see you? You were outside the studios, and he was inside the entire time.”

“He got my number from Ellie. He simply asked her. And since she thought it might have something to do with the case—if only she'd known how right she was—she didn't hesitate to give it to him.” Sebastian paused before continuing. “As for when Brandon saw me… After you and I parted ways, I didn't stay outside the studios.” Sebastian suddenly looked sheepish and nearly blushed. “I got a call.” He smiled awkwardly.

I had a good idea where this was leading. “From whom?” I asked.

“Uh…from your mom. She was concerned. She hadn't heard from you all day and just wanted to make sure you were all right,” he quickly added. “She made me promise to check on you.”

Exactly as I'd thought. Since the possibility was quite high that Sebastian's conversation with my mom had saved my life, I would sound like the proverbial shrew if I ever said anything about their chats again.

Score
one
for
my
mom
and
Sebastian
, I thought.

“So I thought I
should
check on you,” he continued. “After all, I knew you had some kind of plan going, but you hadn't told me exactly what—beyond meeting with ‘someone,' which was worrying. So I sent Ellie a quick text asking where you were, and she answered that she didn't know, that she couldn't see you. So I asked her to get me past security, which she did.

“I don't remember seeing Brandon, but I was walking around looking for you, and then two minutes later I received the text. That's when I knew you'd need help because something was already wrong or was about to go wrong. By then I was certain you'd be up in Studio 7 with the thief. I sprinted up the stairs and arrived just as I heard the light fall on Brandon.”

I then explained about the final “riddle” not being a riddle at all, but rather a ploy by Brandon to ensure that I wouldn't be anywhere near him when he slipped the diamond back into Cazzie's handbag. We slowly wound down our discussion. All questions had been answered, for the time being anyway, and it was late, nearly 1:00 a.m. Plus, as Cazzie pointed out—and Pat likes to say—fashion never sleeps. Tomorrow was another busy day of New York Fashion Week. It was time to get some shut-eye.

Cazzie wanted to drive me home. Despite knowing that Sebastian wanted to speak with me—and I with him, I also knew Cazzie needed to speak with me so I accepted her offer. Sid Clifton, meanwhile, offered to drive Sebastian back to his aunt's, and Chandra's car was still waiting for her. “One in the morning is nothing!” she said with a laugh.

But before we all left, Sid asked to have a quick word with me—alone.

“I'm not really sure what to say—which you'd realize is unusual, if you knew me.” He smiled. “So I'll start by saying thank you so much. I'm indebted to you. You've saved me and my corporation from a lot of potential embarrassment and maybe even a future similar crime. Had he not been caught, Brandon may have tried something like this again. I'll be in touch with your agency tomorrow about proper remuneration. Miriam's, I believe you said?”

I nodded.

“You must be overwhelmed by this evening's turn of events, so I'll let you go, but I'd like to say that I'll be doing my best to keep this out of the press.”

His implication was clear: he was hoping I'd do the same. “Don't worry,” I said. “I'd like to keep this out of the press too. I can't call myself an undercover model when everyone knows what I've been doing, can I?” I smiled.

“Thank you.” Then after a short pause he continued. “By the way, I know you said that you will be staying in New York until tomorrow evening. Is there anything I can get you tickets to? Anything at all that you'd like to see? My office can arrange anything you'd like.”

I was about to thank him and say that I couldn't think of anything, but at the last moment something came to mind. When I told Sid what I wanted, he threw his head back and laughed a deep laugh.

“You're amazing,” he said. “If everyone else I dealt with was as easy to please, my life would be heaven. Consider it a done deal. You'll have them first thing in the morning.” Then we shook hands and I left.

***

The text came just as I hit my bed:

Good job, Holmes.

I wrote back:

You too, Watson. See you tomorrow?

To which he answered:

Absolutely. But do you think we could arrange it so that Pat can't surprise us?

I smiled and then fell asleep before you could say DKNY.

The tickets arrived first thing in the morning, messengered by bike from Sid Clifton's office. And for the first time since arriving in the Big Apple, I had a leisurely breakfast: no emails, texts, clues, missed chances, or anything else to distract me. Nicolette fussed over me like a large French hen.

After breakfast I packed my bags for my flight home that night. I wanted that out of the way because I definitely didn't want anything distracting me later. I had the tickets; the weather was gorgeous; I'd solved my case; and my only obligations now were a meeting with Miriam and one last fashion show. After that I'd have my final few hours to myself—and Sebastian.

Miriam was waiting for me when I showed up at the agency, and she immediately whisked me into her office. There I told her about all that had transpired last night. She listened, entranced, and was delighted to hear that Sid Clifton had finally taken charge.

“He should be able to keep the story from leaking. And I'm sure that Cazzie will be okay. He must be furious with her, of course…but what matters is how it's ended, which—thanks to you—is very well indeed.” She paused for a moment before adding, “Poor Brandon, though. You know, there is a famous European designer who says—I'm paraphrasing now—‘Fashion is unfair. And if you can't accept that, then you shouldn't be in it.'

“That sounds quite harsh,” Miriam continued, “but there is some truth to it. Many of the usual rules of business—and even ethics, I sometimes think—don't apply to fashion. That can be difficult for many to understand, especially you young people.”

With a delicate Gallic shrug of her petite shoulders, she sighed. “C'est la vie. Anyway, you came out of it well, and that is all that matters to me and your family. Speaking of which, I must report back to your mother. She is waiting on pins and needles to hear about yesterday's outcome.”

What?
Miriam too? I looked at her with wide eyes. Was everyone a spy for my mom? And why was I always the last to know?

“Ah! Axelle, I see that this upsets you,
non
? Ignore it. You know how mothers are. They always worry and want to know how their children are. Besides, you are an only child, so you really have no escape from this parental scenario. And it could be worse.”

“How could it possibly be worse?” I asked.

“Well, you could be related to Pat too!” Miriam laughed.

Very funny.

***

My last New York City show, for Carolina Herrera, took place at Lincoln Center, and it all went according to plan. The only problem was that I kept feeling like I'd forgotten something. I finally realized that was because, for once, I didn't have anyone to question, or any clue to follow up on, or anything else to race off to.

I managed to say good-bye to Chandra and Ellie, who both were doing the show with me. Ellie, however, was quick to remind me that I'd see her in London next week. “I can't wait to be home—not that I'll be there for long. But at least I'll have enough time to repack my suitcase and meet you for a gluten-free veggie burger.” She laughed.

Then, finally, it was time to meet Sebastian.

We met in Central Park, which was glowing in the late-afternoon sun.

“You've been more mysterious than any diamond thief about where we're going,” he said, laughing.

After a long meandering walk through the park and down Fifth Avenue, I clasped my hands over his eyes and made him promise not to open them until I said so.

When he did—admittedly after a few minutes of tricky doorway negotiations and a couple of stumbles—it was with a huge smile.

“Holmes, where are we?”

“On top of the Empire State Building, Watson,” I answered. “You said you didn't want Pat or anyone else interrupting us, so I thought that from here we'd be sure to see her coming.” I laughed.

The view was amazing. New York City lay before us like a lustrous sunset tapestry of glass, greenery, cars, and lots and lots of teeny-tiny people crawling everywhere. The sky was made up of dazzling streaks of orange and red. Puffs of purple and blue clouds scuttled across the horizon, brushing against the top of the Statue of Liberty's torch.

But soon all I saw and felt was Sebastian. As his hands pushed my hair back from my face and I drew him to me, our lips met with an intensity that we'd been circling around all week.

And if you've never kissed your own super-cute, super-sweet guy on top of the Empire State Building…well, just so you know, it's definitely worth solving a mystery for.