Fashion Fraud (5 page)

EJ had made it to the Musée de l'Orangerie, a long stone building that ran between the river's edge and the beautiful Tuileries Garden, an enormous city park with terraced pathways and avenues of trees. All around people were strolling or sitting on benches, children were eating ice-creams and playing but there was also, EJ saw, a large crowd seated around a fountain pond opposite the museum. EJ put on her sunglasses and switched them to telescopic. Now she could see that a platform had been built around the fountain and that the platform led to a deep blue carpet that stretched through the seats and back towards the museum.

What's happening here?
EJ wondered. She zoomed in closer and saw that on the other side of the fountain, away from the seats, was an orchestra and next to that, a crowd of photographers with huge cameras and flashes. And everyone was looking up at the fountain, waiting. As EJ watched, a single violin began to play and then another and then the whole orchestra joined in, playing lovely classical music that floated in the air.

Then a voice came through the speakers. ‘Welcome to Alicia Noir's third fashion spectacular! Sit back and enjoy the exquisite beauty of Alicia Noir's floral vision in this, Paris's most famous garden.'

The orchestra began to play and the photographers' flashes began to pop as models, dressed in ruffled red taffeta gowns, their faces painted with green stem-like swirls and with masses of small red roses threaded through their hair, began to walk down the carpet. The audience clapped as the models paraded around the fountain before returning back up the carpet.

‘The dresses are like roses,' murmured EJ to herself. ‘Will there be water lilies? I've got to get a closer look!'

EJ moved down towards the show and up to the front, near the fountain. She walked up to the security woman who was guarding the front seats.

‘I'm sorry,' said the guard. ‘These seats are strictly reserved for fashion magazine editors.'

‘Oh but I …' started EJ.

‘Strictly,' repeated the guard.

‘Oh, okay, thanks,' said EJ, stepping back and turning to the side. As she did, she took the perfume charm from her bracelet and twisted it. An elegant perfume bottle with a spray top appeared. EJ read the label.

EJ walked back up to the guard.

‘Hey, I thought I told you …'

EJ raised her perfume and pressed it, pretending to spray her wrist but pointing the nozzle towards the guard.

‘I'm from
Girl Hero
magazine,' said EJ.

‘Of course you are,
Mademoiselle
,' said the guard. ‘We have a seat right here for you at the front. Here is your VIP card. Enjoy the show.'

EJ walked on and took a seat next to some very elegant women all wearing high heels and oversized dark glasses. EJ took her seat next to them, put her own glasses on and waited for the next part of the show.

‘And now,' the voice over the loudspeaker said. ‘We have the impossibly beautiful bouquet of fashion in full flower. This season, you can smell the fashion in the air with Alicia's ready-to-wear collection.'

Somehow, the perfumed smell of flowers filled the air and the models appeared again now in dresses, skirt, pants and tops of all colours: purples, pinks, blues, yellows and reds. There were ruffles and frills, lace and ribbons and the audience broke into loud applause as the models sauntered around the fountain. As each model came back to the start of the catwalk, they stopped and struck a pose. Soon all the models were bunched together, like a beautiful bouquet of flowers. It was enchanting and EJ all but forgot why she was there. As the models left the catwalk, the announcer spoke again.

‘And now,
Mesdames
, our tribute to the timeless beauty of Claude Monet's
Water Lilies
is Alicia Noir's
haute couture
collection.'

EJ swung her head around to the blue carpet as the models reappeared and paraded down again, now dressed in floaty, green and blue silk dresses, impossibly high heels, and with trails of white flowers in their hair. EJ recognised the deep blues and greens immediately: it was the same gorgeous palette as the paintings of the water lilies. As the final model walked on to the catwalk, the audience rose to its feet and roared its approval. She was enveloped in a dress that wrapped around and around and then floated behind her in a long, train with real lilies attached to the material. EJ watched as the model walked past her and could see that the fabric was almost exactly like the large canvas that hung in the museum.

‘Almost exactly,' murmured EJ as she checked the photo on her phone. ‘Or the same? I wonder.' She sent an urgent text to
SHINE
.

While EJ waited impatiently, she watched the final model turn one last time to the thunderous applause of the audience and the almost blinding flashes of the photographers' cameras and then begin to walk down the catwalk, away from the show. EJ couldn't see over all the people where the models went when they left the catwalk.

Piinngg!

EJ was aghast. Quickly she clicked her heels and elevated herself above the crowd but she was too late—the catwalk was empty and the models had vanished. But EJ saw that she wasn't the only person who was looking for the models. There was a large black van parked at the edge of the gardens and a woman, dressed in black, standing next to it, looking across to the fountain, checking and re-checking her watch.

Of course,
realised EJ.
I intercepted the message
SHADOW
was sending Alicia, so she wouldn't know that she was to meet at the gardens. So where did she go? Where has Alicia taken the paintings?

EJ thought through what she knew.
Each of Alicia's shows has been the same theme as the stolen painting and she has been in the museums preparing her shows and had access to the paintings. I have to go to her studio because that's where the assistants said the dresses were being made,
thought EJ.

She opened her Paris guide app and quickly found where she needed to go. Alicia Noir's boutique was in one of Paris's most famous fashion streets, not far from the gardens. Narrow and long, it was lined with the boutiques and studios of some of the world's most famous designers. And Alicia Noir, at 32 Rue de Mode, was one of the most famous of them all and her original studio, where she designed her very first black plastic wedding dress, was above the boutique. EJ needed to get into that studio. She walked up the street, beret and glasses on, and saw the black awnings of the boutique decorated with the elegantly painted A and N. The four large shop windows were stripped with the banner
The Art of Fashion—Keeping it Real
and all but the last window displayed outfits inspired by works of art. EJ wasn't surprised when she saw the first three windows: the deep, dark winter cloaks of the
Mona Lisa
, the light and fluffy party skirts and dresses of Degas' ballerinas and the swirly, draping dresses of Monet's water lilies. The fourth window was painted black with Alicia's initials in white and the words: ‘Tout sera révélé à la Finale.' EJ quickly activated her language app and keyed in the words on her phone. The translation flashed up: ‘All will be revealed at the Finale.'

So will there be a fourth painting?
wondered EJ, as she pushed open the doors to the boutique.
Is it the ‘tower' of the second message?

The Alicia Noir boutique was beautiful. The walls were wallpapered in black and white swirls and, rather than racks of clothes, single items—a dress, a pair of shoes, a hat—were displayed in picture frames, just like in a museum. Pieces of jewellery were also framed. EJ saw gold and silver but also some black pieces from Alicia's
African Shadows
collection. She knew from her last mission in Africa that
SHADOW
had been supplying the horn of the endangered black rhinoceros and the skins of other animals to someone who spoke French. EJ was now pretty sure it had been Alicia. She'd been busy. EJ really needed to find her studio.

‘May I help you,
Mademoiselle
?' said a tall, skinny woman, dressed in a simple but smart black skirt and silk black shirt. She wore a brooch that was engraved ‘House of Alicia Noir.'

‘I'm just looking, thank you,' said EJ. ‘But is this really where Alicia works? Is her studio upstairs? I'm so excited.'

‘Oh, yes,' replied the woman, looking a little bored now, perhaps thinking EJ was just one of many tourists and not a serious customer. ‘It is through that door but it is private.'

‘I understand,' answered EJ. ‘It's just so exciting to be so close! May I try on this dress?' She pointed to one of the tutu-like dresses in the window.

‘But of course,' said the woman. ‘I will get your size from our storeroom.' She turned and headed through the black curtains at the end of the store.

EJ needed to be quick. She looked around to see if any of the other shop assistants were watching and then quickly went to the door, opened it and slipped in. The door opened into a circular stairwell made from black cast-iron and EJ ran quickly up the stairs. At the top was another door. It was locked, which was good because it meant no one was inside. EJ took a small key charm from her bracelet and twisted then took the full-sized key and fitted it into the lock. She turned the key and opened the door into a room that took up the whole length of the building with long benches with sewing machines and dressmaking dummies and rolls of fabric everywhere. There were buttons and sequins, ribbons and lace, and reels of cotton of every colour you could imagine.

For a moment EJ thought of what she could do with her party dress here but then focussed quickly again on her job, and began exploring the room, searching for clues. There was a rack of dresses in cloth bags with pieces of paper pinned to them and on the worktables, dresses were still being made up. The fabric was a ruffled crepe and across it were all bold, geometric criss-cross shapes that reminded EJ of something else she had seen recently that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Then she noticed, stacked in a corner, a pile of picture frames, large, old fashioned, gold-rimmed picture frames and blank canvases. Next to them was a box of spray cans. EJ picked one up and read the label.

‘So where are the paintings that were in those frames and does the spray have something to do with painting canvas?' EJ asked herself. ‘Let's see.' She picked up the canvas and sprayed it with the softener. After only seconds, the canvas softened in her hand, it was if she was holding a slightly damp cloth.

‘Hmmm, I wonder,' said EJ. ‘And what's that?'

EJ saw a large easel in the middle of the room with pages of fashion sketches, all signed at the bottom in beautiful script ‘Alicia Noir'. Each page had drawings of outfits, sketched in ink and then coloured by hand. EJ flicked over the pages, reading the headings in the same beautiful script: Hidden Smiles, Ballerina Dreams and Flowering Fashion.

These are the drawings for each fashion show,
she realised.
The fourth one will be here too.
Just as EJ went to turn to the next page, there was a loud noise from the street below. She ran to the window and looked out to see a sleek black car pulling up outside the boutique. Alicia Noir had returned.

‘I need to get out of here,' said EJ. ‘But there's still so much I need to find out. I haven't checked the bags yet.'

Quickly, she took the croissant-shaped charm from her bracelet and twisted. EJ was holding what looked like a delicious, buttery croissant but was actually a concealed listening device. The croissant broke easily in two and behind the fake chocolate that oozed realistically out, was a mini-microphone in one half and a mini receiver in the other. EJ left the microphone half among the cups and plates on a work bench and turned it on. She put the other half in her pocket and went out the studio door, locking it behind her. EJ ran down the stairs and snuck out into the boutique and, just as Alicia Noir swept into her store, slipped into the street. She looked around looking for somewhere to sit and listen. It couldn't be too far away from the studio. EJ looked at the store directly opposite the boutique.

‘I guess that will have to do,' she said smiling. ‘A1 did say I should be prepared for this.'

It was another
Salon du Chocolat
café.

‘May I get you another macaron,
Mademoiselle
?' enquired the waitress.

‘Non, merci, Madame
,' replied EJ who thought four was probably enough. She had been sitting in the café for nearly an hour, hoping Alicia would go up to her studio but she could see she was still in the shop, waving her arms around, worked up about something. EJ then saw Alicia and her entourage open the door to the studio and minutes later, through her earpiece, she could hear the whirr of the sewing machines and people talking animatedly, mostly in French.

‘Quickly, you two girls, we are behind!' It was Alicia speaking in English. EJ wondered whom she was talking to. ‘We must leave for the show and we have dresses still on the machines! Not good enough!'

EJ was still listening when she noticed a
Salon du Chocolat
waitress leaving the café, arms piled high with Madame Ombre black boxes and, she spied, another small black bag. The waitress crossed the road and entered the Alicia Noir boutique.

That's strange,
thought EJ. Then she heard Alicia's shrill, angry voice again.

‘You, waitress! Why are you here?' demanded Alicia. ‘I do not want the food here, I want it at the show, you imbecile! Why does she hire such idiots? Take it away!'

It's a food delivery,
realised EJ.
Madame Ombre's bakery is doing the catering for Alicia's shows. Does Madame Ombre have nothing to do with stealing the art? Maybe, but somehow I doubt it—and what about the messages in the éclairs? And, what was in that little black bag the waitress had? Another message? Gee whizz, lemonfizz, there are a lot of questions I don't know the answers to!

Alicia was talking again, although now it sounded like she was eating at the same time.

‘You! Take those boxes to the tower! Now everyone else, dresses in bags and make sure the right models' names are on the right dresses. Be careful of that one, you imbecile, that is the finale dress. It is extremely valuable but it needs to dry a little more. Quickly! Oh, why must I be so much better than everyone else?'

Then EJ heard a phone ring.

‘
Oui
, this is Alicia Noir. What is it? Yes, I have an éclair and very nice it is.
Oui
, I got one this morning but there was no message.'

‘No,' muttered EJ to herself, ‘but I did, and now
SHADOW
must have sent another one in that little black bag.'

‘Who knows what happened to it? Who cares?' continued Alicia. ‘Yes I have the tower one too. Tell Z she worries too much. She can concentrate on
SHADOW,
I, I must concentrate on my art!'

Z,
wondered EJ.
Is Z the head of
SHADOW
?

‘I know, I know,' Alicia's voice was sounding very exasperated now. ‘I had my skins—so last season now—and in return you will have your art. But first I must finish using it for my art. Yes, yes, they will not be damaged. You just use Formula B and they will return to normal.'

Skins? EJ was now certain that Alicia had been involved in
SHADOW
's African plot. She had used real animal skins in her
African Shadows
collection so now, now in her
Art of Fashion
collections, was she using real art? Was the canvas softener how Alicia made it possible to use the paintings within her dresses? EJ's head was spinning but her thoughts were interrupted by Alicia's voice.

‘You!
Mademoiselle
, make sure you ring my cousin to collect the dresses. Some need to dry a bit longer.
Non, non
, not them! I do not want those puppies anymore. They are so last season. I will order more puppies, puppies that don't knock over things. Great Danes I think. Now out, everybody out, to the tower. We have genius to show!'

EJ heard a door slam and minutes later, saw Alicia Noir and her entourage stride through the shop and climb back into the waiting cars.

EJ knew she would not have much time before Alicia's cousin, whoever she was, came to collect the final outfits for the fashion show. She needed to get back into the studio before that happened.