Page 37 of When Fashion Turns Deadly

They both paused to take photos of the next model before she moved on.

“At least half a dozen of them,” Tony said. “Peter Wade was here. Thinks he’s all that, he does. You could hear him yelling at his models from out here. Then there was Camille Allard.” Tony shrugged. “Her line was okay but nothing to write home about. Kyle Adams was next. He’s supposed to be up-and-coming—at least that’s what my editor says. Henri LaRue. He’s another one who’s a bit off his rocker, if you ask me. Why would he put all these beautiful women in giant hoodies? The only thing that changed from one piece to the other was the color of the fabric and how far down their legs it went.”

This time, Lars allowed himself a chuckle. “Not a huge fan of cutting-edge fashion, I see.”

“Bonkers, isn’t it? I’ve been doing this gig for twelve years, and I still don’t get what all the fuss is about.”

Tony bent down to adjust his lens, and Lars looked up to see Isabelle approaching. She was wearing a flowing floral dress and was moving with as much finesse as any of the models before her had.

“This way, please,” Tony called to her.

She pivoted in front of the cameras.

“Nice,” Tony said.

Lars snapped a shot of the diamond choker at her neck and smiled. No matter what she said to the contrary, Isabelle was crushing this assignment.

“See what I mean,” Tony said as Isabelle disappeared. “How many women do you know who want to go out in a black bin bag? That dress was new and fresh and something a normal person would happily wear.” He pointed at Marit, who was now walking toward them in denim overalls with red trim. “And that one. See how good she looks?”

Lars’s heart warmed as Marit approached. It was no wonder she was a favorite with so many designers. Her natural grace and beauty shone on the runway. And if Lars had his way, it wouldn’t be long before she had a diamond ring shining on her left hand as well. He already had ideas for a design that would suit her perfectly. Fortunately, he also had the right connections at Coster to make his sketches a reality.

He heard the cameras click beside him. It was a good reminder of why he was there. Zooming in on the sapphire and diamond studs in Marit’s ears, he took a couple of photos before pausing to look up at her. She turned to face him. He winked, and he caught the smile in her eyes right before she made a professional turn and started back the way she’d come.

“I’m telling you,” Tony said. “As someone who’s been around this business a long time, Molenaar’s on to something big. He’s making the kind of stylish clothes every woman wants. And the other designers are going to have to scramble if they want to keep up.”

Lars reached into his case for a second lens, his thoughts whirling. Was this what was behind the theft at Ralph’s office? Had another designer recognized the same thing as Tony, but rather than applaud the fresh direction as the Londoner was doing, had he or she decided to put an end to it by stealing Molenaar’s patterns? But what was the ultimate goal? Discredit Ralph as a designer, or beat him to the punch with his own designs?

Tony’s insight into the character of many of those in the industry was discouraging, but it was also enlightening. And if Cole could dig up some background information on the designers currently in Paris, they might learn more. Some motivations were easier to spot on a bank statement or after a deep dive into their backgrounds than they were by simply watching someone at work.

He released a tense breath. Marit was more observant than most. If there were any clues to be had in her work environment, she’d likely spot them. And that terrified him. As grateful as he was that Isabelle was backstage with Marit, he hated that the woman he loved was caught in the middle of all this.

Attaching the new lens, he attempted to shrug off his disquiet. With the number of rehearsals and fittings the girls had over the next few days, he and Cole could make use of all that time to look through some not-supposed-to-be-public information on certain designers. Knowing Cole, he’d also be checking police reports. But Lars was okay with that. The sooner they got to the bottom of this, the better.

***

Isabelle still couldn’t believe she was doing this. Seven casting calls in two days, and she had landed five jobs, all of which matched Marit’s schedule.

Technically, she had six since being added to Ralph Molenaar’s show. How Esmee had managed that, Isabelle wasn’t sure, but she was grateful to be behind the scenes for that particular one.

“Isabelle.” Peter Wade snapped his fingers.

Feeling far too much like an obedient puppy, Isabelle lifted the long skirt of her current outfit and stepped onto the stool Marit had vacated a moment ago.

Peter stared at the gown, his eyes narrowed. Then he snapped his fingers again. This time, a woman in her early twenties stepped forward.

“Take the hem up a quarter inch.” Peter reached out and tugged at the fabric at Isabelle’s waist. “And take this in. It should be fitted.”

The young assistant hurried forward, pincushion in hand. She quickly adjusted the length before moving to the fabric at Isabelle’s waist.

Isabelle stood perfectly still, afraid to breathe for fear of getting stabbed with a straight pin.

Once the adjustments were made, Peter waved his hand. “Next!”

Isabelle stepped off the stool and moved to one of the curtained-off dressing rooms. She changed out of the dress into the slacks and blouse she had put on this morning, then grabbed her purse, opening it long enough to confirm her weapon was secured inside.

Marit approached. “Are you ready?”

“If I say no, can I go back to our flat and take a nap?” Isabelle asked.

---