Page 67 of When Fashion Turns Deadly

He straightened when he noticed an additional incident that had been attached as well. He clicked on the link, grateful that his current access allowed him to do so without having to hack his way in. He skimmed over the initial report, leaning forward as he did so. Another murder. The victim appeared to be a small-time criminal, in and out of jail over the past decade, but the ballistics matched the weapon used to kill James.

The shower turned off, the pipes rattling when it did so. Then footsteps retreated into one of the bedrooms.

Lars emerged a few minutes later, his hair damp. “I assume our intruder didn’t try to come back again last night.”

“No.” Cole closed the police reports and opened a secure portal into the CIA’s database. “There is a new development in the police reports though.”

“What’s that?” Lars opened the refrigerator.

“Another man was killed by the same gun that killed Brinton James.”

Lars slowly closed the fridge, and his gaze met Cole’s. “You mean by the same person who killed Brinton James.”

“Most likely.”

“Who was the victim?”

“His name is Pascal Bernard. Based on his photo and his rap sheet, it could be the guy who tried to steal Marit’s purse on Friday. If that’s the case, LaRue could be trying to tie up loose ends by eliminating potential witnesses against him.” Cole turned his attention back to his screen.

“Any chance you can prove Henri LaRue is behind all this?” Lars asked.

“I’m still looking.” Cole located the email address for Henri LaRue and opened a new tab on his secure internet browser. He accessed the email server LaRue used, which was conveniently tied to his website. Hacking through the encryptions took only a few minutes. “Here we go.”

“What?” Lars asked.

“Henri LaRue’s calendar is tied to his email account.”

“Any chance there’s something in there about breaking in last night?”

“I suspect he’s using hired hands for that sort of thing,” Cole said. “The people he hired are only important if they can point a finger at who hired them, assuming they live long enough to share that information.”

“I don’t suppose his calendar shows any meetings between him and his hired thugs,” Lars said hopefully.

“No, but I do know where he’s going to be at nine thirty this morning.” Cole looked up at Lars and wiggled his eyebrows. “And you’re going to like it.”

“Where?”

“He’s meeting his business manager for breakfast,” Cole said. “I say we go out to eat after we drop the girls off at rehearsal.”

“I could go for some real food.”

Isabelle and Marit emerged from the short hallway. Both of them wore breezy silk blouses and blazers over dress pants. Their makeup was understated but still enhanced their features. Cole rather liked Isabelle with those dark lashes framing her incredible green eyes.

Isabelle crossed the room and sat beside him on the couch. “What are you two plotting?”

“Breakfast.”

“Do not tempt me with pastries this morning,” Isabelle warned. “I have no willpower after eating like a model for the past few days.”

“Don’t worry. We aren’t going out until after we drop you two off at your rehearsal.” Cole pointed at the calendar displayed on his screen. “Lars and I have a breakfast date.”

Marit stepped beside Lars and rested her hand on his shoulder. “Would you two mind dropping by Ralph’s offices today to see if Isabelle can borrow a handbag?”

“We’ll take care of it,” Cole said, “but only if you promise not to go out on your own.”

“We’ll be at rehearsals all day,” Marit said. “They’re even bringing in lunch for us.”

Isabelle wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I want to know what they think constitutes a meal.”

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