Page 68 of When Fashion Turns Deadly

“Good luck with that.” Cole leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Marit pulled two yogurts from the refrigerator and handed one to Isabelle along with a spoon. “You should eat something. We need to leave in ten minutes.”

Isabelle took the offering and peeled off the foil wrapper on top. “If Cole and Lars can prove LaRue is behind the theft and the murder, does that mean I can quit the modeling thing before Fashion Week starts?”

“It’s too late for that,” Marit said. “Esmee would never forgive either of us if you backed out now that we’ve gone through all the rehearsals.”

Isabelle’s face paled. “How did I get myself into this?”

“You were the only one who could pass for a model and also stay with Marit,” Cole said. “Remember?”

“You and Lars are staying here now.”

“Yeah, but Marit didn’t turn us into models.” Cole stood and held up his laptop. “I did want you to look at something before we go.” He pulled up the image of the latest murder victim on his laptop screen. “Have you ever seen this guy?”

“That’s the mugger.” Isabelle leaned closer, her surprise evident. “He’s dead?”

“What?” Marit hurried across the room and looked over Isabelle’s shoulder. “What happened?”

“Best guess is that whoever hired him to steal your purse decided to make sure he couldn’t talk.”

“That’s terrible,” Marit said.

“And scary,” Isabelle added.

“I’m sure the police will let us know when they have any new leads,” Cole said, hoping to alleviate everyone’s concerns. Of course, if the police were really interested in keeping them informed, they would have told Cole about the new murder case instead of just giving him access to the reports. He might not have even noticed had he not kept checking for updates.

Pushing that irritation aside, he headed for the door. “Come on. We need to get you and Marit dropped off so we can get to the restaurant early.”

“Walking around in high heels or sitting at a restaurant eating real food.” Isabelle scowled. “I’m definitely getting the short end of this stick.”

***

The restaurant was small, the signage elegant and upscale. Urns filled with greenery stood on either side of the smoked-glass front doors, and the outdoor seating was enclosed by a stylish railing.

Lars glanced at the menu posted at the entrance and gave Cole an uncertain look. “You sure about this? Have you seen these prices?”

“I can guess,” Cole said. “But if an exorbitant breakfast helps us pin the theft at Ralph’s office and James’s death on LaRue, it’s worth it.”

There was no arguing with that, especially since Marit’s safety was directly connected to taking into custody the mastermind behind the crimes.

“Besides,” Cole continued. “Worse comes to worst, you could order one croissant. That probably wouldn’t break the bank.”

Given the prices he’d seen, Lars wasn’t so sure. “Are you telling me that you have the self-control to eat only one croissant for breakfast?”

“I didn’t say that wasmyplan. But you can make it yours if you want.” Cole grinned. “You’ll just have to eat it really slowly because we need to stay long enough to overhear what LaRue and his business manager have to say.”

Lars glanced at the restaurant doors. “How’s that going to work exactly?”

“We’re resorting to old-fashioned eavesdropping. Or you are anyway. They’ll probably be speaking in French, so I’m going to need you to translate for me.”

“And how do you plan to get us close enough to hear what they’re saying? Places like this don’t have open seating. We’re going to be taken to a table.”

“Yeah, I know,” Cole said. “But I bet they take requests.”

“You’re going to request to sit next to LaRue?” Lars asked.

“Not in so many words.” Cole pulled open the door and lowered his voice. “As soon as we’re inside, scour the room. You know what LaRue looks like. Once you’ve spotted him, we’ll ask for the table beside him. I’ll walk in front of you so he doesn’t get a good look at you. Take the chair that puts your back to him.”

---