Page 76 of When Fashion Turns Deadly

Cole had to give his cousin credit. He had a way of capturing an image, and he was doing a great job of making sure they were able to document everyone present at the various shows that Marit and Isabelle were modeling in.

“Any sign of LaRue?” Cole asked, his voice low.

“Not yet.” Lars lowered his camera briefly and nodded at the cell phone in Cole’s hand. “Any luck backstage?”

“No.” Cole returned his attention to the surveillance images on his screen. Marit and Isabelle really had done a great job of planting the two cameras. They angled across the front of the wooden cubbies to show everyone accessing them, but the angle protected the privacy of the dressing area beyond them.

On another app, the current location of the purse illuminated his screen. The small tracking device was a simple one he had tucked inside the inner pocket, but it would show them if the purse went into motion when it wasn’t supposed to.

Two models appeared on the top part of his screen, both of them with purses hanging from their shoulders. They each slid their bags into a cubby and disappeared back the way they had come.

Marit and Isabelle arrived next. Lars must have been watching for them, because he leaned closer so he could see Cole’s screen better.

“I’m not sure who is more nervous about leaving her purse, Marit or Isabelle,” Lars said.

“After seeing the price tag associated with the bag we borrowed for Isabelle, it’s probably her, although since Marit’s bag is also a Ralph Molenaar original, I’d prefer not to have to replace either one.”

“After having two people try to steal Marit’s bag, Marit is probably relieved to not have it hanging off her shoulder.”

“True.” Cole glanced up at the now-empty rows of chairs. Two staff members straightened them while two more swept the runway.

A security guard approached Cole and Lars and spoke in French.

“What did he say?” Cole asked Lars.

“He said everyone needs to clear out between shows.”

Cole held up his all-access pass. “Lars, show him yours.”

Lars followed Cole’s instructions. After a closer inspection, the guard nodded and moved on.

“It’s official. I like these passes better than the media one Coster gave me,” Lars said.

“Me too.” Cole returned his attention to his cell phone screen, where Marit’s and Isabelle’s bags were clearly visible on camera two.

Several minutes passed with the museum clean-up crew finishing their task and the models in the backstage area checking in and stowing their belongings.

More than a half hour passed before Lars lifted his camera, signaling the arrival of the patrons for Li Du’s show.

A model came into view on camera one, continuing into the image until she was visible on both screens. She stopped in front of the cubbies, temporarily blocking Cole’s view of Marit’s bag.

When the woman with the bright-yellow blouse and long dark hair stepped out of the way, Marit’s bag was no longer in place.

“Lars.” Cole held out his phone for his cousin to see. “Someone just took Marit’s bag.”

“Let’s go.” Lars started toward the backstage area, but Cole grabbed his arm.

“I’ll go. You keep an eye out here,” Cole said. “Watch for a model with a yellow blouse and long dark hair.”

“Carrying Marit’s bag.”

“Yes.” Taking the most direct route to the cubbies, Cole flashed his badge at the guard beside the runway entrance and slipped past the curtain into the backstage area. He recognized his mistake too late. People everywhere. Models walking to and from the makeup area. Others standing by the dressing area. Li Du and several of his design team were scattered beside the tape affixed to the floor a short distance away, the first models already standing in their designated spots.

Someone rushed by holding a gown as long as two wedding dresses combined.

Cole stepped to the side, searching for the woman in yellow. Bright colors appeared to be the name of the game in Li Du’s line: purple, blue, red... and yellow. Cole spotted a flash of the color he was looking for and stepped closer to where the bags were stored. He made it two steps before he caught a full view of the model wearing the sunshine-colored dress, her blonde hair flowing loosely over her back.

Cole worked his way forward, scanning the area once more. He was all the way to the makeup area before he spotted the woman who had taken Marit’s purse. Or was it? Surely someone who had just committed a crime wouldn’t be sitting in a stylist’s chair as though she didn’t have a care in the world other than puckering her lips while the makeup artist applied lipstick.

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