Page 96 of When Fashion Turns Deadly

The only model left on the runway approached the curtain. Giving Marit an uncertain look, she disappeared backstage.

Marit started down the runway, her uneven gait a stark contrast to her normally fluid movement. Shocked whispers followed her, and she heard the chorus of camera clicks as she approached the photographers lining the catwalk. All being well, Lars was among them. He’d know exactly what needed to be documented.

She raised the microphone to her mouth. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, “I regret to inform you that several of the outfits showcased this evening were not Kyle Adams originals. The designs were stolen from Ralph Molenaar’s collection. Mr. Adams has been taken into police custody, and the remainder of this show has been canceled.”

In the audience, the slight murmur that had begun when Marit had first appeared became an indignant rumble.

Alongside the catwalk, Peter Wade leaped to his feet. “I knew it! Those denim overalls were a signature Molenaar creation.”

All around the room, people were rising. A couple of cameramen jumped onto the end of the catwalk, turning their cameras on the indignant crowd. Near the exits, security guards and police officers were filtering in, taking positions around the room as the show’s shocked attendees began to move. Almost everyone held a mobile phone, and those who weren’t taking pictures or typing messages were making calls.

Lowering the microphone in her hand, Marit released an unsteady breath. Her job was done. Social media and the official news outlets would take over from here.

***

Cole let himself into Marit and Isabelle’s flat, his limbs heavy with fatigue. He’d been torn between going to the police station and staying with Isabelle, Marit, and Lars after Marit had put a stop to Kyle Adams’s show. Ultimately, he had opted to get answers firsthand by accompanying Capitaine Dupont and Brigadier Blanchet to the police station so he could observe their interrogation.

Cole had to admit, Adams did a pretty good job spinning his story to make it look like Isabelle and Marit had tried to undermine him. Ultimately, the ballistics report had ended the interrogation and Adams’s willingness to answer questions. The gun Adams had pulled on Marit was the weapon used to murder James and Bernard.

Cole closed and bolted the door to the flat behind him and flipped on the light.

Across the room, Isabelle lay on the shorter of the two couches. She squinted and cracked both eyes open.

Cole crossed the room so his voice wouldn’t wake Lars or Marit, both of whom he assumed were sleeping in their respective bedrooms. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you.” She swung her legs over the edge of the couch and sat up. “What happened at the police station?”

“Adams claimed that you and Marit were stealing his clothes and trying to undermine his show.”

“The police didn’t buy that, did they?”

“No.” Cole dropped onto the couch beside her. “The abrasions on Marit’s ankles and wrists made it pretty obvious that Marit’s story was the accurate one. And the ballistic report confirmed the gun was the same one used to kill both James and Bernard.”

“Did he confess?”

“No, but with the financial records the CIA sent over and Marit’s testimony, the case against him is pretty strong.” Cole rolled his head from one side to the other in an attempt to relieve the stiffness that had settled there. “He’s going to prison one way or another.”

“That’s good news.” Isabelle put her hand on Cole’s shoulder. “Here. Let me give you a shoulder rub.”

Cole shifted to give her easier access to his back, and Isabelle put both hands on his shoulders. She kneaded at the tight muscles there.

“I talked to Marit about skipping the LaRue show on Saturday, but she’s determined that we need to be there.”

“Why?” Cole asked. “Between the blisters on your feet and how raw her wrists and ankles are, I’m not sure a couple days off will be enough to heal.”

“I know, but she thinks that if people see her on the runway, it will keep them talking about tonight’s show and what Adams tried to do to Ralph.”

“Marit does have a strong sense of right and wrong.”

“Yes, she does. She also handled herself remarkably well when we faced off against Adams.” Isabelle continued to massage his shoulders, and Cole hummed his approval.

“If it weren’t for the fact that Lars would kill me, I’d seriously consider recruiting her,” Cole said.

“I had the same thought.” Isabelle moved her hands from his shoulders to his neck, pressing her thumbs against a particularly tight spot.

The worst of the tension left his body, and Cole let his head fall forward. “I really love you right now.”

Isabelle’s fingers stilled. “Right now?”

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