A Crime of Fashion Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Unfortunately, the stresses of the fashion world can sometimes lead even the strongest among us…to…” Here his voice caught before he managed to squeeze out the word. “… disappear .” He looked down and pulled on his cuffs before continuing. “We ask anyone, anyone who could have any information on the whereabouts of my sister to please, please, contact us.”
    He stopped again to collect himself before his emotions overtook him – at least, that’s presumably what it was meant to look like, although, to be honest, the entire gesture didn’t seem genuine to me. He held his right hand over his eyes for a moment while the seamstresses behind him all pulled white handkerchiefs from their sleeves and held them to their eyes. Then he turned back towards the camera, dropped his hand and carried on. “And I would like to add that my family has agreed to offer a reward of half a million euros for any information leading to the safe return of my beautiful sister…” After that the programme returned to the rest of the news.
    If they had returned to showing Bigfoot, Victoria Beckham, and the Little Mermaid all doing a song and dance number together, I wouldn’t have cared. Because there was only one thing ringing in my ears at that moment: Belle La Lune was missing.
    Now, finally, after following an endless trail of missing mail and lost pets, a real case had come my way. A case big enough and juicy enough to turn my mum around to my way of thinking. A case with enough glitz factor to forever banish the thought of even a hundred dirty trench coats.
    And the case was mine for the taking.
    Well, mine and the French police force’s.
    I was going to solve this mystery before they did.
    I didn’t know how…
    But I was.

Belle had no idea what time it was – whether it was even day or night. She was hungry, thirsty and cold. But above all, it was fear she felt. Fear of her captor, fear of not being found, fear of dying in this dark, damp space – wherever it was.
    She knew her family must be looking for her.
    But how would they ever find her?

Belle La Lune’s face was all over the morning news. Where was she? Was she alive? And how had she, or her kidnapper, so far eluded all investigative efforts to find her?
    Somehow, I needed to get near the La Lunes…
    â€œAxelle, what are you wearing?”
    Jeez! That scared me! I nearly dropped the mug I was filling. It was Aunt V. I was making myself a cup of tea in her sleek white kitchen, but don’t think that my aunt was in the kitchen to do the same thing. No way. She NEVER leaves her bedroom until she is public-ready and she’d certainly NEVER deign to do anything as plebeian as boil water. Her breakfast had been taken to her on a tray at 7.30 as usual. It was nine o’clock now.
    â€œUhhh…” How did Aunt V always manage to reduce my communication skills to Neolithic levels? “Ummm…Well, I’m wearing my favourite pair of jeans and my lucky jumper.”
    â€œWhat could that jumper and the concept of luck possibly have in common?” asked Aunt V, glancing at a Figaro newspaper article on the La Lunes. “Axelle, let me make myself clear: you are my niece and I love you.” She paused to apply a touch of lip gloss to the middle of her bottom lip. “I would even go so far as to say I find your whacky sartorial ways nearly bohemian, and even, on occasion, quaintly endearing. I prefer to think of your sense of style as being eccentric, as opposed to…just strange. However, as long as you are here working with me, you are representing… me . And I represent Chic: Paris magazine, which means that by association, you do too .” Here she paused again, giving the words a chance to sink in as she rose and walked to the kitchen window. The clear lacquer on her perfectly manicured nails caught the morning light as she brushed her fingertips over the