Stolen with Style (22 page)

I shook my head and she looked at me through narrowed eyes.

“Don't tell me you're actually—finally—thinking about
him
?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“And?” she persisted.

“And…not much. We're going to have dinner tonight.”

“And kiss and make up?”

“No.” I laughed. “We're going to discuss the case.”

“Not according to the trail of clues I've seen.”

“Very funny, Nancy Drew.”

***

The show went well, even though I couldn't stop thinking about the case. My pride couldn't let go of the fact that I'd been stumped. But at least that had the advantage of keeping my mind off the photographers and TV cameras, not to mention the assorted A-listers in the front rows. They still freaked me out a bit if I looked at them too much. But as long as I didn't think about them watching my runway effort, I was okay. I'd seen Miriam smiling at me in the front row, though, and that had been nice.

Backstage, I quickly changed into my own clothes. I was just slipping my trench coat on when Brandon and Peter came up to me.

“That trench coat looks great on you, Axelle.” Peter was snapping away as he spoke to me. “It's a natural match for you, isn't it?” Pleased with his little witticism, he winked and turned to start photographing Chandra, who was next to me.

Brandon quickly greeted me. “How are you doing? Everything okay?”

I nodded. “I'm getting there.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that sometimes things don't go according to plan.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” he said, his eyes on mine. I thought of how I'd turned him down twice when he'd asked to spend some time together. I had the feeling that was what he was referring to. But then he broke into a smile. “You never know, though. Things can change faster than the snap of a camera. Speaking of which, I'd better get back to helping Peter. I'll see you later.” And he was gone.

Chandra caught up with me as I was leaving. “Thank goodness the diamond has been found!” she whispered. She looked more relaxed and happy than I'd ever seen her since meeting her—and no wonder. With her innocent practical joke, she had not only placed her own career in the line of fire, but Cazzie's as well—not to mention
Chic
's reputation. But now the diamond was back in Cazzie's hands (or rather, in the
Chic
safe at the Sid Clifton Building)—and by tomorrow evening it would be returned to Noah Tindle.

The only reputation now hanging by a couture thread was mine.

“Are you going to figure out who took it? Does it still matter?” Chandra asked as she adjusted a beanie on her head. She was in full surfer-dudette early-spring style and looked amazing: navy blue pea coat, skateboarding sneakers, sweater, and jeans. And her thumb rings, of course.

“I have to, Chandra—and I will.” My confidence was coming back. For my own peace of mind, I had to solve this case. There was no way I was going to allow the thief to get away with it. My friends were right—I still had forty-eight hours. I would go back over the evidence again and again until I found a chink in the armor. There had to be one. There had to be one tiny, crucial detail somewhere that I'd overlooked.

As I stepped out of the industrial building, Sebastian was waiting for me.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Starving.”

“Burger and fries?”

“Perfect.”

We took a subway uptown, Sebastian promising to show me the best burger joint in the city. After walking a few blocks from the station, we entered the elegant lobby of an enormous hotel. I was about to ask him if he knew of something a bit less grand, but he motioned for me to follow him and didn't stop walking until we reached a large, heavy, red velvet curtain. He pushed it aside just enough for us to slip behind it and then led me into the tiniest burger joint I'd ever seen.

It also had the shortest menu of any place I'd ever been. You could order a burger with all the toppings or a burger without all the toppings. And you could decide whether or not you wanted fries. That was it. Nothing else.

The kitchen was open to the tiny seating area. While we stood in line, I gazed at the walls. They were covered from top to bottom with scribbles (in ink) left by customers. We ordered and slid into a booth in the back corner. I loved it!

Right away we started discussing the case. I even took my earbuds out and we listened to my recordings again—not that we gleaned anything new. But finally we drifted away from the case and on to other things…

He told me he'd spoken with my mom and promised to keep an eye on me for her.

“It sounded like you promised to do more than just that,” I said pointedly, reminding him that he'd agreed to derail me from my detective work and push me into doing more modeling.

“Yes, okay, I admit I told her I'd do that—but have I? Besides, what was I supposed to say to her? I mean, she
is
your mom. And I want to keep seeing—I mean, I want to keep helping you.” We both looked away from each other, pretending to ignore that slip of his tongue. “And I honestly never thought you'd see those texts or I would have told you about them sooner. I forgot you're a detective,” he added, “and that you feel no compunction about looking at things that aren't intended for you.” He was looking at me again. “Do you?”

I rolled my eyes. “When were you planning on telling me about them?” I asked.

“Probably here, now. Or sooner. I don't know. But I would have.”

Grrr!

We even hashed out the matter of Cleo.

“But I told you I was going to be staying with my aunt. I am, and Cleo's my cousin. She lives on her own now, but we meet up whenever we can.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” I wondered if I sounded jealous.

“Well, it's not my fault you didn't ask. And you didn't want me calling you anymore, remember? So how was I supposed to tell you?”

He had a point.

Annoyingly, Sebastian was just as funny and cute and smart as he'd been in Paris—even more so, I thought, as I watched him run a hand through his hair in exasperation during my cross-examination.

When things finally simmered down, he leaned back in his chair and smiled at me, his eyes teasing. Then he asked, “So? What next, Holmes?”

***

On this trip to New York, nothing was working out as planned, I thought, as Sebastian and I stepped out of the burger joint and back onto the street. First the case, which I still hadn't solved—which I was fumbling through, in fact—and then
him
…

We walked to Miriam's in silence, each of us busy with our own thoughts. When we reached her building we stood nervously looking at each other, unsure how to proceed.

But there was only one thing to do really, wasn't there? As we stood in front of Miriam's building, our hands in our pockets, weight shifting from foot to foot, our eyes finally met and held.

“I'm sorry—” we both started at the same time.

“Me first,” Sebastian said. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you about your mom right away. I should have. And even if you didn't want to speak with me, I should have texted and told you about all that, and about Cleo too. Maybe—in fact, most definitely—you wouldn't have answered”—he smiled—“but at least you would have known.”

The incessant noise of the city ceased to exist. The honking, screeching, vivacious buzz that was a background constant was relegated to a place far away, as Sebastian and I stood close together.

“I'm sorry too,” I said as I looked at him. “I should have heard you out before jumping to conclusions that weren't entirely true.”

Gently, his hands found mine. Then as our eyes locked once more, he carefully pushed my hair behind my ears and slowly ran his finger down my face. He smelled amazing, and the feel of his body so close to mine made me go weak. The disappointment and frustrations of the day melted away until I was only aware of him. Slowly, Sebastian lowered his head toward mine and I reached up to meet his lips.

“Axelle? Is that you?” A familiar voice cut through the romantic New York night, stopping us just as our lips were about to meet.

Pat! I could have strangled her.

“What are you doing still up?” she continued as she walked up to us. “You should be in bed! And who is this?”

Embarrassment swept through me, and as Sebastian and I pulled away from each other, I was blushing.

“Pat's my booker,” I whispered to Sebastian.

“She's got great timing,” he replied.

Miriam was just behind Pat. They'd obviously had dinner together—something they did regularly when Miriam was in town—and were walking home. Pat, apparently, lived only a few blocks away from Miriam.

“I tried to hold her back,” Miriam whispered to me as she approached. “But you know Pat—and you're her favorite right now, so she feels extra-protective.”

Great. Thanks, Pat.

After a few minutes of chitchat, Pat finally left. And then Miriam, with a glance at her watch, said, “I think we should go up now, Axelle. You have that shoot for
Teen
Vogue
tomorrow and I want you to look fresh. And after the day you've had…” she added lightly.

I looked at her with raised eyebrows and dug my hands into the pockets of my trench coat.

“Cazzie spoke with me. She is very grateful.” Then after a short pause, Miriam added, “But she didn't tell me who did it…” She had a twinkle in her eye as she looked at me.

She
knows
why
, I thought. She—unlike Cazzie—had guessed that I didn't know who did it. Miriam has always been savvy, so I wasn't surprised, but she was waiting for me to tell her—which I did right away. “That's because I still don't know… I haven't figured it out yet.”

My disappointment hung like a wet coat in the crisp night air.

“Ah! So the case is not finished.” She watched me quietly. “Well then, I suggest you call it a night,
ma
petite
Axelle
. Knowing you, you'll want this case solved by the time you leave, in which case you're definitely going to need all the sleep you can get.” She was smiling at me now. “And don't worry, I have a feeling that the solution will come to you like this,” she added, with a quick snap of her fingers. Then Miriam said good night to Sebastian, turned, and headed inside.

I watched as she walked into her building, heels clicking, fur-trimmed stole around her petite shoulders. In one swift movement, Sam (who was on night duty) pushed the grand old door open for her. I continued to watch, my back to Central Park across the street, as Miriam walked into the lobby and the door swung gently shut behind her.

Now when I think back to this moment, I see it all in slow motion. I can remember Sebastian standing to my left, suddenly reaching for his pocket and saying something about wanting to let his aunt know that he'd be on his way back to her apartment soon.

I can also clearly remember that I continued to stand, feet planted firmly, watching as the door to Miriam's building stopped swinging and came to a complete halt. And in that very moment after Sebastian stepped away and I continued to stand watching the door, a lady walking her dog went past behind me—
and
I
saw
her
even
though
my
back
was
to
her
.

Suddenly my heart stood still, and I felt as if someone had kicked me in my gut. I was nearly sick. Eyes wide, I turned quickly and looked behind me. The lady and her dog had indeed walked past me. I could see their backs as they continued up the block.

In shock, I turned back and looked at the door to Miriam's building.

Like Miriam had said—and who else? Ah yes, Brandon. Things can change quickly, they'd told me.

And they were right.

In the space of a moment, I was pretty sure I'd cracked this case.

In fact, I was certain I had.

“Good evening, Miss Axelle. Can I help you?”

I didn't blame Sam for thinking I needed help. I'd stepped up to the door and stood in front of it, staring at it—probably somewhat wildly. I must have been a strange sight.

“No, Sam, I'm all right, but thanks,” I answered as, without thinking, I walked past him and into the building's lobby. I walked straight to one of the chairs lining the walls and sat down. I needed to think.

A few seconds later, Sebastian came into the lobby looking for me. “You disappeared,” he said.

I nodded.

“What's happened?” he asked. “You have that look… Oh no. I've missed something, haven't I? You've had a breakthrough.”

Again, I nodded.

“And you're not going to tell me?”

I shook my head.

He was smiling. “I didn't think so.”

My phone vibrated. It was Cazzie:

Sorry to text you so late, Axelle, but I just wanted to thank you again for today and to say that I look forward to handing Noah back his diamond tomorrow. Call me a coward, but I doubt I'll be able to say a word to him about anything. I hope I'll be forgiven in my next life. I'll call you tomorrow. And many, many thanks again.

“Now why are you smiling?” Sebastian asked.

I put my phone away and looked up at him. “The element of surprise, Watson, surprise. The thief is secure in the knowledge that I haven't figured out who they are, right?”

He nodded.

“So I look forward to using that to my advantage.”

“I have the feeling that solving this tricky case might just make everything you've been through so far worth it, Holmes. Don't you think?”

“You'll have to ask me again tomorrow, Watson.” I smiled.

***

Sebastian and I quickly parted ways. Under the bright lights of the lobby and Sam's watchful eye, any thought of a romantic good-night kiss was now definitely off the agenda.

But we made plans to meet right after my
Teen
Vogue
shoot tomorrow and then go downtown together to Juice Studios for The Isle show. My idea was to confront the thief after the show—which, if it went according to plan, would fittingly take place at the same studios where the diamond had been stolen.

But before that happened, I had some preparation work to do.
So
much
for
Pat's idea of beauty sleep
, I thought, as I pulled the chair up to the desk in my bedroom, turned on my laptop, and quickly wrote a list.

The
first
thing
I
have
to
do
, I thought,
is
contact
Cazzie
. I fished my phone out of my shoulder bag and wrote her a text. Then I took out Sebastian's paper with the group's schedules written on it and flipped it to the other side where he'd written contact information for everyone. There I found the number I was looking for and wrote another text. As I pushed the send button, I began to relax. My plan was taking shape…

Before getting into bed, I shut my computer down. I shook my head as I looked one last time at the screen.
How
could
I
have
missed
it?
I thought.