London by Carina Axelsson Read Free Book Online Page B

Although I’d been one of a group of five for the magazine editorial, my agency seemed to think that each girl in the shoot would get a solo shot out of it—which was good.
    Unless you’re a supermodel, and you’re going to be photographed surrounded by other supermodels, agencies can be hesitant to book you in for a group shot. From their perspective, a tear sheet (a page torn from a fashion magazine to use in a model’s portfolio) makes a much stronger image when only one girl is on the page.
    Charlotte had also sent me on quite a few castings—including a fair number at Vogue House, the Condé Nast headquarters in Mayfair. By now I was fairly certain I could make my way around their labyrinthine offices blindfolded. “But it’s paid off, hasn’t it, Axelle?” I remembered my booker, Jazz, saying as she showed me the options I had with Condé Nast magazines Allure and Miss Vogue . She’d been beaming with excitement. “At this rate, you’ll end up like Lily Cole—modeling now, then catching up with university later.”
    I’d crinkled my nose. What I really wanted to do was concentrate on my studies now , especially criminal justice and languages. Speaking multiple languages gave a detective an added edge (when, for instance, interviewing witnesses whose first language might not be English).
    â€œYou’ll see,” Jazz had continued, her enthusiasm undimmed by my silence, “modeling can be fab. It can lead to all sorts of other things.”
    As long as it leads me to more mysteries , I’d said to myself.
    â€œAnd does Charlotte know about what you do?” Ellie meant my detective work.
    â€œYes, Miriam told her and Charlie. The arrangement is the same one I have with Miriam. They’ll be discreet, help cover for me, and in between my cases, push me like they do any other model. Jazz doesn’t know though—and neither do any of the other bookers at Thunder.”
    â€œSo what about Tallulah?” Ellie asked. “Is she the reason we’re here? She called me, you know, on Sunday, saying she needed help with an unusual and possibly dangerous situation—which is when I told her about you. You said you met her, but what did she want, exactly? I haven’t heard from her since I sent you that message yesterday—except for a brief thanks—so I’m assuming you got along okay.”
    â€œWe did…and I’ve agreed to take on her case.”
    â€œShe wouldn’t give anything away to me. She said that she’d prefer you to explain…”
    I nodded. “She has her reasons.” As we turned left at the end of the bridge and walked past the Aquarium (where my dad works!) and toward the London Eye, I told Ellie all about my meeting with Tallulah.
    â€œI know how close Tallulah and Gavin are,” Ellie said when I’d finished. “And I can well imagine she wouldn’t be happy with the police calling the attack a ‘random mugging’ after Gavin’s and her flat had been ransacked. It sounds… complex .”
    Clue suddenly sprang to mind. It was Colonel Mustard with the candlestick in the library . Despite the random factors at the start of a game of Clue, it always ended with a clean and tidy solution. And while my mom liked to tell me: “Life isn’t a game of Clue, you know, Axelle” (normally when I was spying on the neighbors), that didn’t stop me from wanting a tidy solution for my real-life cases. Not that I was anywhere near a Clue-like unveiling for this one.
    â€œHmm…I guess it is complex,” I said as I pointed back across the Thames to the riverbank opposite. “Gavin was found more or less where you found me. And going on the information—official information from the police report—that Tallulah emailed me earlier, the police believe he probably fell where he was found—or a few feet in either direction at