Читать книгу Murder At the Cubbyhole - Alice Zogg - Страница 12

On that same afternoon, R. A. Huber was scheduled to see Madame Dubois, owner of Le Monde Fashion. The upscale boutique was located in South Pasadena on a cul-de-sac. The establishments on that particular street were comparable to those of Rodeo Drive, serving a wealthy clientele. The lady detective had on occasion done a bit of window shopping in the area, but never ventured into any of the places. Le Monde Fashion was well-known for its clever window displays. Huber remembered having strolled along the district one day in December and being captivated by the ingenious holiday window exhibit. In the foreground, there stood one single mannequin dressed in a red floor-length cape, and an enormous star loomed over the entire background space. The star sparkled with such brilliance that it attracted people’s attention clear across the street.

She now admired another fascinating window scene. A cardboard dummy dressed in a police officer’s uniform had a whistle squeezed between his lips, and with an outstretched arm held off traffic to let three mannequins parade by. Each was decked out in a different color outfit, with matching hat, purse, sunglasses and coordinated jewelry.

As soon as Huber stepped inside the shop, a tall, stunning young woman walked up to her and announced, “Welcome to Le Monde Fashion,” and with a trained eye took in the potential customer’s appearance. Huber, although dressed in her usual chic mode, was out of her league in this establishment.

The young woman said, “May I help you?”

“I have an appointment to see Madame Dubois. My name is R. A. Huber.”

“Oh sure, Ms. Huber, I’ll tell her you’re here,” and she vanished.

Left alone, Huber looked around. The place was not busy. She spotted a lone customer at the opposite end of the store browsing through suits with the help of another salesclerk, equally attractive as the young woman who had welcomed her. Huber scrutinized a few items hanging from a clothes rack near her, noting that the stylish garments were of superior quality, and she was not surprised to find no price tags attached.

Her escort suddenly stood next to her again and said, “This way, please,” and she followed her out the store to the back corridor. They passed several doors and at the end of the hallway came to a halt in front of an area similar to a small hotel lobby. The young woman asked her to have a seat and then left.

Huber barely had time to select one of the upholstered chairs and glance around the place when she heard a door being shut and then fast approaching footsteps. A second later, a forty-year-old petite brunette entered the area with a brisk gait. She was clad in black leggings and a loose black-and-grey tunic and wore dark flats resembling ballet slippers. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she wore no jewelry or any kind of makeup. In short, the woman looked more like an artist than the proprietress of an upscale fashion boutique.

Huber stood up, and at 5’6” towered over the other woman by several inches.

“Voilà Madame Huber,” she said, in an unmistakable French accent.

The lady detective said, “Bon après-midi Madame Dubois. Merci de prendre le temps de me reçevoir.”

“Pas de problème. Vous êtes canadienne-française?”

“Non, je suis de la Suisse.”

As they both sat down, the conversation reverted to English and Madame Dubois said, “Excuse my getup; I’m in the middle of creating my next window display.”

Astonished, Huber asked, “You’re doing the window dressing yourself?”

“I enjoy it. Besides, I wouldn’t trust anyone else with the job.”

“You are extremely talented.”

Then she got to the point and said, “As I mentioned on the phone, Megan Maguire’s parents hired me to investigate her homicide. Losing a child is hard enough, but adding the cruel act of murder is unbearable. I can’t imagine how I’d cope if it was one of my kids.”

“I’m not a mother, but feel for Megan’s family.”

“How long did Megan work for you?”

“About two years.”

“What are the requirements for hiring sales personnel for your establishment?”

“You mean education-wise?”

“No, I meant what are you looking for in an employee?”

Madame Dubois’s mannerism became extremely French when she answered, “My collections are not for the masses. I am fortunate to count on a small elite clientele. Each season, my customers tend to buy their entire wardrobe at Le Monde Fashion. We provide private modeling for them, if desired. To answer your question, my salesgirls need to have a sense of fashion, be discreet, friendly, honest, and able to take care of the shop while I’m busy elsewhere. It is also important that they look presentable and preferably be tall, so I can use them as models.”

“What do you mean by ‘discreet’?”

“My customers are like loyal old friends, and many of them are famous. What they tell us goes no farther than these walls.”

“I see.” And with a sweeping gesture encircling their surroundings she asked, “And this is the area where the modeling takes place?”

“Certainement.”

“Was Megan a competent employee?”

“Yes, she did a good job and was reliable. She had great looks and carried herself well. Many of my regular customers asked for her in particular when they wanted outfits modeled.”

“Did she act differently or seem afraid in the days before her tragic death?”

“I did not notice anything like that.”

“Was she friends with the other sales staff?”

“I only had one other sales clerk besides Megan. Angie, the young woman who showed you in just now, is new. And, no, Megan kept to herself.”

“Am I correct in presuming that you’ve lived in the States for many years?”

“Twenty-two, to be exact.”

“Is your husband also French?”

“My Robert was a born American.”

“Was?”

“I became a bride at 20 and a widow at 21.”

“So sorry to hear that.”

Madame Dubois brushed it off with the flip of her hand. “It was long ago. Robert served in the first Gulf War in Operation Desert Storm. Even though there were a relatively small amount of American casualties, Robert was one of the unlucky few killed by enemy fire.”

“The reason I assumed that your spouse was French is because of your name.”

“Oh, I went back to my maiden name when starting Le Monde Fashion. Robert’s name was Nelson.”

“Dubois certainly has a more authentic ring.”

They sat in silence for a moment while Huber reflected on what to ask the lady next. She finally said, “How did you find out about what happened to Megan?”

“Pardon?”

“Did you read it in the paper or did you first learn the news from the police?”

“I knew right away.”

“You mean you were there at the Cubbyhole Theater to watch Megan perform?”

“Not just her. My boyfriend is also one of the actors in the play.”

Huber raised her eyebrows and said, “Oh, who is that?”

Madame Dubois said, “Chad Lindhurst. He is the character Fortitude in the play.”

Then she continued, “When I heard the explosion coming from backstage, I was paralyzed for a moment. As soon as I could move again, I ran there in panic, thinking that my boyfriend might be hurt. There was chaos all around, but I finally spotted Chad and he told me that Megan’s dressing room was completely blown to pieces with her in it.”

“So by coincidence one of your salesclerks and your boyfriend acted on the same stage?”

“It was no coincidence. Chad has belonged to an amateur theater group for years. One day Megan told me that she was taking acting lessons and would like to get experience on stage, so I had Chad put a good word in for her with the director of From Sin to Virtue. She auditioned and got the lead part.”

“Do you have any idea who could have wanted to harm Megan?”

“No, I can’t imagine. Some of the other performers could have been jealous, but surely not to the point of wanting to kill her. She was a bit self-important which was only natural considering her looks and talent.”

“She was talented then?”

“Chad thought so, and I did too.”

Huber could think of nothing else to ask and let the woman resume her window dressing.