by Kate Parker
I tiptoed back to the door and slipped out into the sunshine, easing the door shut behind me and leaving it on the latch. I was grateful to find only Jane waiting for me, but my heart didn’t stop pounding until we were safely in a cab on our way back to Fleet Street.
It took me until the end of the day to write up what I thought was a coherent article on my interview with Mimi Mareau. Miss Westcott looked it over and shook her head, waving me away.
I went down to the photography section and asked for Jane. She was still in the darkroom, so I sat and waited as the others cleared their desks and left.
Jane came out about twenty minutes later. “You waited for me? Well, here are the best two shots for your story, and here’s the photograph you wanted, blown up as much as I dared. It’s awful. Brigette and Mimi both moved.”
“It’s the other two I want the photo for,” I said as I studied it. Fleur’s eyes were wide with surprise as Mimi grabbed her scarf, but it was a very good likeness. Reina looked frightened, but then I realized that was her usual expression. “Don’t lose the negative to this one.”
Jane nodded and leaned against a scarred desk. “What’s going on? And what scared you in that basement?”
“What makes you think I was scared?” I said with all the bravado I could manage.
“You fled that basement as fast as you could without being too obvious and raced past me to signal for a taxi.”
I felt my cheeks heat. Jane knew me too well. “Sir Henry wants to know who told an assassin that the man who was murdered would be in the basement. Probably a Nazi killer because the dead man had been leading German Jews to Britain.” And spying on Nazi Germany. “I thought he might have gone there to look for something in one of the trunks, or put something in one of the trunks.”
“Did you find anything?”
“Several were empty. One contained a lot of powders and vials and bottles. And then I was interrupted when one of the women came down and clattered glassware around. I hid so she didn’t see me, but I didn’t see what she was after or which trunk it was.”
“Well,” Jane said, her attitude all business and formal, “you’d better report to Sir Henry, and I’m off for the day. I’ll keep your negatives safe for you.”
I took the two photographs for the article and dropped them off with Miss Westcott, who’d already covered my copy with red ink. Then I went up to the top floor of the Daily Premier building.
Sir Henry’s secretary had covered her typewriter and was powdering her nose in preparation for leaving. “Is he there?” I asked, and she nodded, gesturing toward his door.
I wished her a good evening as I walked past and knocked.
“Come in,” boomed a man’s voice.
I opened the door and slipped in, shutting it before Sir Henry noticed his secretary hadn’t left yet. I knew he often kept her late when he was working on stories, even ones that might not make it into the newspaper.
“I was at Mimi Mareau’s couture house this afternoon. Neither Fleur nor Reina wanted their pictures taken, but Jane managed to get one, with the help of Mimi.” I laid the photo of the four women on his desk.
Sir Henry picked it up and studied it. “These are the four women staying at the house when Elias was murdered?”
“Yes.”
He looked from the photograph to me, holding my gaze. “Which one did it?”
“I don’t know.” I knew he didn’t want to hear I’d failed.
“Have you been able to eliminate anyone?”
“Brigette is only eighteen or nineteen. I think she’s too young. Reina is Jewish and knew Elias from the days of her childhood when he was Josef Meirsohn. She’s been frightened ever since he was killed. And I found out they keep the basement door on the latch, so anyone can come and go that way without being seen upstairs.”
“You’ve been busy.” He studied the photograph. “Why does this one look so surprised?”
“That’s Fleur. She wrapped her head up in that piece of black velvet and Mimi pulled it off just before Jane shot her photograph.”
“Why would she do that?”
“She doesn’t want anyone seeing the photograph to recognize her?” I suggested.
“Perhaps she’s wanted by the Sûreté.”
I blinked. “For what?”
“For what, indeed? Does Mimi strike you as the type to hire a wanted criminal if she has the right skills for her business?” Sir Henry said with a faint smile.
“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “When I came into the basement from outside, I checked some of the trunks and boxes. Most are empty, as you’d expect since they moved a great deal of goods from Paris for making frocks, but at least one trunk had vials and medicine bottles and boxes with strange powders in them. Another mystery.”
“Perhaps one of them is ill.”
“Perhaps.” I wasn’t convinced, but I admitted to myself that it was the most logical explanation.
“What’s your next step?”
Well, it wouldn’t be to tell him that I was expected to report in to the War Office. I still found their request to be unpalatable. “She’s hired me to do a drawing for an advertisement.”
He raised his eyebrows. Then he said, “Do it. It gives you a reason to go back there.”
I pulled my drawing out of my bag and showed it to him as I pointed out the changes Mimi wanted.
He looked impressed. “She knows her stuff. And your drawing is quite good.”
“Thank you.” I must have beamed at the praise. “Also, I need to cover the fashion show she’s putting on as part of fall fashion week for aristocrats and the newspapers on Thursday. There will be five shows that day, but Jane and I need to cover Mimi’s show. That will give me another chance to look around.”
Now came the difficult part. “I need to find someone who could commission an original gown made by Mimi. Or a suit. I would suggest Esther, but her shape isn’t permanent.”
“Are you suggesting that the paper pay for you to have a dress made by Mimi Mareau?” He sounded both amused and outraged.
“No. Who would believe a reporter would have the money to buy couture?” I wished I’d have that much money one day, but I wasn’t expecting it to happen. “I need someone I can tag along with to fittings as a sisterly advisor.” I had plenty of friends who were successful, friends in positions of influence, but no one with enough money to have a Mimi Mareau frock.
“I think we need to get Esther to suggest someone from the committee,” Sir Henry said.
“If there’s someone there who can act like she has known me for a while and would listen to my suggestions.” I’d met them all once. Would any of them be willing to bring a stranger along while they spent a lot of money so I could snoop around the fashion salon?
He picked up the phone and dialed. The rotary wheel had barely come back to rest when he said, “Esther, that was quick. We need your help.”
She must have given an eager response because he said, “Nothing like that. We need your advice on someone in the committee who would have a garment made by Mimi Mareau and would be willing to take Olivia along as a close friend to advise her. It’s to help with this Elias investigation. No, you can’t. The dress would never fit after the baby comes.”
He pulled his ear away from the receiver and I heard a frustrated scream. Then he put his ear back and listened for a moment. “Very good. I’ll tell her. Good-bye, dear girl.”
When he hung up the phone, he said, “Esther will work on this and call you tonight when she has everything ready.”
I raised my eyebrows. “That sounds like I will need to take time off from the society page desk on occasion.”
“I suspect I’m going to have to bring Miss Westcott into our confidence.” His expression said he wasn’t looking forward to it.
I stopped at the greengrocer on my way back to the flat and bought a few summer vegetables and then went to the butcher for a bit of ham for dinner. Then I stopped at a bakery for two rolls, one for
dinner and one for breakfast the next morning. I was eating my dinner at the dining room table with a book and a glass of red wine when the phone rang.
Marking my place in the book with my napkin, I hurried into the hall and answered the phone.
Esther’s voice came out of the receiver. “Livvy, can you meet me for lunch tomorrow? The Savoy? One o’clock?”
“Yes, your father will fix it for me. Is this about Elias and Mimi Mareau’s salon?”
“I think I have the solution. You’ll meet her at lunch.”
“Ooh, mysterious.” I hoped she could tell from my voice that I was joking.
“Not at all. I think you’ll remember Leah Nauheim.”
“Of course I remember her. But why is she willing to help me? Why would she bring me along to order a new frock?”
“Her English isn’t strong, and you can go along as her interpreter. She won’t go to Paris because it’s too close to Germany, but her husband has more than enough money for designer frocks. She thinks of this as a perfect situation.”
“Does she know I’m going to snoop around and try to discover clues as to who killed Elias?”
“David knows about it and he’s convinced Leah she won’t be in any danger from the killer. They’re both on the committee, and she’s willing to help.”
“Good. So you’ve arranged for us to meet tomorrow and see if we can work something out? Esther, thank you.” My enthusiasm must have traveled down the telephone line.
“No, thank you. It’s good to feel I can help.”
“You’ll be a very big help if you can convince Leah Nauheim to act like we’re good friends.”
* * *
I showed up at the Savoy dining room at the appointed time the next afternoon, having told Miss Westcott that I had to cover a meeting for Sir Henry. The look in her eyes made me certain she would check.
When I arrived, Esther and Leah both rose from the couch where they were waiting in the lobby.
My blue patterned dress with tiny pleats running from shoulders to cleavage was the height of fashion in the office, but both Esther and Leah made me look like a Newcastle coal miner’s wife.
Esther kept on a bright red jacket with a gray fur collar and a wide hem that hid her waistline, but it was Leah’s clothes I wanted to see. She didn’t disappoint. She wore an ice-green linen suit with a raspberry blouse that just peeked out at the neckline. Her hat was a raspberry felt turban.
I suspected it was from Selfridge’s, but her slim build and delicate bone structure made anything she wore as elegant as any couture design.
Esther and I air-kissed cheeks and Leah and I said it was a pleasure to see each other again as we followed the maître d’. We were formal and polite and even Esther, guaranteed to be lively, was somber.
We ordered clear soup, roast beef with vegetables, fruit ice, and a nice red wine, and then discussed fashion and what Leah could expect at Mimi’s salon. It wasn’t until our soup had been delivered and we were sure to be left alone for a few minutes that Leah said, “Livvy. May I call you Livvy?”
“Please.”
“Esther has told me what you did to help her relatives escape.” There was no need to mention where they escaped from. “This doesn’t have anything to do with her relatives. Why are you willing to help?”
“I found Elias’s body. And then I found out he was doing what I had been doing, but on a bigger scale and with a lot more risk. That took courage. What happened to him was a tragedy.”
How could I explain that I admired this man I’d never met? He took risks to help his fellow man. I’d done nothing compared to what he’d accomplished before his killer stopped him, but I suspected he acted for the same reasons. Fair play. Right and wrong.
Leah gave me a hard look. “You’re a Christian. You could tell Sir Henry you’re done with the Nazis and danger and helping people escape. Why are you willing to help?”
I stared back at her and said in an even tone, “This is what Sir Henry hired me to do. I’m only a fair interviewer and a terrible newspaper writer. If I told him no, he’d sack me, or at least cut my wages to those of a junior society reporter. I need the money.”
“Oh, no, Livvy, he wouldn’t. And he says you do a very good job,” Sir Henry’s daughter said, loyal to both her father and me.
“Of course he would, Esther. Your father and I have a business arrangement. One that suits us both.” I gave her a smile as I admitted something I wouldn’t ordinarily say. “And we both know that I’d be bored if all I did was report on charity teas. Besides, I like these other assignments. I’ve found I like snooping around, seeing if I can outwit those who try to stop me.” I felt as if I could help balance the scales on the side of right.
Even if I didn’t, I’d still have to snoop for General Alford. And I couldn’t admit to that.
I turned back to Leah. “So will you help me get into Mimi’s salon in a capacity where I won’t be noticed?”
CHAPTER NINE
Leah studied me, looking doubtful. “You are a reporter. Do you know anything about fashion?”
“I can sketch gowns, and I have a good eye for color and pattern, but I don’t have any original ideas. I only know what I see ladies wearing. For example, I suspect your suit was originally from a designer’s collection, and then made up for Selfridge’s.”
“You are right. And it was originally a Schiaparelli.”
“It’s beautiful.”
She nodded.
We finished our soup and it was replaced by the roast course. As I ate, I wondered if she could she pull this off.
When she finished with what little she ate of her lunch, Leah said, “What makes you think going to this fashion house with me will make you invisible?”
I smiled. “Don’t worry. That’s my problem.” Actually, I had no answer. “Can you act as if we’ve spent a great deal of time together while I’ve acted as your translator? I’m going to need to know details about your wedding, your house, and where you came from. You’ll need to know about my flat, my job, and my late husband.”
“He was murdered,” Esther said, drawing a surprised look from Leah.
“You’ll need to know a great deal more about Reggie than how he died.”
“How did he die?” Leah asked, and for the first time, I heard compassion in her tone.
I told her how the police had thought it was a suicide, and how I knew it couldn’t be because Reggie couldn’t pull a trigger with his right hand. And how he died trying to stop a Nazi sympathizer in his office in Whitehall from giving away the nation’s secrets.
A succession of expressions crossed Leah’s face, showing what she thought of each part of the story as I told it to her. I had thought at dinner at her house that she had been aloof. Now that I was getting to know her, I was discovering she wasn’t.
“I’m going to have to go through your wardrobe so I know the styles and colors and fabrics you prefer,” I told her.
A smile crossed Leah’s face. She didn’t often smile, but her face was radiant when she did. “It sounds like fun. Are you up for this, too, Esther?”
“A chance to look through your clothes? I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Can we do it this afternoon? I do not know what David or my father-in-law would think of the three of us rummaging through my dressing room. They are at work, so we will not bother them.”
I had to ask. “Is your husband going to be upset about the cost of a designer dress?”
“No. He likes me looking nice and doesn’t worry about the price as long as it doesn’t scream ‘shamefully expensive.’”
“You are so lucky.”
“I am,” she said with a dreamy smile. Then she blinked. “Will this present a problem at the newspaper?”
“I’ll take care of that,” Esther said, and the three of us made plans to go to Leah’s.
We took a taxi out to Richmond after lunch. In the daylight, I could see their home was a large brick building situated in a good-sized garden.
My flat would fit into a corner of the house. “This is out in the countryside. Does your husband find the commute difficult?”
“No. He travels to the bank with his father, or has the chauffeur drive him to the train station. Daniel always has the auto take him straight to the bank.”
Then we went through the front door, up to her dressing room, and spent a pleasant couple of hours going through Leah’s outfits.
I had to admit to being struck by jealousy.
“Well,” Leah asked after we had “oohed” and “aahed” over her wardrobe, “you must have many suggestions to make.”
“I think the only thing you could possibly lack is a gown from Mimi Mareau,” I told her. “But you have such beautiful gowns.”
“I was thinking more of a tweed suit. Something for fall and winter. Something very English,” Leah said.
I couldn’t hide my smile. “This is where I have some expert knowledge. Mimi has designed a wool tweed suit with a sable collar that has a fantastic drape to it. It’s part of the Duke of Marshburn’s daughter’s trousseau, and when the girl tried it on, I told Mimi everyone was going to want one.”
“I don’t want what everyone else is wearing if I’m paying couture prices,” Leah said.
I shouldn’t have been surprised at her frugality. Even the wealthy Jews in Eastern Europe guarded every penny. They’d been through tough times in every land over the past centuries.
“It’s not the color or the fur that makes this suit, it’s the cut,” I told her. “A woman named Fleur is her chief cutter and I think she’s the one who’s figured out how to cut tweed so the drape, particularly the drape of the skirt, is so delightful.”
“Do I tell her I want a suit cut the way she made a suit for the daughter of the Duke of Marshburn?” Leah asked, looking at me with disbelief.
“No, we will,” I told her. “I am going to be your translator.” I pulled out my reporter’s notebook and showed her the sketches I had made while interviewing Lady Patricia.
