Deadly Fashion

by Kate Parker

  “We can’t do everything at once,” Mr. Mandel replied. “Let’s get as many as we can away from Hitler and his dangerous plans first.”

  Esther and I sat in silence while around us the men talked, argued, and pushed their own theories about the coming war. The room grew warm despite the cool night outside. Someone opened a window, and none too soon. The talk and the stuffy air were making me sick.

  Suddenly, Esther rose. “I’ll need a nursery maid in the coming months and I could use a housemaid. Those are positions we’re allowed to hire refugees for, aren’t they?”

  “Domestic workers are one of the few positions open to refugees,” Mr. Nauheim confirmed.

  “Then you can put me down for two sponsorships. And I’m sure my father would offer a sponsorship, too.” Esther gracefully sat down again.

  As the meeting continued, she looked at me.

  “Your father doesn’t pay me well enough to have a maid, Esther.”

  “What about your father?”

  “My father?”

  “Surely Sir Ronald doesn’t do his own housework.”

  “I’ll have to ask him first. But you know my father. If I ask him, it will be the worst idea ever.”

  “Coward,” Esther said with a teasing gleam in her eye.

  “I am.” I admitted it freely and had since we were in school. I knew I had no talent for getting around my father.

  “Then I’ll ask him, shall I?” She gave me a smug smile.

  I felt my eyes widen. At least my father would be polite to her while rejecting her suggestion. “Please. Be my guest.”

  “Mrs. Denis.”

  I swung my head around to face Mr. Mandel, who’d spoken to me.

  “You work for Sir Henry’s newspaper. Do you have any insight on what might happen in the coming days?”

  “None at all. I cover society news. I know Sir Henry has been very busy today, so he might have some idea of what the various governments plan to do tomorrow.” Start a terrible war immediately came to my mind.

  “A shame, really,” Mr. Nauheim said. “We could all do with some insight into the future.”

  I didn’t want any. The present was frightening enough.

  The meeting broke up shortly afterward with an additional seventy-five sponsorships to offer to the Jewish community in Prague. We spread out over the drawing room and dining room for coffee.

  Esther and I found ourselves talking to Mr. Nauheim and his son, David. “Where’s Leah? I haven’t seen her,” I said.

  “She didn’t come tonight. She’s very upset about the situation in Prague,” David told me.

  “She has family there?”

  “Yes. That’s where we met. She was living with her aunt and uncle. Her parents are trapped in Berlin and can’t get out. And she rarely gets any word from them.”

  “That must be frightening,” Esther said. “My grandfather is in Berlin and very ill, and I can’t go to help my grandmother and aunt. They’re the only family I have left over there now, thanks to my father and Livvy.”

  “It’s so terrible. The not knowing. Or knowing and being unable to do anything,” Mr. Nauheim said, sympathetically patting Esther’s shoulder.

  “What exactly did you do, Mrs. Denis?” David asked. “Or may I call you Livvy?”

  “Please, call me Livvy. I carried out some goods for Esther’s relatives, in some cases acting as if they were my own and in others by smuggling them under my clothes. Goods they could sell when they reached here to support themselves until they permanently settle elsewhere. That’s the official position of our government—be able to support yourself until you leave. The government fears adding any new names to the dole. In the meantime, the goods help the refugees while they set up a new life here on a permanent footing.”

  Whichever version was true, it meant most of Esther’s relatives were safe. Unless Hitler overran England.

  “Livvy was very brave, smuggling these goods past the German border guards,” Esther said.

  “I was lucky.” I didn’t realize how lucky until later.

  Mr. Nauheim smiled. There was something in that smile that scared me, but his words frightened me even more. “Perhaps Mrs. Denis will be willing to undertake another journey. One that would benefit the entire Jewish community in Prague.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “What do you have in mind?” I asked Mr. Nauheim. The way he posed his question made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

  “Nothing for you to look so concerned about. We’ll have to see what happens before we need to consider the possibilities.” He gave me another smile and said, “I think I’ll get another cup of coffee.”

  As he walked off, I looked from David Nauheim to Esther.

  They met my puzzled frown with head shakes.

  I convinced Esther to go home then so I could get back to my flat and get some sleep. The night train from Paris meant frequently being jerked out of sleep, and I needed a clear head for the meeting with General Alford that I knew was coming.

  But first I needed to answer the question that nibbled on my nerves. What had Esther learned from talking to the families of the committee? “May I come in?” I asked as the taxi pulled up outside her house.

  Esther nodded. “I’ll make some tea.”

  Their cook, a sturdy middle-aged woman, refused to let Esther make tea or carry the tray with the teapot and little sandwiches into the drawing room. After the cook left, I said, “She’s new, isn’t she?”

  “Mrs. Rosenbaum. Yes. She escaped from Austria. She knows my aunt. Her husband was a lawyer before the Nazis took over.”

  I nodded. While her husband wouldn’t be allowed to practice, or hold a job, his wife could work as a cook. “It doesn’t seem quite fair for Mrs. Rosenbaum to suddenly be thrown into the workforce.”

  “It isn’t, but she’s glad to be in England and glad of the work. And the timing couldn’t have been better. My former cook left to help her daughter with newborn twins.” When I nodded to the sandwiches, Esther said, “Help yourself.”

  I polished one off immediately, roast beef and horseradish on a whole wheat roll that had been sliced into quarters. “This is delicious. Mrs. Rosenbaum is a treasure. Now, before I stuff another one in my mouth, what did you learn?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Really?”

  She looked at me through wide eyes. “Yes. Really. No one had met him before or heard his name. Valerie Mandel said when he first came in, he appeared to recognize someone, but she had no idea who. There was a whole crowd to greet him, and he didn’t appear to speak to anyone longer than to say hello. No one said ‘Remember me?’ or anything helpful like that.”

  The Mandel girl had been the first to tell me she’d learned Elias was married. She was either observant or fanciful. I had no idea which. “Does Valerie always study people that carefully?”

  “No. Elias caught her fancy. He was youngish, attractive, daring, and involved in bold adventures. Do you remember when we were that age?” Esther gave me a knowing smile.

  Indeed I did. One more reason to pay careful attention to what Valerie Mandel observed.

  * * *

  By the time I reached the Daily Premier offices the next morning, everyone was reading the newspapers, either hunting for a clue to Hitler’s next move or for something that proclaimed life had returned to normal now that the Sudetenland was under German control. I hoped General Alford would be too busy to ask for me.

  It was gratifying to see the society pages carrying on as if nothing untoward was happening elsewhere in the world. Besotted grandmothers were sending in photos and details of their treasured new grandchildren. Teas were being held. House parties with shooting during the day held masked balls at night. People were still getting engaged, and married, and phoning the paper to tell us about it.

  And I doubted I would ever turn in an article that didn’t leave Miss Westcott clicking her tongue. I’d improved, or so I thought, but there was always that little so
mething wrong that annoyed Miss Westcott.

  As I handed in my first notice of the day, she asked, “Will you be here the entire day today?”

  “You’ll have to ask Sir Henry,” I replied, giving her a smile.

  She clicked her tongue and waved me away from her desk.

  One of the girls called out, “Livvy. Telephone.”

  I walked over and picked it up. “Mrs. Denis.”

  “Mrs. Denis,” the gruff voice came out of the line to me. “This is General Alford. I need to speak to you.”

  “Would after work do?” I asked, my back to Miss Westcott. She didn’t approve of personal calls in the office. Come to think of it, she didn’t approve of most of what I did. “I can reach your building by six.”

  “Very good. I’ll see you then.” I heard a click and the line went dead.

  I glanced back to find Miss Westcott studying some copy, her red pencil poised in midair. I dialed Leah Nauheim’s number and asked for her when a woman’s voice came on the line.

  A moment later, another woman could be heard. “This is Mrs. Nauheim.”

  “Leah? This is Livvy Denis.”

  “Livvy? How are you?” Her voice took on some warmth.

  “Have you checked on your suit lately at Mimi Mareau’s salon?”

  “No. Thank you for reminding me.”

  “Do you mind if I check on it for you? I need to go over there and snoop around.” I might as well be honest with her. She was doing me a favor. Especially since my calling with my sketch for the ad was getting old. I suspected Mimi would never approve my work.

  So why did she ask me to do the sketch?

  “Go right ahead. Just let me know when I need to go in for a fitting.”

  “I’ll be glad to. Thank you, Leah. This makes my job easier.”

  I finished my last assignment of the morning a few minutes early and slipped out while Miss Westcott’s attention was elsewhere. I took a bus toward Mayfair and climbed out on Piccadilly a block or two from Mimi’s salon.

  Strolling up to the black lacquered door, I turned the handle and walked in as if I were one of their wealthy clients.

  “May I help you?” said an English-accented speaker at the desk. She was in her twenties and her deep rose coat kept me from judging the quality of her clothes. The same smock I’d seen on Mimi’s employees in Paris and here. While I recognized the smock, I hadn’t seen the woman before.

  “I’m checking on the progress on Mrs. Nauheim’s tweed suit. With Mimi back in Paris with Reina and Brigette, I can’t imagine much has been accomplished lately.” I used the upper-class diction I’d learned at St. Agnes.

  “Oh, you’re wrong,” she told me. “Madame returned last night with Reina and Brigette, and we kept everything moving along in her absence. She was pleased with our progress.”

  “And the progress on the suit?”

  The woman studied the large book on the desk in front of her. “Would next Monday do? At ten o’clock?”

  “Yes.” I certainly hoped it would. I’d leave straightening out any problems to Leah Nauheim. “Is Reina here?”

  “She’s in the building somewhere.”

  The phone rang at that moment and when the woman’s attention was away from me, I slipped through the door into the back room on the ground floor. No one was about, so I dashed on tiptoes down the basement stairs, making sure my heels wouldn’t clatter on the wooden steps.

  It was a wasted trip. There was nothing down there to indicate why a spy for the British who also smuggled refugees had been killed in this place. I checked the outside door and found Mimi, or someone, had decided to start locking the knob and the latch. It felt like a step taken too late.

  The racks were emptier than they had been. Had the costumes for the play been taken to the theater? The trunks still sat along the far wall. I walked over and began to open them one by one.

  A few of them contained fabric and thread, fur and leather and buckles. A few were still empty. And the one I wondered about before contained small bottles, tins, and envelopes of powders.

  “Livvy?” a quiet voice said from behind me.

  I jumped and turned, a guilty look no doubt plastered on my face. My heart stopped pounding once I saw who was there and I caught my breath. “Reina. Thank goodness it was you. Did you reach your cousin?”

  “Yes, but she couldn’t remember his wife’s name. She remembered the name of the bank, though. Mr. Meirsohn was so proud of the family his son was marrying into, he told everyone that soon his son would be related to the Grand Wolf Bank. As a child, my cousin couldn’t understand why anyone would want to be related to a bank, or any company. Even more, why would anyone name a bank after an animal? She thought it was run by real wolves.”

  “Was that the name of the bank? The Wolf bank?” I asked. I’d never heard of it.

  “It doesn’t sound right, and it doesn’t jog my memory. I can’t remember the name of the bank or his wife’s name. It was a small wonder, since that occurred among bigger concerns. About the time of the wedding, which was hundreds of miles away, we had an outbreak of influenza that claimed several of our neighbors. And then on her one visit to our village, this scrawny young woman, Josef’s wife, wanted nothing to do with us. We’d found her as unimportant as she found us.”

  “One person lost among thousands,” I said sadly.

  She gave me a sharp look. “When some of those lost are my family and friends, yes. And now Josef is dead. I don’t have the time or energy to mourn her.”

  “What is all this?” I asked her, pointing into the trunk with the bottles and tins.

  Reina looked into the trunk and shrugged. “Fleur’s. She does the dyeing and sometimes softens the cloth. Those are skills I don’t have.”

  I wanted to keep her talking. “She must be invaluable to Mimi.”

  “I’m sure she is. She keeps her knowledge secret from the rest of us. It makes her irreplaceable.” Reina closed the lid. “And Mimi says we are all to give each other as much privacy as we can. We live too close together in this house to do anything but give each other room.”

  I nodded. “Is that why you and Mimi went back to Paris for a few days?”

  “Partly. We also needed more fabric and supplies. We’ve been very successful here. We’ve had far more orders than we expected.”

  I stared at the now-closed trunk. “Is softening the secret of the sweep of Mimi’s skirts? I thought it was the way the fabric was cut, but is it Fleur’s secret process?”

  “I don’t know. I know it’s not the stitching. The magic is already in the fabric before I get my hands on it, but I can’t feel any difference in the cloth before and after she says she’s treated it.” Reina took a bolt of red cloth from one of the trunks and then turned toward the stairs. “Are you coming?” It was clearly a command.

  I followed her up the stairs. “When did Mimi finally decide to lock up the basement?”

  “She didn’t. I understand Fleur locked up the downstairs door as soon as we left, saying she didn’t fancy being murdered in her bed.”

  “Are you all still sleeping on the third floor?”

  “Yes, and the extra seamstresses from Paris are sleeping in the attic,” she told me. We reached the ground floor. “Good-bye,” she said and continued upstairs.

  “Wait,” I said and gazed up the stairs at her. “Will you hear from your cousin again?”

  “It depends on when I next go back to Paris,” Reina said without looking back at me, her tread slow and steady on the steps.

  I went back to the receptionist and asked to speak to Mimi about the sketch she asked for. She left and a minute later Brigette returned with her.

  “Madame is very busy today. We just returned from Paris.”

  “So I heard.”

  Brigette gave me a weak smile. “Perhaps you could return in a few days.”

  I nodded and headed out the front door, ignored by the receptionist, who was helping another client.

  On the wa
y back to the office, I heard people on the bus talking about the weather, sports, and how grown-up Princess Elizabeth had become. No one mentioned how close we’d come to being at war.

  * * *

  Big Ben had chimed six o’clock a few minutes before I reached the War Office. General Alford had made arrangements for me to be escorted by a sergeant to the same conference room where we had met before.

  After we greeted each other, I said, “I hope the news will be good now that Chamberlain’s trip was successful.”

  “I doubt it,” Alford said in an abrupt tone. “Now, what have you learned about Elias’s—shall we call him that—death?”

  Since he didn’t invite me to sit down, I stood waiting until I had the general’s attention. “Elias met with the refugee resettlement committee, made up of Jewish leaders in London, asking for their help in bringing in more German Jews. While there, he mentioned to someone that he was married. A fact I’ve verified another way.”

  “I hardly see the point…”

  “It is also believed he recognized someone at that meeting,” I interrupted. “Since his wife is believed to be dead or in a German jail cell, I think he may have recognized a member of her family, and that person sought revenge for Elias’s wife’s death.”

  “It would make more sense if this person had aimed his revenge against Hitler.” Alford glared at me. He was not making things easy.

  I glared back. “Revenge against Elias would be easier to carry out than revenge against Hitler. Especially since Elias was conveniently in London.”

  The general sat, signaled me to do the same, and grumbled, “Go on.”

  I sat and faced him. “Elias was a communist and a leader in the opposition to Hitler. If he hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have come to the attention of the Nazis quite so quickly, and his wife wouldn’t have been jailed along with him. One version of the story I’ve been hearing is she died in prison. Another is that she died very young before the Nazis came to power. I think either would be enough for Elias to earn the hatred of her family.”

  “So you haven’t looked into this French assassin?”

  His words earned him an angry glare. Did he also want me to pull a rabbit out of my navy slant-brimmed hat? “I don’t know how I would. That’s more in line with Scotland Yard’s work. Or yours.”