“If it would help, Bess and I could take their places at the rehearsal,” Nancy offered. “Then we’ll clue them in when they arrive.”
“Would you?” Joanna’s green eyes widened hopefully. “We’re rehearsing at St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Fifth Avenue. Sam’s brothers will be there—and they’re so cute! We start at five, then we’re off to dinner at the Russian Tea Room.”
There was a knock at the door, and Nancy opened it to find Beau.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“I’m in love”—Liz twirled around—“with my dress!”
Beau smiled. “It’s always nice to have a satisfied client.” He knelt beside Joanna and re-arranged the bustle of her gown. “With a few tucks, this should be fine, too. Though I’m not giving up on the gown with your mother’s pearls.”
“Thanks for whipping this up for me, Beau,” Joanna said sincerely. “I know that rumors are flying about the gown Mimi made for me.”
Beau tensed for a moment, then nodded. “I saw Delia’s report this morning.”
“But I haven’t spoken to Mimi for months,” Joanna told him. “I want you to know that I’m going to stick with you and wear one of your designs. No matter what Mimi does!”
“Thanks,” Beau told Joanna. “Most clients aren’t so loyal. You’ve been an angel.”
“Mimi is persistent,” Liz added. “Can you believe that she had an invitation to her show hand-delivered to Joanna this morning?” Liz snorted. “That woman doesn’t give up.”
“An invitation?” Beau said, glancing at Nancy. “There’s your chance.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going,” Joanna said.
“But you should,” Beau insisted.
Quickly Nancy explained that she and Bess needed a way into Mimi Piazza’s studio. “She might have something to do with stealing Beau’s designs. Maybe she even knows something about your gown.”
“What?” Joanna and Liz said in unison.
“Mimi has always been a rival of mine,” Beau said. “She’d love to see my business crumble, and considering the way things are going, she may get her wish.”
“I really need a way to check her out,” Nancy said.
“Well, then, I guess we’ll be attending her show on Thursday morning,” Joanna said firmly. “I’ll call her studio and make sure that you and Bess are added to the guest list.”
• • •
“Modeling is a lot of hard work,” Bess said. She rolled her shoulders and rubbed the back of her neck.
“Not all glamour and smiles?” Nancy teased.
Outside the huge windows of the workroom, night had descended over New York City. The studio had emptied out, except for Beau, Angel, and Mrs. Chong.
“You’ve been a big help, Bess,” Beau told her.
“Thanks,” Bess said, smiling. “I love being around all these gorgeous gowns. Though you guys do put in long days.”
“We’ll be here for a few more hours,” Angel explained to the girls as he sketched a gown that hung on a dress form in front of him.
Mrs. Chong barreled through the room, Joanna’s replacement gown in her arms. “Sewing all night,” she complained. “I sew in my sleep.” She marched into her little sewing room.
“She’s got a lot on her mind,” Beau said as if apologizing for Mrs. Chong.
“I guess we’ll head out,” Nancy said. “We’ll see you tomorrow after our—appointment.” She didn’t want to be more specific within earshot of Angel and Mrs. Chong.
“So long,” Beau said, disappearing into his office as the girls headed out to the elevator.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Bess asked as the elevator doors opened and the girls stepped inside.
“We have an appointment at Budget Fashions at nine-thirty,” Nancy said, explaining how Jill’s assistant had vouched for them. “After she got the okay from Jill, she set the whole thing up. She told Budget that we’re in a training program at Mitchell’s.” Nancy and Bess crossed the lobby and opened the door into the cool autumn night.
“Let’s walk a bit and then hail a cab,” she said. Just then, she heard a squeaking noise above them. Glancing up, she saw that it was just a window being forced open.
A second later Nancy noticed a dark figure edging out from the opening above them. Suddenly it was falling—plunging toward the sidewalk.
It was going to hit Nancy and Bess!
Chapter
Nine
LOOK OUT!” Nancy shouted, at the same time throwing her arms around Bess and sweeping them both back toward the front door.
They landed on the cold cement threshold just as Nancy heard the thud of the body hitting the pavement nearby.
“Ouch!” Bess said, sitting up and rubbing her elbow. “What happened?”
Nancy steeled herself to check on the body. For a moment she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, then she sighed with relief. On the sidewalk, in the spot where she and Bess had been standing, lay a dress form clothed in a muslin gown, its metal stand bent from the fall.
“That’s a relief,” Nancy said, brushing herself off as she nodded at the dressmaker’s dummy. “I thought that was a person falling out of the window.”
Bess grimaced. “I’m glad you were wrong,” she said, “but that thing still came within a foot of clobbering us.”
Nancy looked up at the building just in time to see the huge window three stories up being slammed shut. “It came from the fourth floor,” she said, running through the floor plan in her mind. “From the workroom of Beau’s studio.”
“Could it have fallen accidentally?” Bess asked, picking the dummy up.
“That’s doubtful,” Nancy said, frowning. “Let’s take this upstairs and find out what happened.”
Beau was surprised to see Nancy and Bess at the door with one of his slightly battered dress forms. He summoned Angel and Mrs. Chong, who listened intently as Nancy described the incident.
“But who could have done it?” Angel asked, his dark eyes concerned. “The three of us are the only ones left in the studio. I was putting gowns back into the vault, and Mrs. Chong was in the sewing room.”
“I was on the phone in my office,” Beau said, frowning. “I’m glad you girls didn’t get hurt.”
Mrs. Chong said to Nancy, “I think you are bad luck. You arrive, and a gown disappears. Dummies jump out of windows. Very bad luck.”
“Mrs. Chong,” Beau said patiently, “Nancy is trying to help us.”
“Mmm.” She shook her head. “No help so far.”
Nancy studied the faces of Beau’s right-hand employees. Angel seemed genuinely concerned. Mrs. Chong looked as if she wouldn’t have minded if Nancy and Bess had been flattened by the dummy. She couldn’t tell who had tossed it out the window.
The only thing she could be sure of was that one of them wanted her off the case.
• • •
On Wednesday morning Nancy and Bess took a cab from Eloise Drew’s apartment to the showroom of Budget Fashions. The driver pulled up in front of a dingy building with half a dozen loading docks stretching out from the structure. Workers milled around, loading and unloading trucks.
“I hope I look like a buyer-in-training,” Bess said, tying a printed scarf over her teal blue jacket.
“You look great,” Nancy said as she paid the cab driver. After she stepped out, she straightened the skirt of her plaid wool suit.
They found the showroom, a large area that reminded Nancy of a boutique. From the clothes that hung on the walls and on racks, she could see that Budget Fashions didn’t limit its business to bridal gowns. They also sold women’s sportswear.
Nancy’s eyes were immediately drawn to a pants and vest ensemble made from fire-engine red leather. Near it hung Budget’s Safari Sportswear line, with pants, blazers, and jackets printed in tiger stripes and leopard spots.
A short, round woman with auburn hair looked up from a computer printout at the front counter, which served as a reception area.
“What can I do for you today, ladies?”
“We’re the trainees from Mitchell’s,” Nancy said, introducing herself and Bess.
“Ah, yes,” the woman said. “Your appointment is with me, Katrina Ivanovich. I’m in charge of sales here at Budget. All the women’s buyers at Mitchell’s know me,” she bragged. “They come to Budget when they want a designer look at a third of the price. Now, what can I show you?”
“We’d love to see how your operation works,” Nancy said, trying to stick as close to the truth as possible. “Our main purpose is to learn.”
“Fashion is my passion,” Bess said, her blue eyes sparkling.
“I see,” Katrina said. “Is there an area of women’s wear you have a particular interest in?”
“Bridal and formal wear,” Nancy answered.
“Then we should start over here.” Katrina rounded the counter and led the girls to the far corner of the showroom.
Nancy passed a faceless mannequin swathed in a bridal gown, then turned to a rack of evening gowns. She flipped past three gowns until she came to the pale blue sample they’d seen at Mitchell’s—the knockoff of Beau’s design.
Bess gave her a knowing look, then said, “There’s so much to choose from. Who designs your evening wear?”
“Oh, we pick up designs here and there. Our best-selling merchandise is inspired by top designers,” Katrina said evasively. “Everything is manufactured and shipped from this building.”
“Is there any way we can see what goes on behind the scenes?” Nancy suggested. “It must be fascinating.”
Bess’s eyes lit up as she played her role to the hilt. “That would be the highlight of our trip!” she said hopefully.
“We usually don’t take anyone beyond the showroom,” Katrina said, checking her watch. “But I guess I could make an exception for you.”
Nancy smiled as the older woman led them through a door and down a narrow corridor. If she could find a way to sneak off by herself, she might be able to find some record of who had sold Beau’s designs to Budget.
“Here’s our shipping department,” Katrina explained as the girls stepped into the cavernous room with rolling doors open to the street. Trucks were parked in some of the loading bays, and workers bustled around, moving boxes and rolling racks of finished clothes.
Their next stop was the cutting room on the first floor, where the pace was fast. The pace on the second floor was even more rushed, though. There, dozens of sewing machines were lined up, operated by an army of workers who assembled the pieces. On the third floor, huge steam presses hissed as workers pressed the garments for shipping.
As she followed Katrina, Nancy waited for an excuse to slip away, but the woman watched the girls like a mother hen.
Their tour ended back at the showroom where it had begun. When Katrina was called away for a moment the girls wandered back to the evening gown display. Nancy leaned close to Bess and whispered, “Ask her about the blue dress.”
“She’d never let on who sold them the design,” Bess said under her breath.
“She might tell you,” Nancy pointed out.
Bess frowned but quickly snapped back to her cheerful mode when Katrina returned.
“What else can I show you?” the woman asked.
“Well,” Bess said, combing through some of the dresses on the rack. “As you know, I’ve been studying different designers’ work. If I guess whose designs some of these dresses are based on, would you tell me if I’m right?”
Katrina looked around the showroom, which was quiet at the moment. “All right,” she agreed. “I’ll do it for you—and Mitchell’s.”
Bess turned to the wedding gown on the mannequin and smiled. “This design must have been inspired by Dona Vaquez.”
“That’s right,” Katrina said, nodding. “What about this?” she asked, holding up a black sequined gown with a velvet bolero.
“Jacques Loire?” Bess asked.
“No, dear,” Katrina said, wagging a finger at Bess. “It’s Anton Strauss.”
Nancy decided it was time to jump in. “What about this dress?” she asked, holding up the blue polyester skirt of the knockoff from Beau’s collection.
“That looks like a Beau Winston gown,” Bess said, ready to gauge Katrina’s reaction.
The saleswoman shook her head. “You wouldn’t be able to guess that one. We bought that design from a free-lance designer, a new talent you’ve probably never heard of. His name is Angel Ortiz.”
Chapter
Ten
ANGEL?” Bess responded, blinking in surprise.
“Ah, you’ve heard of him,” Katrina said as if pleased.
“I—I,” Bess stuttered. “I was just thinking that—that it’s a great name for a designer.”
Nancy barely registered the conversation. Her mind was backtracking, going over the clues that should have pointed to Angel. Suddenly she couldn’t wait to get back to the studio and warn Beau.
“What about this one?” Katrina’s eyebrows wiggled as she held up another gown.
But Nancy had lost interest in the game. The sooner she and Bess could get out of there, the better. Pretending to have another appointment, Nancy cut the conversation short and thanked Katrina. Within minutes, the girls were in a cab on their way to Beau’s studio.
“Angel!” Bess repeated. “A big part of the mystery is solved. But he’s the last person I suspected. He seems so quiet and sweet.”
“But he is an aspiring designer,” Nancy said, telling Bess about the argument she’d watched between Angel and Beau. “Angel thinks Beau is holding him back. He may be selling off Beau’s designs for revenge.”
“Or maybe he’s using the designs to get ahead,” Bess pointed out. “The people at Budget think Angel designed that blue gown. If his name is heard often enough, he could gain acceptance in the industry.”
“I should have guessed it was Angel,” Nancy said. “He draws all of Beau’s sketches, so it would be easy for him to whip up copies.”
“Do you think Angel was the one who tossed that dummy down on us last night?” Bess asked.
“It had to be,” Nancy said. “He said he was in the vault, but he must have been lying.”
“It’s creepy,” Bess said as the cab turned toward Beau’s studio. “He was willing to hurt or maybe kill us, just to get you off the case.”
Nancy nodded thoughtfully. “A strong reaction for a guy who just wants his designs shown.”
“Wait a second,” Bess said, studying her friend’s face. “I smell an idea brewing. You don’t like Angel’s motive.”
Nancy nodded. “Even if he stole the designs and Joanna’s wedding gown, it’s not enough to kill us over,” she said.
“Do you think he’s working for someone else?”
“It’s possible,” Nancy said. “I know Angel must be the design thief. What I need to find out is if he has an accomplice—someone like Mimi Piazza or Michael Rockwell.”
“What are you going to do now?” asked Bess.
“I need to talk to Beau. I’m sure he’ll fire Angel on the spot,” Nancy said. “The fact that he tried to hit us with a dress form is a matter for the police—if we report it.”
“Why don’t we call the police now and have him arrested?” Bess asked as the cab pulled up in front of Beau’s studio.
Nancy considered the idea as she pulled several bills out of her purse and handed them to the driver. “I don’t think there’s enough evidence to convict him of throwing that dress form at us,” she said. “As for the design theft, fashion espionage isn’t usually prosecuted.”
Bess climbed out of the cab and slammed the door behind her. “I don’t like it,” she said, staring up at the building grimly.
“Don’t worry,” Nancy said, taking her friend by the arm and guiding her toward the lobby. “The minute Beau finds out what’s been going on, Angel will be out of here.”
Beau was nowhere to be found, though. “You just missed him,” Eleni told Nanc
y when the girls went into the workroom after checking Beau’s office. “He went to the Plaza Hotel to make arrangements for next week’s show.”
Nancy noticed Bess biting her lip nervously.
“Don’t look so worried,” Eleni said, sewing a tiny pearlized button into place on an ice pink gown. “He’ll be back this afternoon.”
“Maybe we should go to lunch and come back later,” Bess suggested. “We can—”
“No, no, no,” Mrs. Chong interrupted. She took Bess by the hand and pulled her toward one of the fitting rooms. “Eat here. You need to have final fittings on your gowns. And you,” she added, eyeing Nancy, “we’ll find something to keep you from climbing the walls.”
Nancy was pushing up the sleeves of her sweater when she saw Angel standing in the doorway, sketchbook in his arms.
“Nobody gets out alive,” he said wryly, adding, “at least not during the week before a show.”
Forcing a smile, Nancy nodded, though she felt uncomfortable now that she knew Angel was the one who was betraying Beau. She followed Bess into the fitting room just before Mrs. Chong shoved the ice pink gown at her, then charged out, slamming the door behind her.
“Suddenly modeling has lost its glamour,” Bess said, unzipping the pink gown.
“Listen, I’ll try to reach Beau at the Plaza,” Nancy promised her friend. “In the meantime, just act normal. If Angel figures out that we know he’s the thief, there’s no telling what he might do.”
• • •
The afternoon dragged.
Bess tried to avoid Angel, but every time she had a final fitting, he was at her side, sketching the gown.
Nancy had tried to reach Beau, but he never answered the page at the Plaza. She resigned herself to fetching notions, removing pins, and unrolling bolts of lace for Mrs. Chong.
All the while, Nancy kept thinking of Joanna’s gown. Had Angel stolen that, too? Since he had a key to the vault, it didn’t seem likely that he’d have dragged it through the air shaft. Still, he might have used the air shaft to draw suspicion away from himself.
Nancy then recalled the surprise on Angel’s face the day before when the vent cover had popped off so quickly. Was he acting? Or had Joanna’s wedding gown been stolen by someone else?