Cinderella Six Feet Under(95)

“What about the stomacher?” Gabriel asked.

“He lost it somehow, or someone took it. And he’s desperate to have it back.”

“Hold it,” Prue said. “Prince Rupprecht was at the party that night.”

“He could’ve placed Sybille in the garden before the party,” Miss Flax said. “Or he might have simply stepped away—he could’ve said that he wished to smoke a cigarette outside—and then transported Sybille from his carriage to the garden.”

“We should go to the police,” Gabriel said.

“We could,” Miss Flax said slowly. “Or . . . we might trap the prince into a confession ourselves.”

“A trap?”

“Yes. I’ve just had a dinger of a notion. To begin with, Miss Stonewall must accept the Count de Griffe’s invitation to accompany him to the ball tomorrow evening.”

“The ball?” Gabriel asked.

Miss Flax nodded.

“Well, then, Miss Flax,” Gabriel said, “you must have something splendid to wear.”

*

Ophelia scrubbed off her Mrs. Brand face, but by necessity she still wore the bombazine gown and taffeta bonnet when she and Professor Penrose walked to Maison Fayette thirty minutes later. Penrose kept taking big breaths, as though he were about to say something. But he said nothing, and strolled beside her with his hands in his pockets and a creased brow.

They waited a long while after Penrose rapped on Maison Fayette’s door.

“Sounds like no one’s there,” Ophelia said. “Wait. I hear something.”

Footsteps came closer, and the door was opened by the seamstress Josie.

“Hello, Josie,” Ophelia said. “Is Madame Fayette within?”

“Good morning, Mademoiselle Stonewall. No, Madame departed for her villa at the seashore in Deauville.”

“The seashore? In November? Hasn’t she ever so much work to do? Prince Rupprecht’s ball is tomorrow.”

“Her work is finished.”

“All of the ball gowns are done?”

“Non. But as I said, her work is finished. The other seamstresses and I still have much to complete before tomorrow.”

Ophelia hated heaping more work on Josie’s plate, but they were attempting to trap a murderer. “Josie, is the ball gown you were to finish for me complete—or passable enough to wear in public?”

“Oui, mademoiselle. I did not know where to send it—Madame Fayette did not tell me—and it is waiting in a box in the shop. So, too, is the green visiting gown and the velvet paletot. Come in, please. Wait here in the foyer and I shall go fetch them.”

Ophelia and Penrose stepped inside and waited in silence.

“Here you are, Mademoiselle Stonewall.” Josie returned with two big, flat boxes. “The ball gown, the visiting gown, the paletot, and a hat and dancing slippers. Please do enjoy the ball. I am told that Prince Rupprecht’s chateau is very beautiful, fit for a princess indeed.”

Penrose took the boxes.

“Josie, forgive me,” Ophelia said, “but has Madame Fayette ever mentioned Prince Rupprecht to you or, perhaps, to a customer in your presence?”

Josie’s eyes filled with tears. “You ask me again, Mademoiselle Stonewall, to gossip. To risk my job. Poor Maman—”

“I know, Josie, but there is a murderer still at large.”

Josie’s eyes widened. “You believe Prince Rupprecht is the murderer?”

“Well, I—”

Josie hunched forward and whispered, “It is true. Prince Rupprecht, from time to time, orders clothing for . . . ladies. That is all I know. Please, mademoiselle, take pity on me and ask me nothing more.”

Ophelia most certainly did take pity on poor Josie. And if Madame Fayette got caught in her blackmail scheme while they were trapping Prince Rupprecht, it would be fine and dandy with her.

*

Ophelia’s plan was in place by eight thirty that evening.

Miss Stonewall had accepted, in writing, the Count de Griffe’s invitation to accompany him to the ball. Griffe had responded with a rapturous reply, and an additional invitation to promenade with him in the prince’s chateau gardens should she arrive by the afternoon. Miss Stonewall sent a terse acceptance.

Ophelia decided not to answer Griffe’s second rhapsodic note; she didn’t wish to make him late for his coach ride to the countryside.