As she took another look at the itinerary, she found herself getting excited. Edward had planned a number of things that sounded wonderful. Doing them alone wouldn’t be as nice as doing them with Edward, but it felt as if it would be a shame to miss out on the opportunities. With a few hours to go before she was meant to be at the Louvre, Janet decided to get out and enjoy the city. To walk between the hotel and the museum would take at least an hour, probably closer to an hour and a half, but she had more than enough time to walk and enjoy the sights and sounds of Paris. She could get a taxi back to the hotel after the tour.
She took the lift to the lobby and strolled across it. As she neared the doors, she heard her name being called.
“Ms. Markham?” The same man, presumably the hotel’s manager, was behind the reception desk.
“Yes?” she replied.
“I hope everything is okay,” he said, not meeting her eyes.
“Everything is fine,” Janet replied. “I’m just off to the Louvre for a tour.”
“I see. I hope you enjoy your evening.”
“I’m sure it will be pleasant enough. Of course, I’d much rather take the tour with my husband than on my own, but that’s not possible right now.”
“Have you heard from Mr. Bennett, then?” he asked, glancing up at her.
She hesitated and then nodded. “I have, yes,” she said.
He blew out a breath. “I’m very sorry about earlier. I had my orders, you understand.”
“Yes, of course,” Janet replied, not understanding at all. “I’ll see you later, although for your sake, I hope you aren’t still working when I get back.”
He shrugged. “If it’s before midnight, I’ll be here. I may be here after that as well. As I said earlier, one of our staff is unwell.”
“I hope he or she feels better soon. Until later, then,” Janet replied.
She stepped outside and took a deep breath. All around her, the city hummed. Closing her eyes, she listened to the traffic hurrying past, the people rushing around her, and the voices. For the moment, everyone seemed to be speaking French, and the snippets of conversation that she heard fascinated her.
“…twice and then I told him I couldn’t…”
“…to learn that he has to do his schoolwork and not…”
“…Jason on Tuesday and Harvey on Wednesday…”
“…sixteen times in the past six days…”
The last one made Janet open her eyes. There were too many people around. She couldn’t be certain whose conversation she’d just overheard.
What would someone do sixteen times in six days, she wondered as she began to stroll towards the Seine. The sun was shining, but it wasn’t too hot. Christmas decorations were still everywhere. Janet dug her camera out of her handbag and took a few random pictures.
“Am I actually going to want to remember this?” she asked herself in a whisper as she took another snap. With a sigh, she dropped the camera back into her bag. The river seemed too romantic for her on her own, so she headed away from it, through the city streets. She remembered enough about the city to be confident that she’d find her way to the museum in plenty of time. That she could get a taxi from just about anywhere was also reassuring.
The streets closest to the river had seemed to be full of tourists speaking in dozens of different languages, but as Janet got further away from the Seine, she began to hear more and more French. Restaurants and cafés gave way to both private residences and hotels.
As she walked up one street and down another, she looked at the large and beautiful buildings that surrounded her, wondering which were people’s homes and which were luxury hotels. A few had discreet signs with hotel logos on them, but many did not.
“If I had all of the money in the world, which one would I purchase?” she asked herself. She stopped to study her choices, staring at a building that was only identified by a number. “Fourteen,” she read. “Which one would be thirteen, then?” She looked at the buildings on either side, but neither had a number showing. “Fourteen is lovely, anyway,” she muttered, reaching into her bag to find the camera again. She’d take a picture of it, and then she could share it with Edward when he returned, she decided.
She was still searching for the camera that must have fallen to the bottom of her bag when the limousine rolled past. It stopped in front of building fourteen and a uniformed chauffeur jumped out. He opened the door to the back of the car and then stood at attention as a man emerged.
As Janet studied the man, she wished she’d found her camera. He was wearing jeans and a plaid shirt with what could only be described as cowboy boots. The cowboy hat on his head completed the outfit and made him look completely out of place on the busy Paris street. Janet was too far away to properly guess his age, but she imagined he had to be at least sixty by the way he moved.
The man who next climbed out of the car was similarly dressed. Janet frowned as she looked at the pair. The first man, while oddly dressed for Paris, looked somehow authentic. The second man, who appeared to be considerably younger, almost looked as if he was playing dress-up or wearing borrowed clothes. Perhaps his suitcase had been lost somewhere and he’d had to wear things borrowed from the older man, Janet thought.
The woman who got out next was also wearing cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. Her shirt was only half-buttoned and it was long enough to almost completely cover the very short shorts she was wearing. Her blonde hair seemed to be blowing everywhere in spite of the hat.
Another man got out next, and Janet wondered if he’d accidentally found himself in the wrong car. He appeared to be a middle-aged businessman, in a dark suit and polished black shoes. He said something to the blonde woman that made her laugh, so maybe they all did belong together.
The chauffeur shut the door and then said something to the first man who’d exited the car. He nodded and then all of the passengers moved towards the entrance to building fourteen. The driver opened the boot of the car and began to unload suitcases onto the pavement next to him. A moment later, a second car stopped behind him.
Janet found herself watching curiously as the first driver rushed back to open the rear door on the second car. The first man out of the car was in full cowboy attire. He looked young and full of energy as he jumped out of the car and then turned back to help the next person get out.
Another blonde woman emerged. She was wearing a long blue denim skirt with her cowboy boots. Her shirt was plain white, with enormous buttons that seemed to sparkle in the sunshine. Her hair was plaited down her back and her head was covered by a bright blue cowboy hat.
The pair walked over to join the others as the driver went back to unloading luggage. Janet wondered who they were and why they were in Paris. She was thinking about crossing the road, hoping to overhear some of their conversation, when a third car pulled in behind the second. Janet did a double take as she recognised the driver.
What is Mr. Jones doing here, she wondered.
Before she could do much more than step into the shadow of the nearest building, the passenger door of the third car opened. Janet wasn’t surprised to see Mr. Jones’s young companion climb out of the car. He looked up and down the street and then said something to Mr. Jones, who had also left the vehicle.
Mr. Jones nodded. The younger man stepped over and opened the door to the rear of the car. Janet didn’t even feel surprised as she watched Edward get out of the back of the car. He was wearing a dark suit that she was certain she’d never seen before. After saying something to Mr. Jones, he nodded at the younger man and then walked over to join the group of men and women in cowboy hats.
Chapter 4
Janet stood and watched as the group made their way into the building numbered fourteen. Mr. Jones and his associate got back into their car and drove away. After all of the luggage from both limousines had been loaded onto a luggage cart and taken inside, the two limousines drove away as well. Feeling terrified, but unable to stop herself, Janet crossed the road and wa
lked closer to the building.
As she approached, two men walked out, talking loudly. They both appeared to be in their thirties and their accents were American.
“…cowboy hats in France,” one of them was saying.
“I’m terribly sorry to bother you,” Janet said. “I was just wondering if you knew any of the people who just arrived. I thought one of them was a country singer, but I’m not certain which one.”
One of the men shook his head. “That was Bobby Armstrong and his entourage,” he told her. “He’s a Texas millionaire, maybe the only Texas millionaire who doesn’t own a single oil well.”
“Oh? How did he make his millions?” Janet asked.
The two men exchanged glances.
“No idea,” the other man said. “But he talks all the time about not having any oil wells. He’s pretty well known in the US.”
The first man laughed. “What my friend means is that Bobby gets himself in celebrity magazines all the time. Things like ‘Here’s Bobby Armstrong with his latest girlfriend, nineteen-year-old supermodel Blondie Blondegirl,’” he explained.
“More like: ‘Here’s Bobby Armstrong’s daughter, Lucy, leaning on the arm of yet another man after her money,’” the other man laughed.
Janet frowned. “And this is a hotel?” she asked, nodding towards the building behind the men.
One of them glanced backwards and then nodded. He named another American millionaire, one that Janet thought might be worth billions, actually.
“It’s his hotel,” the man explained. “You have to know him in order to be allowed to get a room here.”
“My goodness, how exclusive,” Janet exclaimed. To her eyes, neither man looked as if he moved in the same social circles as a millionaire, but she didn’t question his words.
He laughed. “And now you’re wondering how we’re able to stay here,” he suggested.
Janet shrugged. “I simply assumed you have important friends.”
He laughed even harder. “I wish we did,” he said eventually. “Jake here, he works with someone who once worked with the man who used to be business partners with the man who owns the hotel. There aren’t a lot of rooms in the building, but there are a few small rooms in the basement that fairly ordinary people are allowed to stay in, provided they know who to contact and how.”
“Randy and I work together back in Chicago,” Jake told her. “We’re here for a project, and the company wanted to put us up in a big chain hotel on the outskirts of the city. We would have had to take the subway into the city every day. My friend was able to put in a good word for us with whoever handles the reservations here to get us each a room.”
“How nice for you,” Janet said.
“The room isn’t very nice, but the location is wonderful,” Jake replied. “Were you looking for a place to stay?”
She shook her head. “I was just walking past and I thought I recognized the man in the cowboy hat, that’s all. I was mistaken. Never mind. I hope you have a nice evening.”
“Thank you,” Jake replied. He and Randy stayed where they were, leaving Janet with no choice but to walk away. As she went, she wondered if they were who they’d claimed to be. It seemed entirely possible that they were American spies, maybe working with Edward. She could only hope that neither of them would mention speaking to an odd English woman. While she was tempted to head back to the hotel, eager to learn more about Bobby Armstrong, she continued on her way to the Louvre.
Having seen Edward for herself, she now knew for certain that he was working, even if she had no idea what job he was doing. He’d said that a man’s life was at stake. What had he meant? She was so preoccupied that she barely noticed the Arc de Triomphe as she walked past it. When she reached the Louvre, she stopped at the first ticket window to find out where she was meant to go for the dinner that was scheduled to take place before the tour.
One of the ticket agents insisted on escorting her to the private dining room in a section of the museum that was normally closed to visitors.
“I’m sorry that your husband couldn’t attend,” he told her as he showed her into the small room. “I hope you enjoy your evening,” he added before he bowed and departed.
Another man stood up from the table set for three and greeted Janet. He was one of the museum’s tour guides, and he was quick to pour her a glass of wine. As they ate their way through six courses of delicious food, he told her stories about the museum and the artwork it held. When the meal was finished, he took her around the building, which was now empty of tourists. While she missed Edward, she greatly enjoyed the very special evening. When it was over, the tour guide put her into a taxi that took her back to her hotel.
The younger of Edward’s two colleagues was waiting for her in the hotel’s lobby. He was holding a large bouquet of flowers.
“Edward asked me to give these to you,” he told her, handing her the bouquet.
There were dozens of questions she wanted to ask him, but she wasn’t certain she wanted him to know that she’d seen Edward earlier. “Thank you,” she told him.
“I hope you enjoyed your evening,” he said.
“It was very nice, but it would have been better with Edward’s company,” she replied.
He nodded. “I’ll pass that along to Edward,” he told her. “He misses you terribly.”
“I miss him as well,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I need to go. I was never here.” He walked out of the room before she could reply.
In her room, Janet looked at the itinerary for the next day. Aside from lunch and dinner bookings, it appeared that she had the day free. No doubt Edward had been expecting them to explore the city together.
I will have to explore on my own, perhaps near building fourteen, she thought as she slid under the covers of the bed that was far too large for just one person. A single tear trickled down her cheek before she fell asleep.
The hotel’s breakfast menu offered several tempting choices. Janet finally opted to order the “American breakfast” of pancakes and bacon. The pancakes came swimming in butter and syrup. Feeling as if she’d had all of her calories for the entire day, she went back to her room to get her handbag before she headed out to explore Paris.
Setting the Arc de Triomphe as her goal, she strolled through the streets, listening to bits of conversation and enjoying the beautiful day. A short while later, she found herself wandering along the same route she’d taken the day before. When the building numbered fourteen came into view, she slowed her steps. “You’re snooping,” she muttered. Which is hardly surprising, under the circumstances, she added silently.
She crossed the road and walked closer to the building. There was nothing at all to see. Sighing, she continued on her way, rounding the corner and walking briskly along the pavement. A few paces in front of her, a door opened and the man she assumed was Bobby Armstrong walked out. His outfit was almost the same as what he’d worn the previous day, although his cowboy hat was brown rather than black today. He turned and took a few steps away from her. Almost immediately, he was stopped by a couple who said something to him in French. Janet wasn’t close enough to hear exactly what they’d said, but she certainly heard the reply.
“I. Don’t. Speak. French,” Bobby said loudly in a Texas drawl.
Janet was close enough now to hear what the other man was saying. “He’s simply admiring your hat,” she told Bobby. “He was wondering where you found it, as cowboy hats aren’t common in Paris.”
Bobby smiled at her. “I got it in Houston,” he said. “I have all of my hats custom-made there. I have a card, wait.” He pulled a wallet out of his pocket.
Janet could only stare at the huge wad of American dollars that were visible in the wallet as the man opened it. He dug a few business cards out of a slot and sorted through them.
“This is the one,” he told Janet, handing her a card. “This is the best hat shop in Texas.”
&nb
sp; Janet turned to the couple, who were staring at Bobby’s wallet. “He bought the hat in Houston, Texas,” she said in French. “Here’s the name and address of the shop, if you were thinking of buying hats yourself.”
The woman looked surprised and then laughed as her husband took the card.
“We aren’t actually interested in buying hats, but I’ll take the card anyway,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to be rude to our American visitor.”
“Thank you,” Janet replied. “It is a very interesting hat, isn’t it?”
They chatted together in French for a moment before the couple continued on their way. Janet turned back to the Texan.
“They appreciated the recommendation,” she told him.
He nodded. “Thanks for helping me out. I probably shouldn’t be out on the street by myself, but everyone else is sleeping off jet lag, and I’m dying for a good cup of coffee.”
Janet just barely stopped herself from asking why he didn’t just get some from his hotel. Obviously, she didn’t want him to know that she knew where he was staying.
“There are cafés just about everywhere in Paris,” she told him. “You may have to try a few to find someone who speaks English, though.”
“Are you busy?” he asked. “I’ll pay you for your time if you come and help me get a cup of coffee. A cup of coffee and one of those chocolate creesants. That’s what I need.”
“I’d be more than happy to help,” she replied, her heart racing as she wondered what would happen if Mr. Jones found her with the man. “I believe I saw a coffee shop on the corner.” She gestured back the way she’d come.
He shrugged. “I was hoping to get away from all of the hotels and actually see some of Paris. Can we walk a block or two closer to something?”
“Something?”
“The Arch of Treeumph or the Loover, something like that.”
Janet smiled. “We aren’t far from either of those. Let’s see what we can find.”
The Armstrong Assignment (A Janet Markham Bennett Cozy Thriller Book 1) Page 4
