Chapter 11: Yvette
In 2011 I staged a break-in to steal some mirrors. I’m sure the missing mirrors had the neighbours puzzled for days. Why would anyone have forced open a door to unscrew and steal some worthless mirrors from a lift?
I had met Yvette a few times at various parties and admired the large, emerald ring on her finger. Sometimes she wore the matching necklace and earrings. She also had a Yorkshire terrier, which I had to admit was my favourite doggy food. Yvette would be worth taking a few risks for. The last time we’d met, she had invited me back to her apartment. She’d drunk a lot of champagne and kept insisting.
‘You have to meet Cleo.’
‘Who is Cleo?’ I asked.
‘She is my adorable Yorkshire terrier, almost as adorable as you.’
‘Yvette darling, I’m honoured to be more adorable than a little dog.’
‘You are!’ she purred drunkenly.
‘I can’t tonight, but I’m sure I’ll pay the two of you a visit one day. I do have to meet the dog that is almost as cute as me.’ I loosened her arms from my neck and promised I would go with her next time. Leaving a party with her would be far too risky. I found out which party she was attending next and since it was one I wasn’t invited to, I waited for her outside and followed her home. When she reached her apartment she dropped her bag as she was looking for her keys and nearly fell over trying to pick it up.
Ah! Champagne! I smiled.
‘Yvette! What are you doing here’ I said, walking up to her and pretending to just be passing.
‘Cameron, darling! Hi! I live here. What are you doing here?’ She was surprised but she seemed pleased to see me.
‘I just left a party and I’m trying to find my way back to the marina. I don’t think I’m doing too well as I’ve been walking for an hour and I’m shattered,’ I told her.
‘Oh you poor thing! Well you must come up for a drink then.’
I agreed and followed her up to the front door. It opened on to a marble hallway with some post boxes and a lift.
‘Can you believe that some guy broke into our building and stole the mirrors from our lift?’ she said as we got in.
Her apartment was on the top floor, right on the Boulevard de la Croisette and had a stunning view over the Golfe du Juan.
‘Well look at that. The marina is right there. I can even see my yacht from here,’ I said with mock astonishment.
‘And this is Cleo. She’s a little shy,’ Yvette said, picking up a small Yorkshire terrier.
I took the little Yorkie from her and walked around the apartment, asking her about the artwork on the walls. I felt the little dog quivering in my arms. I stroked her, trying to calm her down. I think she is on to me!
‘Champagne, darling?’ she offered, holding up a bottle of Veuve-Cliquot.
‘Yes please, and could you do me an enormous favour and show me that emerald necklace of yours. I’ve been dying to have a closer look at it,’ I said, trying to sound casual.
‘I didn’t know you were into jewellery,’ she said, surprised.
‘My mother used to take me jewellery shopping with her. She loved Cartier in Paris and we spent many an afternoon on the Place Vendôme,’ I enthused.
As if! My mother only had her wedding band and a wee silver locket my dad had given her. I don’t think she’d ever set foot in France let alone Paris. She’d probably never even left Edinburgh. I realised I didn’t know when my mother had died.
‘You’ll like my safe, then, it’s just full of Cartier.’ Without any hesitation Yvette opened a wall safe behind a painting and started pulling out a multitude of boxes.
‘My dad bought my mum lots of stuff, well, any time they had an argument, which was often,’ she said, opening some boxes to let me have a look at their valuable contents.
‘The emeralds were from the time my mum caught him with the au pair. He knew it had to be something extra special,’ she said, holding up the necklace.
I checked my watch and noticed it was four in the morning already. I’d have to make my way back soon and Yvette wasn’t just going to let me walk out with her jewellery. She was young and healthy and an apparently sudden death from natural causes was unlikely, but she did have to die; this was too good an opportunity.
I knew with this amount of jewellery there’d be an investigation, so a murder on top of a theft wasn’t going to make much difference. I took a scalpel out of my pocket, positioned myself behind her, put my hand over her mouth and easily wrestled her to the ground. I sliced her throat open just wide enough to be able to put my mouth over the incision and drink some of the delicious champagne-flavoured blood.
After a few seconds I pulled away and cut her throat deeper and wider, being careful not to get too much blood on my clothes. I had dressed in black, but her arms and legs were flailing and I must have got quite a lot on me anyway. She soon went limp and I let go and got up. I looked at her body on the ground and saw, jealously, how the puddle of blood around her grew larger.
What a waste! But best not to complicate the crime scene. I washed my hands and face and quickly gathered up the jewellery and put it in a bag. Then I went looking for Cleo. I found her cowering in a corner. She whimpered as I bent down and picked her up.
‘Not stupid are you Cleo? You know I’m no friend,’ I said as I put the shivering dog in the bag with the jewellery. On the way out, I kicked in the front door so it wouldn’t look like Yvette had just let her killer in, then I ran out of the building before anyone came out to investigate. I swam to the boat as I didn’t want to get blood traces all over the tender. Cleo whimpered all the way even though I made sure the bag stayed above the water.
I contacted Rashid and asked him to meet me in Monaco. I thought it was best he didn’t come to my yacht this time, so we met in a hotel. When he saw what I had brought for him, he looked horrified.
‘That’s from that murder in Cannes, isn’t it,’ he asked.
‘Yes Rashid. Is it too hot for you?’ I’d got away with an awful lot of things for a very long time but I began to realise I might have gone too far this time. The lifestyle was going to my head. ‘I’m sorry Rashid. I’ll be more careful in future. This will be the last job for a good wee while,’ I said.
Rashid could barely bring himself to touch the pieces. He wiped his brow and took a sip of water then got up and paced around the room for a while, wringing his hands and thinking hard. He eventually sat down again and I could see that greed was overcoming his disgust. He had stronger morals than I, but not by much.
‘I think I’ll take it to Pakistan and break it all up. It’ll just be the scrap value, but this is way too hot to go and sell.’ He quickly put all the items back in the bag. He looked anxious and didn’t want to stay for a moment longer than he had to. We shook hands as he left, but I knew our business relationship had probably come to an end.
Rashid was right to be cautious: the horrific murder and robbery of socialite Yvette Jaunet made international news for several days and was the talk of all the parties for the rest of the season. Many of my acquaintances had known Yvette and they were distraught and nervous. Her circle of friends was rich and influential, so I knew the investigation was going to be very thorough. I had reached for the stars and now I feared a rapid and painful fall.
Language in the Blood Page 23
