Parisian Affair

by Gould, Judith

  'I'm Paul,' he said. 'Sylvie's friend.'

  'Hi, Paul,' she replied. 'It's so nice of you to meet me. Sylvie told me you would be here.' She shook hands with him.

  'No problem,' he said. 'I live . . . close by. Ah, here's your luggage.'

  The driver stood quietly with her one suitcase, a small black one on rollers with a handle. 'Have a nice stay, Miss Sheridan,' he said. 'I'll be here to pick you up on Friday at nine.'

  'Thank you,' Allegra said.

  He tipped his hat in deference, and went back around the car and got in.

  'Here,' Paul said, 'let me have your suitcase. I'll take it up and let you in.'

  'Oh, you don't have to do that,' Allegra replied. 'It doesn't weigh much. I didn't bring a lot, since I'm only going to be here a couple of days.'

  Paul smiled. 'I don't mind at all,' he said, 'and when you see the stairs, I think you'll be glad I offered.'

  Allegra laughed. 'That bad, huh?'

  'Yes,' he said. 'That bad.'

  At a pair of black-painted double doors, he took out a key chain and held up a key. 'This one is for the door if you need it,' he said. 'It's easier to use the keypad. The code is 2929.' He pointed to the small metal keypad on the wall next to the door.

  He punched in the code, opened the door, and held it aside for her, and Allegra stepped into a long dark tunnel, one wall of which was lined with mailboxes.

  'This buzzer will let you out. See?' He pointed to a little round push button on the wall.

  'Okay.' She started down the tunnel and saw that at its end it opened onto a courtyard paved with cobblestones.

  'Oh, this is so lovely,' she said.

  'It is nice, isn't it?' Paul replied.

  Shrubbery in tubs was placed around the walls, and a leafless tree soared upward from the center. She could see one set of stairs to the left and one to the right.

  'We go up these stairs,' Paul said, heading right.

  The stairs were made of worn limestone and oak, and the walls were dingy plaster. At the first landing, Allegra stopped and turned to Paul, who was trudging up the stairs behind her.

  'On up,' he said. 'All the way to the top.'

  When they finally reached the last landing, six floors up, Allegra took several deep breaths. 'I must be out of shape,' she said with a laugh. 'This is really a climb.'

  'Yes,' Paul said. 'See what I mean?'

  'Do I ever.'

  He set her suitcase down and took out the key chain again. 'It's this key. It's easy to remember. The one downstairs is an ordinary brass key. This one is round. It's a fancy security lock.'

  'I've seen one before,' Allegra said. 'Not exactly like that, but similar.'

  Paul opened the door and once again held it for her.

  'Thanks, Paul,' she said. She stepped into a narrow entry hall with terra-cotta sponged walls. To her left she saw a small bathroom, and straight ahead was one large room with a sofa bed, over which was draped a multicolored kilim rug; a coffee table; and a couple of chairs. Along one wall was a kitchenette, and in a corner was a television set. Large beams ran across the ceiling and down the walls. At the end of the room was one window, and Allegra went straight to it. Looking out, she could see the apartment buildings all around, with their mansard roofs and skylights.

  'How do you like it?' Paul asked.

  'It's so charming,' Allegra replied.

  'Good,' Paul said. He held out a card. 'Here's my telephone number if you should need anything. Feel free to call.'

  'I think I'll be fine,' Allegra said.

  'Well, don't hesitate, as I said,' he replied. 'I work at home, so I'm always nearby.'

  'I really appreciate it, Paul,' she said.

  'And I'll be here Friday morning,' he said, 'to help you down with your suitcase.'

  'Oh, no,' Allegra protested. 'You don't have to do that. I can handle it. Really I can.'

  'About a quarter to nine,' he said, ignoring her. 'I insist.'

  'If you say so,' Allegra said. She followed him to the door to see him out.

  'By the way,' he said, 'there's a good little bistro just downstairs on the corner. Typical fare and not too expensive.'

  'Thanks,' she replied. 'I'm sure I'll be able to find my way around.'

  'See you Friday, then,' Paul said, and he turned and left.

  After she closed the door behind him, she turned and walked back to the apartment's one big room. She shrugged out of her overcoat and draped it across a chair, then put her suitcase up on the sofa. She unzipped it and began putting away the few clothes she'd brought with her, anxious to explore a little of the neighborhood before it got much later.

  Tomorrow, Wednesday, she would go to the Citibank branch with the letter of credit that Hilton Whitehead had given her. A Monsieur Lenoir was expecting her. Then she would go to the preview at Dufour to see the emerald ring and register to bid. The auction would take place Thursday at two. Friday, she was to leave on the private jet at ten thirty a.m.

  Taking her toiletries kit, she went to the small bathroom, where she checked her makeup, brushed her hair, and washed her hands, before putting her coat back on and grabbing her shoulder bag and keys. Locking the door behind her, she descended the ancient staircase and went back out onto the rue des Archives.

  A unique jewelry store, unlike anything she'd seen in New York or elsewhere, was practically next door. Besides selling beautiful pieces of jewelry, it sold beads and semiprecious stones and the necessary equipment for making your own necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. From there, she went on down the block, and for the next hour or more, she looked into the shop windows that lined both sides of the street. Finally, after gazing into the window of a chocolatier, whose products were both exquisite and mouthwatering, she decided to try the bistro on the corner that Paul had told her about.

  Casual and boisterous, with a good-looking crowd and smiling, outrageously flirtatious waiters, the bistro was more than she'd hoped for. Prominently placed in the middle of the bar was a giant fishbowl filled to the brim with water. But instead of fish, it was filled with cell phones. To its side was a sign with a drawing of a cell phone with an X drawn through it. Another sign on the mirror behind the bar announced in French that if you left your cell phone behind in the restaurant, you would have to fish for it.

  Allegra smiled and felt certain that she was going to like having her dinner here. She enjoyed a carafe of white wine, salad, roast chicken, and vegetables, with a chocolate mousse for dessert. The meal was simple but delicious, and when the waiter presented her bill, she was somewhat amazed that she had eaten so well for less than fifteen dollars. She happily used the credit card that Hilton Whitehead had provided her with, and added a very generous tip for her handsome young waiter.

  Back in the apartment, she tried to call Todd, but there was no answer at his apartment or hers. She wasn't surprised. He was probably still at the renovation site. Next, she tried to get hold of Jason, but he didn't pick up at the atelier, answer his cell phone, or respond to the telephone at his apartment.

  It was still early in New York City, and Allegra couldn't imagine why he would have left the atelier already. For that matter, why he wouldn't answer his cell phone. He always had it with him. Jason had not been himself lately, and now, a long way from the atelier, it bothered her more than usual. He was responsible for her livelihood while she was gone.

  The telephone rang, and she started. She picked up the receiver.

  'Miss me?'

  'I do,' she said, smiling at the sound of Todd's voice. 'I feel sort of... lonely.'

  'Lonely?' he said. 'You? I'd have thought you'd already have met at least a dozen hot young men who'd be more than glad to take you out and show you the town.'

  She laughed. 'No,' she replied. 'I'm afraid it's not like that. I have things I have to do, and besides, I don't really know anybody here. All the Parisians I know are in New York.'

  'Haven't you met any of the Jalouse magazine people yet?' he asked.

 
; Damn, she thought. 'Not until tomorrow.'

  'So what did you take with you for the shoot?' he asked.

  'Just a few little things,' she replied. 'You know, easy to travel with.'

  'Like what?'

  'You know, my apple peel necklace, a couple of bracelets, a couple of pairs of earrings. Not much.'

  'I can't wait to see the results,' he said. 'I know they'll do a beautiful job.'

  'Well, you'll have to wait a while because it'll be at least three or four months before they'll publish this shoot. If they do.'

  'What do you mean, if they do?' he asked.

  'You know how it is, Todd,' she said. 'Sometimes they decide to kill a story because something more interesting comes along. They do that all the time in the magazine and newspaper business.'

  'I know, but that couldn't possibly happen to my gal,' he said.

  'I hope not.' Oh, God, forgive me, she thought. 'How are things going with the remodeling?' she asked, changing the subject.

  'Okay,' Todd replied. 'In fact, things are going so well, I thought I might pop over to Paris and join you. We could spend a couple of extra days together, seeing the sights.'

  Allegra hoped he didn't hear the quick intake of her breath. Her mind began to spin.

  'Ally? Are you there?' he asked.

  'Yes,' she said. 'Of course I'm here. I was just thinking, that's all. I've got such a heavy schedule tomorrow and the next day that I wouldn't have time to even see you. And—'

  'Oh, come on,' he said. 'Not even at night? What're these magazine people going to do? Follow you to bed?'

  'Well, I just—'

  'You don't want me there, do you?' he asked, irritated.

  'No, no, Todd,' she said. 'It's not that at all. Really. You've got to believe me.'

  'You don't sound very convincing,' he said.

  'It's just that this is business, you know? And my return ticket is for Friday.'

  'Couldn't you ask them just to change it?' he asked. 'That way we could spend Thursday night through Sunday together, then fly back Sunday night or Monday morning.'

  'I don't know whether they'll be able to change my ticket or not. Plus, there's the atelier to think of. I hate to leave Jason in charge like this. I couldn't even get hold of him earlier today,' Allegra said, stalling.

  'Ally, you're throwing up roadblocks,' he said. 'Why?'

  'What do you mean?' she replied, knowing exactly what he meant.

  'Come on, get off it,' he said. 'I'm talking about the weekend. You're closed on Sundays, only open by appointment the rest of the time, and you know that Jason is perfectly fine at handling whatever comes up.'

  'I . . . you're right,' she said apologetically.

  'Look, I'll check out the flights on Thursday and let you know one way or the other,' he said.

  'That would be great,' she said, warming to the idea. 'Remember, I'll be free late Thursday afternoon, but not before then.'

  'Okay,' Todd said.

  'If you come, don't bring anything heavy,' she said, after giving him the address on the rue des Archives. 'It's six flights up, and there's no elevator. Plus, the stairs are lethal.'

  'It sounds like just the kind of old building I would love.'

  'You would, too,' she said. 'I know you would.'

  'We could have a blast seeing a little of Paris together,' he said. Then he added, 'I love you, Ally.'

  'I love you, too, Todd,' she said.

  ' 'Night, babe,' he said.

  ' 'Night.'

  She replaced the receiver in its cradle and took a deep breath. She felt much better now that she'd talked to Todd. Then she remembered she hadn't spoken to Jason. She dialed the atelier number. No answer. She tried his home and cell numbers. No answer at either place. She decided not to leave a message, thinking she could call him back later, but decided against that, too. She didn't want him to think she was being a hysteric about the atelier. After all, what could have happened in only a few hours?

  CHAPTER 9

  A few short blocks away, Ramtane Tadjer's valet slipped the silk and cashmere robe across Ram's shoulders.

  'Shall I lay out your clothes for tomorrow, sir?' Gerard asked.

  'Hm . . .' Ram considered the question for a moment before answering. 'Not tonight, Gerard.' Tomorrow and the next day were to be very special, and he would choose his attire very carefully. For the preview and the auction, he would dress in his very best clothes. He didn't care who knew he was bidding or on what. He was willing to pay whatever it took to get Princess Karima's ring. Besides, he knew that with the stone's inclusion, some dealers and collectors would be scared away.

  'Will you be having breakfast at the usual time, sir?' Gerard asked.

  'Yes, the usual.'

  'Very good, sir,' Gerard said.

  Ram picked up the remote for the plasma screen television, then turned back to his valet. 'Oh, one more thing, Gerard,' he said. 'Bring me a bottle of Armagnac.'

  'Very good, sir.' He turned and left the bedroom, closing the door soundlessly behind him.

  Ram put his arms into his robe sleeves and tied the belt loosely, then put his feet into his silk tapestry slippers. He pushed the button that activated the television screen, and it slid soundlessly from the ceiling above the fireplace mantel, hiding a Braque painting. Positioning himself on the freshly ironed linen sheets of his Empire sleigh bed, he pushed the on button. The television was set to the news, virtually the only thing Ram ever watched.

  Gerard returned with the bottle of Armagnac and a crystal snifter on a silver salver. He placed them on the bedside table, next to the carafe of water and the glass that were always at Ram's bedside and refreshed daily. Then he poured a measure of Armagnac into the snifter.

  'Anything else, sir?' he asked.

  Ram shook his head. 'No, thank you, Gerard,' he said without looking at him.

  Gerard exited the room silently, closing the door behind him with only a soft click.

  Ram congratulated himself on hiring the very well trained young man. Like all of Ram's household help, Gerard had once served in a very grand house, in his case that of the old Baron de Beaufre. When the baron died, Ram had pounced. Whether through death, divorce, or debts, he had secured the best help there was to be had in all of Paris. Aside from being well trained, they were hardworking, efficient, loyal, and, perhaps most important, discreet. Ram didn't have to worry about his servants gossiping, even though he gave them little fodder for spreading tales.

  Gerard was the exception, since he was responsible for maintaining the apartment on the rue des Rosiers, and at times Ram relied on him for dealing with difficult mistresses or prostitutes.

  He remembered the tape he had loaded earlier in the VCR, and he pushed the button to activate the machine. He picked up the snifter of Armagnac that Gerard had so thoughtfully poured and took a long swallow. Then reaching over, he twisted the dimmer on the bedside lamp until it was completely off.

  Up on the big screen, Denise sprang into view, her tongue licking her sensuous red lips, her long blond hair loosened and flowing down over her pale shoulders. Her milky breasts with their large nipples were fully exposed to the camera, and when she moved slightly, her shaved mound came fully into view.

  Ram immediately felt a rise in his groin. She was so beautiful. So pale and white, so blond and blue-eyed. So much the Aryan ideal. And such a slut. As he watched her, his hand slid down between his legs. It amused and aroused him to know that she had no idea her domination was being filmed.

  And what I've done to her is nothing compared with what I'll do to a certain family after I have that ring in my possession. Nothing.

  As the film ran, he took another long swallow of the Armagnac. His eyes glittered in the dark, aroused by lust and even more so by his power. Long before the video ended, he hit the off button, satisfied and content. He wouldn't need more of the Armagnac to sleep well tonight.

  'I should be receiving a check from Dufour in about two weeks. Perhaps even less,' Princ
ess Karima said into her cell phone, her voice lowered in a breathy whisper, though she was alone in her immense bedroom. 'I'll wire the money into the account in Luxembourg as soon as it's cleared my bank here. The rest is up to you.'

  She dragged nervously off her cigarette as she listened to her caller, her eyes bright with the excitement of conspiracy. Walking to her vanity, she crushed her cigarette in a crystal ashtray and picked up the drink she'd left there. She took a swallow, then sat down, flipping loose tendrils of hair away from her face.

  'You needn't worry,' she said impatiently. 'I'll call you the moment I've sent the wire.' She heard her bedroom door open and saw Mimi's reflection in the vanity mirror. 'One moment,' she said into the cell phone. She turned toward the door. 'What is it, Mimi?'

  'I was just going to turn down your bed, madame,' her ancient maid replied.

  Princess Karima waved a hand toward the old woman. 'Don't bother, Mimi.'

  'Yes, madame.' The maid executed an approximation of a curtsy on her arthritic knees and turned to leave.

  'And, Mimi?'

  'Yes, madame?' The old woman turned to face her employer again.

  'Don't bother me again tonight,' Princess Karima said. 'I won't be taking any calls, no matter who they're from. Understand?'

  'Of course, madame.'

  'Now please leave me in privacy.'

  Mimi turned and departed the bedroom, closing the door behind her quietly.

  Returning her attention to the caller, Princess Karima apologized. 'Sorry,' she said. 'Go on.' She listened for a short time, then sighed in exasperation. 'Don't be so damned paranoid. If there's any reason to worry, it's at your end, not mine.'

  She took another cigarette from a gold box and put it to her heavily painted lips. She lit it and took a long drag, listening to her caller while scrutinizing her exotically beautiful but mature face in the vanity mirror.

  'Don't call me again,' she said at last, her voice imperious. 'Unless there's a dire emergency. Not until after you've taken care of business in Luxembourg. I must go now.' Without another word, she depressed the END button on the cell phone and snapped it shut. After placing it on the vanity, she took another sip of the Jack Daniel's on ice and ground out her cigarette in the ashtray.