Parisian Affair

by Gould, Judith

  Allegra almost sputtered champagne. 'You did?'

  Todd nodded. 'She bought my story hook, line, and sinker, but what's more important is that she took a shine to me.' He paused and smiled with self-satisfaction.

  'I see,' Allegra said. 'All the ladies do, don't they?'

  'A lot of them do,' he said teasingly, 'but it wasn't what you're thinking. This woman must be seventy, at least. Anyway, she offered to show me their document books.'

  Allegra almost levitated out of her chair. 'Their document books?' she exclaimed. When she realized that she'd used a raised voice, she immediately lowered it and looked about. 'I can't believe this.'

  The waiter appeared. 'Are you ready to order?'

  'We'll be a few more minutes,' Todd replied.

  When the waiter disappeared, Allegra said, 'You've got to tell me. What did you find out?'

  'A lot,' he said. 'Over the years, Jules Levant has handled several emeralds of the exact same size and color as Princess Karima's. I made a list of who they were sold to.'

  'Oh, Todd! Oh, you're unbelievable.' She leaned across the table and planted a kiss on his lips.

  He beamed once again. 'The saleslady wasn't even aware that I made the list,' he said. 'She was so busy telling me anecdotes about the people who bought them.'

  'Who?' Allegra asked. 'Who did buy them? And how many people were involved?'

  'I'd have to look at my list,' Todd said, 'but I remember that there were a brooch and a bracelet. Then a necklace. Earrings. And the ring that was Princess Karima's. And all of the pieces were bought by different customers.'

  Allegra's mind was spinning. The emeralds had to be part of a matched set. All the same weight and color. Very rare. Especially for emeralds. And Jules Levant—or Ramtane Tadjer—deliberately broke them up, even though they would've been more valuable if they'd been sold all together.

  'So,' he asked, looking at her with obvious pride, 'how'd I do, huh?'

  'You did brilliantly,' she said. 'Absolutely brilliantly.' She took a sip of her champagne, then set the glass down. 'I can't wait to have a look at that list.'

  Todd fished a piece of paper out of the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket. 'Have a look.'

  Allegra practically tore it out of his hands.

  The brooch. Costas Stephanides, she read. She knew who the rich Greek was, of course. No doubt, he'd bought the brooch for his mistress, that Greek actress, what's her name. Marina Koutsoukou.

  The bracelet. A General Ramondo Gonzalez-Viega. Allegra didn't know who he was, but she knew she could find out without much trouble.

  The necklace. A Parisian, Vicomte de Rabe, had bought it for his vicomtesse. Allegra knew her name from the society and fashion press. She was one of those rich, thin social butterflies whose every movement was recorded, whose taste in clothes and decoration were emulated by women everywhere.

  The earrings. William Cosgrove Hutchison. A New Yorker. Allegra searched her mind. She knew that she'd heard the name, but she couldn't quite place it. Probably one of those quiet, old-money New Yorkers who neither wanted nor got much publicity.

  The list accounted for a hell of a lot of thirty-four-and-a-half-carat emeralds. Especially of the same color. She couldn't begin to calculate what they would be worth if they were reunited and sold as a set. Princess Karima's ring was the only anomaly. It was the same size and color, but it had its unique inclusion.

  She looked over at Todd. 'This is fabulous,' she said. 'I still can't believe you did it.' She formed a kiss and blew it across the table.

  The waiter approached again. 'Do you need more time?' He poured more champagne for them both.

  'I think we're ready,' Todd said. 'What if I order for us both?'

  'Perfect,' Allegra said.

  'We'll both have the lamb,' he said. 'Rare.'

  'No appetizers, monsieur?'

  'No, thanks,' Todd said. He looked over at Allegra for confirmation, and she nodded.

  'Very well,' the waiter said, and he disappeared.

  'Now,' Todd said, 'you've got to tell me what you've been up to, all right?'

  'Well ... I did a little research on the Internet,' she said, deciding not to tell him about her visit to the bank and using Monsieur Lenoir's computer while there.

  'Uh-huh,' he said. 'What kind of research?' he asked.

  'Looking at stuff about Jules Levant Joaillier,' she replied.

  'And?'

  'And I found out that a man named Solomon Weiss used to work there,' she replied. 'He was a cutter, polisher, and setter. I also found out that he was still alive and living here in Paris.'

  Todd looked excited. 'And you went to see him? What did you find out?'

  'He's a widower, well into his eighties, and lives on the rue des Rosiers. It's a little Jewish neighborhood in the Marais.'

  'Odd, isn't it?' Todd said. 'You were staying in the Marais in Paul's apartment. You went to a museum in the Marais where you were shot at twice. We checked into a hotel in the Marais, then checked out. Now this Weiss character turns up in the Marais. The neighborhood keeps popping up.'

  'Yes,' Allegra said, 'and get this. Ramtane Tadjer has an apartment in the Marais. In the same building that Monsieur Weiss lives in. The Levants gave it to him when they took him in years ago, and he's kept it.'

  'Jesus,' Todd exclaimed. 'Him again. There you were in the same building where he lives.'

  'No, no,' Allegra said. 'He doesn't live there. He has a mansion a few blocks away, Weiss said, but he keeps the apartment for assignations.'

  'Oho,' Todd said, smirking. 'So our Mr. Tadjer is either married or he won't do the dirty at home.'

  'I guess,' she replied neutrally, although for some reason the thought of the handsome, charming jeweler involved in clandestine, sordid- sounding escapades didn't sit well with her.

  Their food was served, and as they ate the delicious lamb and vegetables with gusto, Allegra told him about her visit with Solomon Weiss. When she had finished her tale, Todd sat thoughtfully eating the last of his meal before responding. He finally said, 'You know, it's as if you found one giant piece of a puzzle, and I found the other. We know to whom these emeralds have been sold and that Tadjer has been buying them back over the years. Though Madame de la Montarron didn't mention anything about him buying back any of the jewels she showed me.'

  'She may not even know,' Allegra offered.

  'True,' he responded. 'She probably doesn't. She would've mentioned it. I mean, once she got started talking it was like floodgates had opened, and she wouldn't stop.'

  'But it's odd that Solomon Weiss knew,' Allegra said. She shrugged. 'It's probably not even important, but I'm curious.'

  'Well, madame certainly knew that Tadjer was bidding on Princess Karima's ring,' Todd said.

  'Everybody in Paris knows that,' Allegra said. 'But it was a very special case, being the princess's and all.'

  'Now what do we do with what we've got?' Todd mused aloud.

  'Good question,' Allegra said. 'And where did the emeralds come from? And why does Ramtane Tadjer want them back?'

  Todd looked at her with thoughtful eyes. 'How do we find out?'

  'I'm not sure,' she said, 'but my enquiring mind wants to know.' She put her knife and fork down. 'That was wonderful. Do you want dessert?'

  'I'll have something if you do,' he said.

  'I think I'd rather get out of here, fabulous as it is, and go back to the hotel. Brainstorm a little bit.'

  They left the restaurant, walking hand in hand in the arcade of the Palais Royal, avoiding the section where Jules Levant was located.

  'How did you extricate yourself from the saleslady?' Allegra asked.

  'I told her I was having lunch with my fiancée,' Todd said. 'She appreciated the idea of two young lovebirds meeting for lunch at Le Grand Vefour.'

  Allegra laughed. 'I guess that's a very French reaction.'

  'I guess so,' he agreed, 'but she does expect me to return to the shop later today or Monday.'
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br />   'She's going to be disappointed. She won't get to see you again.'

  Todd squeezed her hand affectionately. 'Maybe,' he said. 'Then again, maybe not. They do have some really nice jewelry.'

  'Oh, don't even tease about that,' Allegra said. 'It is all magnificent, but it's priced accordingly.'

  'Can your feet handle the walk back to the hotel in those heels?' Todd asked, looking down at her stilettos.

  'Sure,' Allegra said. 'They've had a good rest, and it's not that far.'

  He brushed her cheek with a kiss. 'It's so wonderful to be here in this beautiful city with you,' he said.

  'Even if it's gray and chilly?'

  'Who cares about the weather?' he said, kissing her cheek again.

  'Not me,' she said, stopping and kissing him on the lips.

  With their eyes only for each other, they failed to see that they were being watched, and when their walk finally took them back to the place Vendome and the Ritz, they didn't realize that they'd been followed.

  Sylvie paced in Paul's ground-floor apartment, her heels click-clacking a loud tattoo on the cold limestone floor, plumes of blue gray smoke encircling her in a fog before lifting to the ceiling.

  Paul sat on the sofa watching her, his body hypertense. Sylvie had both fascinated and scared him, and today, her histrionics were almost proving too much for his already frazzled nerves. The generous snorts of crystal meth she'd offered him had increased his body's state of alertness but simultaneously made him feel as if his concerns weren't important anymore, even though intellectually he knew that wasn't true.

  Clack! She had made another turn in her to-and-fro path, and his body jerked involuntarily. He watched her take a long drag on the unfiltered Gauloises she was smoking and send another noxious plume of smoke into the room.

  He'd been in love with her for years, and had always wondered what appeal she'd found in him. She could have anyone. And though Sylvie wasn't exclusive to him, he was grateful for whatever time she deigned to give him.

  They had met at le Rosey, the exclusive boarding school, and as unlikely as their friendship might seem to outsiders—he, a reticent, unattractive nerd; she, a stylish, bubbling social butterfly—they had found a common ground at once. They both felt like misfits at the expensive school, and together they sought escape in recreational drugs. Not that they were exceptions among the student body, but they developed an intimate relationship that lasted for years, even if it was almost entirely dependent on Sylvie seeking him out, rather than the opposite. She had, and still did, come to him after debauched evenings with boyfriends and pull him into bed and make passionate, if drugged, love, telling him how superior he was to the rich but thuggish boys who had gotten their rocks off then fled the scene.

  'You're like me, Paul,' she would say. 'Sensitive and caring. Creative. Artistic. Not like those animals.' All this while they fucked again and again, sometimes for hours on end, until their bodies could no longer perform, and they collapsed into long, drugged sleep.

  Their time together had of necessity been lessened by her work in New York, but she often visited Paris, and Paul often make the trek to New York to see her. He would do anything for her, and while he knew that the reverse was not true, it didn't matter to him.

  'Do you have any vodka?'

  At first her question didn't register, although he saw her stop and whirl around and look at him. He saw her beautiful painted lips move and the inquisitive look on her elegant face. He was so distracted by the powerful drug that he simply looked up at her with a blank expression.

  'Do you have any vodka?' she repeated in a louder voice.

  'Oh, yes, of course,' he replied, jumping off the sofa and going to the refrigerator. He opened it and took a bottle of Stolichnaya out of the freezer, then poured two glasses nearly to the brim. He handed her one and smiled. 'Here.'

  Sylvie took it and raised it to her lips immediately, taking a long sip, then shuddering slightly. 'Magnifique,' she said, returning his smile.

  Paul took a swallow of the vodka and enjoyed the burning sensation as it traveled down his throat to his stomach. 'Why don't we sit down,' he said, 'and relax a bit.'

  Sylvie kicked off her heels and sat down on the couch, pulling her feet up under her. She patted the space next to her. 'Here, darling Paul. Sit here. We must talk.'

  He sat down next to her, waiting for what would come next. He never knew. Sylvie was unpredictable, to say the least.

  She reached over and stroked his face with her fingers, her nails scraping along his cheek lightly. 'I want you to help me,' she said.

  He looked at her. 'Help you do what?' he asked.

  Her eyes narrowed. 'I want to get back at Allegra,' she said. 'I want to pay her back for ruining my life in New York.'

  'I think we'd be wise to leave well enough alone, don't you?'

  She didn't respond but took a sip of the vodka.

  'I mean, look at it this way, Sylvie,' he said. 'You're lucky you got out of New York without Whitehead stopping you. We're both lucky to be sitting in this apartment instead of some fucking police station today. He might decide to pursue you. Us. Have you thought about that?'

  Sylvie shrugged. 'He won't,' she said. 'I'm sure of it. He doesn't really care about a few thousand dollars, only that fucking emerald for Kitty. Besides, he liked me. He liked me a lot.'

  'You didn't. . .'

  'Don't be a fool,' she said. 'Of course not. He isn't my type, and it might've ruined a good working relationship. He paid me an enormous salary, and I did a great job. That was all there was to it.'

  She put a hand on his thigh and rubbed it gently. 'Let's forget about him,' she said. 'He doesn't matter. That bitch Allegra does. She and her boyfriend. They ruined my life, and what's worse, they humiliated you. For that I will never forgive them.'

  'But... but it's pointless,' he said. 'Besides, what can we do? They'll be going back to New York on Monday, and we don't even know where they are.'

  Sylvie smiled mischievously. 'Oh, I bet I do.'

  Paul looked at her. 'So where are they?'

  'At the Ritz, of course,' she replied. 'That's where she was supposed to stay to begin with, and I'm sure that after talking to Hilton, that's where they went.'

  'Well, then we might as well forget it,' he said. 'The Ritz is like a bunker. We'd never be able to get at them. What could we do anyway?'

  'Something . . . ,' she said slowly, 'something to make her life miserable.'

  'But what?' he asked.

  'Something simple . . . like . . . like throwing acid in her face,' Sylvie said.

  Paul froze. 'I—I think you're going too far,' he said. 'Sylvie, we could really get in trouble. I don't like this.'

  She put her glass down and put her hands on his shoulders. Looking into his eyes, she said, 'Trust me, Paul, darling.' She kissed his lips. 'Nothing will happen to us.' Kiss. 'Nothing.' Kiss. 'We'll be off in Provence tomorrow or the next day without a care in the world.'

  He started to pull away, but she held him with her hands. 'No, Sylvie,' he said. 'I really don't like this. I—I think it's the drug talking.'

  She laughed. 'That's ridiculous,' she said. 'But so what if it is? I want to do it. And we can do it. It's very simple. I have it all worked out.' She took her hands off his shoulders and placed them on his thighs, where she began massaging him slowly and gently. 'Just this one little last thing before we head down to Saint Remy,' she said, 'and start a new life ... together.'

  He looked into her eyes. 'Together? You mean—?'

  'I meant what I said, Paul,' she replied. 'Yes. The two of us. Together in Saint Remy. We'll start a new life there. Away from the rat races of New York and Paris. We can garden and decorate the house and live healthy lives.'

  Paul looked into her eyes and saw the dreamy expression they held. He didn't know whether to believe what she said or not, but he wanted to. He wanted to with all his heart.

  'Whatever it takes,' he said, 'we'll do it. Together.'

&nbs
p; Cameron had already been to the gym and showered, and now as he changed clothes, Jason watched, enraptured by the sleek, buff body with its hardened, defined musculature.

  Cameron turned and flashed a smile, his perfect white teeth exposed. 'What are you thinking about?'

  'Oh, nothing,' Jason replied sheepishly.

  'Don't lie to me, boy toy,' Cameron said, ruffling his hair affectionately. 'I can always tell, you know.'

  'Well ... I ... I was just thinking about how lucky I am,' Jason admitted.

  'And why's that?' Cameron asked, although he knew the answer to his question.

  'Because you . . . you . . . love me,' Jason said, looking up into his eyes.

  Cameron, his legs spread wide in front of the chair where Jason sat, leaned over and placed his hands on his shoulders, then lowered his lips to Jason's and kissed him. It was a long, tender kiss, and Jason felt himself falling under the spell that Cameron had cast over him.

  Cameron stroked his face with one long finger, then drew back. 'You're going over to the atelier this morning, aren't you,' he said. It wasn't a question but a command.

  Jason nodded. 'I'm ready to leave.'

  'Then you'll come straight back here?'

  'Yes,' Jason said, 'but it'll take me a while. At least a couple of hours. Maybe more. There're tons of designs.'

  'Just make sure you photocopy everything,' Cameron said. 'And I do mean everything. Whether it's in a bound drawing book, a notepad ... in the safe, on the wall. I don't care. Just photocopy them all.'

  'Don't worry,' Jason replied. 'I will.'

  'And while you're at it,' Cameron added, 'why not take a few loose stones?'

  Jason suddenly went pale and felt his stomach knot. 'Cameron, wait a minute,' he said nervously. 'That wasn't part of the deal. You didn't say anything about taking any stones.'

  Cameron ruffled Jason's hair again. 'Aw, come on,' he said teasingly. 'She's not going to miss a few stones. A little diamond here, a little ruby there.' He made little picking motions with his hands.

  'She might,' Jason said.

  'Don't give me that,' Cameron said. 'Not even Allegra Sheridan has a count of every single stone she's got in stock.' He stroked Jason under the chin. 'I've been there with you, baby,' he said. 'I know what the place is like. And believe me, she isn't going to miss a few carats of this and that. So just slip a few in your pocket.' He leaned down and kissed his lips again. 'For me, baby,' he said, looking into his eyes. 'For me.'