by Kate Breslin
Le Bibent’s elegance was reminiscent of the Belle Epoque. Mirror-paneled walls framed in gold friezes were squeezed among the sculpted cherubs, fleur-de-lis, and gargoyles that rose to a ceiling of painted murals boxed in more gold. A clock hung against one colorful wall, accented on either side by a mythical Greek god.
He breathed in the same mouthwatering aromas he’d detected outside: roasting meats combined with the yeasty smell of bread, and the added perfume of violets arranged in milk-glass vases at the center of each table.
He and Johanna sat at the far end of the room, between two of the mirrored panels, one to his right and the other behind him. While he was pleased with the location—he could see anyone who walked in—Colin found the prospect of observing his own reflection throughout the meal disconcerting. He wondered if others viewed him the way he saw himself: careworn and a bit ragged around the edges, not enough to greatly alter his looks, but not entirely himself.
Below the mirror’s edge was the reflection he could not see: his artificial hand lying inert against his lap. The element making him part man, part mechanism. Was that how Jewel would see him tonight?
Did Johanna see him that way?
He gazed across the table to find her engaged in the feminine chore of repinning her hat. Tonight she’d swept her hair into an elaborate coil fastened at her nape. He almost grinned, wondering how long it would take for the neatly tucked hair to come undone.
“What are you smiling at?”
Picking up his menu, he pretended to study it. “We’re finally making some headway on this quest. Isn’t that reason enough?”
“Yes, after your conversation with . . . Lacourt, I was beginning to wonder if we would have to return to Paris empty-handed.”
Colin lowered the menu. Earlier he’d relayed to Johanna all Petit had told him in the park, except for the fact Jewel might need to remain in Toulouse until G-2’s plan had reached its conclusion.
Nor had he voiced the possibility she was in league with Kepler.
He worried most that both sides could be using Jewel as bait.
“Now you’re frowning. Again.”
“Sorry.” He offered a weak smile. “More woolgathering, I’m afraid.”
“I cannot see behind me. Are you still watching the door for Kepler?”
No sooner had she spoken than Colin observed a tall, sturdily built man enter the restaurant. He wore a felt hat and a dark suit with a white carnation in his buttonhole, and he carried an ivory handled cane.
Once the hat came off, Colin’s pulse sped up. “It’s him.”
Johanna started to turn around.
“Careful! You’ll draw his attention. Try looking at the mirror behind me to see him once he sits down.”
The waiter escorted Kepler to a table along the aisle near them.
Angling her menu, Johanna whispered, “Yes, I can see him.”
“That’s fine, just don’t stare.”
“Where is my sister?”
Colin glanced toward the empty foyer. “She must have decided to remain at the hotel.”
They shared a look of disappointment before returning to perusing their menus. Colin continued his surveillance. Kepler’s dark eyes scanned the restaurant and its patrons before he placed his cane on the back of the chair. As the man turned his head, Colin caught sight of the scarred lobe.
Conscious of Petit’s warning, he was glad Johanna still seemed engrossed in reading her menu. The Boche spy was clearly on edge, as though he expected to be shadowed.
After taking his seat, Kepler was given a menu. A moment later, the same waiter approached to stand over their table. “Bonsoir, monsieur, madame. Have you decided?”
Colin glanced at Johanna.
She held up the menu to the waiter. “I’ll have the confit de canard.”
Colin had also considered the duck confit but shied away in favor of the cassoulet. He’d noted the patron at the next table eating the dish and using a spoon.
When their orders had been taken, the waiter returned to Kepler and wrote down his selection before disappearing to the kitchen.
The rest of the meal continued leisurely. While Colin thought the food excellent, neither he nor Johanna conversed much due to the circumstances. Occasionally he would glance in Kepler’s direction to see the man taking his time enjoying his meal. Tedium.
After dinner, the waiter brought them hot tea.
Colin reached for his cup. “It seems this was an unproductive venture.”
Johanna smiled, yet he could tell she too was disheartened. “We had to eat in any case, and the meal was delicious.”
Her words had a way of cheering him. “I’m glad one of us remains hopeful.”
“Didn’t you tell me miracles happen to those who believe? Anyway, I don’t know what else is to be done at this point, except to try again.”
“Indeed.” Colin raised the tea, taking a sip while he cast another covert glance at Kepler.
The Boche spy had reached for the small vase of violets at his table. Lifting the vessel, he leaned in as if to smell the flowers while his right hand grazed across the bottom of the vase. A smile formed beneath his dark moustache as though the scent pleased him; then he replaced the vase and plucked a violet from among the bouquet, exchanging it for the carnation in his buttonhole.
Colin set his cup down. Was the flower some kind of signal? Had Kepler sensed he was being watched?
“What is he doing?”
“Wait.” He hissed a warning at Johanna. Kepler was rising from the table. He tossed down a few francs and pushed in his chair. “He’s leaving.”
The Boche spy grabbed up his hat and cane, giving the room a cursory glance. His dark eyes flitted briefly over Colin and Johanna before he turned to make his way toward the exit.
“What was he doing with the violet?”
Johanna’s attention was still fixed on the mirror behind him.
“I’m not certain.” Colin wondered at the man’s odd behavior as well. Had he sought something beneath the vase? And why exchange the flower in his buttonhole?
“Now what do we do?”
He considered her question. “We may have been discovered, or at least Kepler seems to suspect someone is watching him. He could be looking to see who follows. Let’s remain here and finish our tea. As it is, we’re to meet ‘Lacourt’ at the Red Cross concert in forty-five minutes.”
“A sound plan, considering we have no other option at the moment.”
She reached for her tea, and as he raised his own cup, her blue eyes gleamed with amusement. “And I am glad to see you have conquered your fear of poisoned drink.”
He shot her a sardonic smile. “I forgot to ask our porter how he got me back to my room the other night, but I imagine he used the luggage trolley. I doubt anyone here wants to haul me all the way back to the hotel.”
As if to prove his point, he lifted his cup in a grand gesture. “Anyway, with the exception of my passport, I no longer have anything worth stealing.”
I hope my amoureux knows what he is doing, sending me here. This is not part of my job responsibilities.
Clad in her maid’s uniform, Odette Tremblay stood at the door of room 309 and adjusted her cap while she scanned the hall for guests. Seeing no one, she removed the service key from her apron pocket and reached for the door.
The Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the brass knob brought her up short. Pursing her lips, she considered the telephone call she’d received a few minutes ago. He had assured her the room would be empty.
But what if he was wrong? She decided to rap on the door, just in case. After a minute of silence, Odette inserted the key and turned the handle before slipping inside.
Heart pounding, she surveyed the room and noted the disarray—the bed unmade, clothing strewn across its top, and shoes scattered along opposite ends of the polished floor.
Odette was indeed alone. She took a few deep breaths in an attempt to slow her rapid pulse, then glanced toward the
desk, hoping to see what she’d come for and leave quickly.
He had warned her not to remain long. The last thing she wanted was to get caught.
A cloth kit bag rested on the desktop, and beside it were a perfume atomizer, several lace handkerchiefs, and a few cosmetics.
Nothing else.
Again she pressed her lips together. Was it inside the bag?
Odette had already started toward the desk when a soft rustling noise sounded from behind the ornate screen where the washstand cabinet stood. She froze, pulse racing against her throat. Despite the fact she was in uniform, the card on the door forbade anyone trespassing.
She listened for a few moments but heard nothing. Releasing a pent-up breath, she looked back toward the kit bag on the desk. Perhaps it was simply nerves.
A book lay on the padded chair beside the desk.
Elation battled her fear as Odette rushed to retrieve it. Clutching the book to her chest, she shot another glance toward the screen. Hearing nothing, she silently retraced her steps and exited the room.
She glanced along the empty hall before she quickly fanned through the pages of the diary, searching for the particular place her amoureux had suggested she start. Seeing the date, she scanned the first few handwritten lines, and a smile touched her lips. Perfect.
She started to close the book when a short white ribbon escaped the pages to flutter onto the carpeted floor. With a soft gasp, Odette retrieved the narrow satin strip. She eyed the book to try to determine where it had been placed.
The rattle of the elevator drew her attention. Jamming the ribbon back in between the pages, she concealed the diary beneath her apron and strode toward a linen closet at the other end of the hall. It shouldn’t take her long to slip inside and read the passage before returning the book to its owner. As for the ribbon . . .
Odette chewed at her lower lip. Her amoureux would certainly not be pleased. She could only hope the bookmark’s placement hadn’t been significant and would go unnoticed.
Either way, she must hurry. No telling when the woman would return.
Jo hugged the thin satin coat tighter around her as she and Colin left Le Bibent and walked arm in arm along the lamplit street toward the Red Cross canteen a few blocks away. She had suggested the fresh air would do them good but now regretted her decision, as the April night had turned out cooler than expected.
She was also conscious of each painful step in the tight silver pumps, although she consoled herself by imagining Isabelle’s happiness in knowing she’d dressed up for dinner tonight in her friend’s favorite ensemble.
Jo was thankful Colin had slowed his long-legged stride so that she could keep pace without pitching headlong onto the sidewalk.
“Do you believe the flower exchange was meant to signal someone?” She hadn’t stopped thinking about Kepler’s actions.
“I’m almost certain of it, though I hope it wasn’t meant to warn someone about us. Petit told me we were just to observe. I believe Kepler knows he was being watched. If he were to become desperate, it could jeopardize the mission these Americans are involved in.”
Desperate was a word beginning to fit Jo’s mood. She glanced up at him as they walked. “How shall we ever discover if the woman is Jewel? You are the only one who can confirm her identity, but if she never leaves her room, what are you supposed to do? Storm the door?”
“A disastrous plan, to say the least.” His head lowered as he gazed at the sidewalk. “No, I would need a disguise—”
“Exactly!” Jo’s heart surged with renewed hope. “She takes her meals in her room, so you could pose as one of the restaurant staff.”
He glanced at her, raising his gloved hand. “Not with this, I’m afraid.”
“And why not? In case you haven’t noticed, there are many here in the city wounded from the war. They must have jobs to support themselves.” Jo’s need for some kind of plan fueled her determination. “You can do this, Colin. No one would take it amiss to see you working at the hotel. And your French is very good.”
He said nothing as they walked on, and Jo finally halted him. They both needed this chance, or the search for Jewel and Papa was over. “Think of it, Colin. You will be able to find out once and for all if the woman is my sister.” And your sweetheart.
She held his gaze, ignoring the unexpected pang in her chest.
He seemed to consider her words. “I doubt Petit would agree to such a plan, but I’ll ask him. Working at the hotel, I’m certain he can make all of the arrangements.”
Jo’s spirits soared. “Thank you!”
She didn’t pause to think before wrapping her arms around his waist in a fierce hug. A moment later, she felt his gloved hand rest against her shoulder.
“Nothing to thank me for yet, but let’s hope Petit agrees and that I’m able to pull this off. For both our sakes.”
His voice was gruff, and Jo’s heart raced as he held her. When the weight of his hand lifted, she released him and stepped back, averting her eyes toward the ground.
What was happening to her? And why did she have this constant ache? Colin is here for Jewel, not you! “I seem to have become . . . carried away. I apologize.”
His fingers were warm against her chin as he lifted her face to his. Amusement filled his expression. “You need not apologize, Mrs. Mabry. After all, it is proper for a wife to show affection toward her husband.”
Jo stood breathless, unable to tear her gaze from his. “And the husband? What does he show his wife?”
She didn’t know why she’d asked the question, but Colin’s smile faded as he let his hand fall to his side and stepped back. “He shows her honor and respect, and he always does what is right by her.”
He spoke in a low voice, his words as solemn as if he’d made a promise to heaven itself. Jo’s heart beat rapidly. She had a fleeting thought about her sister and Kepler, wondering if Jewel’s attraction to the Boche remained the same. If not, Colin still stood a chance with her.
Jo ignored the persistent ache. She hoped her sister would be deserving of such a man.
CHAPTER
13
It’s all set.” The following afternoon Petit was again dressed as the hotel’s porter as he entered Colin’s room. “Monsieur Outis hopped a tram a few minutes ago at the square, and I’ve got someone keeping an eye on him. He likes to sight-see and seems especially interested in the hydroelectric plant on the Garonne River, so he’ll be away for a few hours.”
Behind him, Johanna entered, her arms laden with clothing. Petit glanced at the bundle as he closed the door. “One of the waiters downstairs is about your size, but I won’t guarantee the fit. I’ve been a lot of things in my life, but never a tailor.”
Despite his fatigue from a grueling night’s sleep, Colin’s pulse jumped as he eyed the white shirt and jacket, black bow tie, dark pants, and shoes that would transform him into one of the hotel wait staff. “I’ll make them work.”
“Good.” Petit checked his timepiece. “Madame Outis usually calls to order her midday meal shortly after two, so you have an hour to dress for the part. Once the food is ready, I’ll telephone your room and let it ring once. That’s your signal to meet me at the elevator. I’ll have the cart with her tray, and from there you can take the meal upstairs to the next floor.”
Colin had talked with Petit before the concert last night and was surprised when the American agreed to their plan. Of course, it didn’t hurt when Johanna threatened to return to Paris and fetch the entire Deuxième Bureau if he refused. The man was right—at times, she could be a “firecracker.”
“Are you certain you want to do this?” Petit was frowning.
Colin glanced at Johanna, and her encouraging smile helped to galvanize him. “I see no other way of finding out if the elusive ‘Madame Outis’ is Jewel, do you?”
“That’s a question for which I have no answer, Lieutenant. All right, you should get a call from me in about an hour.”
Petit departed, and Colin
moved to relieve Johanna of her bundle. “Better let me have those.”
She handed over his disguise. “Can I assist you in any way?”
“Now you sound like my corporal, Goodfellow.” His tone was sharper than he’d intended as he took the clothes and tossed them into a heap on the bed. “I will tell you what I’ve told him: I can still dress myself.”
“I was only trying to help.”
Colin turned to see hurt dim her expression, before she masked it with anger. Blast the nightmares! He smiled at her and gentled his voice. “I know you are.”
Her features softened, and he was glad his irritability hadn’t done permanent damage. After shaking off his bad dreams that morning, Colin’s thoughts had returned to his time with Johanna last night and the way she looked in her pretty pink dress and silver shoes at dinner . . . and afterward, en route to the concert, the moment she’d wrapped her arms around him. She hadn’t flinched when he’d rested his gloved hand against her shoulder.
“Goodfellow sounds like his namesake.”
Colin refocused his attention. “Albert is a fine soldier and a good man.” His gaze returned to the disguise lying on the bed. “I’d better get started.”
“Yes, well, good luck to you. I’ll expect a full report post mission, all right?”
He nodded, and she moved toward the door. As she opened it, Johanna turned and gave him another encouraging smile. “You’ll be grand, Colin. I know it.”
Her confidence in him filled him with warmth. “Thanks.”
After she’d gone, he drew a deep breath and began shucking out of his uniform, which thankfully took a lot less time than getting dressed.
The trousers fit a bit loose, but Petit had thoughtfully installed suspenders, so Colin was able to manage. The small buttons on the shirt were soon resolved when he decided to fasten only those visible above the opening of the white staff coat.
His next challenge was the bow tie. Despite being a ready-made tie with an adjustable strap, the trick lay in getting it fastened around his neck.
