“It’s one less thing to worry about. Now if Amélie can help me figure out who was murdered, we’ll at least know who Boon left Paris with.”
“I know it is a terrible thought,” responded Athea sadly, “but I wonder if it isn’t better for Laura, and Susan, if it proves to be Susan buried here in Paris.”
I had heard the tape, so I wondered even more than Athea did if it might not be a better outcome.
We said our goodbyes and I filled in Caroline on the parts she’d missed. She was also relieved, because it meant she would not have to be on pins and needles waiting on my return from meeting with Amélie.
I said suddenly, “Restroom, I’ll be back.” I stopped up front to pay for our meal. The toilet had only been an excuse for what I wanted to do. I used one of the house phones to call the restaurant, and asked for Caroline, describing her quietly to a pretty girl not more than ten feet away. Caroline couldn’t see me from where she sat, but I could watch her if I peeked around the corner of the corridor.
I smiled as the maître d’ again went over to our table, this time with a call for a surprised Caroline. He brought the phone to the table and she took it.
“Hello?”
“Hi, wonderful.”
Her smile would have lighted the entire room had there been a sudden blackout.
“Hey, Mister. What are you doing calling me here? I’m with my husband right now.”
“I just thought I’d tell you how lovely you look tonight. You’re the prettiest girl in the restaurant, and the only one worth having an entire lifetime. I love you, Caroline.”
Her head tilted to the side as it did when she was tenderly moved by something.
“Thank you. I love you so much, Seth Halliday.”
“I’ve paid for our meal and I still have some time before I have to meet Amélie. I was wondering if you’d like to come with me to that big park? We could find a secluded spot and I could show you how much I love you.”
Even from where I stood peeking, I could see Caroline’s face take on a rosy tint, and her eyes brighten. She whispered, “Okay, Mister, but if we get caught, I’m telling the police it was your idea.”
“Oh, they’ll understand why I had to, once they get a look at you, and see how pretty you are compared to all those boring French girls who never bathe. They probably won’t even give me a citation.”
She laughed. “I can’t wait.”
“Then get your pretty rear over here and let’s go.”
“Yes, sir. I’m coming.”
A joke came to mind, but it was too charming a moment to ruin.
We kissed and held hands on the way out. It took five minutes of searching, trying to act casual whenever we crossed paths with other lovers out for a stroll, before we finally found a cozy spot hidden from the pathways.
And on a warm summer night in Paris, after we’d been touched by death and escaped, Caroline and I lay in the soft cool grass behind some hedges, laughing and making happy love, because we were still alive.
Thirty-Six
Sonny and Katarina had located the listening devices by the time we arrived back at the hotel. One had been in the lamp by the phone I’d used to call Amélie, another behind a mirror in the other half of the suite. A third had been outside the rooms, on our side of the balcony. Baumé had covered all the bases.
“I hope no one heard too much screaming and hollering earlier,” Sonny cracked, not knowing yet that Baumé was dead.
Katarina was wearing a long men’s dress shirt with vertical blue stripes of various shades. It was very sexy. She said playfully, “It’s alright, you really weren’t that loud, Sonny, even when you were begging me to stop.”
“Har-har.” Sonny goosed her and she laughed even as she slapped his arm.
“Oh, I remember now,” she said through her laughter. “The begging came before. Pity is why I slept with you.”
Katarina tilted her head to peer at the back of Caroline’s dress. When she smiled, I knew we’d missed something. She commented, “Well, it looks like another couple fell victim to the charms of Paris tonight.” She walked over and pulled a small stick with tiny green leaves growing on it from Caroline’s long hair. Caroline glanced at me, her eyes saying, “You said you got everything.”
I laughed. Before Caroline’s cheeks turned pink — or rather, pinker — I relayed the night’s events. “I think it was a solo job, so even if you hadn’t found the bugs, no one is listening now.”
“Better safe than sorry, man.”
While I was changing shirts before going to meet Amélie, Anne called Katarina. She had been trying to reach me but Caroline had turned off her phone and left it at the hotel while we went out. She hadn’t turned it back on yet.
Katrina handed me her phone as I was slipping the salmon colored shirt over my head.
“Anne? What’s up?” I thought it odd she’d be trying to get hold of me, rather than Sanchez. I was right.
“Detective Lovato came by an hour ago. Daniel’s in jail.”
“Why?”
“He slugged him.”
“Again, why?”
“Lovato knows the reason you’re in Paris is connected with that girl who died. He wanted to know how Laura Garner’s sister fit in to it, and Holly Carmichael. He wanted to know what evidence you’d kept hidden from him. Daniel told him he was as forthright with you as you were with him, and it went downhill from there. Then it got…personal. He said something about Daniel not being a real cop. He looked over at me and said he must be crazy to expect honesty from a cop in bed with drug traffickers. That’s when Daniel hit him. I think he broke Lovato’s nose.”
I sighed. If I told Lovato what I knew, he might go into the jungle after Boon and get someone killed. I wasn’t certain I’d know who he’d get killed after I had spoken to Amélie, but I might.
“How bad did it get?”
“They tangled some. Both of them know how to fight. It was getting ugly when two of Lovato’s men got involved and they finally subdued Daniel and took him away.”
“Crap, I’m sorry Anne. I’m not ready to share with Lovato.”
“I know. Daniel’s told me. That’s not why I called.”
Her voice had an ominous tone and I didn’t like the sound of it.
“Why did you call then, Anne?”
“I was angry. Angry that my father had put Daniel in that position, where he could be baited because of me. Daniel is an honest policeman. He simply looks the other way to keep the peace in Cozumel. He doesn’t even take the money, he sends it…”
“I know where he sends it,” I said a bit more impatiently than I’d meant to. “Did you call your father?” I knew the answer but had to find out just how far this had escalated.
“Yes, I was very angry. I told him the man I loved was in jail because of his dirty business, and he shouldn’t be, because he is an honest man.” I heard her take a deep breath. “It isn’t easy to surprise father, but he didn’t know I knew what he did. He was even more shocked when he found out it was Daniel I loved. Strangely, he seemed more angry about the age difference than me finding out what he did for a living, or Daniel’s being in jail.”
“Fathers are like that,” I said quietly. “What happened next?”
“I heard mother come into the room, and father talking to her. I heard father asking what she knew about all of this. That’s when my mother came on the line and asked me to explain what had happened. When I did, she said they both would be here as soon as they could.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. I was so relieved in fact that I involuntarily laughed.
“What?”
“I’m sorry, but if your mom is also coming, this is going to be a family deal. You don’t have to worry about Daniel. At least not in a mortal sense.”
Again, it felt strange using Sanchez’s first name. I said, “Call Florencia and she can use Fernandez’s clout to spring Daniel quickly. You should be able to get him released before your parents arrive. The charge is
serious, but considering the provocation, which you witnessed, Lovato has to know it’ll be a mess if he tries to make it stick. I doubt he’s even pissed off about the fight. He’s just a cop trying to figure out what’s going on and he doesn’t like it that I know more about it than he does right now. The two of you join Harry on the boat the second he’s sprung. You can leave word for your parents at the hotel so they’ll know where you’re at.”
“I already phoned Florencia, and I’m on my way down to the jail now.”
I didn’t like this next part, because old Fernando wouldn’t be happy with my meddling. But it was the easiest way now that Marquez would be vulnerable because of the circumstance, and because of who was asking him.
“I know there’ll be a lot of personal stuff going on, Anne,” I said in a different tone, “and I hate to use you for this, but I need some information only your father might have.”
“You mean Eugene Boon?” Sanchez really was serious about Anne to have shared that her father knew about Boon.
“Yes, I need to know the exact location of Eugene Boon. My bet is that your father knows.”
“I’ll do what I can. I have to hang up now. I’m out of the car and headed in to get Daniel now.”
“Okay. Only call if there’s a problem, or when you know about Eugene. That way I won’t worry about you.”
Caroline was saying something to me and I put my hand over the phone for a second to listen. I smiled.
“Caroline says to tell your dad hello for her. They sort of hit it off when Sonny and I went out to the Keys a while back.”
“I’ll tell him.” She laughed, a little less harried than when she’d called. “If you don’t hear from me it means everything went okay with Daniel’s release and the charges. And thank you, Seth. You’re a rock. Bye.” She hung up.
Sonny and Katarina had wandered in because of the conversation I was having with Anne. I explained what had happened. Sonny whistled. He said, “I’d like to be a fly on the wall when old Marquez confronts Sanchez about his daughter.”
“Maybe it won’t be as bad as all that, with Anna there. I get the feeling she has the final say where her children are concerned. And I have a feeling Sanchez actually loves Anne.”
Sonny said, “Then maybe it’s Lovato who should be leery of Marquez, after that shot at his daughter, man.”
I winced. “Lovato’s no slouch. I have a feeling he’s so torqued right now he’s willing to shake the trees just to see what falls out.”
“As long as the pineapple doesn’t fall on your head, man.”
Katarina laughed. “Pineapples don’t grow on trees, snookums, they grow from plants on the ground.”
“I thought they were like coconuts?”
Katrina shook her head, smiling and taking Sonny by the hand as she led him back toward their half of the suite.
The last thing I heard as they closed the adjoining door was Sonny asking, “Are you sure?”
Caroline whispered conspiratorially, “Snookums?”
I walked over and put my arms around her, no doubt irresistible in my pink shirt. I said, “Don’t laugh, my sweet patootie.”
“Oh, well that’s different.” We both laughed and I kissed her before once again heading out into the Paris night.
Thirty-Seven
I guess if I wanted to sound more literate I could say Fitzgerald’s Tender is the Night was the reason I knew so much about the Place de la Concorde, but in truth Star Trek was the reason. Sonny liked reading the Star Trek novels, and the fictional President of the Federation has offices there. For a while, every time we were sitting around relaxing, Sonny would tell me what was going on in the world of Klingons and Romulans. Whether I was interested or not.
Sonny had been feverishly going through the novels when he brought aboard his boat a spectacular-hipped and exquisitely endowed college freshman named Mandy who had serious Daddy issues. Sonny applied the same dedication and enthusiasm that was taking him through the Star Trek world to helping Mandy work through them. The therapy, as far as I could tell, involved her lying around Sonny’s boat in a meager little bikini and taking it off whenever he told her to, which she seemed more than eager to do. So eager, in fact, that whenever Sonny left her alone for five minutes to take care of more pressing business, she began seeking additional therapy from a few other skippers at the marina — and one tall, blonde skippette named Lacy who discovered to her Sappho pleasure that little Miss Miami U also had Mommy issues.
Sonny had to get rid of her once he found out, of course, but by then he’d already begun to grow weary of her. She was one of those save-the-trees, stop-global-warming, Che-is-cool-and-so-is-Obama kind of nitwits liberal universities churn out like chocolate kisses at a Hershey plant nowadays. Unfortunately, she was proud of her progressive and terribly enlightened views and wasn’t shy about sharing them with Sonny — or anyone else who’d listen. Once Sonny started doing her just to get her to shut up for a while it had taken the fun out of it for him. But that came later.
One evening for some reason I can’t recall — in Sonny’s case I could attribute it to too many beers, but I’d been drinking Coke — we used her laptop covered in Greenpeace and Kate Perry stickers to research the largest public square in Paris, which actually isn’t square-shaped at all.
The octagon shaped area on the eastern end of the Champs-Élysées designed by Ange-Jacques Gabriel in the mid-eighteenth century saw King Louis XVI’s head lopped off during the French Revolution in 1793. The famous heads of Marie Antoinette and Madame du Barry — among others — also rolled along this ground after being severed by the guillotine. The French liked to make their displeasure showy and permanent, apparently.
Today the square is known for its two gorgeous fountains designed on a theme of rivers and seas by Jacques Ignace Hittorf, who was influenced by the fountains of Rome; the statues at each angle of the octagon representing eight great French cities; and its obelisk decorated in hieroglyphics heralding Ramesses II, given to the French by the Egyptian government in the nineteenth century. Something of historical import or beauty borders the octagon on every side, including the River Seine, and the Tuileries Gardens.
I was surprised by the number of people out and about at this late hour, but perhaps I shouldn’t have been. Amélie had, after all, told me what she’d be wearing, which she wouldn’t have needed to do if she wasn’t certain other people would be milling about.
We spotted each other around the same moment, her of the alluring backless emerald dress and I of the effeminate salmon colored shirt. Her hair was down as she’d indicated and she was lovely. She could not have been more than a couple of years the other side of thirty at the most, and more like twenty-eight or twenty-nine. She must have been quite young while waiting tables at the cafe.
The closer I got, the prettier she became. She definitely wasn’t one of Raymond Chandler’s women, made up to be seen from thirty feet away. She reminded me of those French actresses of old, the elegant ones with big fawn-like eyes and open faces which gave them an innocence in constant conflict with gracefully contoured bodies. Her eyelids came a quarter way down over big blue pools of French sensuality, and beneath them were a pair of soft, lush lips that would never need botox. Soft round breasts partially visible because of the deep V neckline were ample enough that she’d never need silicone, but not so big that it distracted from her beauty as a whole. Her back was bare, the emerald dress beginning again just above her rear as it swept outward in an achingly beautiful feminine arch.
She was smiling as I reached her. She’d been standing by one of the majestic fountains and the water sounded like background music to her soft voice when she spoke.
“Hello. I got free a few minutes early. There is a bench just up the square, would you like to sit?” She might have just asked me if I’d like her to slip into something more comfortable. Everything she said sounded like pillow talk. “Sure,” I replied.
To augment the sexy dress, she was wearing a p
air of emerald earrings and a matching necklace. I had the feeling they weren’t paste, and she wasn’t either. But I also felt a coolness about her that went beyond her being French. She was as feminine as feminine got, yet somehow, I felt her pushing me away emotionally, even though we’d barely spoken. I could not explain it. Perhaps if you were a madam, every male was a potential john.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it? I like coming here. I often come here at night when I’m lonely.”
“Do you come a lot?”
She eyed me carefully, to see if the question was a prelude to a pass. She decided it wasn’t.
“More often than I would like. I would prefer to be in my lover’s arms beneath the covers.”
“I’m sure he would prefer it also.” I smiled as she looked at me again, searching.
“Yes, she would.”
“Oh, well, none of my business.”
“No, your business has been all over the news. Tell me, how can I help Laura Garner? She seems like a very nice person.”
“She is. When was the last time you remember seeing Holly Carmichael?”
She frowned, and it made her look cute. “I think a week or so before she killed herself. She sometimes came over for a cup of coffee after one of her sessions.”
“You mean singing at the club?”
She nodded. “I know it’s a terrible habit, but do you mind if I smoke?”
“Not at all.” I watched her light her long cigarette and take an elegant drag off it. Even when she blew out the smoke, it seemed to leave her mouth in a delicate wisp.
“What did you think of her?”
“Holly? I thought she was beautiful, pretty in a way that today’s women are not. She was nice, but there was sadness behind those eyes, as if she were living on borrowed time somehow. If it hadn’t been for that, and the fact that I had developed a crush on her equally beautiful friend, Susan…” She let it trail off.
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