La Fleur Rouge The Red Flower

by Ruthe Ogilvie

  Hildy looked at Jenny in stunned silence, waiting for her to say something, but she seemed unable to speak. “Jenny? Was it Ken?”

  Jenny nodded. “He hung up when I answered,” she whispered.

  Hildy tried to reassure her. “How do you know it was Ken if he didn’t say anything? Maybe it was a wrong number.”

  “No,” Jenny said with a wry laugh, “it was Ken all right. He always does this. He calls to see if I’m here, says nothing, then comes over and sits outside for hours just trying to scare me. He’s on his way now! I know it!”

  Hildy felt a little ashamed. “Here I’ve been bothering you with my problems. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You have enough on your mind.”

  “What’s this all about? Why is he harassing you?”

  “He’s trying to frighten me into signing this house - my house - over to him.”

  Hildy was shocked. “Wasn’t it yours as a settlement in the divorce? How can he take it away from you?”

  “It was always mine, Hildy! It was mine before Ken and I were married. My parents left me the house and a good sized estate in a trust. But Ken wants the house so he can sell it and get the money. And a big settlement from the estate. He’s trying to bully me into giving it to him so he can support his cocaine habit. He has papers all ready for me to sign. But once the house is his, I know he’ll kill me just to get rid of me - just to make sure I don’t fight him in court and try to get it back.” Jenny couldn’t stop shaking. “Hildy, I’m afraid for my life! I’ve had the locks changed and a security system installed, but he won’t give up. I’ve got to get out of here! I can’t become a prisoner in my own home!”

  “What about the police? Have you reported it to them? Surely they can do something to protect you!”

  “Oh, sure!” Jenny snorted in disgust. “They said they can’t do anything unless he actually attacks me. What good is that?”

  After a moment’s hesitation Hildy turned and headed for Jenny’s bedroom, stopping only to phone for a cab.

  “That settles it,” she told Jenny. “Forget lunch. You’re going to Paris with me!” She grabbed Jenny’s suitcase from her closet, deposited it on her bed, and started packing her things.

  Jenny watched, too surprised at first to speak. “Hildy,” she protested, “I can’t just pick up and go at a moment’s notice. What about my mail? They won’t hold it unless I go to the Post Office and fill out a form. There isn’t time. And the newspapers? And I’ll have to tell the pool man!” She threw her hands up in despair. “It’s not possible!”

  Hildy whirled around and faced her. “You said you had to get out of here. Where were you thinking of going? What better place than to Paris with me?”

  Jenny opened her mouth to say something further, but her protests made no impression on Hildy, who continued to pile Jenny’s clothes into her suitcase.

  “How long will it take Ken to get here?” she asked Jenny.

  “About half an hour if he called from his apartment. If he called from some place closer - “ Jenny’s voice shook - “I don’t know.”

  Hildy looked at her watch. Then she calmly took charge. “The man at the cab company said he’d be here in twenty minutes. The plane leaves at four-thirty. Jenny, call your next door neighbor and ask her to cancel your newspaper, tell the mail person you’ve been called away on an emergency, and ask her to notify the pool man. I’m sure she’ll be only too glad to do it for you. Do you have a passport?”

  “It’s in the safe,” Jenny said. In a daze she walked over to the closet where the safe was hidden in the wall. In seconds she had the passport in her hand. She picked up the phone and called her neighbor, who readily agreed to take care of things while she was gone.

  It seemed like an eternity, but the taxi arrived on time. Jenny set the security system, and she and Hildy ran out to the curb. The driver had just finished loading their luggage into the trunk when Ken drove around the corner, tires screeching. Hildy and Jenny jumped into the cab, with Ken in hot pursuit. Jenny started to shake again.

  “Driver, do you think you can lose that car?” Hildy asked. “There’s an extra tip in it if you can.”

  “Sure thing!” He checked the rear view mirror till he spotted the car, then stepped on the gas.

  The rain had stopped, and they weaved in and out of traffic and down a side street where some men were working. They just made it through the intersection before a road block and detour sign were set up, leaving Ken behind, swearing and cursing. The cab driver grinned and gave them a victory sign.

  Peter had told Hildy to be at the airport at least two hours before the plane was scheduled to leave. In spite of the heavy traffic they arrived in plenty of time. Peter had made a reservation for Hildy to fly First Class so she would be rested, ready to start work on the movie the day after she arrived. Her ticket was waiting at the counter, as promised. There was an empty seat next to her which Jenny promptly bought with her credit card.

  They made their way to the First Class Lounge, where Danish pastries and coffee were set up on a table. In all the excitement they hadn’t had time to eat, and they welcomed this unexpected snack. After choosing the pastries they wanted, they walked over to one of the sofas.

  Jenny kept looking nervously over her shoulder.

  Hildy tried to reassure her. “Ken can’t possibly have known we were going to the airport. Besides, he can’t get in here unless he has a First Class reservation on a plane. We’re safe.”

  Jenny looked dubious. “What if he asked my neighbor where I was going?”

  “If I remember correctly,” Hildy reminded her, “you told her you’d be away for a while, but you never mentioned where. Stop worrying.” She realized she must have sounded rather abrupt, and she softened her tone. “Believe me, I know how you feel. I keep thinking I see Greg everywhere I go. But we’ve come this far. We’ll make it okay.”

  They lingered over their coffee and Danish. They had just finished when the announcement came over the loud speaker. The First Class section of Flight #867, bound for Paris, had started boarding. They gathered their belongings together and walked to the ramp and into the plane.

  As soon as they were settled in their seats, the flight attendant approached them. “What can I get for you?” she asked.

  “White wine for both of us, please,” Hildy replied. “We could use it right now.”

  Jenny sighed as she sank down into the plush, wide seat and turned to Hildy. “I can’t thank you enough for getting me out of this mess. At least for now. How can I ever repay you?”

  Hildy was surprised. “You’ve already paid me by having me stay with you in your lovely home. Besides,” she laughed, “I’m being a little selfish. I dreaded the thought of going alone. I’m sorry it had to come about this way, but I’m sure glad you’re here.”

  As Flight #867 taxied away from the gate and lifted gracefully off the runway, they sipped their wine and breathed a sigh of relief.

  Jenny was no longer a prisoner in her own home.

  Hildy had escaped from Greg and his threats.

  And so they were on their way to Paris.

  CHAPTER VIII

  Greg sat in a remote corner of the waiting room and watched the passengers as they arrived for their four-thirty flight to Paris. He saw no one who looked like Hilary, but this didn’t worry him. Dan had seen her name on the passenger list, and that was good enough for him.

  As the plane left the gate, Greg stood by the window of the terminal watching with the satisfaction of a job well done. For a fleeting moment he felt a pang of guilt. She’s only twenty-five. He shook it off. No time for sentiment. It’s her fault for interfering. Your whole life and career are on the line here. That’s the important thing. There’s no other way to handle this, so forget it.

  As soon as the plane took off for Paris,
he headed toward the exit door of the building. His plane was due to leave from the domestic terminal on the other side of the airport.

  Suddenly he stopped in his tracks. He thought he saw Roger Fielding. His red hair stood out in the crowd. What in the world would he be doing here? He couldn’t possibly have seen you leave your town house in Boston!

  Nevertheless, he pulled his collar up more tightly around his face and continued through the maze of corridors and out through the door. He hailed a cab and looked around to see if the man was following him. He didn’t see him. Just your imagination, he assured himself. But when the driver arrived at the domestic terminal and pulled up to the curb, Greg saw the same man getting out of another cab. He grabbed his suitcase and sped into the building as fast as his legs would carry him.

  He approached the counter and checked his luggage with the ticket agent. As he watched it disappear on the conveyor belt, he thought he spied him again. By this time he was almost positive that whoever the man was, he was following him! What now? I have to shake him! He zigzagged his way through the crowd until he lost him.

  I need a good stiff drink! he muttered, and headed for the First Class Lounge. He ordered a Scotch on the rocks - his favorite drink. No further sign of the man. Probably a fan who recognized me, he decided. He looked at his watch. It was getting close to boarding time. One more Scotch! I need it to relax after what I’ve just been through! When he heard the announcement for the First Class passengers to start boarding the plane, he downed his drink and left the Lounge. But as he walked toward the gate, he saw Roger. It really was Roger!

  Greg ducked out of sight and headed in the opposite direction. I have to hide, he thought in a panic. But where? He quickly returned to the Lounge and ordered another Scotch. The clock on the wall said he had only five minutes to departure time! He felt trapped. He had to catch this plane! Jay would be waiting up for him.

  He gulped his drink and walked stealthily toward the exit. Roger was nowhere in sight. He made a mad dash for his plane. Once I’m on board I’ll be safe, he mumbled. He arrived just as they were closing the doors. With a huge sigh, he entered the First Class section and sat down in his seat. His hands trembled as he fastened his seat belt. They were soon airborne.

  Phew! That was close!

  Dinner was served as soon as they were safely in the air and the seat belt sign was turned off. The flight was uneventful, and he spent the rest of the time watching the movie and thinking about Roger and Hilary. He looked at his watch. Only a few more hours and I’ll be rid of her. As far as Roger is concerned - well - I’ll take care of him when the time comes. And the others? He smiled. They probably won’t have the nerve to fight back. I don’t have to think about that now. He tilted his seat back and relaxed.

  The announcement from the Captain that they would be landing in about twenty minutes woke him up. He looked out the window of the plane. New York looked like a fantasy land with the lights twinkling in the skyscrapers. The cars below on the parkways looked like the toys he used to play with when he was a boy. He thought bitterly of the expensive toy he had so desperately wanted when he was only five.

  His New England parents, although they were quite well-to-do, were most conservative when it came to spending money. One bought only what one absolutely needed, was their philosophy. His toys were the cheapest they could find. Greg couldn’t stand being so limited. It gave him a feeling of worthlessness.

  When he grew up, he decided to do anything to be rich and famous, so he could have anything he wanted the moment he wanted it. He had no patience. Whenever he wanted something, he wanted it right now! No waiting for him! Nothing and no one is going to stand in my way! he vowed. I’ll crush anyone who tries!

  He had plenty of money now, with so many hits on Broadway and all over the world. As soon as he could afford it he bought the most expensive car he could find - a Rolls Royce. He also moved out of his folks stuffy, Bostonian home on Beacon Hill into a posh town house overlooking the Charles River, and he was toying with the idea of buying a condominium in New York on the East River. Perhaps in the same building as Jay. He could keep an eye on whoever came to see him, and head off the people he had stolen from in case they accused him. Not that Jay would believe such accusations, he thought smugly. But it’s wise to stay two steps ahead. New York is my town, he exulted, as the plane banked for the landing at Kennedy Airport. He smiled as he thought of his plan to fix Hilary. Too bad I had to do that to her, but what else could I do? I can’t have her ruining my life. I’ve taken care of her for good! A huge obstacle out of the way!

  After picking up his luggage on the carousel, he went outside and hailed a cab that would take him to Jay Stuart’s condo on the East River, not too far from the United Nations Building.

  How he loved the hustle and noise of the city, the honking horns, the neon lights flashing on the billboards, the night clubs, and the theaters! His chest heaved with pride as he saw “The Pepper Pot” on one of the marquees as they drove by. He now thought of it as his own creation. After all, hadn’t he had a great influence on Hilary’s work? She probably used some of my suggestions, he mused, excusing himself from any guilt, and conveniently forgetting that she wrote it under the name of “The Ginger Jar” six months before they met.

  Every time he thought of Roger Fielding, he dismissed it. The time hasn’t come yet. He was confident that when it did, he would find a quick and convenient way to get rid of him, too.

  The cab stopped under the porte-cochere of Jay Stuart’s condominium building. After paying the driver, Greg picked up his luggage and entered the lobby. The elevator was waiting and he pressed the button for the penthouse. It was one o’clock in the morning when Greg finally rang Jay’s doorbell.

  Jay was waiting up for him. “Good trip?” he asked.

  “Routine,” Greg replied. “Sorry to be so late. I had some things to take care of in Los Angeles. This was the earliest flight I could get.”

  “No problem,” Jay answered. “I’ve made reservations on the ten o’clock plane to Paris tonight.”

  Greg headed toward the kitchen. “Got anything to eat? I’m hungry.”

  Jay was apologetic. “I cleaned everything out of the frig. With the trip to Paris coming up, I didn’t want to leave anything to spoil while we were gone. I left just enough for breakfast and lunch.”

  “Why don’t we go to the coffee shop at the Waldorf?” Greg suggested. “They’re always open. We can sleep late. We don’t leave till tonight.”

  Greg loved mingling with the crowd. The casts from the musicals would be there, and he would be the center of attention. Jay gave him an indulgent smile. “Good idea,” he agreed. “I’ve been cooped up here all day making preparations for our trip, and I could use a snack. I’ve got everything in order.” He reached for his jacket. “Let’s go.”

  It was two-thirty in the morning when they returned to Jay’s condo. “Is there anything else you need before we turn in?” he asked Greg.

  Greg yawned. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “In that case,” Jay suggested, “I think we’d better turn in and get some rest. We have a long trip ahead of us and lots of work to do before we leave.”

  CHAPTER IX

  As soon as their plane took off for Paris, Hildy and Jenny settled back in their seats, thoroughly enjoying the flight. They sipped their white wine and savored the delicious dinner that the flight attendant brought them shortly after they were airborne.

  It was raining when they took off, but the plane soon climbed above the clouds into a clear sky. The moon was full, and the stars, just beginning to appear, looked like tiny, sparkling diamonds twinkling their way through the floor of heaven.

  Jenny turned to her dear friend and life saver. “Hildy, do you have any idea how glad I am that I’m going to Paris with you? Thank God we escaped from Ken! I don’t know what would have happened if I�
�d stayed home,” she said, shivering at the very thought.

  Hildy patted her hand. “We’re a couple of beauts!” she said. “Both having trouble with men! I wonder if we’ll ever meet one we can trust.”

  “Makes you kind of man shy, doesn’t it?” Jenny agreed.

  “Sure does!” Hildy reached up and took a blanket from the bin above them. “Want one?” she asked Jenny.

  Jenny nodded. “It is getting a little chilly,” she agreed, as she reached out for the blanket Hildy handed her. “Thanks. How about a pillow?” Hildy asked.

  Jenny nodded again.

  The flight attendant approached them, smiling. “Ready to turn in for the night? These seats make into beds, so you’ll get a good night’s sleep before we reach Paris. We’ll be at Orly Airport about eleven-forty-five in the morning. I’ve just been informed that there’s a strong tail wind that will blow us into Paris early," she said, laughing. "Better set your watches nine hours ahead to agree with Paris time."

  It didn't take the attendant long to convert their seats into very comfortable beds. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" she asked.

  Hildy smiled her thanks. "No, we're all set."

  "I'll wake you at seven o'clock and bring your breakfast," the attendant told them, and left.

  Hildy and Jenny snuggled down under the blankets and soon were sleeping soundly, little dreaming of the danger that lay in the overhead luggage bin directly behind them.

  It was eleven-thirty AM, Paris time, when they arrived at Orly Airport. The weather was balmy and sunny. As they made their way down the escalator toward the luggage carousel, happy to be in Paris, there was a sudden, loud explosion! Smoke surrounded them! The force of it shook the whole building. They tightened their hold on the side rail to keep from being thrown down.