Jenny looked skeptical.
“Jenny, it’s the only way I’ll know. What if Greg should follow me here?”
“Do you really think he would?”
“Jenny, when he finds out the bomb didn’t work, he’ll keep on trying till I’m dead!”
“But - but - “ Jenny stuttered, “how shall I introduce you to Peter? I mean, what name shall I use?”
“Here’s the plan,” Hildy said. “Go back to your room. I’ll knock on your door and pretend I’m an old friend who heard you were in town. Tell him I’m - uh - Renee. That’s a real French name, and sounds very authentic. Lots of models use just one name. Tell him you knew me in college and I’m a fashion model now. Peter has never seen what I look like without my disguise, and I have to know. It’s the only way I’ll feel safe.”
Jenny looked dubious. “I’m not sure I can carry this off.” “Please, Jenny,” Hildy pleaded.
“Okay,” she relented. “I’ll do my best.”
“Tell Peter I have a headache and I’ve gone to bed,” Hildy told her.
“Then what?”
“In a few minutes I’ll knock on your door. You answer. I’ll handle the rest. Just play along with me.”
Jenny nodded. “Okay,” she agreed, and left to go to her room.
Hildy donned a plain colored blouse that blended with one of the colors in her flowered skirt. A very Parisian look. To this she added high-heeled sandals. She looked like a model in a chic fashion boutique.
Next, she removed her wig and brushed through her long, wavy hair. Her flaxen locks fell gracefully over her shoulders and framed her angelic face. Her soft, brown eyes looked back at her from the mirror. Funny, she thought. My eyes seemed a much darker brown with the brunette wig. She looked so different it startled even her. We’ll see what happens when Peter sees me, she muttered under her breath.
She waited five minutes, threw her sparkling, sequined sweater over her shoulders in a casual manner, and went to Jenny’s room. She knocked on the door and Jenny answered.
“Bon Jour, Jennee!” she exclaimed in her best French accent. “I ‘eard you were ‘een town.”
She swept into the room with the same dramatic flourish a fashion model would use on a runway.
“Renee!” Jenny exclaimed. “What a surprise! Peter,” she said, doing her best to keep up the pretense, “I want you to meet an old college chum of mine. She’s a model.” She turned to Hildy. “Renee, this is Peter Graff.”
Peter showed no sign of recognition as he extended his hand. “Welcome, Renee! It’s nice to meet you. I take it you’re a native of France?”
Hildy grinned. “Mais oui, Peter! I ‘ave live’ ‘ere all my life except for college with mon amie!”
“We were just about to have some champagne. Would you like some?” Peter asked her.
With a mischievous gleam in her eye, Hildy tilted her head to one side in a coquettish manner and winked. “Am I Francais?” she asked him.
“Of course!” Peter grinned. “Be right back.”
He went over to the private bar, and was back in a few seconds holding three flutes filled with champagne.
Hildy and Jenny burst out laughing.
Peter looked puzzled. “What are you two giggling about?” Hildy winked and dropped the French accent. “Peter, don’t you know me?”
Peter was completely baffled. “What?” He took a closer look, and it slowly dawned on him. “Hildy?” He was so surprised he almost dropped the flutes of champagne. “Oh, it can’t be! Is it really you? Oh! You could fool anyone with that disguise! Only this isn’t a disguise, is it? This is the real you!”
Hildy laughed with relief. “Peter, you don’t know how much safer I feel. I’m sorry I had to drag Jenny into this, but I had to find out if I could fool Greg in case he should decide to follow me to France.”
Peter marveled at her ingenuity. “I forgive you both!” he said. “I’m glad you did this. It eases my mind, too.” He shook his head. “I’ll be! You look so different.”
“You’re sure you’re not mad?” Hildy asked him.
“Not at all!” he assured her. “I really was fooled!”
“I’m scared stiff Greg might follow me here,” she said. “Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I had to make sure he wouldn’t know me.”
Peter handed them each a glass of champagne and held up his own. “Here’s to a great disguise,” he toasted.
Hildy put down her glass. “Peter - Jenny - “ she said, “from now on I’m going to speak with a French accent. I’m going to add this to my disguise.”
“Great idea!” Peter agreed.
CHAPTER XIII
As soon as Hildy, Jenny, and Peter left the dining room, the man who had been staring at Hildy waited until he saw them enter the elevator. He quickly signed his check and went into the lobby to place a call to Boston.
“It’s Dan,” he spoke to Greg’s answering machine. “I can be reached at La Grande Veue Hotel on the Seine. I’m here in Room 2432.” He gave him the phone number and headed for the elevator. He arrived on the twenty-fourth floor while Hildy was still with Jenny and Peter. He headed toward his room, but as he passed by Jenny’s door he heard voices and laughter. With his sharp ears he couldn’t help hearing some of the conversation, and realized that Hildy was one of the people inside. He sped around the corner and waited.
It wasn’t long before she emerged from the room. Peter was with her. Although she looked different with her blond hair, he knew it was Hildy. It was the same voice he had heard when he eavesdropped on their conversation in the restaurant.
“See you in the morning,” he heard Peter say. “Get a good night’s sleep, Hildy. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”
“Good night, Peter. See you at eight for breakfast.”
They disappeared into their rooms. After making sure no one was aware of his presence, Daniel Zachary Davis went inside his room to retire for the night and do some thinking.
After a few moments he placed a call to the detective agency in Paris that had just placed an ad in the paper. “Film director needs bodyguard” - etc., it read, and he knew it was Peter Graff. I’ll answer the ad, and see what’s going on before I tell Mr. Wilcox that I’ve found her.
He couldn’t help wondering what Greg intended to do when he caught up with Hildy. He didn’t want to give him any clues on how to track her down, fearing he might be planning to harm her. Strange vibes were giving him strong misgivings about the whole setup.
* * *
Hildy slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning. What’s the matter with me? You know it’s next to impossible for Greg to find you here. She managed to get a couple of hours sleep before the wake-up call came from downstairs. She showered and dressed, and donned her wig and glasses.
Peter met Hildy and Jenny in the lobby, and they went to the sidewalk cafe where they had eaten the day before. After they sat down at their table, Peter spoke to Hildy.
“I hired your bodyguard. They tell me he’s very good.”
Jenny threw him an admiring glance. “You’re really a man of your word, aren’t you?”
“Of course. I meant what I said.” He turned to a stranger at the next table. “Zack Davis,” he said, “meet Hildy Swenson, the one I hired you to protect.”
As the man turned around and faced them Hildy stiffened. It was the same man who had been staring at her the night before. She quickly recovered and extended her hand.
Daniel Zachary Davis, whose clients called him Dan, was now using the nickname of Zack.
Peter went on with the introductions. “And this is Jenny
Gordon, a friend of Hildy’s.”
Jenny smiled and shook his hand. “We’re sure glad to have you on the job, Zack.”
Hildy looked at Zack, puzzled
. She had expected to feel a sense of security with a bodyguard there to protect her. So why didn’t she? She shook off her fears and turned to Peter. “What time are we due on the set?” she asked, speaking in her French accent.
“I think if we get there by nine we’ll be in pretty good shape,” he replied.
They scanned the menu and ordered their breakfast. But Hildy, try as she would, couldn’t shake her reservations about Zack. She was puzzled. He’s been put here for my protection. Peter was nice enough to hire my own personal bodyguard, and I’m not going to let these doubts take over. But she couldn’t help feeling unnerved by the way he kept staring at her, studying her, sizing her up.
The limousine was waiting to take them to the studio as soon as they got back to the hotel. Jenny and Peter sat beside each other. Zack sat next to Hildy.
* * *
Zack continued to feel reluctant to report Hildy’s whereabouts to Greg. In spite of the fact that Greg said she stole some of his ideas, she seemed so nice. He couldn’t believe she would steal anything. Zack was an excellent judge of character, and had learned over the years to trust what his instincts were telling him. He had no way of passing judgment on Greg, having had only phone contact with him.
I won’t call his answering machine in Boston again, he decided. I’ll wait till he contacts me. He knows where to reach me. Peter had also hired him to do a job - that of protecting Hildy - and he was beginning to feel like a double agent.
On the set he kept a close eye on her. He was impressed with her competence. Why would she need to steal from Greg or anyone else if she’s so talented? Something doesn’t wash. She can’t be doing the things Greg is accusing her of. She’s too nice, and I’m never wrong about people. That’s why I’m such a good detective.
* * *
When they returned to the hotel that night, Hildy found much of her fear fading. She was beginning to like and trust Zack. He certainly had been attentive to her, not leaving her side, checking out the ladies room before she went in, and waiting outside until she reappeared. They ate dinner together that night, the four of them, and before the evening was over they were laughing and talking like old friends.
CHAPTER XIV
After a week of filming the whole crew was ready to go on location. Hildy was thrilled that scenes of the actual countryside would be used, rather than mere backdrops that shrieked of plastic scenery and phony foliage.
They were scheduled to sail down the Burgundy Canal on one of the tourist barges that had all the amenities of a floating mini-hotel. On the way they would be passing through a golden region that explored the many treasures of Dijon, Beaune, and the Chablis wine area. These barges made frequent stops along the way, allowing passengers to get off and ride bicycles furnished by the tour company.
Hildy couldn’t wait. She remembered with fondness the nights she had sat on her father’s knee when she was a child and listened to him tell about this beautiful part of France, where the air was fresh and filled with the fragrance of blossoms, and the grapes on the vines were ready to be picked and made into wine. She was looking forward to a break in between takes so she could explore more of the countryside. To her, this would be a highlight of the trip.
* * *
When Greg called Zack the night before they were to start cruising on the canals, Zack told him he couldn’t find Hildy in Paris, and he was going to the wine country to look for her.
“I’ll keep in touch,” he promised.
But Greg kept prodding him for more information. “What town?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Zack replied. He told him nothing more. He needed to do a lot more thinking before divulging any more information.
But Greg refused to let it go. “Well, find out!” he ordered impatiently. “I’m leaving for Nuits tomorrow, and I’m tired of waiting. I’ve got to find her right away!”
Zack had all he could do to keep from telling him off. With a great effort, he managed to keep his cool - at least outwardly. “I’ll find out what I can and call you,” he said. “Where will you be staying?”
Greg gave him the name of the inn in Nuits. Zack had just jotted it down when they were cut off. He left his room in a hurry before Greg could call back.
* * *
In the parking lot of La Grande Veue Hotel the bus was waiting to take Hildy, Jenny, Peter, Zack, the actors, and the whole movie crew with its equipment to the train that would take them from Paris to Burgundy. Peter had chartered a barge exclusively for them.
By now Peter and Jenny had become inseparable, and it was a foregone conclusion that Jenny would go along wherever he went.
Hildy couldn’t have been happier for them. Jenny’s ex-husband seemed like a character in the dim past. So did Greg, for that matter. Hildy hardly ever thought of him now. She knew her day in court would come, and the whole world would know that she was the true author and composer of the “The Pepper Pot,” nee “The Ginger Jar.” For the time being all her thoughts were exclusively with her new musical, “La Fleur Rouge,” and its filming here in France. Zack had turned out to be an excellent bodyguard, and he and Hildy got along famously. The days that stretched ahead seemed safe and secure.
The train moved at a moderate pace following the Yvonne River and Burgundy Canal on its way to their chartered barge. The scenery was indescribably beautiful. The smooth waters looked like a clear, glass sea.
Hildy watched as the endless array of foliage unfolded before her. The blue sky, the golden sun, the autumn leaves with their deep magenta, red, yellow and purple hues all passed before her - a myriad of vibrant colors reflected in the water. She was completely enthralled as her eyes drank in all its beauty.
She felt very close to her parents, whom she lost five years ago. It seemed that they were right there with her. If it hadn’t been for her mother’s tireless efforts to teach her how to properly channel her talents, she wouldn’t have written “La Fleur Rouge,” which was now being filmed here in her father’s beloved France. Somehow everything had come together through her parents, and she sensed their presence, as though they were seeing it all now through her eyes.
The train finally arrived in Burgundy where they stopped for lunch before boarding the bus that was waiting to take them to their barge, La Litote.
Their first glimpse of it was a pleasant surprise. The word “barge” had given them an entirely different picture from what they saw. Resembling a giant rowboat, the ornate decorations on the front bore designs that seemed to belong to the barges of ancient Egypt in the days of Caesar and Cleopatra. With picture windows in each stateroom, and wide, flattop roofs, the returning boats were traveling at a snail’s pace in orderly fashion along the picturesque canal. Happy, relaxed passengers stood on the small decks watching the crews guide the crafts into their respective docks.
The quietude of the countryside was contagious and matched the calm and peaceful mood of the party now boarding La Litote. An aura of gaiety filled the air. The voices and laughter from the people on the returning crafts seemed muted compared to the blatant noise of the busy traffic they left behind in Paris.
During the two hours it took for the film crew to load all the equipment on to La Litote, Hildy and Jenny descended the few steps to check out their cabins below and to unpack.
When they returned to the upper deck, the champagne reception welcoming them on board was already in progress. Tables graced the deck, with glasses set up in pyramid fashion to receive the wine as it fountained its way from top to bottom. The kiss of natural carbonation gurgled excitedly into the fluted goblets.
Peter was already there, holding glasses filled to the brim with the best French champagne that the wine country had to offer. He handed a glass to each of them as soon as they appeared on deck.
“A toast!” he exclaimed. He slipped an arm around Jenny’s waist and smiled at Hildy. “Her
e’s to the success of ‘La Fleur Rouge.’”
Hildy held up her glass. “I’ll drink to that!”
They sipped the champagne and watched as the crew untied the ropes in preparation for leaving the dock.
“Ready for the big adventure?” Peter asked Hildy.
“You bet!” she grinned. She looked at the scenery and held out her arms as if to embrace everything she saw. “This is the France my father told me about. He always wanted to take my mother down the canals, but never got the chance. They were killed in a car crash a week before they were scheduled to leave for their trip.” Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of it. She quickly shook it off, threw back her shoulders, and blinked back the tears. “Enough of that,” she said. “I’m here, and I intend to enjoy every minute.”
“Atta girl!” Peter said. “We have a lot to look forward to.”
“Thanks to you,” Hildy agreed.
“Well, thanks to you, too,” Peter said. “If you hadn’t written this beautiful musical, none of us would be here, would we? And I wouldn’t have met Jenny.”
Jenny gazed at Peter with stars in her eyes. “I’m so glad I came to Paris.”
As Hildy watched them, quite suddenly she felt a void in her life that surprised her. Jay Stuart’s face flashed across her mind. What has he got to do with this? She was amazed and angry. Why would you even entertain a wish to have anything to do with him? she chided herself. She consoled herself knowing she would soon be able to prove he was wrong. As soon as this picture is finished, she promised herself, I’ll sue Greg. And with Peter’s help I’ll win. How grateful she was that Peter believed her.
Dinner that night was spread out buffet fashion. By the time they finished, the moon and stars were out, giving a magical glow to the waters as the barge slipped down the canal. They all, including the camera crew, sat on deck drinking in this magnificent scenery. They finally retired to their cabins, ready for an early morning rise.
La Fleur Rouge The Red Flower Page 8
