Jay turned around as Zack entered the balcony. “Zack! Where have you been?”
Zack’s face fell as he realized he was too late. At first he couldn’t speak. I’ve failed them, he thought. The plane was just disappearing over the horizon as Zack walked to the railing of the balcony. Why couldn’t I have found my way out of that room sooner? he lamented. I could have saved Cammie. Now what?
Jay left the balcony, and motioned to Zack to follow him. Hildy, Jenny, and Peter were close behind, leaving Fran and Lilli on the balcony, waving to the crowd.
Jay ushered Zack into a private room and shut the door. Zack’s face had drained of color.
“Zack—” Jay’s voice sounded like an echo to him—“what is it? You found something! Tell me!”
By this time Hildy was knocking on the door.
Jay opened it, no longer able to shield her from the truth.
Jenny and Peter followed Hildy into the room, shutting the door carefully behind them. Zack looked at them, trying to fight back the tears of disappointment and concern for Cammie. He walked over to the window and looked out at the landing pad, shaking his head in disbelief. The elation he had felt at his discovery dropped with a thud. He was too late. Cammie and Francois were gone, and no one knew where he was taking her.
Jay repeated his question. “Where were you, Zack?”
Zack’s voice sounded hollow, almost emotionless. He felt drained as he struggled for the right words. After a few moments he turned and faced them head-on, as he dropped a bombshell.
“Gregory Wilcox is Francois’ real father.”
Dead silence. A sense of shock hung in the air.
Hildy gulped. “How—how did you find out?” she asked.
Zack told them where he had been, and why he was unable to attend the wedding or the reception. “I finally found my way out of that room. Something caused that panel to close while I was in there.”
“That’s why Francois left the ballroom so suddenly!” Jay exclaimed. “He asked me to dance with Cammie until he got back. He must have gone to the library and locked you in to keep you from talking!”
Zack nodded. “That would explain it.” He threw his hands up in a gesture of despair, no longer trying to hide his fears. “God only knows what he’s planning, but I have a gut feeling he’s dedicated to some kind of vendetta against you, Hildy. I hate to say it, but I’m afraid he’s using Cammie to punish you—for what, I don’t know yet. But if you could see that room with Greg’s pictures plastered all over the walls—” His voice broke. “He’s built some kind of shrine to him! He’s obsessed!”
Hildy sat down, her legs no longer able to hold her up. “No wonder he looks so much like Greg,” she whispered.
“What are we going to do?” Jay asked. “I wish I knew where he took her.”
“Maybe Fran knows,” suggested Jenny.
Zack shook his head. “No. I asked him yesterday and he said Francois wanted to keep it a secret.”
“Maybe Francois told his mother,” Peter suggested.
Zack snorted in disgust. “Whatever Francois is planning, I’m sure his mother is at the bottom of it! I heard them discussing something under my window a couple of times back at the Chateau in Amboise.” He stared off into space for a moment, then turned back. “There’s something else you should know. I heard them mention Andre’s name. I don’t know if he’s the same Andre that we know, but I have good reason to believe he is.”
Jay looked dubious. “What makes you think that?”
“I didn’t tell you this before,” Zack explained, “because Andre swore me to secrecy. Perhaps I should have.” He proceeded to tell them about running into Andre again. “When I mentioned Francois’ name, he looked terrified. When I asked him about it, he hedged. He said he’d heard something about what Francois did to people that were a threat to him. He refused to say any more. I’m sure something about Andre’s past is connected to Lilli and Francois. He was afraid Francois might do something desperate to shut him up.”
Hildy sat in shocked silence, unable to move or speak.
“I wish I knew the connection,” Zack continued. “Andre said if I told anyone, his life would be in danger. But maybe if I had told you everything, Cammie would be here with us safe and sound, instead of with that creep, Francois.” He sat down and put his head in his hands. His shoulders shook as he tried to control himself. “Why couldn’t I have found out all this before Cammie married him? Now she’s gone and we don’t know where she is! God only knows what he’s planning to do with her.”
“Do you really think knowing Greg was Francois’ real father would have been enough to stop her from marrying him?” Hildy asked.
“I think it would have taken more than that to change her mind,” Jay agreed. “It still wouldn’t have proven that Francois was any kind of criminal.”
“Right now I don’t know what to think,” Zack lamented. AIt might not have made any difference, but how will we ever know?”
Hildy and Jay couldn’t hide their concern.
Jenny and Peter were as worried as they were.
They all tried to console Zack, and convince him he wasn’t to blame, but uppermost in the minds of all of them was the fact that they had no idea where Francois had taken Cammie. What could they do now to help her?
CHAPTER XXI
Francois had been flying his plane for about two hours after leaving Biarritz. As he approached his destination, the beautiful Chateau de Boulanger appeared below. After circling a few times to make sure the coast was clear, he put his plane down on the landing strip.
He shut off the engines, climbed out, and turned to help Cammie out of the plane. As he led her toward the entrance, dusk was chasing away the sun, and the moon was just beginning to reflect a golden path across the River Loire.
“Where are we?” Cammie asked him.
Francois smiled. “A place where I’ll have you all to myself,” he replied. “You’ll know soon enough.”
Cammie was surprised to see Gabe open the door. She thought he was still at the Chateau in Biarritz.
“Good evening, Monsieur and Madame,” he greeted them.
“Good evening, Gabe,” Francois replied. “You got here in record time. I trust you have everything ready.”
“Oui,” he answered. “I will take you to your room upstairs.”
As they entered the Chateau, Cammie was deeply impressed by the grandeur. The marbled floor and huge marble pillars, the wide granite staircase leading to the upstairs rooms, the beautiful picture windows and floor-to-ceiling doors leading out to the opulent gardens, with flowers bordering the walkways that seemed unending—all this created an ambience of luxury and grace that surpassed Cammie’s wildest dreams. She felt more like a Queen than a Countess, as she and Francois followed Gabe to the elevator that had been provided for tourists who wished to visit the rest of the Chateau without having to climb the long staircase.
They entered the elevator, and Gabe pushed the button for the fifth floor. “Dinner will be served as soon as you’re ready,” he told them. “I assume you’d like it in your room?”
Francois nodded. “That will be fine, Gabe. You may bring it right away.”
As they entered the bedroom on the fifth floor, Cammie was as impressed by the luxurious taste in which it was done, as she had been when she first saw the magnificent foyer. It was a huge room, about thirty by fifty feet. The colors, like the interior of Francois’ plane, were red and gold. A beautiful canopied bed with bedposts bearing the Dubonnet crest etched in solid gold sat in the center of the wall facing the door. The red and gold carpet bore the same insignia as the bedposts, and the drapes were a rich red, with fringes of gold on the sides and the valance. There was a fireplace with the Dubonnet Coat Of Arms etched on the stone facing, and the fire that Gabe had lit before they arrived emit
ted a glow that made the room toasty warm.
Cammie had never felt more secure and cared for as she walked across the room to the bed where Gabe had already deposited her suitcase. She began to unpack, but was puzzled that Francois’ luggage was nowhere in sight. “Aren’t you going to unpack and get settled?” she asked him.
He smiled a sort of distant smile that puzzled her. “Gabe will bring it up later,” he told her. “We will eat first.”
The meal that the chef had cooked for them was beautifully prepared. Especially seasoned and boned trout from the River had been sautéed in a delicious wine sauce, and the vegetables were flavored with fresh butter, churned to perfection. The dessert was a very rich, almost flourless chocolate cake topped with whipped cream.
As soon as they finished, Cammie excused herself and went into the bathroom to take a shower and put on the thin nightgown and negligee she had just unpacked. When she emerged from the bathroom she was surprised that Francois was nowhere in sight, and the table had been cleared.
“Francois?”
No answer.
She walked over to the door and tried to turn the knob. At first she thought she was imagining things, but when it wouldn’t turn, she called out to Francois again.
Still no answer.
She reached out for the knob again.
It still wouldn’t turn.
She grabbed hold of it and shook it hard.
It wouldn’t budge.
She looked frantically around the room, searching for another exit. There were only two windows at right angles to each other, joined at the corner, and five floors up.
She ran over and looked out. She could see five stories down to the roaring brook directly beneath her. In the distance was the River Loire. How deep the water was in the brook she had no idea, but the current was swift as it tumbled over the mammoth boulders on its way to join the River.
Her heart pounded with fear.
Suddenly something she saw on the dresser arrested her attention. At first she thought it was a picture of Francois, but her mouth fell open with surprise when she saw the name and date at the bottom. It was a beautifully framed picture, cut from the front page of a newspaper dated twenty-one years ago. The headline read, “Gregory Wilcox Killed in Shootout In Courtroom.”
Gregory Wilcox—the man who kidnapped her mother and her Uncle Roger, and left them to die in the snowy French Alps! What is Francois doing with a picture of Gregory Wilcox? Is this why Mom and Dad feel the way they do? Just because he looks like someone who almost ruined their lives is no reason to dislike him. Why does Francois have a picture of him? Did he know him? What is this all about? A feeling of unexplainable fright crept over her.
As she continued calling Francois’ name, she heard a key being inserted in the lock.
Francois quickly entered the room and locked the door behind him before she could escape. The look of hatred on his face was fearful. All pretense was gone.
Cammie began to shake uncontrollably. “Francois? What’s the m-matter?” she stuttered. She backed away from him. “Why did you l-lock the door? Why are you l-looking at m-me like that?”
He glared at her, saying nothing.
She gulped nervously. “W-why are you acting l-like this, Francois?” she asked, more terrified by the minute.
He laughed with scorn. “Count Dubonnet to you, mon cherie,” he sneered.
Cammie stared at him, trying to understand. Her feelings were a mixture of fear and anger. “Why are you t-treating me like this? I’m your w-wife!”
He snorted in contempt. “Do you really think for one minute I’d let you become part of my family?”
“B-but—” Cammie stammered—“I am part of your family now! I’m your w-wife!”
He laughed again. “We’re not married! That was a fake ceremony. You will never belong to my family. You’re nothing but a cheap show girl, and your mother is a thief. She stole my father’s musical, ‘The Pepper Pot,’ and changed the name to ‘The Ginger Jar.’ And all the others that she said she wrote, she stole from him, too. She’s nothing but a plagiarist, and I will see that she pays for her crime!”
“Your f-father?” Slowly the truth dawned on her. “You’re n-not Fran’s son?” she gasped. “Your father was G-Gregory Wilcox?”
“Bingo, as they say in America! My father was killed because of your mother, and I’ll force her to admit her guilt before the whole world!”
Cammie tried to protest, but the words stuck in her throat.
“It’s her fault that I never got to know my father,” he said with an icy stare. “The only reason he didn’t return to France and my mother was because your mother was suing him in the court where he was killed.” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “As soon as she admits her guilt, I’m going to kill you. This is all her fault! If she hadn’t sued him, he wouldn’t have been in court, and he wouldn’t have been killed. She will suffer the deep loss that I did. She will wish she had never stolen his musicals!”
Cammie stood rooted to the spot. This couldn’t be happening! What he was saying was not true! She gaped at him.
He held out his hand. “While we’re at it, you can give back those rings and the tiara. You won’t be needing them now.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How could he possibly believe that her mother had stolen from Gregory Wilcox? Just the opposite was true. Her mother, a thief? That’s impossible! A vision of her mother sitting at the piano composing her beautiful music flashed across her mind. The picture was as vivid as though she were seeing it for the first time. Cammie was just a little girl then, but that was long after Greg was dead!
She remembered with horror the doubts she had had about Francois—the image of his face on the hood of the hearse when she was flying back to Paris to join him; her disappointment in him when he insisted that she give up her career; the way he grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her out of Jeremy’s car! And she finally understood what her instincts had been trying to tell her.
Is this the man I married? she asked herself in amazement. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare as she tried to convince herself she would wake up any minute. But in her heart she knew this was not so.
In a daze she removed the rings and handed them and the tiara to him. She wanted no part of them or of Francois now.
His words broke into her thoughts. “I’ll have Gabe contact your mother immediately, and demand she admit her guilt. She’ll never know I had anything to do with this. I’ll be the distraught husband whose beloved bride was snatched from me on our wedding night. As soon as Hildy admits her guilt, you will meet with an unfortunate accident, mon cherie, and Andre will get the blame.”
“Andre?” Her eyes widened in disbelief. “The artist?”
“That’s right. Oh! You don’t know, do you?” He laughed as though this were all a big joke. “Andre was my mother’s butler many years ago. We thought he was dead, but you and I both know that he is still alive. It will be easy to put the blame on him.”
Cammie was in a state of shock, as surprise after surprise piled up—one on top of the other. “How can you do that if he’s not here?” she asked Francois.
“Easy. When Gabe makes the ransom call, he will disguise his voice and pretend to be Andre. Then Gabe and I will have to do away with him. Let’s see. Yes! He will commit suicide from remorse over murdering you.” He walked over to the door and put his hand on the knob.
In a desperate attempt to save herself, Cammie called out, “What about my fans? They’ll be wondering why I’m not appearing on stage!”
“You’re so naive,” Francois chuckled. “Why do you think I insisted that you quit the stage and let the whole world know? You wouldn’t do it, so I did. No one will wonder where you are. They’ll just think that when you became a Countess you dropped out of public life. Wh
en they hear of your unfortunate accident—well—you get the picture.”
“What about the people who saw us parade through the streets? They think we’re married!”
Francois sneered. “They’ll never know it was a fake wedding. With your death they will think I have become an instant widower. I have thought of everything, mon cherie.”
Cammie’s voice trembled. “Why do you have to kill me?”
He looked at her coldly, and turned the knob. “You know too much. I have to kill you or you’ll talk. Your mother must suffer the way my mother and I did. I’m leaving now. I have plans to make. There is a television here in case you get bored. You will be staying here until she admits her guilt.”
“She’ll never admit to something she didn’t do!” Cammie declared.
“She did do it!” he yelled, his eyes flashing with anger and hate. “My father told my mother. And your mother will admit her guilt, because if she doesn’t, she will never see you again. But as soon as she does, I’ll do away with you, anyway. You’ll suffer—all of you—for what you did to my father!”
Cammie shivered, but put up a brave front. “Zack will find me!” she told him. “He’s a great detective. He’ll know just where to look.”
Francois snorted. “Oh, did I forget to tell you? I locked Zack up in the secret room in Biarritz. That is why he wasn’t at the wedding. He will be dead before anyone finds him.”
All hope that she would be rescued drained from Cammie. A mixture of sorrow and panic overtook her. She loved Zack. He had helped her so many times, and now she had no way of helping him. “Francois, please don’t do this!” she begged.
He looked at her with contempt. “It won’t do you any good to scream. This room is soundproof. Have a nice day,” he said, and left.
Cammie stared at the locked door. She was trapped, barely able to believe this was happening. She grew up in a hurry that night. How could she ever have thought she was in love with Francois? She realized now she had just been in love with the glamour of becoming a Countess. Gone were her teenage fantasies, and in their place was stark reality! If only I had listened to Mom and Dad, she lamented, I wouldn’t be here now, a prisoner in this room.
All That Glitters Page 12
