Suspects, p.12
Suspects, page 12
“Just bigger commissions, I suspect. But he’s playing in the big leagues now, or trying to. Those are both dangerous men, as witnessed by the poisoning of the Russian. He’s been playing a double game for a while and it seems to have caught up with him. If de Vaumont falls in with that crowd and gets on their wrong side, they won’t screw around, they’ll kill him,” Robert said bluntly.
“I’ll pass the intel on to Guy Thomas in Paris,” he said to Robert.
“That sounds like a good idea. You never know who these connectors and dealmakers will fall in with.” Mike thanked him, hung up, and called Guy Thomas again, this time on his personal cell, but still didn’t get him. He was anxious to share the info on de Vaumont with him.
Guy called him back at seven a.m. in Paris when he got up. It was one a.m. for Mike, but he was still awake, at his computer.
“Something important?” he asked with his heavy French accent, and Mike reported to him what Robert Richmond had told him about the meeting and the Russian double agent being poisoned.
“I still think de Vaumont’s a small-time bullshitter, and relatively harmless.” Guy Thomas held firm to his position.
“His friends aren’t harmless,” Mike pointed out to him. “And he’s chasing after Theo Morgan now, with social invitations. I think you need to keep an eye on him.”
“I have a better idea,” Guy volunteered, “for your peace of mind and mine. I’m going to put a tail on Theo Morgan Pasquier. I won’t tell her. He’ll be discreet. It’s more important that we keep her safe and see who approaches her, than worrying about a little piece of garbage like de Vaumont. He’s a waste of time.”
“Maybe less and less so. I think we need to keep a vigilant eye on him.” But he did like the idea of protecting Theo. “I think that’s an excellent idea about a tail for Theo Morgan. How soon can you start?”
“Later today. I promise.” Guy Thomas was more than ever sure that Mike had some kind of personal interest in the Pasquier case, but whatever it was, he didn’t need to know it. Theo was the one at risk, not the people who knew her.
“Thanks, Guy, I appreciate it,” Mike said.
“I think it’s the right thing to do,” Guy responded. “And maybe we’ll get lucky and catch a bigger fish in our net. I just hope it’s a bigger fish than de Vaumont.” Mike fervently agreed with him. He slept better that night, knowing that by the next day Theo would have an agent assigned to her as a protective tail at all times. She wouldn’t even be aware of it, but he’d be there. Mike thought they should have been doing it for the last year, but better late than never. He could tell that Guy was already more alert and interested in the case. They had to find her husband’s killers. Theo would be even more at risk than usual until they did. Mike’s worst fear was that the same men would return for the rest of the money, and they’d kill Theo this time. He wanted to do all he could to prevent it from happening, whatever it took, and whatever he had to do to help.
Chapter 9
During the week after Mike left Paris, Theo felt as though she had been running from one meeting to the next. Meetings in Matthieu’s old offices, meetings at Theo.com. She hardly had a minute to breathe, and Pierre de Vaumont called her again. The call came through her assistant, and she told her bluntly she didn’t have time. She wasn’t interested in his social invitations or his attempts to become friends. He didn’t have a chance of that happening, and she was even more annoyed when he called again the next day, twice. He was persistent, if nothing else. She had been happy to invite him to the party at the pop-up in New York for the press he’d attract, but that was as far as it went. She had two mammoth businesses to run, and no time to waste on him.
On his third call, she finally picked it up and sounded somewhat exasperated when she said hello. As usual, she hadn’t had time for lunch. They were revising all their merchandise on Theo.com for the fall, and she had to approve every item they put on the site.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Pierre said when she answered. “Is this a bad time? I’m sorry to disturb you, Theo,” he said as though they were pals.
“I’m running between meetings. What can I do for you?” she said coldly. She didn’t want to encourage him or be a regular on his list of calls.
“I hope this isn’t inappropriate, but I have a dear friend from Moscow arriving at the end of the week. He’s desperate to find a home here, and he wants a château not too far out of the city. He has a wife and three small children, with full staff of course. You have such exquisite taste, and I have no idea if you’d be interested in selling your château, after…well, you know. It must be painful for you there now. My friend would even be willing to rent it fully furnished until you make up your mind. I wouldn’t have bothered you, but he’ll only be here for a few days, and he has to find something before his wife and children arrive.” He sounded obsequious and apologetic, and just as slimy as before to her. Possibly even more so.
“Well, I certainly couldn’t move that quickly. I haven’t thought about it. I have no idea if I’ll want to sell it one day, and I’m not interested in selling it now.” But he was right, she thought. It was unbearable going there now. She hadn’t braved it yet, and she dreaded it. She’d been meaning to go in the next few weeks to bring back some of her fall clothes. “If I do sell it, it will be through a realtor,” she said pointedly. He could smell a fat commission if he could convince her to sell or even rent it. And he suspected she’d be more likely to rent or sell to someone she knew than someone she didn’t.
Matthieu’s family château, which he had repurchased, was an extraordinary showplace he had lovingly restored and redecorated with the help of one of the best decorators in France. It looked like a smaller version of Versailles, and the gardens had originally been designed by Le Nôtre, who designed the Versailles gardens. The place had meant so much to him that she felt guilty selling it, but going there to stay again was impossible for her, knowing that Matthieu and Axel had been kidnapped from there. “I just don’t know,” she said vaguely, upset by the question, and even having to think about it. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you now. And I’m late for a meeting. If I put it on the market, I’ll let you know.”
“Could I go and visit it sometime, so I can describe it to him, and tell him if it would work for him? I’ve actually never been there myself.” Of course not, she thought. Matthieu would never have let him in the front door, given the slimy little opportunist he was.
“I have to pick some things up there myself in the next week or two, but I don’t know when.”
“Of course, I understand. You’re so busy, and I hate to disturb you. I don’t mind seeing it with a member of the staff.”
“That won’t be possible,” she said coldly.
“May I call you at the end of the week and see if you might be going? I promise I wouldn’t stay long.” She wanted to say no but she didn’t, and she didn’t know why. He had a way of worming his way in that was very effective, no matter how much he revolted her. But maybe his “friend” would actually buy the château if she decided to sell, which she thought she eventually might. She couldn’t imagine staying there again or being happy there. She just hadn’t decided yet. The decision was painful for her.
“All right, fine,” she said, and could have kicked herself when she hung up. He was harmless, but he was such a little weasel. And then she forgot about him as she rushed to another meeting at Matthieu’s offices, in preparation for a board meeting.
The rest of the week moved just as fast. She hardly had time to talk to Mike and forgot to mention de Vaumont’s subsequent calls when she did. He had gotten so upset the last time she mentioned him, about the party at Versailles that she’d declined, that she wasn’t sure she’d tell him anyway.
Mike had been busy too. He never told her what he was working on, but she had learned to detect the stress level in his voice, or when things were going smoothly. Even long distance, they were learning each other’s ways and inflections. She loved talking to him and hated that she had so little spare time at the moment. Things didn’t slow down for her until late at night, and by then she was tired, but happy to hear him at the end of her day. He was usually still at the office then and getting ready to go home. He was working on finding a long weekend when he could come back to see her, but hadn’t found the free time yet. They might have to wait another month, until Thanksgiving, when he could take a week off, but it wasn’t a holiday for her in France, since it was an American holiday they didn’t celebrate.
True to form, Pierre de Vaumont called her on Friday afternoon, but he called during a lull when she was a little less rushed and slightly more pleasant to him.
“Do you think you’ll be going to the château this weekend?” he asked her. “My friend’s trip has been delayed, but he has authorized me to look at a number of châteaux for him. Yours, of course, would be the most beautiful, and his first choice, and certainly mine.”
“I haven’t made any set plans, but I do need to pick up some clothes.” There were several coats and a lot of sweaters she wanted to bring back, and there was no point leaving them since she knew she wouldn’t be spending time there. He was so pushy that it was easier to say yes than continue to fob him off. He was very artful at what he did, and persistence usually got him what he wanted. “I suppose I could go tomorrow, around noon.” She made the decision while she spoke to him. It couldn’t do any harm. He was annoying, but maybe he really would pull off a simple advantageous sale, since he knew plenty of rich people who could afford a château. And then she wouldn’t have to deal with realtors, strangers, and a curious press. She could see how he made his deals, all “among friends.”
“I won’t stay long. I don’t want to intrude. I just need to see enough to give my friend an idea. May I take a few photographs while I’m there with my phone?”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” she said bluntly. “It’s our home, and it’s not on the market.” And it had a shocking history now that the tabloid press was always hungry to exploit.
“Of course, I understand. See you tomorrow at noon,” he said quickly, and hung up before she could change her mind.
* * *
—
The next morning, Theo overslept by half an hour, which was unusual for her. She got three important emails from Matthieu’s CEO, which she had to respond to, so she got in her car a little later than planned. One of the bodyguards, Daniel, was going to drive her, and she’d given her driver the day off. Daniel was driving a station wagon they always used on the weekends. She could almost see Axel in the back seat when she got into the front passenger seat. She usually sat in the back seat with him, and Matthieu in the front seat where she sat now, with their driver at the wheel. Or sometimes she drove there alone with Axel, and Matthieu drove up on his own. She tried not to let the past surge into her head. There were so many good memories associated with the château, before the last bad ones replaced them. It was all a jumble in her mind now as she watched the familiar landmarks begin to slide by. It was only a little over an hour from the city, and it looked like real country, not a suburb. Matthieu had bought back a lot of land around it, which was planted in orchards and surrounded by farms.
She noticed that it was twelve-thirty when they reached the driveway and turned in. She could see Pierre de Vaumont waiting for them, and she wished she had gotten there slightly early as she had planned.
Minutes after they arrived, a man walked onto the grounds carrying a shovel and a watering can. He was clearly one of the gardeners, but she didn’t recognize him. He began shoveling dirt under some bushes. She hadn’t been there in over a year, so it didn’t surprise her to see a new face on the grounds. He respectfully touched his cap as she got out of the car and walked toward Pierre with a quick step, then shook his hand. He was wearing brown leather Hermès gloves and was very chic in a dark brown suede jacket, gray turtleneck sweater, crisply pressed jeans, and brown suede low boots. He looked like the cover of a men’s magazine.
“I’m so sorry, I got delayed,” she apologized, and he smiled. She studied his face as he did and noticed again how handsome he was. She didn’t know why she had such a viscerally negative reaction to him, but it was the oily way he always seemed on the make for what he could get out of a situation. There was nothing real or natural about him. It really seemed too bad. He was very good-looking and painfully polite, which made him socially acceptable, along with his aristocratic name, although she was sure he had no money other than what he made on his deals.
She pointed out the gardens and orchards to him and said that they were designed by Le Nôtre, who had done the gardens at Versailles. Everything was in immaculate condition, and it tugged at her heart to see the place again and remember how much Matthieu had loved it, and why. It brought back tender memories for her too, of their happy times and watching Axel grow up there. They had gone faithfully almost every weekend.
The château had been Matthieu’s first step back to restoring his family’s property and fortune, and it had been deeply symbolic for him. He had been so eager to pass it on to Axel one day, and always made Axel walk the property with him, telling his son all about it. Inevitably one day Axel would have learned of the family’s strong Nazi connections too, and that they’d lost everything they had as a result.
“Do you mind if I take a brief look in the house?” Pierre asked politely, and she nodded.
“Of course.” She led the way and asked Daniel to bring in two suitcases she had brought with her for her clothes, and the two men followed her up the front steps. She had given the inside staff the afternoon off. She didn’t want anyone around for her first visit back since the kidnapping. She wanted to be alone with her painful memories without anyone watching her. It was hard enough having de Vaumont there.
The new gardener continued shoveling dirt as she unlocked the front door, turned the large brass knob and switched off the alarm. Daniel and de Vaumont followed her in, and she closed the door behind them. She told Daniel where to leave the valises in her dressing room and gave Pierre a brief tour of the main floor. Everything was in perfect order and of the highest quality: beautiful paintings, lovely antiques, fifteenth-century tapestries covering some of the walls, antique rugs. It really was easy to see why Matthieu had loved it, and she had too. But she no longer did. She didn’t want to stay long enough for it to seriously upset her. De Vaumont could see that she was eager to leave. She showed him the large, extremely functional modern kitchen, and offered to run him upstairs quickly.
“You don’t really need to. I don’t want to overstay. It’s a magnificent home, and a piece of history. I’m sure it has enough bedrooms.” But she felt he should see it all and took him upstairs, where she carefully avoided Axel’s room. She was grateful the door was closed.
“There are sixteen bedrooms, including the master suite,” she explained. “Fourteen baths, and the entire top floor has been redone for nannies and house staff, and a nursery I put in when my son was born.” Just saying it almost made her wince from the pain. The chateau was still an open wound for her, one she knew she wouldn’t recover from.
“My friends would be fortunate if you ever decide to sell or rent to them,” he said in respectful, hushed tones, as if visiting a church or a sacred monument, which it was to her.
“I’ll let you know what I decide when I’m ready,” she said a little stiffly. It was hard being here, which made it difficult to talk to him.
“Thank you for letting me drop by. I’m afraid anything else I see will suffer by comparison.” She followed him out and walked the gardens with him, which were spectacular. She spent an hour with him and had a headache by the time he left. She went back upstairs to her dressing room and sat down for a minute. Being there upset her even more than she’d expected. She felt dizzy and light-headed, and then got up, opened her drawers, and put stacks of sweaters on the bed. It took longer than she planned. She packed the sweaters neatly to take back to the city, as well as several coats she could wear with jeans on weekends. She went through her boots and decided that they were all rough heavy boots for walking on muddy country roads and not for the city. She stood up after packing for an hour and started perspiring from the effort. Her face felt damp and she felt dizzy again. It was too hard being there and she wanted to leave as soon as she could. It was too emotional. She took out another stack of heavy sweaters, held them in her arms, and walked down the stairs with them, feeling disoriented. She was confused for a minute and then reminded herself that she had come to take her sweaters home. For a minute she wondered where Axel was and thought he was upstairs, then remembered that he wasn’t there.
She let herself out of the house, walked down the outer steps, and headed across the lawn holding her sweaters, walking past Daniel as she did. He was startled when he saw her, and she looked very pale.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” he offered.
“No, I’m taking these to Paris,” she said with a determined look, and walked right past the station wagon with them toward the driveway. The gardener was staring at her too. Her bodyguard wasn’t sure whether to interfere or not, or if the visit had been too much for her and snapped something in her mind. The gardener was watching her closely as Daniel followed her discreetly. She was standing in the driveway, looking confused. She gazed up at him when he reached her.
“I can’t find my suitcase. It was here a minute ago. Did you bring it down?” she asked him.
“Not yet. It was in your dressing room, ma’am, when the gentleman left. I put your valises in your dressing room two hours ago.”
“What gentleman? Was someone here?” He could see that her face was glistening with sweat, and she looked like she needed to sit down. He took the sweaters from her and walked her back to the front steps. She sat down and glanced up at him again. “I think I feel a little sick.” As she said it, the gardener dropped his shovel and approached, and spoke in a smooth even voice to the bodyguard.
