Invitation to Provence(77)
Little Blue came running back and Franny sat up, laughing at the child’s story. Having fun, Alain thought cynically as Little Blue’s laughter rang out. He ordered another Ricard and sat back to watch.
After lunch, the two got up and walked onto the beach, where Franny had rented loungers and an umbrella. The child raced off to the water’s edge and Franny, the perfect California girl in a brief turquoise bikini, followed slowly.
Alain eyed her up and down like the connoisseur of women he claimed to be. Not bad, he thought with a satisfied smile. Sometimes life just gave you the right breaks. This time it had given him the only two people who stood between him and his rightful inheritance.
60
WHEN ALAIN HAD LEFT the chateau he’d known he had no choice. One word from Jake to the police and he was, if not a dead man, then a man looking at a life in jail. Drugs, arms, he’d had a hand in all of them, but he was a petty criminal rather than a grand master, and that fact made him angry. After all these years, he should have been richer than Felix, richer than his mother, and richer than Jake. Fate had conspired against him and that’s why, when he’d finally gone to Felix for money and Felix had turned him down, he’d slammed the silver paper knife into Felix’s temple almost without thinking. He’d laughed at the shocked expression in Felix’s eyes as he died.
He’d covered Felix’s bloody body with a plastic cleaner’s bag that he found in the closet, so there’d be no telltale blood, then he’d slung him over his shoulder and carried him to the freight shaft. He knew that people falling from high places usually landed on their heads, and lucky for him, so did Felix, obliterating any signs of the knife attack.
He’d known instinctively what to do next. As brothers, he and Felix were alike enough in built and height to make the deception possible. He’d changed into one of Felix’s smart suits and a pair of his custom English shoes; they were a little big, but good enough. He’d picked up his brother’s briefcase and stuffed his own clothes into it. Then he took Felix’s keys, went to the safe, and removed the fifty or so thousand dollars he found there. Knowing Felix, he’d bet no one would know about the money stashed away and therefore it would not be missed, but he decided to leave the watches and jewelry so it wouldn’t look like robbery. Then he took the elevator down to the lobby, and with his head down, hurried past the concierge. In seconds he was on the street, a free man.
After the showdown at the chateau, when he’d been escorted onto Jake’s plane by a burly guard, he’d burned with anger that his enemy enjoyed such luxury while, despite his many money-making schemes and ventures, he still had to scramble. They had flown him to Ho Chi Min City, not even offering him a drink or a snack on the long flight. The big bruiser of a bodyguard had kept his eyes fixed on him all the way while Alain seethed with fury. He would get Jake for this, he’d told himself. He’d get back at them all.
They’d decanted him from the plane without so much as a good-bye, and he’d immediately taken the first commercial flight back to Europe. He ended up in Geneva, where he rented a car and drove to the South of France.
The villa had always been one of his favorite places. He used to bring girls here when he was young—guys too. Alain rather favored an orgy. It gave him a feeling of power over women, and he liked that.
He knew that no one ever came to the villa now and that he’d be able to hide there, but first he’d found out the exact times Lucien came to check the property—only a cursory visit on Saturday mornings now.
Alain had gone to the guest house, removed the screen on a rear window, forced the old-fashioned latch, and he was home free. He’d hidden his Vespa in a nearby bamboo thicket and kept the small rented Renault in a parking garage in Antibes. He’d bleached his hair blond again, bought himself some new clothes with his murdered brother’s money, and felt like his old self, immune to reality and ready for revenge. His only problem had been how, and now, thanks to fate, that had been solved for him.
61
THE SUN WAS SETTING by the time Franny and Little Blue returned. Standing under the shower, Franny wondered why, after a day at the beach, it always felt like the best ever, so cool and soft and clean against your sun-hot skin. She toweled her wet hair, wrapped herself in a pareo, and went to check on Little Blue, who was sprawled lazily on the bed.
“How about omelettes for supper?” Franny suggested, hoping she could manage that big brute of a gas stove without blowing them both up, but Little Blue said she was too tired to eat, so Franny left her dozing and went down to the kitchen.
She found milk, juice, wine, and a slab of golden butter in the refrigerator. On the counter was a loaf of crusty bread, a wicker basket of speckled eggs, and a deep blue bowl filled with summer fruits. She picked up an apricot, sniffed it appreciatively, then ate it with the juices dripping down her chin. On a cool slate slab in the pantry she discovered a plate of pungent cheeses. She took them back to the counter, hacked off a slab of the crusty bread, slathered it with some of the golden butter, and added a couple of slices of cheese. A glass of cold wine and she was happy.
She sat peacefully at the counter enjoying her meal. Criminal slumped next to her, watching hopefully. Unable to resist those pleading eyes, she tossed him a piece of cheese. He wolfed it down, without even tasting it she was sure, which she felt was a pity because it was so darn good.