Suspects(18)

Chapter 5


A week after their arrival in New York, Pierre had gone back to Paris after countless meetings and parties, and Theo had left for Dallas to set up the pop-up store there. They had nearly sold out their merchandise in New York, and the party and resulting press had given them a great send-off. All the fashionistas and social wannabes had arrived in droves when they saw the mention of it on Page Six, and in Women’s Wear Daily.

Theo had picked an entirely different group of items for the Dallas store, better suited to their taste, lifestyle, and climate, and she had done the same for L.A., where she was going next. Her research had shown that women dressed up more in Dallas and were more casual in L.A., and she had chosen accordingly. She had sent the really high-style items to New York.

She was only planning to spend four days in Dallas, and they had arranged for a party there too. They had acquired the guest list from a prominent PR firm, and it included all the best-known big spenders and socialites in town. She didn’t attend the Dallas party either. She wandered around Neiman Marcus to check out their stock and merchandising, and the Dallas store in the Highland Park Village area looked beautiful once she set it up. She felt like a traveling handyman when she boarded the flight to L.A., to do the same thing there. She was going to spend five days in L.A., and then return to New York for one day and night. She was due to land in New York two weeks after the first opening party, and Mike had made careful note of the date that night when he met her. He didn’t know how to reach her, although she had his card, but he knew she’d never call him. She had no need for a New York “lawyer,” which she thought he was, and he suspected that she was too shy to call him anyway, and there was no reason for her to call him.

He called the store while they were breaking it down. She had given him that number when he made the purchase, and he spoke to Valentina. She was packing all the clothes in cartons to ship back to Paris. There wasn’t much left. The pop-up had been a huge success. They usually were, with the merchandise Theo picked. They had sold out of almost everything.

“I’m so sorry to ask you this. I’m trying to reach Theo Morgan, and I’m afraid I lost her number. She gave it to me the night of the party in New York,” he said, and Valentina sounded incredulous. “I’m the guy who wandered in the wrong direction and wound up buying the red bag from her in the back room.” Valentina laughed at his description.

“Now I believe you. You’re the only person who saw her that night. She doesn’t attend social events. She was our stock girl during the party. She’d rather work than make chitchat. I’ll get the number for you. She doesn’t usually give it out, but since she did, I’ll find it. If it’s not turned on, she’s staying at the Beverly Hills Hotel, you can reach her there, or at the store. She’s due back here in a few days before she leaves for Paris.” She was unusually chatty with Mike, but he sounded solid and sensible, and had a reassuring tone, and Theo had obviously connected with him and given him her number. He seemed like a nice person.

“I know. I told her I’d call her for lunch.” It was all a lie. But he told himself that it was his only chance to see her, her one night in town. Otherwise, he’d have to fly to Paris to see her, which sounded too aggressive. She hadn’t encouraged him to call her, but he decided it was worth a shot. The worst she could do was say no. He wrote the number down and stared at it for a while on his desk.

He had just hung up with Valentina when Robert Richmond called him. They chatted for a few minutes and then he got to the point.

“I have an odd piece of information for you. I don’t know if it matters or not. But I thought you might be interested since you’ve gotten hooked on the Pasquier case.

“We just got some new info from an informant. He’s usually a reliable source. It seems that Matthieu Pasquier had a girlfriend in Moscow, Svetlana. She seemed to be an informant, working for both sides and anyone who would pay her. She was apparently a minor player in the games they play over there. She probably needed the money. She was a young actress. Someone poisoned her and she died two weeks before Matthieu Pasquier was kidnapped. I have no idea if they were seriously involved or if she was just a toy for Pasquier when he came to town. The French DGSE services might know more than I do. She worked for us too, which I assume is why the Russians killed her. They don’t take too kindly to that. Apparently she had another boyfriend in the FSB, the Internal Secret Police, formerly the KGB, as you know. They poisoned him too. He’s still alive, but probably won’t be for much longer. She died immediately.”

Mike was startled by what Robert told him. “They don’t screw around. Was Matthieu an agent too, for either side?” Mike asked, curious about him.

“I can’t imagine it. He didn’t need the money. The others all do, which is how they get them. It’s not about national loyalty, it’s about eating regularly. The actress was a very pretty girl. She was only twenty-two.” And dead now. Mike wasn’t an innocent, but it all sounded so sordid. He’d been surrounded by the bad elements of the human race for his entire career, but somehow the agents and double agents that Robert told him about sounded particularly sleazy and sinister. And he was probably right. Young women got into it just to have money to buy food, or they got into prostitution. He wondered if the girl had meant anything to Matthieu, or if she had just been a plaything in Russia. A plaything who had risked her life selling secrets to two countries. Maybe Matthieu gave her money too.