Suspects(28)

He took a walk after that, and then went back to his hotel. He noticed on the way that there were police barricades being set up in various locations, a water cannon truck for crowd control, and two tanks with tear gas cannons, and he wondered if Guy was right and the demonstrations would get rough the next day, or if they were just being cautious. There were trucks marked “CRS,” which he knew were riot police. But he was more excited about seeing Theo again that night. It had only been a few days since they left each other outside the diner. He was glad he’d made the trip, even if he only got to see her once. He was smiling, thinking about it as he walked into his hotel, with riot police parked out front.





Chapter 7


The cab driver had no trouble finding her address, and he could see why when he got there. It was a large, imposing elegant building more than a hundred years old, and he was pleased to see armed security outside when he walked in. He rang the intercom for her apartment, and was buzzed in. The security guard outside her front door nodded and Mike smiled at him. Theo opened the front door herself, and was wearing gray slacks and a blue sweater the color of her eyes. She smiled broadly and looked pleased to see him.

“What a nice surprise to see you here,” she said warmly, and he followed her into the impressive front hall. She led him straight to her office instead of the living room, as though they were old friends. One of the bodyguards appeared and she asked Mike what he’d like to drink. He would have been happy with a scotch and water, but decided it was the wrong way to start the evening.

“What are you having?” he asked her.

“What about champagne to celebrate your trip to Paris?” That seemed the right tone, so he agreed, and she asked the bodyguard to bring it. He disappeared as she waved Mike to the big leather chairs in her office. He felt instantly at ease, although he’d been nervous on the drive from his hotel. He had wondered if she would be as easy to be with and as low-key as she had been at dinner in New York, and he could see that she was. She didn’t have that frightened look she’d had at the opening party in New York. And despite the grand surroundings of her apartment, she seemed casual and relaxed with him. There was nothing snobbish or pretentious about her, which he admired. She was a very modest person, though she could easily have been otherwise with her wealth and success.

She asked him again what he was doing there, and he told her about his fictional client, mildly embarrassed to be lying to her. But he couldn’t tell her the truth that he had come for her, to push the investigation back to life, and hopefully to see her if he was lucky. He felt very fortunate that night, sitting close to her in the comfortable chairs in her office, as he enjoyed the mixture of fine art and personal memorabilia on the walls, and her company. He noticed the photographs of her son all over the room and didn’t comment.

“I thought I might never see you again,” she said gently, after the bodyguard brought the champagne and poured it for them. She had thanked him, and he disappeared.

“Why would you think that?” Mike asked her.

“Because New York seems a long way from here, and I didn’t imagine you’d have to come to Paris so soon. Did you know when I saw you?” she asked, curious that he hadn’t mentioned it to her, except that he had a client in Paris, but not that he was coming to see him.

“It just came up midweek. He needed to see me about some investments.”

“Will you have to work all weekend?”

“No, we finished today. It went faster than we expected. He left tonight for the weekend.”

“How long are you here for?” she asked.

“Till Monday. I hear you’re expecting protests and a strike tomorrow. I saw the police setting up today. It looks like they’re anticipating some heavy action.”

“People get crazy here.”

“What are they protesting?”

“Low wages, high taxes, all the usual things. They’re not wrong, but a bad element always infiltrates those protests and then they go nuts and start destroying property, burning cars, and looting stores. It’s very disturbing, and it can get dangerous.” She looked faintly concerned, but not too much so. It was a common occurrence here.

“Sounds like a good day to stay home,” he suggested cautiously.

“I usually do. They close all the shops and restaurants anyway. If you get bored, you can come here and watch from my windows.”

“Do they come to this neighborhood?” He was surprised.

“Sometimes. We have the guards, so I’m not worried. People won’t get in, but they can throw rocks through the windows. If it gets too bad, I’ll close the shutters.” It seemed run-of-the-mill to her and he was pleased to see that she was well protected. They talked easily for an hour, and then they left to go to the restaurant. He caught a glimpse of the grand living room and a huge crystal chandelier in the dining room from the front hall where she put a coat on, then he followed her out of the apartment. One of the bodyguards came with them, and her driver was waiting downstairs in a discreet Mercedes.

“I used to like driving myself on an evening like this,” she said wistfully. “They don’t let me do that anymore, in case…” Her voice trailed off and he understood.

They drove to the Left Bank, and he saw that more barricades had been set up. There were police in the streets, as they reached the cheerful-looking bistro quickly. It had a terrace outside, and the inside was bustling with Parisians, people laughing and chatting at tables with red and white–checkered cloths, and waiters were rushing around with the menu on chalkboards. It was exactly what she’d promised: warm, friendly, and simple. He saw several people glance at her and recognize her immediately, but no one said anything. They were led to a corner table, where they wouldn’t be jostled and she wasn’t on view the moment people came through the door. She was definitely well known in Paris, even more than in New York.