He could see straight away that Ken had parked carelessly after dropping him off at the top of the track behind the old farmhouse, blocking the space needed for landing. He dug his heels in for a brisk stop on the dusty ground. The fabric above his head collapsed and he skidded to a halt in front of the car with only inches to spare.
"Got it?" Ken brushed the front of his camel-haired overcoat as the dirt started to settle. "Hell of a sight you looked coming down the hill. The Orange Baron. Frightened the hell out of me. I thought you were going to smash into my new car."
Matt nodded. "So did I. Anyway, it's all on here." He tapped the camera on his helmet. The thirty-six exposures would have been used up long before landing. "Let's get this lot packed away before the stud arrives."
Ken Habgood stood with his hands in his pockets, grinning. "Interesting pictures?"
"I wouldn't mind seeing the prints." Matt tried not to think of the woman. "There's something not quite right about this job. Edward Blake is devious. He kept blowing hot and cold in the office yesterday. What do you reckon? Nerves?"
"It's nothing to do with us, kiddo. Just as long as I get me fee."
"Don't forget my share."
Ken just snorted. "It's drafty out here. I'll wait in the car while you fold this lot up."
"Help me, will you!" The wind caught the orange paraglider, ripping it from Matt's hand. "That guy by the pool wasn't some weedy teenage student. He was big -- in every sense of the word. And I've got to get this lot back to my friend."
Ken joined in the struggle to fold the fabric. "I didn't realize there was so much of it. No wonder it flies. You could take your missus up in it."
"The only place I'm taking Zoé is the White Lion this evening -- for a drink. I haven't told her about this job yet. She'd only worry."
"You didn't say you were keeping it a secret," Ken said accusingly.
"Why? Don't tell me -- you've already let her know."
Ken looked embarrassed. "Zoé phoned from the hospital before we came out. I forgot in all the excitement. She couldn't get you on your mobile, but she's going to be late off duty. So she wants you to call at the newsagent and pick up her music magazine on your way home. Anyway, this little escapade will give you something to talk about in the pub. Not that I can see the attraction of the White Lion."
Matt sighed. "The White Lion's a good place."
"As pubs go," Ken retorted as he helped cram the fabric into the rear seat of his car. "I thought Zoé only liked French bars." He started to move quickly. Maybe he too was worried about a visit from the man by the pool. "You should be looking after that woman of yours. Right, that's it then. Let's get going."
"There's only one French bar in town." Matt slammed the rear door. "Le Perroquet Bleu. The Blue Parrot to you, but I'm not too keen on the place. It's expensive." He hurried round to get into the passenger seat. "And you're wrong: Zoé's getting to like English pubs."
Ken made the wheels spin as he exited onto the main road. "I don't believe you. Anyway, Zoé shouldn't be drinking in pubs. Not with her being three months pregnant."
Chapter Three
MATT SAT facing Zoé at a small table in the rear of Le Perroquet Bleu, where they had just finished a shared Pizza Reine, which was huge but not particularly appealing. They'd walked here, as the restaurant was only a couple of blocks from home. To his relief Zoé seemed surprisingly relaxed about his airborne escapade, and now he was trying to explain the problem with the sudden cross-wind that had nearly taken him into the chimney on the derelict farmhouse.
"You did all that just because the dean at the Helios Academy thinks his partner is being unfaithful?" Zoé asked in surprise.
"It's my job," Matt told her. "It's how I earn a living."
Zoé sounded annoyed. Her French accent always became stronger when she was worked up. "You are thirty-five. You should leave the flying to the birds. It is, I think, dangerous."
"Only if you hit something. Anyway, what is a dean?"
Zoé thought for a moment. "I believe he is someone who is in charge of the college administration. He also looks after the students, to make sure they behave properly."
"Does he teach?"
Zoé shook her head. "I do not think Monsieur Blake does. If you had told me what you were planning to do, I could have saved you all that trouble of taking to the air. My music group is putting on a concert next month."
"I know. In the Civic Hall."
"Oui. Well, our conductor is Martin Smith, and he is a tutor at the Helios Academy."
"So he knows Edward Blake?"
"But of course he must." Zoé giggled. "Maybe I will smile at him, and he will invite me to his apartment and tell me all the secrets about Monsieur Blake and his beautiful partner, and then you will have the evidence you need. Martin Smith is, I think, a man of many mysteries."
For a moment Matt felt a twinge of alarm. "Zoé, I've told you a hundred times, you mustn't talk to strange men."
"He is not strange. He waves his little stick for us."
"That sounds strange enough for me. And I'm suspicious of anyone called Smith. I bet it's not his real name."
"You are, I think, just joking. But you are right. He told us about it one evening when we were learning to play the Humoresque by Dvorak. Dvorak came from Prague. Martin Smith said that one day he would like to live where his mother was brought up, and when he got there he would change his name to Martinek Kovar."
"Martin -- Martinek? Okay, but what's Kovar got to do with Smith?"
"He said his mother came to England from Czechoslovakia in 1968. She was called Ruza Kovar, but she thought she would fit in better if she changed her name to Rose Smith, which is what her name means in English. Rose is Rosa and Smith is Kovar. She was not married, but she had a son in the 1970s and called him Martin. Secretly she calls him Martinek. Martinek Kovar."
"I bet no one in your orchestra calls him that."
"Of course not. It is not his real name."
"Do you know Martin Smith well?"
"We talk a lot. He is I think ... what is the word? Obsédé -- obsessed. He is obsessed with the music of Bohemia."
"Where exactly is Bohemia? I've often wondered."
"It is an old name for what became part of Czechoslovakia in east Europe. Monsieur Smith sometimes talks to us of nothing else."
"Nothing?"
"I have told him all about you."
"Was he interested?"
"He said I was very silly to marry a private investigator, and one day he will take me to live with him in Prague."
Matt frowned. "I don't mind you running away with him, but I hope you didn't tell him any details of my work. That's confidential, and Ken wouldn't like it."
Zoé studied the menu. "I will have a pudding. The strawberries."
"With ketchup?"
"I am sorry?"
Matt shrugged. "It's the sort of thing pregnant women are supposed to like."
"Me, I am French. Ketchup and strawberries? It is perhaps different here in England. Yes, I will have the strawberries -- and some pickled onions."
"Then you'd better order it yourself," Matt said.
"It is a joke. I will have the strawberries and cream."
Matt signaled to the waiter. "Whatever she wants, it's okay with me."
Zoé gave her order, a perfectly sensible one, and Matt continued with his story.
"I can't say I took to Edward Blake. His nose whistles when he gets worked up. You say he doesn't teach, but I bet he fancies himself as a university don." He shook his head. "Probably doesn't know the first thing about music. Unlike my pretty wife who can play the flute like an angel."
Zoé pulled a face. "You are only saying that in case I am upset about what you did for Ken today."
"I've told you a thousand times. I don't take risks with my work."
The waiter arrived with Zoé's ice-cream, and Matt guessed it had come just in time to save him from hearing a list of his other activities Zoé objected
to.
Zoé winked at the waiter and gave him a special smile. The waiter winked back. When he had gone she turned to Matt. "You are, I think, jealous."
"I keep telling you, don't flirt with men. It might be okay in France, but here in England you're sending out the wrong signals."
"I am twelve weeks with a baby inside me, and married. What use would I be to a man?"
"You're still some use to me." He reached under the table and patted her stomach. "Anyway, it doesn't show yet."
Zoé balanced one of the strawberries on the end of her spoon and dipped it into the soft white ice-cream. "This is delicious." She tapped the wet spoon onto the end of his nose. "Now you must promise me you will never go up in that thing again."
He shrugged. "If the boss says do it, I do it."
Zoé dabbed him on the nose again. "Me, I am your boss. And who is this Edward Blake that you risk your life for? Is he a Czech?"
"I don't think so. Why?"
"The Helios Music Academy is based in Prague."
"It's not. It's on the other side of town. By the Mount."
"The Mount?"
"It's the local name. Short for mountain, I suppose."
"That is a mountain?" Zoé asked in surprise. "In the Auvergne we would call it a little hill. I know the place you mean, but the main Academy is in Prague. Sometimes they exchange staff."
"The Helios Music Academy. Where's Helios?
"Helios is the Greek word for the sun. There is a sun painted on the ceiling of the church in Prague where Mozart played. It is, I think, a good name."
"Greek? Czech? Blake is definitely English."
"Tell me what he is like."
"Thin. I'm not very good on ages. Fifty-five, sixty perhaps, with silvery hair with a wavy finish. Probably blow-dried. I can't make him out. It's like he wants to be friendly but can't manage it. Bluster is a good way to describe him."
"Bluster is not a word I know."
"I'm not sure it's a word I know either, but it sounds right." Matt fished deep into the pocket of his jeans and retrieved the film cassette. "Ken wants me to drop this off at the Academy on my way to work tomorrow morning, but Blake should be back from his concert in London by now. Would you like to see him tonight?"
Zoé reached across the table and snatched the film cassette from his hand.
"Careful," Matt warned. "That's valuable."
She held the cassette behind her back. "First you will tell me more about the woman by the pool."
"There's nothing more to tell." The sight of all that skin had been coming back to him throughout the meal. Edward Blake's partner had been younger than he'd expected her to be. Long brown hair pulled back. Early to mid forties probably. Not that he'd studied her face. He realized that Zoé was looking at him closely and he signaled for the bill. Whatever he said would land him in trouble, so it was best to keep quiet.
But Zoé hadn't finished her meal. "Maintenant, I will have the coffee."
"It will keep you awake all night," he protested. "You have enough trouble sleeping as it is."
"Good," Zoé said. "It will give you plenty of time to tell me why you have been photographing a beautiful woman with no clothes on."
"You're wrong," Matt told her "I had all my clothes on. You have to when you're on a paraglider -- in case you land in the thorns."
*
MATT HARDLY noticed him as they came out of Le Perroquet Bleu -- a young man in a green knitted hat, a dirty gray blanket clutched to his chest, sitting hunched against the wall by the side of the doorway.
"Spare some loose change." A bare arm reached out and touched Zoé.
Matt pulled her away quickly. "Get lost," he snapped.
"You are a little unkind," Zoé protested in a whisper.
"He only wants it to buy drugs." Matt refused to lower his voice.
"You do not know that."
"I bet he isn't going to spend it on food."
Without warning the man was on his feet. He moved surprisingly quickly for someone who'd looked so weak and helpless only seconds before. He held Zoé by the arm. Matt prized the fingers free and pushed the beggar against the wall.
"Nothing is fair," the man said with an accent that might be Russian. "People like you have everything."
Matt caught hold of his shoulders. "If you ever do that to my wife again I'll break your arm. She's pregnant, and if you've harmed the baby I'll come looking for you. Understand?"
Zoé stood on the pavement, crying. "Matt, all he wants is food."
He felt slightly ashamed of his over-reaction. But protecting Zoé and the baby was more important than anything else. He took hold of Zoé's arm. "Come on, we have to go."
She let out a cry of hurt. "Be careful, it is sore."
He put his arm around her shoulder and together they walked the short distance home to the small terraced house with no front garden. The door opened almost straight out onto the road. Matt turned around before going in to make sure they weren't being followed. "We won't bother to take the film to Blake tonight. I'll drop it round in the morning, as Ken said."
As he was putting the key in the lock Zoé shook her head. "It is all right." She sounded remarkably composed. "The drive will settle me down, and I would love to meet your Monsieur Blake. I want to know what bluster is like. And I would like to hear the whistle in his nose."
*
THE GATES of the Helios Music Academy stood wide open. This didn't surprise Matt, for he could see no need for security at an establishment that did nothing more daring than teach classical music and academic subjects to would-be teenage musicians. The headlights of the rusting Mini picked out the winding drive up to the main building. From ground level, at night, it was difficult to recognize this as the place he'd flown over a few hours ago.
"You think Monsieur Blake will be waiting for us?" Zoé asked.
Matt changed gear from second to first with a loud crunching noise. Not only was the Mini's clutch on the way out, the whole gearbox was in need of replacement. "Edward Blake didn't leave a phone number, so I couldn't let him know we're coming. I've brought a Jiffy bag and a label saying 'confidential'. If we can't find his apartment I'll push the film through the letterbox at the main door."
Zoé sighed. "Just as long as you have not come here simply to have a closer look at his beautiful partner."
"And I hope you're not wanting to meet the man of mystery who conducts your orchestra and excites you with his little stick."
"You are lucky, you have seen the woman with no clothes on. My friend the conductor always keeps his on for me."
He let it ride. Over to the left he could see what must be the residential block. Several of the rooms had lights on, with the curtains closed. One of the front doors opened and a man who looked like Blake stumbled out. A woman stood in the doorway, but Matt couldn't see her clearly. She slammed the door shut.
It was Blake; he'd recognize the suave outline anywhere. And the man had definitely noticed him. He and Zoé could hardly walk away. The only thing to do was put on a brave face.
"I've brought the film," Matt called.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Blake demanded as he walked towards them. "I thought you were coming tomorrow morning."
"I'm trying to help." Talk about an attitude problem.
Blake came over and snatched the film cassette. "Are the photos any good?"
Matt shrugged. "The answer is in the negative."
Edward Blake frowned.
"It's an old photographer's joke," Matt said, although the dean clearly wasn't in a mood for humor. "In the negative," he repeated.
The man, still wearing his dark gray suit, didn't get it. "So what's on the film?" he demanded. "I hope you haven't been wasting my time."
"You'll find I've got what you wanted. I was overhead before either of them could move. And they didn't have any clothes on."
Zoé spluttered and started to cough, and Matt realized that she was clinging rather heavily onto his arm.
Without warning she sank to the ground. He felt his stomach sink with her. "What's the matter?" he asked urgently.
Zoé clambered to her feet before he could stop her. "It is nothing," she said. "I am a little mixed up from that man outside the restaurant."
Blake seemed more interested in the film than Zoé's condition. He tossed the cassette into the air and caught it. "I'm sorry to chase you away, but I've just told ... my partner ... that I arranged the photo shoot, and as you probably saw, she isn't in the best of moods."
"I'm not surprised," Matt told him. "Can my wife have a glass of water before we go?"
Blake looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure."
Matt pointed to the front door through which Blake had just been ejected. It might be embarrassing for Blake, but he was putting Zoé's needs first. "A glass of water," he repeated. "You do live there, don't you?"
"Of course," Blake said, after a moment's hesitation.
"Please do not take the trouble," Zoé told him. "I am feeling better now. Me, I would rather go straight home." She smiled at Blake. "I am sorry about your partner. Always it makes me sad to hear when things go wrong in a relationship."
Blake nodded, apparently relieved not to have to go back inside. He pointed at Zoé's stomach. "Is it a boy or a girl?"
"It is only twelve weeks inside me," Zoé said with an embarrassed expression. "So we do not know yet."
"Well, the best of luck. If it's a girl I hope she's as pretty as her mother."
Zoé blushed bright pink. Matt held her gently round the shoulders and led her back to the car.
"Why do you not like Monsieur Blake?" Zoé asked indignantly as soon as they were alone.
"Did it show?"
"It showed."
"He fancies you. You should have seen the look he gave you when you mentioned the baby. The man's a lecher."
Zoé shook her head. "Matt Rider, you are silly. You think every man fancies me."
"They do."
"Not only are you silly," Zoé retorted, "you are also extremely jealous. You can drive me home now."
The journey back passed without further conversation. Matt was too busy juggling with the Mini's gears and the clutch to be much bothered by the silence, but as they turned the corner into their narrow street he trod on the brakes.
Zoé had been almost asleep. "What is the problem?" she asked irritably.
"It's that homeless man again. He's sitting outside our front door. No he's not, he's squatting down and doing something with one of his shoes."
Academy of the Dead Page 2