'That's a fabulous idea,' she said. 'What do you think you'll do?'
'Oh, I don't know. Maybe just do a lot of walking. Looking at buildings and stuff. You know how I love architecture, and there's so much to see here.'
'That sounds fun,' she replied.
'What about lunch?' he asked. 'Do you have a place in mind?'
She shook her head. 'No, not really. You?'
'I was thinking about Le Grand Vefour,' he said. 'It's supposed to be one of the best restaurants in Paris, and I'd like to see what it looks like inside. I've seen pictures, but I've never seen the real thing.'
'Sounds wonderful,' Allegra said, wondering if he knew that the restaurant was in the Palais Royal, where Jules Levant Joaillier was located.
'What time?' he asked after taking another sip of coffee.
'Oh . . . let's give ourselves plenty of time this morning,' she said. 'Around one thirty?'
'Okay. I'll see if I can get reservations.'
She leaned over and gave him a kiss. 'You're a prince,' she said, 'and I love you.'
'Is that because I'm an accommodating prince?'
'That, too.'
They finished breakfasting, then began dressing for the day. Todd called Le Grand Vefour and secured reservations. Allegra hadn't paid any attention to him while he was getting ready, and when he appeared in the bedroom wearing a suit and tie, she was dumbfounded.
'My God,' she said. 'Look at you. You're dressing up like that to go for a walk?'
'Well, we are going to Le Grand Vefour for lunch,' he said, 'and it's a dressy place, from what I hear.'
'Oh, you're right,' she said. 'I didn't think about that.'
'I might as well dress now instead of coming back here and changing,' he said.
'You look so handsome,' she said, giving him a kiss.
'And you look beautiful,' he replied.
'You really think so?' She looked down at her simple black cashmere sweater with matching cashmere slacks. Around her waist was a black alligator belt with a closure in the shape of a frog. It was made of brushed gold, with peridot eyes, and it was an attention grabber against the black.
'Are you fishing for compliments?'
She nodded. 'A lady can't get enough,' she replied, twirling once in her high, black heels.
'Well, you are one beautiful lady, and you look especially beautiful today.'
'Thank you,' Allegra replied. 'Are you ready?'
'Ready.'
They donned their coats and left the suite together, then descended to the small but regal lobby. They were about to step out onto the place Vendome when Allegra abruptly stopped.
'What is it?' Todd asked.
'I don't believe it,' she said. 'I have to go to the bathroom. You go ahead.'
'I'll wait,' he said.
'That's ridiculous,' she protested. 'Start your walk, and I'll take care of my business.'
'If you say so,' Todd said with a shrug. He gave her a kiss. 'I'll see you at one thirty at Le Grand Vefour.'
'I'll be there,' she replied.
Todd went through the doors and out onto the place Vendome, and Allegra went straight back upstairs to their suite. In a matter of minutes she had the ring out of the room safe and in her shoulder bag. Her first order of business, she'd decided, was to get the ring to safety once and for all. Allegra went back down to the lobby. The doorman hailed a cab for her on the place Vendome, and she was off to her first stop. Taking the cell phone out of her shoulder bag, she dialed the number for stop number two.
Todd glanced into the shop's windows before going inside and was glad that he had dressed up. He probably wouldn't be given the time of day if he had come in dressed in ordinary street clothes. It's like Van Cleef & Arpels, he thought. A lot of expensive merchandise and a lot of attitude. They check you out before they let you in. He looked at his reflection in the glass and adjusted his tie slightly, then strode to the door confidently. When he saw a buzzer for entry, he pressed the button and waited. The buzzer sounded and he pushed the door open.
He felt as if he were in a pinkish beige cocoon of extraordinary luxury. A huge, sparkling crystal chandelier was suspended from the center of the ceiling, and the jewelry was displayed on the walls and, directly in front of them, in cabinets that formed a semicircle around the room. Two enormous flower arrangements in crystal vases sat at opposite ends of the counter. Behind it, directly ahead of him, stood a woman somewhere over the age of sixty, he estimated, although it was difficult to determine due to her auburn-dyed, perfectly coiffed hair, liberal use of makeup, and smooth, wrinkle-free skin. She had once been a beauty, he thought. She wore a beige Chanel suit with heavy braid trim on the jacket. Beneath it was a simple silk blouse down which several strands of pearls cascaded. A Maltese cross of various colored enamels with a large ruby center was pinned to her jacket. Todd immediately sensed that beneath her surface polish and hauteur was a woman who was lonely, unhappy with her station in life, and possibly in need of a friend. She was a woman who would welcome his attention.
He approached her, and her lips spread in a close approximation of a smile. 'Bonjour, madame,' he said.
She nodded slightly. 'Bonjour, monsieur. May I assist you?'
Todd wondered if he looked American, although he was grateful that she spoke English. 'Oui, madame,' he replied. 'At least I hope so.'
'Yes?' She looked at him questioningly, her thinly penciled brows arching.
'I came to Paris for the auction at Dufour yesterday,' Todd said. 'I was interested in Princess Karima's emerald ring, you see.'
The woman's eyes lit up, and he could see that they were blue and still held the capacity for liveliness, perhaps even mischief. 'So were many others,' she said, smiling now. 'It is a very beautiful ring. It came from this shop, you know.'
'Yes, I did know,' Todd said. 'That's why I came here. I was not the high bidder.'
'How unfortunate for you,' she said, 'but there were many bidders, monsieur, were there not? Princess Karima's property is highly prized.'
'Yes, indeed,' Todd said. 'I had no idea. Anyway, I'm getting engaged and my fiancée has a passion for emeralds.'
'Don't we all?' the lady said with a hint of laughter in her voice.
'Yes, well . . .,' Todd said, looking at her and smiling charmingly, 'I'm hoping to be able to find an emerald ring like the one at the auction for her, and I thought that since the ring had come from Jules Levant, perhaps you could help me. I know I can't get a replica, but maybe something about the same size and color.'
The lady's eyes suddenly took on an intensity he had not seen in them before. She was taking him seriously now, probably calculating her commission.
'Your pearls and cross are very beautiful, by the way,' Todd said to her.
One of the woman's hands went to her chest, and she fingered the pearls with perfectly manicured nails that were painted a lustrous beige. 'Merci, monsieur,' she said, looking up from the pearls and over at him. 'These, and my Maltese cross, were a gift from my late husband.'
'He had exquisite taste.'
She looked back down at the pearls. 'Yes . . . yes ... he was known for his taste,' she said in a faraway voice. She emitted an almost soundless sigh, but Todd heard it. Was it wistful? Or had he had taste and lacked something more ... substantial? Perhaps something to fall back on so that she wouldn't have to work in this shop?
'I hope I can find something as beautiful for my fiancée,' he said. 'I wanted the emerald for her so much.'
The woman returned her full attention to him. 'You must be very much in love, monsieur.'
Todd assumed a sheepish expression. 'I ... I really am,' he said.
The lady smiled. 'She's a very lucky young lady, and I'm certain that we can find something for her,' she said. 'We have many beautiful things, including emeralds, in the shop.'
'As I said, I would be particularly interested in an emerald about the same size and color of Princess Karima's.'
'Yes . . .' The lady looked o
ff into the distance as if lost in thought. 'We've had several over the years,' she finally went on. 'I'm trying to think what we've got in stock presently.' Her eyes wandered into the distance again, then returned to him. 'I know,' she said. 'Before I start bringing out everything in the shop, I'll show you our book.'
'Your book?'
'Oh, yes,' she replied. 'We have a book that pictures all of our stock. The stock that we have currently. Even the jewels we've sold in the past. Everything at Jules Levant is documented, Monsieur . . . ?'
'Oh, I'm terribly sorry,' Todd said. 'I'm Todd Hall. It's nice to meet you.' He put his hand over the counter, and she shook it with surprising strength.
'Monsieur Hall,' she said. 'I'm Madame de la Montarron. Jacqueline. It's a pleasure to meet you, also.'
Her hand, he noted, was birdlike in its skinniness, age-spotted, wrinkled, and knotted at the joints. Her face must have been lifted several times, for it was sixty while her hands were at least seventy.
'Documented?' he said.
'Yes, of course,' she said. 'All truly great jewelers document their stock. Their stones and jewelry. Here at Jules Levant Joaillier, we've documented every single item we've bought and sold for . . . well, as long as I can remember . . . even before I was here.'
'You've been here a long time?' he asked.
She nodded. 'Yes. Since before Monsieur Levant died. After his wife died, I came in to help out off and on, then when Monsieur Tadjer took over, he asked me to stay on full-time. I know so many of the clients, you see.'
'Of course,' Todd said. 'You must be indispensable.'
She laughed. 'I'm afraid no one is indispensable, but I have been here a long time. Well, wait here a moment, and I'll get our book. If you like, have a seat at the table over there.' She nodded toward an ornate bureau plat that sat in a small area behind the semicircular display cabinet.
She turned and went through a jib door hidden in the paneling, and Todd, trying to hide his excitement, began to peruse the contents of the cabinets. After a few minutes, he could see that the shop was truly world- class and sold only the best and most expensive merchandise. Going to the bureau plat, he sat down in a suede-upholstered, gilt-wood bergere and gazed about the shop. He could see at least three video cameras, and he was sure that there were more. They were motion sensitive, silently following any activity from their mounts up near the ceiling. He had been on camera ever since walking in the door.
Madame de la Montarron appeared from behind the jib door, carrying two large books bound in leather the same pinkish beige that was everywhere. She set them down on a counter, closed the jib door, then picked them up again and walked to the bureau plat. She placed the books on it, then sat in a chair opposite Todd.
'Now, Monsieur Hall,' she said with a secretive smile, 'I'm going to show you things few customers of Jules Levant Joaillier ever get to see. We'll start with the emeralds, shall we?'
Todd nodded. 'Madame de la Montarron, I would be honored.'
If I hadn't worn slacks, she thought, this is when I'd show him a little thigh. As a reward. Instead, Allegra heard herself cooing to the handsome banker, 'I appreciate your help so much, Monsieur Lenoir. I don't know what I would've done without you.' Then, as a reminder of exactly whom he was ultimately dealing with, she added, 'Neither will Hilton—Mr. Whitehead—when I tell him about it.'
Lenoir smiled disarmingly. 'It was nothing,' he said, his gaze traveling up her crossed legs to her breasts, where his eyes lingered before finally looking into hers. 'And I told you I would be glad to be of service. Are you absolutely certain there's nothing else I can do for you? I would be glad to show you a bit of Paris. Or perhaps take you for a drive? I could show you some of our more . . . rural delights.'
His eyes swept up and down her body again, and Allegra felt as if he'd undressed her and had a long, lascivious look at every inch of her bare flesh. She could imagine him drooling in anticipation of enjoying the pleasures that she had to offer. Well, I asked for it, she thought. I've practically thrown myself all over him to get him to do what I asked. But it was a pity, she reflected, that a man as handsome as he was and as charming as he could be was also as obviously hungry for sex. There was something repellent about his paying so much attention to her.
'I wish I could,' she said, 'and it's awfully nice of you to offer. But I have a full schedule, I'm afraid.' She looked pointedly at her wrist- watch. 'In fact, I'd better get going or I'm going to be late.' She rose to her feet.
Allegra held out her hand, and Monsieur Lenoir took it in both of his and caressed it. Allegra quickly withdrew it and picked up her shoulder bag and coat. 'I really must hurry,' she said, turning toward the door.
'Let me help you into your coat,' he said, following close on her heels.
'Thanks, but I have to fly,' she said, putting it on as she rushed out. 'Mr. Whitehead's going to be calling me,' she said, turning to him, 'so it's essential that I get back to the hotel in time. You know how it is with these billionaires.'
'I see,' Monsieur Lenoir said, disappointed. Then his face suddenly brightened. 'Please give him my best regards, and tell him that we're only too happy to have been of service.'
Allegra smiled. 'Thank you again, Monsieur Lenoir, and I'll be sure to tell Hilton what a help you've been.'
He nodded. 'Good-bye, and have a good stay in Paris.'
Allegra swept out onto the sidewalk and began walking with a quick stride, taking deep breaths of air. God! I'm so glad to be out of that place and away from that appalling man, she thought. How could somebody so good-looking and so well-placed be so creepy?
She started looking for a taxi and, when she saw one, raised her hand high into the air. Now if only my next appointment works out as well, she thought hopefully.
Todd had spent over an hour sitting at the ornate bureau plat with Madame de la Montarron, and it was all he could do to control his growing excitement. He hadn't known that Jules Levant would have document books, nor would he have imagined that he would actually get to look at them—and have a running commentary from a woman who had personally handled or sold many of the jewels. Madame de la Montarron had excused herself for a moment to help a promising-looking middle-aged woman who'd come into the shop, the only customer who'd appeared in the time he'd been here, with the exception of a couple who'd indicated that they were merely browsing.
He rubbed at his eyes with his fingers, feeling practically blinded by the countless photographs he'd seen and the staggering quality, size, and colors of the jewels involved. He'd known that Jules Levant was one of the world's premier jewelers, but he hadn't been prepared for how magnificent and, in many cases, important their jewels were. Their clientele had always been the richest people in the world, the creme de la creme of international society.
Madame de la Montarron had happily pointed out jewels that she'd sold to celebrities, royalty, and the merely rich, often telling him anecdotes about the people involved, or sharing patrons' peccadilloes or eccentricities she'd discovered during the process of selling jewelry. All of that had been very interesting, even fascinating in some cases, but it was something else entirely that had at first merely piqued his interest and then begun to excite him to a near fever pitch.
He couldn't wait to see Allegra, to tell her what he had found out. She wasn't going to believe it. She would probably be angry with him because he'd gone behind her back to do his own investigation. But he felt he had no choice. He certainly didn't think it would be wise to put her in the proximity of Tadjer, a vital consideration, and who else was there to do the work he'd done? Besides, he thought with a smile, who else could've gotten the cement-haired Jacqueline de la Montarron to open up Jules Levant's document books and her life as a saleslady there?
One thing he was sure of: when Allegra heard his news, she would forgive him anything.
Allegra exited the taxi on the winding cobbled lane and looked up at the ancient building where he lived. It resembled a tenement in New York City, and the neig
hborhood, or this small area of it, was reminiscent of certain blocks on the Lower East Side. Across the lane was a shop that sold Hebrew literature, yarmulkes, menorahs, and other material of Jewish interest. There was a kosher delicatessen on the corner, and street vendors sold falafel and all sorts of food from blazing braziers. This was a Marais she hadn't seen before.
She turned her attention back to the building and saw that the buzzers for individual tenants were mounted next to the door. Names were scribbled on little pieces of paper in tarnished brass slots beneath each buzzer. She found the one for Solomon Weiss, number seven, and pressed it. She waited for the door to buzz, her hand at the ready to open it, but there was no response. She pressed the buzzer again, holding it down longer this time, but there was still no response. What the devil? she wondered. I hope nothing's happened between the time I called and now. The thought made her stomach turn.
She knew the man must be at least eighty-something years old, and she knew that he wasn't in good health. He had told her so only a short while ago when she'd called him from the taxi. His voice had been so weak it seemed he was exerting a great effort to merely speak with her.
The buzzer suddenly sounded, and she quickly turned the handle and pushed on the door. It was very heavy and scrapped against the stone floor as she pushed it open. Once inside, she faced a long, dark tunnel at the end of which she could see a garden.
Aha, she thought. It's like the situation at Paul's apartment. She went through the tunnel and out into the garden. There were several small trees and a number of potted plants struggling toward the gray light of Paris above. Old bicycles were chained here and there, and through the opaque glass set in what appeared to have once been a greenhouse, she could discern the figure of a woman setting a table. Through an opening on her right, she saw the staircase the elderly man had told her to take. She climbed the decrepit curving stairs, noting that they were made of stone and oak as those in Paul's building were. The walls were peeling plaster, and old electric lines ran across them like drapery swags.
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