Not Exactly Allies
Page 37
CHAPTER 37 – BRIEF STOP AT A CASINO
Richard Hugh was not horribly surprised to find that Florentin Castelneau was well known at various casinos along the Mediterranean that catered to the very rich.
That so many employees of such establishments seemed all too happy to think that Castelneau might be in serious trouble struck Richard as interesting, and perhaps telling.
At one place, several employees cattily identified Castelneau as a man who favored British women, the stalky kind, if monsieur understood? Thin bodies, thin faces, thin tempers, you understand. The sort of woman who must be rich to be entertaining. It was a shame and a scandal, but some rich men of course would do anything for more money.
Richard flashed photos of Pamela Williams.
Oh, but that looks very much like one of them, perhaps, the employees said. If the monsieur had pictures of the woman with proper make-up, and jewelry on all points? It was so hard to tell, shown a picture of a woman sans adornment, when of course no ladies in this environment would be seen in such a state.
Richard took his cue, and asked if Castelneau came often with other women.
Oh, but of course. Sometimes two at once.
Richard blinked despite himself, which triggered worldly smiles of sympathy for the poor monsieur who had not thought such things possible.
Richard assured them that the problem wasn't that he didn't think such things possible, but merely that M. Castelneau had not struck him as such a man.
He has a powerful government job, the hotel workers understood. Certain types of women would ignore everything else if a man had a powerful government job. Not that they wished to imply that the woman of the photograph was that sort of woman. She never came as one of a trio. Not her. She did not share her men.
Richard took his cue again, and asked if she had more than one man.
They were answering in the affirmative when a supervisor happened by, and the informants made their goodbyes.
Richard gritted his teeth. What had started out, after the explosion at Orchard's flat, as poking around France to keep busy while he healed, had turned into the sort of expedition where he was following tantalizing clues as fast as he could go from one place to another. In his single days, he would have been feeling like a bloodhound on a good scent. But single men did not know what they were missing.