Roger eyed her with sympathy. “Jenny told me you and Mr. Stuart were married. What happened?”
“Greg!” Hildy told him. “Greg happened!”
She turned away to hide the tears that suddenly rushed to her eyes. “We were married at his parents’ home in Scotland. It’s hard to believe that was only a few weeks ago. But it’s all over now, I’m afraid, thanks to Greg!”
“Does Mr. Stuart know that Greg stole your musical? I guess he can’t,” he said, answering his own question, “or he wouldn’t still be working with him.”
Hildy sounded resigned as she answered Roger’s question. “I tried to tell Jay when I lived in Boston two years ago what a thief Greg was, but he believed him instead of me. That was before Jay and I got to know each other. He thought I was Hildy Swenson when we were married, but I’m sure that by now Greg has told him who I really am.”
Roger looked puzzled. “You’re not Hildy Swenson?”
Hildy shrugged. “Yes, and no,” she replied. After peering around the coffee shop to make sure they were still alone, she reached up, took off her brunette wig and horn-rimmed glasses, and dropped her French accent. Her blond tresses tumbled gracefully over her shoulders. She smiled at his surprise. “My real name is Hilary Swenson Simone. Hildy is my nickname. I couldn’t tell Jay. He would have confronted Greg, and then Greg would have known who I was and come after me. He’s been looking for me ever since he came to France. He’s scared stiff I’ll blab my mouth off. And he’s right. I will. So he wants me out of the way.”
“I had no idea he was that criminal,” Roger said.
Hildy pinned up her blond hair again, and once more donned her wig and glasses. “When I lived in Boston,” she told him, “Greg even went so far as to propose to me. He thought once we were married he could pick my brains and come up with all the hits he needed to continue his charade. When I talked with Jay I found out Greg had convinced him that he wrote ‘The Pepper Pot,’ and said I lied about having written it under the name of ‘The Ginger Jar.’ I broke off the engagement and left town. Greg has had me followed ever since and spread lies about me. He made sure I couldn’t hold down a job, and he’s had me evicted from every apartment I moved into. Now he’s ruined my marriage.”
Roger listened with rapt attention.
“I finally found it necessary to disguise myself,” Hildy continued. “I’ve used my nickname and middle name ever since. Jenny invited me to stay with her at her house in California. Before Greg could find me again, I wrote ‘La Fleur Rouge’ and took it to Peter, and he decided to make it into a movie. Greg hired a detective to find me, but when Peter told Zack that Greg had put a bomb on my plane, Zack wanted no part of his murderous plans.”
Roger was dumbfounded. “Wait a minute! Back up! What’s this about Zack? I thought he was your agent!”
“He’s not my agent, Roger. He’s my bodyguard. He’s also the detective Greg hired to find me. His real name is Daniel Zachary Davis. Greg knows him as Dan.” Hildy went on to explain the whole story. “I have a feeling that by now Greg has guessed that Zack is really Dan.”
“Wow!” Roger exclaimed. “Sounds like a soap opera! It would make a good musical! Maybe we should write it together.”
Hildy giggled. “You know, that’s not such a bad idea. We could call it ‘The Soap That Never Cleans!’”
“Or ‘The Dirty Soap!’” Roger joined in.
This struck them both funny, and they burst out laughing.
Roger looked at his watch. “I’d better get back to the Saint Germaine. We have a long flight ahead of us tomorrow, and we both need some shuteye.”
They rose and walked out of the coffee shop together.
“See you tomorrow,” Hildy said as they entered the lobby. “Breakfast at the sidewalk cafe. Eight o’clock.”
“See you then,” Roger said, and left to go back to the Saint Germaine Hotel.
Hildy had every intention of returning to her room, but she was wide awake, all keyed up about going home tomorrow. She knew she couldn’t sleep, so she decided to unwind with a relaxing stroll along the Seine.
She walked over to the desk and spoke to the clerk in French. “Monsieur, I’m going for a short walk along the Seine. If anyone is looking for me, tell them I’ll be back in about an hour, s’il vous plait.”
I’ll just go by myself, she decided. No sense bothering Zack tonight. Greg can’t hurt me now. He’s back in New York with Jay.
She still wore the brunette wig and horn-rimmed glasses and spoke with a French accent, though she didn’t know why. Habit, maybe. For the first time in two years she felt free.
Twilight was approaching, and a starless, moonless sky hung over Paris. Dark manacing clouds moved at an ominous pace. Thunder could be heard in the distance, but Hildy didn’t mind. She had a lot to look forward to, in spite of her heartbreak over Jay. I’ll get over it, she told herself. It hurt, but she wanted no part of him if he couldn’t trust her. She had given him the benefit of the doubt, and it rankled with her that he never gave her a chance to explain.
But I wouldn’t have dared, anyway, she sighed. There’s no way I’d take the chance that Jay would go to Greg and demand to know the truth. I don’t blame Jay for believing him, but that’s the whole problem. Greg is too convincing when he lies, and if Jay went to Greg he’d be putting me in danger without even knowing it. My hands are tied.
These thoughts spun around in her head as she continued her stroll.
She soon found herself in a remote, deserted area of the river bank.
The other strollers had left, fearing a storm was brewing. She was alone.
CHAPTER XXXIV
Roger arrived back at the Saint Germaine Hotel. As he stood in line waiting to pay his bill, he heard Greg’s name being paged over the intercom.
He rushed up to the counter. “Excuse me. Did I just hear Gregory Wilcox being paged?”
“Oui, Monsieur,” the clerk replied. “I’m afraid he’s gone out. He’s not answering.”
Roger was aghast. “How long has he been staying here?”
When the clerk told him, Roger realized that Greg had checked in at the Saint Germaine the same day he was supposed to have gone back to New York with Jay!
I have to warn Hildy!
He raced to the nearest phone and frantically dialed La Grande Veue Hotel.
He thought the operator would never answer. “Hildy Swenson!” he gasped. “This is an emergency!” He waited nervously as the operator rang her room.
No answer.
“I am sorry, Monsieur,” the operator said, “she’s not in.”
“Please,” he begged, “have her paged!”
He could hear the page on the other end as he waited.
Very soon the operator came back on the line. “Monsieur, the clerk just informed me that she went for a walk along the Seine and will be back in an hour.”
His heart pounded with dread. “Was she alone?”
Please say Zack went with her!! he prayed.
“Oui, Monsieur. She was alone.”
Oh, no! he thought with horror. “Thank you!” he said and hung up abruptly.
He grabbed his sweater and raced across the lobby out to where the taxis were waiting. He hopped into the first one in line. “Take me to the Seine, please!” he told the driver. “Hurry! This is an emergency!”
The driver sped toward the River. It took ten minutes.
Roger paid him and jumped out. He ran down the path as fast as he could, hoping to find Hildy before Greg did. He caught up with her just as she started back to the hotel.
She turned as his running footsteps came up behind her. “You couldn’t sleep, either?” she asked him.
“Hildy!” he panted, grabbing her arm, “Greg is still here! I heard him being paged at the Saint Germain
e! The clerk told me he checked in the day he was supposed to have gone back to New York with Jay! You’ve got to get back to the hotel where it’s safe!”
CHAPTER XXXV
In the bar at La Grande Veue Hotel, Greg sipped his usual Scotch on the Rocks while he watched for Hildy. He jiggled the ice in his glass, thinking. Not much time left to carry out his plan. The clerk had just informed him that the film company would be flying back to the States tomorrow.
He was desperate. Tonight was his last chance to dispose of Hildy and Roger. Time had run out.
He sat at the secluded table in the corner of the cocktail lounge where no one could see him. But they won’t be looking for me, anyway, he smugly reminded himself. They think I’m back in New York with Jay.
His back was to the lobby as he faced the mirrored wall. As he watched, he saw Hildy and the others enter the hotel. Roger was with them, and he realized he had told them about “Sunny Days!”
He cursed under his breath as they disappeared into the elevator. It looked pretty hopeless that he would get Hildy alone. And now Roger as well.
If only I could get them together somewhere. I have Peter’s gun. That should make it easy. But how? Where?
Two hours had passed when Greg, still sitting in the hotel bar, saw Hildy in the mirrored wall as she walked through the lobby and out the front door.
She was alone! Zack was nowhere around!
He left his drink and followed her to the Seine, staying far enough behind so she wouldn’t notice him.
As he hid behind a tree he saw Roger run up and join her.
This was his chance! An answer to his prayer! They were together!
He sneaked up behind them and hit Roger over the head with Peter’s gun.
Roger dropped to the ground, bleeding and unconscious. Before Hildy had a chance to scream, Greg put his hand over her mouth. She gasped for breath and tried to fight him off. The scream was strangled in her throat, and there was no one around to hear.
Greg angrily yanked off her wig and threw it to the ground in disgust. “Try to fool me, will you?” He drew his fist back and hit her so hard she fell and lost consciousness. Her glasses landed on the path beside the wig.
Greg dragged Hildy and Roger behind the bushes, tied their hands, and raced back to the Saint Germaine.
What a lucky break! he gloated. Both of them with one blow! Two down, and how many to go? He had lost count.
He hurried to his room and dialed the first private plane company he could find in the phone book. Greg was an experienced pilot, and he made arrangements to charter a ski plane to fly to a lodge in the French Alps, near the Swiss border. His parents had owned it before they died, and had left it to him in their will. He decided this was the perfect place to hide his hostages, far from Paris, and completely isolated. He drove his rented station wagon back to the Seine where he left Hildy and Roger.
Hildy came to just as he returned. With some chloroform he bought at the hotel dispensary he soaked his handkerchief and held it over Hildy’s face till she lost consciousness again.
To make sure Roger didn’t regain consciousness, he did the same with him.
Suddenly he heard voices approaching. In his haste he was unaware that his handkerchief had dropped to the ground beside Hildy’s wig and glasses. As fast as he could he loaded Hildy and Roger into the back of the station wagon, covered them with a blanket, and drove off to the small airport.
It was dark as he loaded them into the back of the plane. “I’ll be gone about three hours,” he told the men at the hangar. “I’m just going to the Alps to see my lodge. I’ll pick up my car on the way back.”
An hour and a half later he was flying over the lodge halfway up one of the mountains. He very deftly landed the ski plane on top of the snow on the mesa beside the lodge. He untied their hands. They were no threat to him now. Roger was still unconscious, and Hildy wasn’t strong enough to fight him.
CHAPTER XXXVI
When Hildy came to, the first thing she was aware of was extreme cold, just like her nightmare. At first she thought she was dreaming again, but soon realized she wasn’t. Just like her dream, she was being dragged through the snow.
Roger was lying on the ground. Telltale drops of crimson from his bleeding head made a path in the snow.
When Hildy looked up and saw Greg, panic overwhelmed her. “I thought you were back in New York!” she gasped. “You’ll never get away with this, Greg!”
“I already have,” he sneered. “I’m sorry I have to do this, Hilary, but - “
“You’re not sorry!” she yelled. “You don’t have a sorry bone in your body!”
“I can’t have you ruining my life, Hilary! Or is it Hildy?” he asked with deep sarcasm.
Hildy wasn’t sure which emotion was stronger, fear or outrage. “You’ve ruined your own life, Greg!” she retorted. “And you’ve ruined mine along with it! You did it through selfishness and dishonesty. I’ve only tried to defend myself, and claim what was rightfully mine! You’re a fine one to talk! You’ve brought this all on yourself, Greg!”
“No, Hilary. You’ve brought this on yourself because you just won’t let this thing rest.” He pointed the gun at her. “Get up and walk!” he ordered.
Hildy was terrified. He has no conscience! He’s intent on one thing - saving his reputation.
She struggled to her feet, shivering. The temperature was only five degrees Fahrenheit, and the jacket she wore was thin - fine for the mild weather in Paris, but totally inadequate for the colder temperature here in the Alps.
“Where are we?” she asked Greg. “Where have you brought us?”
“What difference does it make? You won’t live to tell anyone.”
He kicked the door open and pushed her into the lodge. He tied her up in one of the chairs.
He’s going to shoot us both! Hildy figured. But why would that surprise me? He already tried to blow me up with a bomb. But now Roger, too? Where would it stop?
The air in the lodge smelled musty. As she looked around she could see by the beam from Greg’s flashlight that they were in a small room with no heat or food in sight. There were one or two more rooms, but she couldn’t see what was in them. She watched while Greg went out and dragged Roger inside. He left him on the floor and started to leave.
“How did you get us here?” Hildy asked him. “I’m sure you didn’t dare hire anyone to fly the plane! He’d be a witness!”
Greg laughed. “You forget - - I’m an expert pilot. I rented the plane. We’re in the French Alps at my lodge, a long way from Paris, where no one will find you - not till it’s too late. They’ll never connect me with this. Everyone thinks I’m in New York, remember?” He laughed when she looked at the gun in his hand. “Oh, I’m not going to shoot you. There’ll be no telltale marks on you. No one will suspect foul play. You’ll just be stuck here alone in the Alps. When the Rangers stop by next month and find you they’ll figure you and Roger came in here to get out of the snow. It’s a foolproof plan.”
“Are you crazy? Peter will know someone brought us here, so far away from Paris, and you’re the first one he’ll blame! He knows the whole story. He’ll never believe you. He knows you put a bomb on my plane when I flew to Paris!”
Greg sneered. “Too bad it didn’t work. You’d be dead by now. But he can’t prove a thing. Whoever finds you won’t know who you are. I’ve taken your identifications. And Peter doesn’t know I own this lodge. Jay is the only one who knows about it, and I saw to it that he wants nothing more to do with you. He’ll never find out.” As he reached for the doorknob he turned and faced her. “You can scream all you want to. There’s no one around to help you. You’re completely isolated.”
“Greg, please don’t do this!” Hildy begged.
“This is the only way I can keep you and Roger quiet,” he s
aid as he opened the door to leave.
“You’re nuts if you think you can get away with this!” Hildy yelled after him as she struggled with the ropes.
He looked at her with hatred. “I warned you. Goodbye, Hilary.” He closed the door and left. The plane took off, and the sound of the engine faded away in the distance.
Hildy turned and looked at Roger, still lying unconscious on the floor. I have to revive him and get him to untie me. She was amazed at how calm she suddenly felt. Although she had dreaded this moment, now that it was here all fear left her. A strange, unexplainable conviction came over her, and she felt sure they would find a way out of this.
She tried to inch her chair over near Roger, but the more she struggled, the tighter the ropes pulled around her.
Roger moaned and opened his eyes. He stared, not able to focus at first. He blinked and sat up. Gradually his vision cleared and he saw Hildy. “What happened?” he moaned. “Where are we? And what are you doing tied up in that chair?”
“Roger! Are you all right?” Now that he was conscious her bravado and optimism faded, and she burst into tears.
Roger struggled to his feet and staggered over to her. He reached down and untied the ropes that held her captive.
She breathed a sigh of relief as the circulation in her hands returned. “Thanks,” she said, brushing the tears from her eyes. She rose and went to the window. It had started to snow, and although it was almost completely dark by now, it seemed like daylight. Strange, she thought, how the sky lights up at night when it’s snowing.
Roger moved slowly and painfully to her side and looked out. “We must be in the Alps!” he exclaimed. “How in the world did we get here?”
“How do you think?” Hildy snorted. “Gregory Wilcox brought us here. He owns this lodge.”
La Fleur Rouge The Red Flower Page 18