26
ONCE OUTSIDE, MILO set me down, and I turned on him, seething. “If you ever dare to manhandle me again in such a fashion, they will be investigating your murder,” I ground out.
He looked very much as though he was trying to hide his amusement, and it was all I could do to keep my anger in check.
“Amory, I really do need you to go back to the hotel,” he said, in what I assumed was meant to be a soothing tone. It only made me angrier.
“I won’t,” I said. “I want to know what you’re doing.”
He glanced around as though weighing his options. At last he seemed to realize that I was not about to be thwarted. “All right,” he said with a sigh. “But we’ll be seen here. Let’s go to that café, and I’ll explain.”
We crossed the street and went in. The café was warm and the air smelled of coffee and fresh bread. It was nearly empty, and we had our choice of seats.
There was an empty table near the corner. It was a bit secluded but also close enough to the window that we had a clear view to the building across the street.
We settled into our seats and Milo ordered coffee.
Though there were flickering candles in little glass holders on the tables, the light was dim. There was a distinctly romantic air to the place, and I could not help but feel the tug of nostalgia. There had been many nights like these on our honeymoon, cups of coffee in shadowy cafés as we held hands across the table.
It seemed a very long time ago, almost as though I had been another person then. Our marriage had not been, as I imagined it would be then, a constant state of bliss. We had had more than our share of difficult times. In fact, I was not altogether sure we were not in the midst of one now.
I looked across the table at my husband. He had a great deal of explaining to do, but I supposed that I could begin.
“Before you begin what will no doubt be an enthralling tale, I want to say something, Milo,” I said. “I think you’re right. I don’t think Madame Nanette killed Helios Belanger.”
“I’m glad to hear you say so, but must you have followed me to a brothel to do it?” he asked lightly. It seemed that his anger of earlier in the evening had all but evaporated. It should not have been surprising given that Milo was extremely even-tempered, but I had expected another terse exchange over the subject, not this easy reconciliation.
“In my head it all made sense, but in my heart I knew as you did that she hadn’t done it.”
“That’s very sweet, darling,” he said as he flicked his silver lighter, “but it was rather more than my heart that made me sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“I asked her,” he said, lighting his cigarette.
I looked up. “You asked her?” I repeated.
“Yes. That night after she told us about her inheritance. When I saw her down to her cab, I asked her to tell me if she had anything to do with his death.”
“What did she say?”
“She tut-tutted me for the suggestion and assured me that she had no reason to kill him.”
“What made you so sure she was telling the truth?” I asked.
His eyes met mine. “Because she knew I would have protected her if she had done it.”
I knew that he meant it. There were very few things that were important to Milo, but the things that truly mattered trumped all else.
“You could have told me,” I said. “We might have avoided a row.”
“Yes, you’re right. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. You caught me off guard with your accusation. I am a bit defensive when it comes to Madame Nanette.”
“You care for her a great deal,” I said, ready to forget the argument once and for all.
“Yes. She has always been very kind to me.”
“Why do you never talk about your childhood?” I asked him. I had so many things I wanted to know about what had transpired here in Paris, but they suddenly seemed less important than learning about his past.
If this line of questioning surprised him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he shrugged. “There isn’t much to tell. I’m afraid it was very much like any other English boy’s childhood.”
“You didn’t have a mother,” I said.
“Many people grow up without mothers,” he replied.
“Yes, I suppose.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up in amusement. “Why all the questions, darling?”
I wasn’t even sure I knew myself. It was difficult, somehow, to put into words what I was feeling at the moment. I felt as though I was so close to discovering some elusive part of him that had always been just beyond my reach.
At last I answered him. “I sometimes feel as though I don’t know you very well at all.”
“You know me better than anyone else,” he said, his eyes on mine.
Did I? Sometimes I felt very far away. Sometimes I longed for those early days, when I had been so blindly in love that the world seemed like paradise.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I suppose I’m feeling a bit nostalgic. I was thinking about our honeymoon. This place reminds me of it.”
He smiled, his eyes warm. “When I think about our honeymoon, I do not think of nights spent in cafés.”
“But we did spend evenings in places like these. I remember how very happy I was.”
“I remember thinking how lucky I was to have convinced you to marry me.”
I smiled. “I think about it often,” I said. “That night you asked me to marry you, quite out of the blue.”
I still recalled it as though it was yesterday. I had been engaged to another man, but Milo and I had met often at social occasions. He had pursued me with that relentless charm for which he was infamous, and I had been fighting a losing battle with my attraction to him.
Then one night we had been at a party and Milo had swept me away into an abandoned conservatory, redolent of gardenias, so we could be alone. He had kissed me then for the first time, and I had let him. When at last my conscience could no longer be ignored, I had pulled away. “I’m engaged to be married, you know,” I had told him breathlessly.
“Marry me instead,” he had said, and for a moment I had been unable to speak.
I sighed at the memory. “I thought it was quite the most romantic thing I had ever heard of,” I said.
“I rather thought I bungled it. I didn’t propose to you on one knee, did I?” he said.
“No,” I replied, “but I didn’t mind.”
“Would it surprise you to learn I was afraid you would laugh in my face?”
I looked up at him, surprised indeed. “Surely you knew that I was mad about you.”
“I knew that you liked me. That’s not at all the same thing as wanting to spend the rest of your life with someone.”
I felt the prick of tears behind my eyes at the sentiment. Milo so seldom revealed his feelings to me that I was almost at a loss as to how to respond. “Did you want to spend the rest of your life with me?” I asked softly.
“I’d had no intention of ever getting married until I met you,” he said. “And if you’d refused me, I’d be a bachelor still.”
“Do you think so?” I whispered.
I had always been under the impression that Milo had married me because I was engaged to another man and he knew he couldn’t have me any other way. I had occasionally felt like the prize he had meant to win at all costs. It was touching to realize that there had been more to it than that.
He leaned toward me across the table, lowering his voice. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
Tears filled my eyes, and I was just about to respond when a movement across the street caught my attention. I looked closely, and soon I was convinced I was right. It was Michel Belanger.
“Milo, you haven’t told me what’s going on,” I said, the spell of the moment broken. I had been so caught up in romance that I had forgotten the matter at hand. “Who was tha
t note from? Who were you going to meet?”
“Michel.”
“He asked you to meet him at a brothel?” I asked, growing more confused by the second.
“I asked to meet with him. I chose this place because it was where we came last night. I wanted to see if it would happen again.”
“If what would happen again?”
“If someone would follow him.”
“Milo, you’re not making sense.”
“Darling, while you were busy following Michel Belanger last night, you didn’t realize that we weren’t the only ones to do so.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
He didn’t answer this question, but rose from his seat. “And there is the person I meant.”
I looked outside. For a moment, I couldn’t see anyone other than Michel, who was walking unhurriedly down the street. Then the person who was standing in shadow moved. I could not make out if it was a man or a woman. Milo, however, might have gotten a better look, for a strange expression crossed his face.
He rose, throwing some money on the table, and moved toward the door. I followed him and caught his arm before he could step outside. “Milo, maybe we should ring the police. It’s not safe.”
He turned to me. “Amory, I need you to go back to the hotel. Telephone Madame Nanette and tell her not to let the child out of her sight. Stay in our room and don’t let anyone in until I get there.”
“But, Milo, I don’t…”
He grasped my arm. “Please, darling. Trust me.”
I looked into his eyes, and knew that I must.
“All right,” I said. “But be careful.”
I didn’t want to leave him there, but there had been something in his tone that had convinced me to do as he said. I hoped I had made the right decision.
I hurried to a cab at the corner and got inside.
As I rode back to the hotel, my mind was in a whirl. There was so much about this I didn’t understand. Who was following Michel Belanger? I supposed it was possible that he was being followed for some other reason than Helios Belanger’s death. After all, he had a reputation for seducing other men’s wives. It might simply have been a jealous husband who was following him. Somehow, however, I didn’t think so.
If it had something to do with the formula that had been in his possession, however, who might be following him? His siblings or Beryl might have confronted him at home at any time. Why trail him to a brothel? It didn’t make sense.
I thought that Milo had recognized the person who was following Michel, and it appeared that it had not been who he’d expected.
I went into the hotel, my nerves very much on edge. Milo had asked me to trust him, but I needed to do something. But what?
I was about to walk past the front desk when the clerk stopped me.
“Madame Ames?”
“Yes?”
“You have a visitor.”
I cast a glance around the lobby, half expecting someone to have been waiting there.
The man shook his head and glanced upward at the ceiling, pointing. “No, madame. In your rooms.”
I was a bit surprised, as I could think of no one who would be visiting here. Not many people even knew that Milo and I were in Paris … unless perhaps my cousin Laurel had made an unexpected appearance, as she was sometimes wont to do.
“My cousin, perhaps?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, madame. Your brother.”
“My brother?” I repeated.
“Yes,” he said. “He was most anxious to see you and asked if I could let him into your rooms. It was just a few moments ago. But perhaps I should not have told you. Perhaps it was meant to be a surprise.”
It was indeed a surprise, especially considering I had no brother.
27
WHO WAS IN my suite? I contemplated asking the clerk to go up with me or, more drastically, telephoning the police, but then I decided that perhaps the only way to learn the truth was to face whoever was there. I had the beginning of an idea, and I needed to see if I was right. After all, my visitor had been seen coming here. Surely he wouldn’t try anything drastic.
But first I went to the telephone booth in the corner and rang up the Belanger residence, asking for Madame Nanette. It was a few moments before she came on the line and when she did, I could hear the concern in her voice.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Madame Nanette. It’s Amory,” I said. “Milo told me to ring you up.”
“What is it?” she asked. “Is there something wrong?”
“I … I’m not sure,” I said. “He told me to tell you not to let Seraphine out of your sight.” Somehow, given the gentleman in my room, I didn’t think she had to worry. If there was danger, it was here and not there.
Madame Nanette, with the uncanny ability that only nannies had, seemed to have read my thoughts.
“Amory, are you in danger?”
“I don’t think so,” I said slowly. “I’m at my hotel. Milo will be here shortly. We’ll ring you up again then.”
“You will be careful,” she said, her tone unconvinced.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll be careful.”
We rang off, and I walked slowly across the lobby to the lift, my thoughts moving rapidly, the little pieces of the puzzle beginning to come together in my mind.
As I took the lift to my room, I opened my handbag and made sure the revolver was still there.
I reached my room and inserted my key into the lock and pushed the door open to find André Duveau standing before me. “Good evening, Amory,” he said.
“Good evening, André,” I said a bit cautiously, closing the door behind me. Somehow I had known it would be him.
He smiled, a bit sheepishly. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here.”
“As a matter of fact, I am rather curious. Won’t you sit down?” I asked, leading the way toward the sitting area. “Can I offer you coffee or tea? It will only take a minute to have something sent up.”
“No, thank you. I apologize for dropping by and slipping into your suite, but I have very good reason. There was a matter of some urgency I wished to discuss and I realized that a gentleman arriving at this time of evening might be cause for speculation.”
“It wouldn’t have been so very odd for Milo to have a late visitor,” I said in a casual tone.
“But he isn’t here, is he?”
“No, but he shall be back soon,” I said, hoping that it was true.
“Well, it’s you I’ve come looking for,” he said.
“Oh?” I asked. We were playing a little game of politeness, but we both knew that this was no ordinary social call.
“Yes. It’s about your visit with Cecile yesterday.” His tone was friendly, his handsome features as pleasant as ever, but I could detect that there was something less cordial that lay just beneath the surface.
“Oh?” I asked. “What about it?”
Emile, in his cage, suddenly started jumping and shrieking excitedly. It was just the opportunity I needed, a few moments to gather my thoughts and to determine how to proceed in the face of this newest development.
“If you’ll excuse me for just a moment, I need to feed the monkey.”
“Very well.”
I picked up a knife and an apple from a bowl on the table and went to Emile’s cage.
I cut the fruit into slices, while Emile watched, still chattering away excitedly, but the slices were too large to fit through the bars of the cage. I opened the door to hand them in to him. I should have expected he had just been biding his time.
Emile darted from the cage, rushing past me.
There was a surprised murmur from André as Emile attached himself to the man’s lapel and gibbered noisily.
“Emile, you naughty thing,” I said. “Come here at once.”
I had expected him to ignore me, but instead he looked over his shoulder at me and responded excitedly. I was quite sure he was trying to tell me something, but I
had no notion of what it was. In fact, I was beginning to suspect I was half mad for trying to communicate with the creature.
Then, suddenly, he hopped to the floor and ran over to me, leaping up into my arms. “What a naughty boy you’ve been, Emile,” I scolded him. “I’m very sorry, André.”
He laughed, though I could tell that he was not exactly amused. I could not blame him, for it had to be most disconcerting to be unexpectedly pounded upon by a primate. “It’s no matter.”
“All that fuss, Emile,” I said, carrying him back to his cage. “You must learn to be polite.”
It was then that I felt his furry little hand press something into mine, something he had taken from André’s pocket. I looked down at the little tin of lavender pomade. Why had he stolen André’s tin? Then I looked at the table where I had taken my tin out of my handbag earlier in the day in order to put the gun inside. My tin was gone. So it had been the one in André’s pocket, and Emile had wanted to return it to me.
And suddenly the last piece clicked into place. Even as I considered it, it all began to make sense. From the beginning, the answer had been obvious. I had just not been able to see it because I had been looking at it in the wrong way.
It had been André all along. André who had infiltrated the Belanger family with his good-natured interest in the industry, André who had charmed Cecile Belanger, who wanted Helios Belanger’s perfume formula. He had been the most obvious suspect from the start, but he had not been in Paris when Helios Belanger was killed. Now I knew how he had done it.
Emile clicked his tongue and tilted his head, as though waiting for me to compliment him. “Very good, Emile,” I whispered. “You’ve done very well indeed.”
I turned away from Emile’s cage to find that André was pointing a gun in my direction.
“Where is it?” he asked pleasantly.
“Where is what?” I asked.
“You know what I mean,” he said. “I saw you go into Helios Belanger’s office and take something from his desk only this afternoon.”
I was confused at first, but then I realized he must mean Madame Nanette’s letter. “I didn’t take anything,” I said. “It was a letter, and I only looked at it.”
The Essence of Malice Page 25