C'est la Vie (Raja Williams Series) (21 page)

“Any ideas?”

“Can you get a picture?”

“I didn’t bring a camera,” said Raja.

“And you call yourself a detective. How about your phone? I could use my face recognition software and we might get lucky.”

“That might work. How close do I need to be?”

“Under sixty feet. Forty would be a lot better.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Stay tuned.”

Raja estimated that the distance from the statue to the bench was easily over one hundred feet away. He couldn’t approach in the open, and the hedge was too thick to get through, at least where he was. Working back about fifty feet, he found a gap in the hedge that he could get through. The backside of the hedge was close to a metal railing on a small wall overlooking a busy road. He would have to squeeze along between the hedge and rail. Then he would need to get lucky and find another opening in the hedge closer to the bench where the two men sat.

Raja moved as quickly as he could, knowing he might not have much time. Once he had gotten nearer to the bench, he stopped and strained to hear voices. The traffic noise behind him made it hard to hear. He needed to be closer. He would have to take a chance when he found a hole in the hedge. As luck would have it, there was a sizable gap just ahead. He made it to the gap and eased his way to the front side of the hedge. He was less than ten feet away from the two men on the bench. He listened through the traffic noise and could only make out the unknown man say that someone is dead. Pulling out his phone he leaned forward to attempt a shot. His blurred vision made aiming the phone difficult and while he tried to adjust to a better position, he accidentally hit the button. The phone camera feature made a loud, recognizable clicking sound. Damn gadgets.

“Did you hear that?” said the voice Raja still didn’t know.

Raja scooted back from the front of the hedge.

“It came from over there,” said Gilliard. The men stood up.

Raja backed up against the railing. He had no time to squeeze along the hedge. He made a snap decision and vaulted over the railing onto the narrow sidewalk below. The impact hurt his head and his eyes blurred. Staggering back he stepped off the curb into traffic. A large tour bus rushed by inches away from Raja, the driver standing on the horn the whole way. Raja reacted and jumped back onto the sidewalk, pressing his body up against the wall just as Gilliard poked his head through the hedge. Raja held his breath with the inspector right above him.

“I don’t see anyone,” said Gilliard, looking both ways along the railing. “It must have been a bird.” Then he disappeared back into the hedge.

Raja waited a few seconds more and breathed a sigh of relief. He followed the wall until he reached a place where he could climb back up. By that time Gilliard was long gone and so was the mystery man he met at the bench. Raja checked his phone but all he had taken was a picture of the grass. So much for an ID. Inspector Gilliard was up to something all right, however, Raja had no idea what it was.

Raja felt sick to his stomach and decided to can the surveillance. Vinny was right. He needed to rest. He walked back to his car and drove off. He was too stressed to notice the little blue Peugeot that pulled out behind him.

After driving home Raja poured himself a glass of scotch and sat down. Before he could finish the drink he fell asleep on the couch.

Chapter Thirty-one: Meet the New Boss

Vinny arrived back at the club and went to the third floor to find Yvette. “I wanted to thank you for the use of your car.”

“I was glad to help. Did you hear what happened?” asked Yvette.

“To Bruno? Oh yeah. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”

Yvette looked confused over Vinny’s phrasing and use of sarcasm.

“I mean good riddance to that bastard.”

“That I understand. And I agree.”

“So, what’s going to happen at the cabaret now that Bruno is gone?” asked Vinny.

“Marcelo is taking over as the manager. Henri says the word came in from the owner this morning.”

“By the way, who is the owner?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen him,” said Yvette. “Rumor is he’s some rich guy from Rome.”

Vinny had been having trouble tracking down the owner through the maze of corporation she had run into during her research. There was a deliberate attempt to hide the owner, and so far it was working.

“Marcelo may not be much improvement in my opinion,” said Vinny. “Of course, not beating and raping underage girls would be an excellent start.”

“Marcelo is a cad, but he’s no Bruno.”

“I guess we will see.”

“Well, you can see. I’m not going to be here much longer,” said Yvette.

“No?”

“My Pierre says he has things just about handled. Then we are gone for good.”

“Oh yeah, your Pierre.” Vinny thought about what she and Raja had found out regarding Inspector Gilliard. Yvette might be in for more trouble than she could handle, especially if he turned out to be the Scorpion. Vinny decided that when the time was right she would make sure Yvette got out safely. Now wasn’t that time.

Vinny went back downstairs to the dressing room to get ready for her night on the floor. The little accountant came in while she was changing, but turned around and waited respectfully until she was dressed.

“
Bonsoir
, Vinny. It is good to see you again. I heard about what happened to that young girl—and that you helped her—what was her name?”

“Maggie.”

“Yes, Maggie, poor thing. Is she okay?”

“She will be. She is home with her parents in Dijon.”

“I suppose, with Bruno now dead, there will be no further liability to the cabaret. I mean legally and financially.”

Vinny stared at the little man. Leave it to an accountant to worry about lawsuits and money when a young girl’s life has been shattered. “Maggie has not even told her parents. I don’t know if that girl will ever recover from what Bruno did to her,” said Vinny, ignoring Henri’s insensitive comment. “As far as I’m concerned, his death couldn’t have come soon enough.”

“You are right, of course. It is terrible what some men are compelled to do. On a better note, it is my understanding that Marcelo is taking over as manager of the cabaret. Perhaps he will be a better boss.”

“Don’t count on it, Henri. Here comes the new boss, same as the old boss.”

“I suppose,
ma chère
. Then again, one can always hope for improvement.”

Vinny didn’t see hope as the agent that was needed, but she wasn’t going to argue. She smiled, and Henri went about his business. Now that Bruno was gone, Vinny was determined to make sure things would be different.

After her first shift serving tables Vinny took a break. Marcelo came through the dressing area while she was freshening up.

“I didn’t think I would see you here again,” said Marcelo. “I’m happy to see I was wrong. You really make that uniform.”

“Look all you want, but hands off.”

“Of course. You know I’m the manager now.”

“Yes, I heard about your big promotion. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I wanted to let you know that if you need anything, anything at all, I’m your man.”

“All I need is for you to treat the girls right. Do you think you can do that, Marcelo?”

“Of course, of course. I like you, Vinny. Just remember I’m here for you.” Marcelo was loving his newfound power.

“Yeah, I’m good, thank you. My break is over. I have to go back on the floor.” Vinny was happy to get away from Marcelo, but on her way out into the cabaret with all the grabby customers she realized it was out of the frying pan and into the fire. Twice during breaks Vinny went back to the dressing area, hoping to get the chance to break into the secret safe in the back room. She had brought her equipment and stashed it in her locker. Safe cracking was different from hacking, but Vinny had a universal knack when it came to getting into places she wasn’t supposed to go.

The problem was opportunity, or rather, the lack thereof. There were few times when girls weren’t in the dressing area, and fewer still when curious male eyes weren’t coming by hoping to catch sight of the beautiful girls. Frustration was not something Vinny accepted easily. Even as a child her parents had given up on hiding anything from her, and out of necessity opted for teaching her very early on about everything she might come across. It had established a mindset of expecting open and free access to everything that permeated her life. Being thwarted only made Vinny more determined she would have what was in that safe. It was only a matter of time.

Chapter Thirty-two: Dinner for Two

Raja didn’t wake up until after ten the next morning. He had slept for nearly eleven hours, needing every minute. His ordeal with Bruno had taken more out of him than he realized. He took a long, hot shower hoping to wash away the pain from his wounds. The physical damage he had sustained at the hands of Bruno was already healing nicely, but the same couldn’t be said for his heart. Raja had made a strong connection with Corinne in their short time together. It was typical of how life went for him. He was wide open to other people in a way that allowed him to see and feel things others missed. Although usually a boon to his investigations, it could sometimes be a curse in his personal life. Not everyone could tolerate the kind of intimacy that comes with the empathic power Raja possessed. And empathy was a two way street that could be especially devastating when tragedy struck. Corinne’s death had hit him hard.

After his shower, Raja dressed and then discovered he had turned his phone off. He had two voice mails, and two texts. The texts were from Vinny and the first voice mail as well. The last voice mail was the one that riveted his attention. The caller ID was blank, but the voice sounded vaguely familiar. Raja was sure he had heard it before but couldn’t recall where. The man’s voice said that as of noon today, Margaret Browning would be available specifically to Raja Williams. The message instructed that he must tell no one and must come alone. It included an address in the country just outside Paris. Further instructions insisted that he should keep her in his care until he heard from the caller again. The man never identified himself.

Raja looked at his watch. It was already twenty-five minutes past noon.

At nearly the same time Inspector Gilliard had just ended a private call. When he walked out, his assistant Claude stopped him.

“Did you hear? Monsieur Williams was put under red alert status on the terrorist watch list.” Gilliard knew what that meant. A red alert suspect was considered armed and dangerous constituting an immediate threat, and was to be apprehended as soon as possible, using whatever force was deemed necessary. It gave police wide latitude in the determination of necessary force.

“When did you get the terrorist bulletin?”

“I didn’t, actually. Lieutenant Baston made a point to mention it to me when he and Revel were leaving.” Claude looked for something on his computer. “There it is now. Raja Williams. Odd thing, though, I didn’t even think they knew Monsieur Williams. Did you? Inspector?”

Inspector Gilliard was already gone.

For Raja, the drive to the address took only fifteen minutes in the Porsche. The location was a small villa just outside Sevran, a town northeast of Paris proper. As Raja turned into the long driveway, a dull ache began in the back of his head. It was the one he got when there was going to be trouble. Unsure of what to expect ahead, he parked along the driveway and walked across the lawn toward a small gazebo, using the trees for cover.

There was a wide curved hedge that separated the yard from a circular drive and fountain that stood in front of the villa’s entrance. Raja followed a stone path that led from the gazebo to a passage through the hedge. Walking through brought him to the edge of the driveway, where he stopped and scanned both ways before he stepped out. The last hedge he went through almost got him killed.

Moments later a car pulled up from the driveway and stopped next to the fountain. Two police officers jumped out and walked toward Raja smiling.

Raja wasn’t expecting anyone from the police. “What are you doing here?” he asked. His head was throbbing.

“I believe I can answer that,” said a voice from behind Raja.

Raja turned. “You,” said Raja, his head now throbbing fiercely.

Inspector Gilliard stood at the hedge. With his gun pointed toward Raja, Gilliard fired twice before Raja could even react. Raja could not believe he wasn’t hit. When he heard two thuds behind him a moment later, he spun around.

The two officers lay motionless on the ground, their drawn guns next to them.

“What the hell,” said Raja, stunned by the events. “You killed them both.”

“Would you rather I let them kill you? A simple thank you would do. You are lucky I still have a steady hand with a gun. Otherwise those two would have killed us both and then they likely would have killed the English woman.” Gilliard holstered his gun and walked past Raja to the two fallen men. He pulled out their ID’s. “Baston and Revel. They must have been working for Bruno.”

“You mean you’re not?”

“Me? A crooked cop?” Gilliard laughed. “Not likely. Are you a crooked private eye?”

“No.”

“Well then, now that we’ve settled that, we should go find Mrs. Browning.” The two men advanced to the main house cautiously. The door was unlocked. Gilliard drew his weapon again and nodded for Raja to go first. Raja opened the door and rushed inside. He stopped in his tracks, dumbfounded by what he saw.

Mrs. Browning was sitting at a dining table that was draped with a fine linen tablecloth. In front of her was a beautiful dinner setting complete with candles and a bouquet of yellow daffodils. She was enjoying a meal of
beef bourguignon, one of her favorites. After washing down a bite with a drink of water from a crystal goblet, she looked up pleasantly and said, “What took you so long? I expected you here much sooner. I’ve already eaten more than I should. Look at the wonderful meal Didier prepared especially for me. I think he felt guilty about the dreadful fright he put me through.” She took another bite. “I just can’t stop myself. Mmmmm. The wine sauce he made is so delicious. The recipe is from his home town in the Burgundy region. That Frenchman can certainly cook.” Margaret took another bite.