Parisian Affair Page 27

'Arianna Stephanides gave you this number?' the man asked incredulously.

  'Yes,' Todd said.

  'Well, perhaps, I could give madame your number,' the man said, 'and she could call you if she wants to.'

  'That would be wonderful,' Todd said. 'I'd appreciate it. I'm at the Ritz hotel in Paris,' he said, and he gave the man the number.

  'Very well,' the man said. 'I'll call madame. She will call you if she sees fit to do so.'

  'Thank you so much,' Todd said.

  'You're welcome, sir,' the man said.

  Todd hung up and turned to Allegra. 'Well, if you haven't already gathered what that was about, keep your fingers crossed. 'Madame'—as her manservant, or whatever he is, calls her—may be phoning us from London.'

  'That's fabulous,' Allegra said, throwing her arms around him. 'For that, you deserve a kiss.'

  'At least,' Todd said, turning and taking her into his arms. They kissed playfully at first and then, becoming quickly aroused, Todd slipped his hands inside her robe and began stroking her bare flesh, drawing her closer to him.

  Letting the business at hand slip away, Allegra allowed herself to enjoy Todd's gentle caresses, his passionate kisses, and her body's response. She slid her hands up and down his hard, muscled back, and up into his raven black hair as his lips moved from hers down to her neck. His tongue licked a path down to her breasts.

  'Hmmm,' she breathed, letting Todd pull her robe off her shoulders. She helped by unknotting the belt about her waist, exposing her nakedness to him.

  Todd sat up on the bed and quickly pulled down his shorts, then took them off. He was already fully aroused and fell upon her immediately, his hands everywhere at once. Allegra hummed with delight. She hadn't realized that her own carnal desires had been so urgent, but now she gave herself up to the moment entirely. As his tongue laved her nipples, they hardened instantly, and she reached down, taking his swollen cock in her hand, stroking it gently, savoring its throbbing power.

  Todd groaned at her touch before sitting up on his knees. With his hands on her breasts, he slid down, his tongue moving down her torso slowly, slowly, to her thighs, where he licked and kissed her with abandon. Allegra arched up to meet him, and almost cried out when his tongue found her golden mound. He teased her mercilessly until he finally entered her, licking and kissing her, making her writhe in ecstasy.

  'Ah . . . ah . . . Todd,' she moaned with pleasure. 'Ahhh . . .'

  He could wait no longer to mount her. He reared up, then lowered himself atop her, entering her slowly, his mouth on her lips, kissing her deeply, with an all-consuming passion. Allegra spread her legs wide as his manhood filled her. Then she drew them back together again, relishing the feel of him inside her.

  They began moving together, slowly at first, in a controlled rhythm, trying to draw out the sensual pleasure, but as desire overcame them, they began moving with lusty abandon until Allegra felt the contractions of orgasm begin.

  'Ahhhh . . . Todd,' she cried out. 'Ohhhh ... I'm ... I'm ...'

  Her orgasm propelled Todd to his own, and in a final thrust, he moaned his pleasure as his seed burst forth. His body momentarily stiffened, and then, as if all his tensions were diffused, every muscle in his powerful body relaxed, seemed to melt into her, and he began gasping for breath even as he peppered her face with kisses.

  'I... love ... you, Ally,' he rasped. 'Oh ... God ... how I love you.'

  She hugged him to her tightly, her hands on his back. 'I . . . love you . .. too . . . Todd,' she said in a breathy voice.

  He rolled to his side, taking her with him, still inside her and reluctant to withdraw. Looking into her eyes, he swept her hair back, away from her face, and kissed her lips tenderly.

  The telephone rang, and they both tensed. Then Todd laughed, and Allegra smiled. 'I'd better get that,' he said.

  She nodded.

  'It had better be Marina Koutsoukou,' he said. 'To take me away from you.'

  Paul rummaged in the laundry hamper but didn't feel the familiar cold metal of the gun. Alarmed, he picked up the hamper and dumped its contents onto the tile bathroom floor.

  'Merde!' he swore. He kicked at the heap of dirty laundry with his shoe. 'That bitch! She's stolen my pistol.'

  Sylvie rushed down the hallway from the living room and looked into the bathroom. 'What the hell?'

  'I had a pistol hidden in here,' Paul said, his face stricken.

  'What?' Sylvie exclaimed. 'It's not there?'

  Paul shook his head. 'I can't believe this.'

  Sylvie stepped into the bathroom and put a hand on his shoulder. 'Calm down,' she said. 'We don't have to have it.'

  Paul looked as if he was going to cry. 'Do you know how hard it was to get hold of that?' he said. 'I had to steal it from my grandfather. He— he ... if he knew . . .'

  Sylvie patted his hair with a hand. 'Don't worry, Paul. Your grandfather will never know. He's practically senile.'

  'I have to be so careful,' Paul said, whining. 'He gave me this building. What if he changes his mind? What if he decides to take it away again?'

  'That's not going to happen,' Sylvie replied. 'Come on. Come back to the living room with me.' She took his hand and tugged at it. Paul left the bathroom reluctantly, as if remaining there would somehow make the pistol reappear.

  When they were seated on the sofa, Sylvie fished around in her shoulder bag for the little Altoids tin and extracted it with a benevolent smile. She opened it and used a fingernail to scoop up a tiny amount. 'Here,' she said. 'Have another little snort, Paul.'

  He shook his head. 'I don't know. . . .' He was still high from earlier and angry that he'd been unable to make love to Sylvie. The drug had made an erection impossible. And now, the loss of the pistol.

  'Come on,' she cajoled. 'What's the harm? There's plenty more in your apartment downstairs. I'm going to have some. You have to keep up with me, don't you?'

  Paul looked at her, and Sylvie smiled. 'Okay,' he said. He took her hand and carefully lowered a nostril to her fingernail, snorting all of the powder. 'Hmmm,' he said, leaning back against the sofa.

  Sylvie scooped up some more in her fingernail and quickly snorted it, then replaced the Altoids tin in her bag, this time putting it in the little zippered compartment. When she was done, she reached over and gave Paul a kiss on his cheek. 'Cheer up,' she said. 'It's not the end of the world. We don't want the gun anyway. We don't want to get into that kind of trouble.'

  'God, no!' Paul exclaimed. 'I had no intention of using it, Sylvie. It's just that. . . well, I had it in case, you know.'

  'In case of what?' she asked.

  'You know. If some dealer got out of hand or . . . who knows?'

  'Oh, don't be paranoid,' she said. 'Nothing's going to happen to you or me.' She lit a cigarette from the pack on the coffee table. 'I think we should go get your car and take a ride over to the Ritz.'

  'Fine,' he said, 'but what are we going to do there?'

  'Wait for Allegra and her stupid boyfriend to come out,' Sylvie said, blowing smoke through her nostrils.

  'I guess so,' Paul said. 'But what're we going to do if we do see them?'

  'I have an idea,' Sylvie replied, 'that will get the ring into our hands.'

  When Todd picked up the telephone, he wasn't prepared for the reality of Marina Koutsoukou's deep and throaty voice. The gravelly rumble was tempered by years of liquor and cigarettes, and one of her most valuable assets.

  'Meester Hall,' she said.

  'Yes,' he replied. 'Thank you very much for getting back to me, Ms. Koutsoukou.'

  'My houseman, Dimitri, said that you'd spoken to Arianna Stephanides,' she said.

  'Yes,' he replied. 'I'm doing an article on important jewels, emeralds specifically, and I've been trying to track down the emerald brooch that her father gave you. I'm following several pieces of jewelry. Where they came from and where they are now.'

  He heard a deep and heavy sigh, as if her entire body's strength had been summoned up to heave
its world-weary and sad sound. 'I don't have the brooch, Meester Hall.'

  'Oh, I see,' Todd said. 'Do you mind my asking what's happened to it?'

  'I sold it,' she said. 'After Costas died, I needed some cash to tide me over until I could get work. He helped me spend the money I'd made from films, then left me with nothing.'

  'How awful,' Todd said.

  'It wasn't awful at all,' she replied dramatically. 'I expected exactly what I got. Nothing. We had a marvelous time together while he was alive, and that's what counted, Meester Hall. Who cares about emeralds? It is the heart that matters. But that is not why you asked me to call, is it?'

  'Well, no,' he said truthfully. 'I'm trying to trace the emerald, as I told you.'

  'Christie's,' she said. 'It was auctioned off at Christie's. In Geneva.' She burst into laughter. 'As 'property of a lady.' Is that not ridiculous?'

  'Was that for anonymity?' he asked.

  'Of course,' she said. 'I couldn't let the studios know I needed money, or they would've tried to take advantage of me.'

  She paused, and Todd heard her take a long draw on a cigarette. 'That sexy young Arab bought it,' she went on, her voice suddenly full of innuendo. 'The one Costas bought it from. I don't remember his name. He came from that famous jewelry store in Paris. He came down to Mykonos. To the house in Aghios Stephanos. If I hadn't been so happy with Costas, I would've seduced him then and there.' She erupted into deep, throaty laughter, then coughed. 'Anyway, he bought it back. What he's done with it, I don't know.'

  'I really appreciate your getting back to me,' Todd said. 'You've been very helpful.'

  'I don't know how I've been helpful,' she replied, 'but you're welcome, Meester Hall.'

  She hung up.

  'Tell me what she said,' Allegra asked anxiously, although she was certain she already knew pretty much what Marina Koutsoukou had said.

  Todd smiled. 'Exactly what we expected. She sold the brooch at Christie's in Geneva, and 'that sexy Arab' bought it.'

  'She said that?'

  Todd nodded and told her about the conversation.

  'I bet we're going to hear the same story from the general and the guy in New York,' Allegra said.

  'Probably,' Todd agreed. 'If they've been forced to sell.'

  'Through death or divorce or . . . whatever,' Allegra added. She looked at him thoughtfully. 'I hope we can get hold of the general. He might be difficult, living in exile in Miami. There might be old enemies after him. The man in New York. What's his name?'

  Todd looked down at the list. 'Hutchison. William Cosgrove Hutchison.'

  'He shouldn't be too much of a problem,' Allegra said. 'At least I don't think so.'

  'Want me to try him?' Todd asked.

  'I'll do it,' she said. 'We can take turns. How's that?'

  'Fine,' he said. 'As long as we get some dinner in a while. Are you getting hungry?'

  'Yes. I think sex makes me hungry.'

  'We don't want you getting too fat,' he joked, 'so maybe we better cut it out. What do you think?'

  'I think I would be a very happy fat woman,' she said.

  Todd leaned over and kissed her.

  'Wait,' she said, drawing away and laughing. 'Let me try Hutchison in New York. Okay?'

  'Sure,' Todd said amiably. 'I think I'll jump in the shower.'

  'Maybe I'll join you,' she said, 'if this doesn't take too long.'

  'This might be a very long shower.'

  'Go,' she said, laughing.

  He kissed her cheek and hopped off the bed. Allegra picked up the list. She dialed the switchboard and gave the operator the instructions.

  After a while, the operator came back on. 'I have three W. C. or William C. Hutchisons,' she said in barely accented English. 'Do you know the address?'

  'No,' Allegra replied. 'Can you tell me what addresses you have?'

  'One on West Ninety-fifth Street,' she replied. 'One on Moore Street, and one on Park Avenue.'

  'Let's try the Park Avenue number,' Allegra said, considering it the most likely bet.

  Moments later, the telephone was picked up. 'Hello,' a man said. His voice was that of an elderly man, and a cranky-sounding one at that.

  'Mr. Hutchison?' she asked.

  'Who's asking?' he replied unpleasantly.

  'My name is Allegra Sheridan, and I'm doing an article on important emeralds. Tracing their history, that sort of thing, and I wondered if you're the same William C. Hutchison who bought a pair of emerald earrings at Jules Levant in Paris several years ago.'

  'Damn right I did,' he said with a chuckle, 'and it was one of the worst mistakes I ever made.'

  'Oh?' Allegra replied. He sounded as if he'd had a few drinks. She didn't know whether that boded ill, but she ventured on. 'May I ask why?'

  'She was the sweetest little thing you ever met,' he said, 'until I put a cap on her spending. She turned into a virago. Never saw anything like it. Those earrings were a wedding present, and when we got divorced they went with her. No prenup. Stupidest thing I ever did.'

  'How awful,' Allegra sympathized. 'Do you know if she still has them?'

  He chuckled again. 'I know that she most certainly does not. She may've taken me for a ride, but she didn't take me to the cleaners. Sold the damn things because she needed money. Which gives me no end of pleasure to contemplate. Sotheby's in Monte Carlo. 'Property of a lady.' Should've said 'property of a tramp,' if you ask me.'

  'I see,' Allegra said. 'You don't happen to know who bought them, do you?'

  'I most certainly do,' he replied. 'The same slick operator who sold me the damn things. Owns a jewelry store in Paris. You know the one. . . ?'

  'Jules Levant?'

  'That's it,' he said. 'Convinced Lily they were extremely important, matched the way they were, and talked about how they were probably from Cleopatra's mines in Egypt.'

  'That's fascinating,' she said.

  'Umpteen thousands of dollars fascinating,' he replied. 'So, you're doing an article?' he asked, almost as if it were an afterthought. 'What's this for?'

  'I'm a student,' Allegra replied. 'It's a school paper.'

  'Well, young lady, I'd appreciate it if you refrained from using my name,' he said.

  'Yes, sir,' she replied. 'I promise I won't do that. Thank you very much, Mr. Hutchison. It's been a pleasure to talk to you.'

  'Good-bye,' he said.

  The phone went dead in her ear, and Allegra hung up. 'Three down and one to go,' she said aloud. From the open bathroom door, she could hear the roar of the shower, and she thought about Todd and the soothing hot water sluicing down his naked body.

  She got to her feet and padded to the bathroom on bare feet. Slipping out of the bathrobe, she suddenly felt a slick, wet hand reach out and grasp the back of her neck.

  'You—you prick!' she exclaimed, before bursting into laughter. 'You scared me half to death.'

  Todd, his soaked hair plastered to his forehead, grinned. 'Come on in, little girl,' he said, pulling her toward him. 'The big bad wolf has something just for you.'

  'I can't imagine what that might be.'

  Soon his arms were wrapped around her, and the water was streaming down them both, its roar not quite covering up the gasps of delight and moans of ecstasy that escaped their lips.

  'Give me the keys,' Sylvie demanded. 'I'm going to drive.'

  'I don't think that's a good idea,' Paul retorted. 'It's an antique and worth a lot of money.' He glanced at the 1953 Mercedes-Benz 300 S roadster with a measure of pride. Its dark green paint—so dark it was almost black—gleamed, despite being slightly dusty, and its natural-canvas convertible top was virtually pristine. All of its chrome retained its high luster, even the wheel rims, which shone against the big whitewall tires.

  Fortunately, it had seldom been driven outside the environs of his grandfather's chateau and those of his neighbors in the Loire Valley.

  'Oh, get off it,' Sylvie said. 'I can drive as well as you can. Probably better.' She held out her h
and. 'Give.'

  'I really don't like the idea,' Paul said. 'My grandfather would have a fit if he knew I'd let anyone else drive it.'

  'Face it, Paul,' Sylvie snapped. 'Your dear old grandpapa probably wouldn't even know you if you drove out to see him in it. He's moldering away in that leaky old chateau. Boozed up all the time.'

  'Sylvie,' Paul protested, 'you're stoned on crystal meth, and this car—'

  'You are, too,' she snapped back, 'and probably a lot more stoned than I am. I've never had an accident, and I'm not going to have one now.' She grabbed his hand, trying to snatch the keys from him.

  Paul finally relented with a massive sigh. He loathed these scenes with Sylvie and would concede to practically anything to avoid them. 'If anything happens—'

  'Nothing's going to happen,' she replied. She gave him the benefit of a huge smile. 'I know exactly what I'm doing. Now, get in. Let's go.'

  Paul opened the door for her, and she slid onto the natural-colored leather of the car's seat. He went around and got in on the passenger side. 'It's not an automatic,' he warned.

  'Tell me something I don't know.' Sylvie started the engine and put the big car into reverse. 'Wouldn't it be fun to put the top down?' she said, backing out of the parking space.

  'It's too cold for that,' Paul said, stating the obvious. He idly brushed dust off the dashboard's beautiful wood trim. He must remember to get a cover for the car. Even though it was garaged at enormous expense, the city's air crept in and coated it with grime.

  Sylvie pulled out onto the street and made a right, and eventually turned onto the rue Vieille du Temple, heading toward the rue de Rivoli, on which she went westward. He noted gratefully that she drove with confidence, handling the big, heavy car as if she'd driven it many times before.

  'Where are we going?' he asked.

  'I told you before,' she said. 'Place Vendome. The Ritz.'

  'Sylvie,' he said mildly, 'the Ritz is like a fortress, and they'll never let us in.'

  Sylvie laughed and slapped the steering wheel with a hand. 'We're not going inside,' she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

  'Then what are we going to do?'