Domina by L S Hilton

Author:L S Hilton [Hilton, L S]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780399184826
Google: UxIkMQAACAAJ
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2017-04-14T23:00:00+00:00

17

I was becoming quite the detective. At least, I had a hangover. I’d rejected the idea of simply calling Guiche’s firm and asking to speak to him – even if I got through, he was hardly likely to discuss his clients with some random stranger, and if I told him I had the Caravaggio he would go straight to Yermolov. I had to find the boy; I had to make use of him, see if there was some way of getting close enough to Guiche without arousing suspicion so that I could learn what, if anything, he knew of the night of Moncada’s death. If it turned out to be nothing, I’d have to come up with a plan B. I stuck to water when I returned to Olivier’s the next night at 11 p.m.

The junior hustlers were clustered once more round the bar. My boy was not among them, but I did recognise one of the group to whom he had been speaking the previous evening: whip-thin in tight white jeans and a natty leather-collared T-shirt, artfully gelled bouffant atop a sulky, smudgy-featured face. I’d picked the lowest-cut top from my meagre travelling wardrobe and worn a push-up bra, trying to look as though I was genuinely there for a bit of action, and I gave him the glad-eye until he joined me at the bar, with only the slightest moue of weary distaste at his chums. He looked about nineteen, and there was no getting around it – in his eyes I was basically a cougar.

‘Bonsoir, mademoiselle.’ At least he hadn’t said madame.

‘Bonsoir. I saw you here last night.’ He smiled modestly, obviously convinced that I had been drawn back for a taste of what he had to offer in the backroom. ‘I hoped you might be able to introduce me to your friend,’ I continued simply. ‘You were talking with him yesterday.’ I quickly described the boy as best I could, mentioning the gold Rolex, which provoked a look of recognition.

‘What do you want with him?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘The same thing you thought I wanted from you, of course.’

He made to back away. ‘Sorry – I think you’ve made a mistake,’ he replied dismissively.

I set a note on the bar between us. It was more than I could afford really, but I didn’t have time to haggle.

‘I’d be glad to speak to him – if you could maybe try . . . ?’

He cocked his potato of a nose at me as the fifty shimmied its way into his back pocket. ‘I could . . . ask around.’

‘Thank you. You’re very kind.’

He made his way out of the club, presumably to place a call as there was no reception down in the basement. He was back about ten minutes later; the fresh air had given his face some colour and he briefly looked young and enthusiastic. ‘My friend says he can join you in a short while, mademoiselle. Perhaps half an hour?’ His eyes were on my bag. I reluctantly extracted a twenty from my wallet and handed it over.

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