Missing Dad 3 by J Ryan

Author:J Ryan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
Published: 2017-09-13T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

The Long Cord

As we follow Monsieur out of a side exit from the marquee, I take a quick glance back. No one’s following. But the sound of police sirens is getting louder. The door to the house is still open after the medics’ frantic rush through. In the hall beyond, just one light glows on the wood panelled walls. We slip inside, Becks’ dress rustling softly. We’re half way across the hall when there’s a quiet click. Freddie stands on the stairs. The light gleams on the small revolver in her hand. ‘Well now, aren’t you the party poopers?’

‘Put the gun down, Mademoiselle. You would not want to be seen holding it when the police arrive.’

She laughs. ‘Nice try, Monsieur. The Contessa said you were smart. You know very well that the cops are going to be way more interested in you than me.’

‘I think not, Mademoiselle. It was I who called them.’ In the half second that she hesitates at his words, his hand flashes across to the paper weight on the desk and hurls it at the lamp. The glass shatters and we’re plunged into darkness. There’s a shot. Becks gasps.

‘Becks…!’

‘I’m alright – let’s go!’

We tear out of the door. Two ambulances wait outside, blue lights flashing. The police sirens are in the next street now. ‘This way.’ Monsieur turns down a small alley as two cop cars screech up to the house. The Contessa’s white Merc is parked outside a garage door. We pile inside, Monsieur pulling off his mask. He fires up the engine and accelerates away.

‘What happened when the gun went off, Becks?’ Slowly, she pulls the wig from her head, her red hair tumbling out round her shoulders. As Monsieur drives swiftly through the narrow streets, we both stare at her white helmet. Near the top of the mound of curls, the hair is burned black. A small hole goes right through. My Marie Antoinette has been luckier than her namesake tonight.

***

The brooding hulk of Notre Dame blocks out the stars as we cross the Seine. On the other side of the river, the streets are busy with traffic. I shiver, thinking of the six million ancient Parisians who lie beneath in that maze of dark tunnels. ‘Are we going to Marseille, Monsieur? To Arnaud?’

He nods. ‘Unfortunately, time is not on our side.’

‘She’s going there too?’

‘I believe that she planned to, all along. And I have made it so much easier for her, by leaving Arnaud alone on the yacht.’

‘We overheard her, ordering her car for midnight. But that was…’

Becks leans forward. ‘Monsieur, how did you know to call the police when you did? It must have been before…Talia…’

He slows at a red light up ahead. ‘I was reconnoitring the house when I found James, the chauffeur. He was very ill.’

I remember those two masks, confronting each other in the candle light. ‘She’d poisoned him?’

‘The anti-histamine helped him to breathe again. And to talk…a little. What he managed to say convinced me that I should call two ambulances.

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