Murder in High Places by Hugh Pentecost

Author:Hugh Pentecost
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Pierre (Fictitious character), Chambrun, Hotelkeepers, French Americans
Publisher: Toronto ; New York : Worldwide
Published: 1992-06-26T04:00:00+00:00

Instead Chambrun turned to me and told me to ask Jericho and Mrs. Haven to join us.

**You want me to go, boss?" Mike asked.

**Yes, Mike. And thank you for coming up. If Hardy really gets difficult, let me know.''

I walked across the roof to Mrs. Haven's garden. "Chambrun wants you two to join him," I said.

*'He's heard something?" Jericho asked.

*'Who knows what he hears," I said.

*'ril go as far as his terrace," Jericho said. "I don't want to be cut out of sight if Welch doesn't persuade his guest to stay."

We wait back to Chambrun's place, under the awning that covers his terrace. I told Chambrun that Jericho didn't want to have Penthouse 3 out of sight.

'Two heads are better than one," Chambrun said. ''Let's join him."

Mrs. Haven was sitting in a wicker armchair. She'd taken off her garden hat and was fanning herself with it. Looking at her gaudy red hair, I realized Chambrun was right. There is no such color. Jericho stood at the edge of the terrace, looking down across the roof to Penthouse 3.

Chambrun brought them up to date: the reports we'd had on Hilda's life-style from Max Rosen; the flowers that had been ordered by phone, using my name, and sent to Hilda's room; and, finally, Mike's report on what he'd learned from the bell captain at the Wyndham in Washington.

"One thing we have to say for the late Miss Harding," Jericho said, "she bestowed her favors on peo-

pie who could really help her in her search for her brother if they would. Guy Morton knows everyone worth knowing in the world of international diplomacy—both sides of the fence, friend or enemy. Mitch Prescott has all the resources of the CIA at his disposal."

'*And Mark Haskell didn't have anything to offer, and wasn't asked for anything," I heard myself say with a touch of anger. No scheming in my world.

Mrs. Haven gave me a gentle smile, an older person to a kid who was out of line. '*You have money in the bank, Mark, you can spend it for necessities, and you can spend it for just sheer pleasure. I'm sure you provided Hilda with something that she cherished." She looked out at the hazy summer sunshine. ''There was a time in my Hfe when I used what I had to offer both ways." Then she actually giggled. ''But can you imagine Mitch Prescott—in his Brooks Brothers suit, his Dunhill pipe—and that very glamorous young woman!"

"You know him, Victoria?"

"Of course," Mrs. Haven said. "I mean, he lives here when he's in town. Somebody introduced me to him in the Trapeze a few years ago. He often comes over to my table. We chat about what's going on in the world, places where we've both spent time in Europe, particularly the south of France. There's a little pension in Cannes where—"

"Let's touch a few bases," Chambrun interrupted her. '*The whole New York City poHce force is looking for that character who has been drinking one vodka and tonic in the Trapeze for the last few days.

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