Seen and Not Heard by Stuart Anne

Author:Stuart, Anne [Stuart, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, mobi, Romantic Suspense, Action & Adventure, Mystery & Suspense, Thriller & Suspense, Romance, Suspense, epub, Fiction, Genre Fiction, contemporary romance, Literature & Fiction
ISBN: 9780727817525
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 1989-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

Typewriter keyboards were made for smaller fingers, Tom thought, staring down at the X’ed-out mess in front of him. How in the hell did Hemingway, not to mention Thomas Wolfe, manage to control one of these tiny keyboards without his fingers getting stuck?

Maybe he didn’t. Tom pushed back from the table in disgust. The room was dark and gloomy on such a rainy day, and he couldn’t concentrate. It was no wonder. Bonnard’s apartment had been deserted—no ghostly images at either the second- or third-floor windows, no answer to his insistent pounding on the doors on both floors, no answers to his telephone calls when he gave up and went back to his apartment. For a moment he allowed himself the macabre fantasy of Claire lying bruised and bleeding behind one of those heavy doors, and then he dismissed the notion. Claire was right—Bonnard wasn’t the violent type. Was he?

Tom shook his head, trying to wipe the grisly image from his mind. The sooner he faced life and his own limitations, the sooner he returned to New York and reality, the better. He’d take with him the memory of two years spent chasing rainbows, a time when he’d indulged every creative whim that had passed his way. That memory should help him through a life devoted to more prosaic matters.

Of course he could take something else back from Paris besides memories and uncomfortable self-knowledge. He could take Claire MacIntyre. And he had every intention of doing his damnedest to ensure that happened.

He got up and crossed the room, restless, edgy, uncertain, ending up by the rain-streaked skylight. It was no wonder he was going nuts. This constant rain was enough to drive anyone crazy.

Where the hell was Claire? Why didn’t she answer the goddamned telephone, why didn’t she show up at his doorstep and sleep in his bed again? Damn it, had he scared her off so badly with that simple kiss?

He didn’t think so. Despite her confusion, despite her anxiety and uncertainty, he had the suspicion that she didn’t scare easily. If she didn’t want him to kiss her again she’d simply tell him.

Most likely she didn’t know whether she wanted him to or not. Or even better, she knew, but didn’t like the answer. Tom stood staring over the gloomy, rain-swept rooftops of Paris, wishing there was something he could do to help her make up her mind. He knew, with a depressing certainty, that the best thing he could do was give her time.

In the meantime, he had friends in Paris, friends who either knew things or could find them out. Claude was a journalist for one of the leftist newspapers. While the Théâtre du Mime didn’t normally fall under their jurisdiction, Tom had great faith in Claude’s contacts. If Claude couldn’t find out something about Marc Bonnard, then no one could.

He looked out into the rain once more. The last thing he wanted was to spend more time on the cold, wet streets of Paris. With a resigned sigh he reached for his navy jacket and pulled the collar up around his neck.

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