The Eiffel Tower Incident by Steve Stevenson

Author:Steve Stevenson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-02-27T05:00:00+00:00

The boy stopped short on the heart-shaped rug in the lobby. “Uh, um, what’s going on here?” he asked, confused.

“The Coeur Amoureux caters to honeymooners,” replied Agatha, joining him. “What did you expect from a hotel called ‘The Lovers’ Heart’ with a neon sign covered in flashing hearts?”

Chandler raised an eyebrow as though he disapproved of the glitzy atmosphere.

Agatha approached the front desk. The lady working at reception wore a candy-pink dress and a necklace of violet pearls.

“Bon soir, Madame. We’re looking for John Radcliffe and Marlene Dupont,” Agatha said in her most charming voice.

“Are you friends of the bride and groom?” asked the lady with a big smile. She picked up the intercom. “Shall I let them know you’ve arrived?”

“Oh no, we’d like to surprise them,” lied Agatha.

The lady pointed at the staircase and said, “Room two zero four, second floor.”

“Thank goodness it’s not the sixth for once!” Dash exclaimed.

Moments later they knocked on the door.

“Marlene, is that you?” called an anxious voice from inside. “Oh, my love, I knew you’d come back to me!”

They heard hasty footsteps, a key turning in the lock. A man in his thirties threw open the door. He had dark blond hair and a crumpled but elegant suit. His face flooded with disappointment. “Who are you?” asked John Radcliffe, scratching his stubbly chin.

Agatha took the situation in hand. “We work for a private detective agency,” she replied. “We’d like to ask you some questions, if you don’t mind.”

Radcliffe went pale and sat on the edge of the sofa, gripping the arm. “Did something terrible happen to Marlene?”

“It’s not about Marlene,” said Agatha. “May we step inside for a moment?”

He invited them in with a hasty nod.

During their last Metro trip, they had studied the couple’s file. John Radcliffe was a brilliant New York attorney, while his pretty girlfriend, Marlene Dupont, lived on the outskirts of Paris, where she designed and sold hats. They had met six months earlier in Marlene’s shop during one of the charming lawyer’s business trips to Paris.

“Is it about the murder on the Eiffel Tower?” he whispered. “TV stations all over the world are following the investigation.”

Before Agatha could reply, Dash grabbed her attention, pointing repeatedly at the bedside table.

Leaning against a Cartier jewelry box was a single red rose, its long stem wrapped in gold foil.

It was identical to the one in the photo.

In a well-timed move, the butler positioned himself next to Radcliffe so Dash could observe the room with his special glasses.

“Mr. Radcliffe,” Agatha began, “could you tell us what happened last night at the restaurant?”

The lawyer rubbed his forehead. “Everything was just perfect,” he sighed. “Marlene had booked a table at the Jules Verne to celebrate my return to Paris. It was wonderful, better than ever. We were gazing down at the city lights, holding hands. Unfortunately, after dinner I was so caught up in the romantic atmosphere that . . .”

Agatha eyed the Cartier box on the bedside table; it was just the right size for an engagement ring.

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