Ambushed in the Alps Read online

  I picked up the bill for our coffees and said goodbye to Claudine and Zaineb. I made my way back to the car, turning over the conversation in my mind. Sparks of excitement zipped through me, stronger even than the enthusiasm Ghiselle’s fat fee had elicited. There was more to this case than a delusional widow. And I was determined to find out what.

  I’d arranged to meet Sidney at Luc’s café for lunch and a brainstorming session. When I stepped inside the café, Sidney had saved us a corner table. He pressed his phone to his ear, a wrinkle of concentration etched across his forehead. He nodded to me when I dropped into the seat across from him, and he gestured for me to remain silent.

  “Thanks so much for your time, Elaine. I appreciate your candor. Yes, absolutely confidential. If I have follow-up questions, I’ll be in touch. Enjoy your weekend.”

  I ran through the list of people Ghiselle had supplied us with last night. Elaine Ayari was married to Asad Ayari, Pierre Dubois’s closest friend. From Sidney’s cat-got-the-cream grin, I guessed his conversation had been fruitful. “Well?” I prompted when he lowered his phone. “What did Elaine say?”

  His grin widened. “That Ghiselle was economical with the truth.”

  “That tallies with what I’ve learned this morning. Can you be more specific?”

  “At the time of Pierre’s accident, he was couch-surfing. His last known residence was Elaine and Asad’s spare room.”

  This news surprised me into an arched eyebrow. “Pierre and Ghiselle had separated? His coworkers didn’t mention this.”

  “Neither did Ghiselle.” Sidney gestured to the phone. “According to Elaine, Pierre told Ghiselle he wanted a divorce a month before the accident. She flew into a rage and threw him out of the house.”

  “Not exactly surprising,” I remarked. “Would you want to keep living with your soon-to-be ex?”

  “Yeah, but Elaine describes Ghiselle as unhinged. She claims the marriage was a living hell for Pierre, and he’d been anxious and depressed for months before his death.”

  I caught Sidney’s drift in a millisecond. “Elaine believes Pierre took his own life?”

  He spread his palms wide. “She didn’t say so directly, but it was heavily implied. She’s inclined to believe the suicide theory over Ghiselle’s claim that Pierre is still alive.”

  “It’s certainly the more plausible of the two hypotheses. If they were separated, why did Ghiselle tell the police Pierre was supposed to eat dinner with her on the day he disappeared?”

  “Apparently, that part was true. Elaine said they were due to meet to discuss the divorce.”

  “If Elaine knows so much,” I said archly, “perhaps she can tell us who inherits Pierre’s grandfather’s money if Pierre is out of the picture.”

  At Sidney’s expression of confusion, I filled him in on my morning, with particular attention to what I’d learned during my coffee date with Claudine and Zaineb.

  “So what we need to find out is who’s the heir to the Dubois fortune?” Sidney asked when I’d finished.

  “Exactly. And does it have any bearing on Ghiselle’s sudden desire to find out if her husband is still alive?”

  Sidney scrunched his forehead. “Why did Ghiselle hold so much back last night? She must’ve known we’d find out about Pierre’s inheritance and their marriage problems once we spoke to the people on the list she gave us.”

  “The charitable interpretation is that she didn’t want to say too much in the café in case we were overheard. But it makes me wonder what we’ll discover when we question people Ghiselle didn’t include on her list.”

  The jangle of the bell above the door announced the arrival of another customer. It was lunchtime. The café was busy. And yet my instincts screamed that this jangle was significant.

  I was right.

  I smelled her before seeing her—a musky perfume with a rose base note. Desirée Chablis. Former porn star, sometimes spy. And my mother.

  Desirée looked magnificent, as always. Today’s outfit was a curve-hugging scarlet dress and matching stiletto heels. She glided across the room, catching the eye of every person in the café, and making me painfully aware of how homely I was in comparison to her glamor.

  I schooled my features into a semblance of a smile. “Hello, Desirée.”

  A flicker of irritation flashed in my mother’s baby-blue eyes. She’d never liked me calling her by her first name. Which, of course, was why I persisted in doing so. “Darlings.” She air-kissed us both, careful not to smudge her expertly applied makeup. “I’m so glad I caught you. I need you next door at once.”

  Sidney sighed. “Did Francine lock herself out of the cash register again?”

  “Oh, no. Nothing to do with the costumier.” My mother bent over the table, enveloping us in her scent and her cleavage. “I’ve called an emergency meeting. I need you two to be there.”

  Sidney and I looked at one another.

  “Of the O—” I swallowed the name at my mother’s look of warning. “You want us to be present at an agency meeting?”

  A sly smile curved my mother’s lips. “Not just present. I want to brief you on your first assignment.”

  5

  My first official Omega Group assignment? The news should’ve blown me away. After all, this was the moment I’d been waiting for since I’d learned of Desirée’s secret career. Instead of jubilation, my pre-programmed wariness kicked in. Like Ghiselle’s case, there had to be a catch. There was no way my mother would allow Sidney and me to do anything remotely interesting. Not before we’d received formal P.I. training, and probably not even then.

  Despite my skepticism, five minutes after Desirée’s dramatic announcement, I sat on a cheap plastic chair, armed with caffeine and attitude. The meeting took place in Jerry Gallo’s office. No super-secret underground room with fancy security. Just a casual coffee in a room that looked like it’d been cryogenically frozen in the 70s.

  Sidney and Luc sat on either side of me, the former talking a mile a minute and the latter blandly bored. Maurice and Koffi inhabited the two armchairs. Maurice fidgeted in his seat, radiating discontent. Koffi sat with his eyes half-closed, serene as a meditating monk.

  “I’m so nervous about this meeting that I worry I’ll soon be reacquainted with my lunch.” Sidney spoke super-soft and hid his words behind his coffee cup. “I can’t believe we finally get to do something exciting.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” I whispered. “If I know Desirée, she’ll land us with the least desirable task.”

  Luc’s rumbling chuckle reminded me he understood English perfectly. “Very likely. How do you feel about polishing my boots?”

  I dropped my gaze to his military-style boots. He’d buffed them to a shine. “Seems to me you’ve got that under control.”

  My mother swanned across the room, wafting expensive perfume and Old Hollywood glamor. She placed her coffee on the desk and claimed Jerry’s high-backed leather chair. The chair ought to have dwarfed my petite mother. Instead, she occupied it like an empress on her throne.

  Maurice glowered across the desk at me and even shot a nasty look Sidney’s way. “Why are you two here? Only agents should be present at official meetings.”

  “Guess that rules you out too. Or are you in the habit of taking down criminals with needles and yarn?” I kept my tone powdered sugar sweet.

  The barb hit home. Maurice’s egg-shaped head reddened from his bald pate to his weak chin. He opened and shut his mouth several times, enhancing his resemblance to a carp. “I might not be active in the field anymore, but I’m a qualified P.I. with years of experience. Even Koffi’s a trained P.I.”

  This was news to me. Koffi met my questioning look with a hint of a smile before turning to Maurice. “I’m retired,” he said. “Happily retired.”

  Maurice jerked a thumb at us. “All the same, they shouldn’t be here.”

  My mother’s expression underwent a metamorphosis. Goodbye, Queen of the Red Carpet. Hello, Queen of the Tundra. Her cool gaze swept over us with icy precision, effectively freezing our tongues. “I decide who needs to be present, Maurice. If this meeting was just for active agents, I wouldn’t have invited the four of you. You all have a role to play in this assignment.”

  Her words should’ve been welcome, but they came as a sharp slap. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t like whatever role she had in store for me. Judging by Sidney’s stricken expression, a similar thought had dawned on him.

  Luc gave an extravagant yawn, breaking the tension. “Shouldn’t we get started? I need to get back to the café by two thirty.”

  Desirée’s perfectly made-up eyes narrowed a fraction and her gaze strayed to the door. “We’re still waiting for Valentina. She’s late.”

  Luc’s rumbling laugh reminded me of how close his chair was to mine. “Valentina is always late. She’ll lope in before long.”

  One of the Omega Group’s star investigators, Valentina was a sulky-looking Spaniard with a penchant for tight clothes and loose men. Valentina had been away on an assignment when Sidney and I had arrived in Nice. When she’d returned and learned that we’d moved in with Luc, she’d taken an instant aversion to us. Not even Sidney’s natural charm had won her over.

  As far as I knew, we’d done nothing to incite her ire apart from existing. At first, I’d wondered if she was jealous of us living with Luc. Even though she flirted with him when he was in town, she had a seemingly endless supply of men to lure into her lair.

  In the distance, church bells chimed the quarter-hour. Valentina chose this moment to make her grand entrance. “Buenas tardes.”

  She paused in the doorway, giving us time to admire her figure-hugging wool dress and thigh-high boots. A slim brunette with legs up to her armpits, Valentina was my physi
cal opposite. Where I was short and curvy, she was tall and slender. Where my hair was a mad mass of unruly curls, hers was sleek and straight.

  With her smooth, perfect golden skin, Valentina could’ve been anything from her mid-twenties to her mid-thirties. Given her seniority in the group, I guessed she was around Luc’s age. Thirty-two, thirty-three.

  Once Valentina was satisfied with her effect on the assembled company, she glided to the spare chair next to Luc’s.

  My mother’s scarlet lips tightened, then relaxed into a smile. “Nice of you to join us.” The unspoken finally hung in the air like a foul smell. This was my first time seeing the two women interact, but I didn’t need Ghiselle’s clairvoyance to pick up on their rivalry.

  “I just got back from Rome.” Valentina parted her full lips, revealing her sharp incisors. “By the way, Rocco says hello.”

  It took me a moment to remember Rocco Casetti. He ran a competing P.I. agency based in Italy. He’d also dated my mother.

  If Valentina’s mention of her former flame irritated her, Desirée didn’t show it. She tapped a manicured nail on the sheaf of papers in front of her. “Now that we’re all here, let’s get straight to the point. Are you familiar with Crofton-Lowe?”

  “The auction house?” My knowledge of auction houses, prestigious or otherwise, was next to none, but even I recognized their name. “Are they a new client? What case do they need to have investigated? A suspected forgery?”

  My mother’s tinkling laugh set my nerves twanging. “Someone’s keen. Let me finish talking, okay?”

  Heat crept up my neck at this public rebuke. I caught Maurice’s smug smirk and itched to flip him the bird.

  “Our case concerns a theft at Crofton-Lowe’s Zürich branch,” my mother continued. “The branch CEO has hired the Omega Group. Our mission is to retrieve a cache of priceless Egyptian artifacts stolen from their vault.”

  My stomach performed a flip and roll worthy of an Olympic acrobat. Egyptian artifacts? Stolen treasure? Images of a Lara Croft-style adventure danced before me, luring me into a satisfying daydream.

  Luc’s low whistle dragged me back to the here and now. “Crofton-Lowe allowed thieves to waltz off their premises with an entire cache of valuables? Heads will roll if this gets out.”

  “Which is where we come in.” My mother leaned back in Jerry’s chair, looking every inch the boss. “Discretion is an integral part of all our operations. It’s especially crucial for this one. The stolen artifacts are part of the Roulez estate. They’re due to be auctioned next week. At the moment, the family is unaware of the theft. Our job is to make sure they never find out.”

  “Roulez?” Sidney’s slo-mo jaw drop had perfect comedic timing. “As in Bernard Roulez, the arms billionaire whose family is at loggerheads over their inheritance?”

  I’d never heard of Bernard Roulez. Judging by the faces around the desk, I was the only one.

  “Yes,” Desirée said to Sidney. “That Bernard Roulez. You can see why it’s important we get those artifacts back before anyone realizes they’re gone.”

  “It’s also in the auction house’s best interest,” Luc added, his tone sandpaper dry. “They won’t want their stellar reputation tarnished.”

  I looked at the papers under my mother’s hands, straining to read the small print. “Does the auction house have any idea who stole the goods?”

  “Yes.” This time, no slap-down from Desirée. She must’ve approved of my question. “We have several suspects, but my money is on the Jones gang.”

  Reading my blank expression, Luc filled in the gaps. “Colin Jones runs an international crime outfit. They specialize in stealing and selling valuable artifacts on the black market. He’s a smooth customer—think of a typical James Bond villain, only minus the violent streak.”

  “What a boring name for a master villain,” Sidney remarked. “You’d think he’d have chosen one with more panache.”

  “Stop digressing,” Desirée snapped, showing her impatience. “We need to focus.”

  “Sorry,” Sidney said meekly and mimed zipping his lips. “I won’t say another word.”

  “Jones,” my mother continued, “has a history with Urs Hauri, Crofton-Lowe’s Zürich branch CEO. Hauri spotted Jones at an auction a few years ago and notified security. This led to Jones’s arrest. In retaliation, Jones ‘dropped in’ to Hauri’s ex-wife’s house and had coffee with her and their daughter. Jones made no direct threats, but the message was clear: ‘Mess with me, and I’ll hurt your family.’”

  Cold discomfort crept over my shoulders. “That’s creepy. If Jones is the smooth customer Luc says he is, he didn’t steal the artifacts just to annoy Hauri, right?”

  “Oh, no. Jones only goes after items that promise him significant financial gain. He wouldn’t do a job just to annoy an old adversary. However, he’s not above using an opportunity to taunt one.” Desirée’s gaze dropped again to the papers in front of her. “Hauri has received anonymous emails, hinting that the thieves plan to dispose of the goods at a black-market auction on Monday. We need to prevent that from happening.”

  “What’s the location of this alleged auction?” Valentina demanded in her sulky, sultry Spanish accent.

  “Switzerland.”

  I exchanged a loaded look with Sidney. Two days, two cases, two mentions of Switzerland. Yet the cases weren’t connected. Couldn’t be connected. Right?

  “Our information isn’t more specific than naming the country,” my mother continued, “but I’ve made a few calls. My hunch is the auction will happen in Geneva. Our job is to locate and retrieve the stolen goods and, if possible, apprehend the thieves.”

  “That sounds like a big ask,” I remarked. “Do you think we can pull it off?”

  Valentina treated me to a withering stare. “If you were a trained P.I., you’d know we could.”

  “Angel’s right. It is a big ask.” Luc sat forward and addressed my mother. “The Omega Group doesn’t accept jobs on this scale.”

  Desirée didn’t flinch under Luc’s critical stare. “Jerry and I have talked about expanding the group for a while. Pulling off a job like this will help our reputation.”

  “And if we fail? What then?” Luc placed the palms of his large hands on the desk, spreading his long fingers. “We can’t afford to damage our reputation, especially not while Jerry is out of commission. We’re only just regaining traction after the Rocco Casetti debacle.”

  This incident had occurred just before Sidney and I arrived in Nice. Jerry had considered joining forces with Rocco’s agency, but had backed out of the deal when he’d realized Rocco skated too far into the legal gray zone. Given the bad blood between the two agencies, Valentina openly hanging out with Rocco surprised me. It didn’t seem to surprise my mother.

  Desirée sat back on her temporary throne and regarded Luc with a steely smile. “We’re well able to handle this job, Luc.” Her tone was whiplash sharp. “Especially with a quarter-million bonus at stake.”

  6

  For a held-breath second, we all stared at my mother in open-mouthed incredulity.

  “A quarter of a million euros?” Valentina swore in Spanish. “Just as a bonus?”

  “It’s more of a finder’s fee. Herr Hauri is prepared to pay for results.” Desirée’s jaw tightened. “He’s hired us and Rocco’s agency.”

  Valentina’s lips recoiled in a snarl. “Rocco didn’t mention this when I saw him yesterday.”

  “Rocco didn’t know yesterday,” my mother said. “The Crofton-Lowe vault wasn’t robbed until last night.”

  Maurice clutched his pudgy hands. “This is a terrible idea. Having two rival P.I. agencies on the same job is a recipe for disaster.”

  “Or a recipe for results.” I turned to my mother. “I assume both agencies get paid their base fee no matter what, but whichever group gets to the goods first makes bank?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly Hauri’s thinking,” my mother said. “Now to practicalities. We’ll have teams of two. Luc with Valentina, and Armin with me.”

  Armin, one of the senior P.I.s, was so in demand that I’d never met him in the four months I’d been in Nice. I only knew him from the team photo, which showed a stocky man in his mid-thirties with a dark complexion, heavy beard, and ginormous muscles.