Paris Love Match

Chapter 18





The girl pushed Piers and Sidney through racks of clothes. “Out the back. There’s an alley. Vite, vite. I’ll lock the front door.”

“Rover,” Piers said.

“Leave the damn dog,” Sidney said.

“We’ll have to come back—”

The shop assistant kept pushing. “I’ll look after him. Go!”

Piers didn’t need any more encouragement. He flew through a small stockroom and hit a fire escape door at full speed. It crashed open and he piled into a narrow lane. Sidney ran past him, tugging at his arm. He took off after her, his shoes slipping on the old, wet flagstones. Sidney looked back and waved her arm, urging him on. She took another alleyway that emerged onto a main road.

He followed her to the right and into a Métro station. She stopped beside a ticket machine but his wet leather soles didn’t, and he slipped, sprawling all over the floor, taking out several people in the process. He struggled to his feet, apologizing profusely as weary travelers swore at him.

Sidney moved around the back of the throng and pulled him out of the growing mass of unhappy people. “Come on. Forget the tickets. We can get out on the other side of the station.” She led them through a maze of tunnels and up a flight of stairs, back to street level.

Piers kept grabbing at the leash that wasn’t there. “You think Rover will be okay?”

“That was the best name you could come up with?”

“It was the name on his collar.”

Sidney squeezed his arm. It felt good. She smiled at him. His heart skipped and he felt a wave of heat rush over him. He knew his face would be red. He looked away.

She shook his arm. “He’ll be okay. That girl will look after him.”

“Right.”

“We need to look after ourselves.”

“Yeah.” He patted her hand on his arm.

“There wasn’t anything else in Auguste’s apartment, was there?”

He looked at her quizzically. “No, why?”

“Nothing. Just, you know, you’ve been under a lot of stress.” She wrapped her arms around him. Her hair brushed over her face and he could smell her skin. She went from one extreme to another. He hesitated to hug her back.

He felt her hands pat his back. “I’m sorry. I’ve been hard on you. We need to work together as a team, right?”

He slowly closed his arm around her shoulder. “Course.”

She ran her hands down his sides and up and down his arms. He swallowed. The tension melted from him. It felt wonderful to feel her touch. He tightened his hug and relaxed his head onto her shoulder.

Her hands slid over his waist and hips and he felt his phone bump against his side. After a few moments she patted him one last time and took a step backward, separating them.

Piers felt the chill air where her warmth had been. He wanted to reach out and pull her back, but her smile had faded.

She stared at him. “So there was definitely nothing else at Auguste’s?”

“No. I told you. Nothing else.”

She turned. “Okay, then. Let’s try the bank.”

“Wait a minute.” Piers stuffed his hands in his pockets, almost expecting his phone to be gone. “Were you searching me?”

“No!”

“You were frisking me!”

“I was not.”

“You were checking me over.”

“I was not! Damn you.”

“I’m not hiding anything from you, if that’s what you think.”

“I was not frisking you! It was just … a hug, okay? Next time I won’t bother.”

She stomped off and he followed.

Ten minutes later they arrived at the Swiss Free Bank. It was a bland modern building with windows all along the front and a revolving door in the center.

Inside, he could see potted plants, light wood furniture, and a row of tellers that looked busy. To one side, several desks with signs for bank loans, mortgages, and other services were lined up. “Other services” sounded like the person he needed. He held his hand out. “Give me the key.”

She stared at him. “Why?”

“You need to stay here while I go in.”

“No. I don’t want you forgetting something again.”

“I’m not going to forget something. I didn’t forget the bag at Auguste’s place, I’d only just escaped from the police and had a few things on my mind.”

“Right. So, this time I’ll go with you and we won’t forget anything.”

“If we go in together and anyone’s seen the TV were going to stick out like a sore thumb.”

Her eyes glazed over for a moment before snapping back onto him. “Okay. I’ll go. On my own.”

Piers sighed. “You?”

“What? You think I can’t do it because I’m a girl?”

“No, no—”

“Then what? Why can’t I do it? Why do you have to do it?”

“Because the key fits Auguste Chevalier’s safety deposit box. He’s a guy.”

“Was.”

“Right.”

She nodded slowly and held up the key. He reached out, but she wrapped her fingers back around it. “What if they have a picture?”

“Picture?”

“Of Auguste.”

Piers lowered his hand. “You mean I won’t match the picture.”

She smiled. “That’s decided then. I’ll go.”

He nodded. “Okay. Might be better. Anyway, there’s a lot of research that shows people are more cooperative with beautiful people.”

Her thin eyebrows inched slightly closer together. “You mean that?”

“Course. I read it in Scientific Ameri—”

“No, stupid. Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

“Oh.” He opened and closed his mouth, then swallowed hard. “Yes . . . of course. Yes. You’re gorgeous. Stunning.”

“Really?”

“People practically line up to gaze at you.”

“But what do you think?”

He could feel every thump of his beating heart. He licked his lips and lowered his gaze. “You’re … the most … beautiful girl I’ve ever known.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “You’re fabulous.”

She gave a reluctant smile and mumbled something.

He leaned forward. “Huh?”

“I said thanks ... and … you’re kind of … okay, too.”

Piers laughed. “I’ve always wanted to be kind of okay.”

She punched him with both hands. “Okay, well, now you are, so stop complaining.”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“Good, because …” She looked at the bank. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Piers took out his phone and they exchanged numbers. He watched as she finished typing. “What are you going to say in there?”

“That I want to get into the safety deposit box.”

“And when they ask why you’re not Auguste Chevalier, or at least a male? What then?”

She rolled her eyes. “This is France. No one will think anything of a man having a female assistant.” She tossed her head back and flipped her hair over her ear. “Especially if they’re gorgeous and stunning.” She took a deep breath. “Wish me luck.”

“Yeah.” He touched her arm. “If you get worried, call, and I’ll see what I can do.”

She smiled and placed her hand high on his chest. “My motorbike hero going to come to my rescue again?”

He bit his lip. “Just don’t draw attention to yourself, and don’t stay long.”

She took her hand slowly off his chest, nodded, and walked off to the revolving door. He sighed, wishing he’d found something else to say, just to prolong their closeness.

Piers angled the umbrella to hide himself from the road and looked into the bank. He saw her approach the “other services” desk and sit down opposite a young man.

Minutes went by. Piers shuffled from one foot to the other, unable to see what she was doing. He felt a vibration in his pocket and pulled out Auguste’s phone. “Swiss Free Bank” glowed on the display. He flipped it open. “Bonjour.”

A young male voice at the other end addressed him. “Monsieur. This is Pierre Rockeutfort at the Swiss Free Bank. I was wondering—”

“Ah. Has my assistant arrived?”

“Er, yes, monsieur. She is asking for access to your safety deposit box. She says you need to replace your records?”

“Yes, I know. We … need to replace our records.”

“I see. This is a most unusual request, monsieur.”

“Maybe, but I still need to replace my records.”

“Perhaps you could confirm your assistant’s story.”

“What story?”

“Of what happened to your records?”

“Right.” Piers own phone buzzed. A text message from Sidney. He struggled to open it up as he talked. “What happened to the records? Right. Well. There was er, a—” He read Sidney’s text message aloud. “Flood.”

The young man continued. “That is what your assistant said. But I’m curious about how a flood could have happened as you live on the fourth floor.”

“Ahhhhh, yes. Curious. Yes, yes, indeed. I would be too. Right. Yes. A flood. Well … the flood happened as a result of a … fire. Yes, a fire.”

His phone buzzed with another text message that read “Break-in.”

Shit.

“I see, monsieur,” said the young man, “That’s not quite the story you assistant told me.”

“Right, right, yes. That’s because that’s not the end of the story, you see.”

“Monsieur?”

“The flood was caused by a fire that was caused by a … break-in. Yes, yes. The criminals broke in and started a fire, and putting the fire out caused the flood.”

“I see, monsieur.”

“Yes, I know. It’s a long story. That’s why I was hesitant to tell it. Remarkable really.”

“It is, monsieur, but it does agree with your assistant’s story. We do like to check these things for security, monsieur.”

“Good, now if you don’t mind I’d like my assistant back as soon as possible. There is a lot of … er … tidying up to do.”

“I understand, monsieur. I will send her back as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.”

Piers switched off the phone and stared through the bank’s windows. The young man opposite Sidney was busy at a keyboard. After a long minute, he beckoned Sidney to follow, and they disappeared through a doorway into the back offices of the bank.

Piers breathed a sigh of relief. People only had safety deposit boxes if they had something important to keep. He had a good feeling they were going to find something. The feeling lasted until he saw a police car converging on the bank and screeching to a halt in front of its revolving door. Piers’ heart thumped into his mouth.

Officers leapt from the car before it had even come to a halt. One man stayed in the driver’s seat while the others piled through the revolving door, one-by-one.

Piers paced toward the entrance. What the hell could he do? Sidney was out of sight somewhere inside the bank. They must have recognized her. He bit his lip. The phone call had probably been a ruse to play for time.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Sidney. She answered on the fifth ring, just as he thought it would go to voicemail.

“Sidney, the police are here. Get out now. Use a different way.”

She didn’t say a word, but he heard the click as she mashed the off button on her phone. Piers stamped his foot and swore. Were they holding her already?

Through the windows, he saw a bank official quickly lead the police to the door Sidney had used.

With the umbrella in front of him, Piers walked to the police car. He saw Sidney return to the lobby through a different door. She looked around and started for the exit. Piers’ heart thumped. She looked too uncomfortable, too suspicious.

He breathed hard. What the hell could he do?

He reached the bank entrance. The police car was directly outside with its engine running. Sidney was almost at the revolving door.

He rapped on the police car’s glass and the driver cracked the window. Piers stood so his face was above where the man could see, and pointed into the bank. “Quickly. The Inspector’s in trouble.”

The man twisted to look up at him. “Huh?”

“The Inspector asked for you.”

The man popped open the door.

“Vite, vite.” Piers pointed to the bank door while keeping his back to the driver.

The driver seemed uncertain.

“He sent me to get you,” said Piers. “Vite, vite.”

The driver jumped from the car and barreled through the revolving door.

Piers slipped into the police car’s driving seat and put the car in reverse as Sidney exited the revolving door.

He saw the police running back into the lobby followed by the young bank clerk clutching his groin. Piers floored the accelerator. The car rocketed backward, bounced wildly as it mounted the curb, and smashed into the revolving door, wedging it solid.

Piers leapt from the driver’s seat and raced past Sidney, grabbing her hand and dragging her down the street. He didn’t look back and she didn’t need any urging. They ran flat out, with Sidney shouting directions. After a couple of minutes, they slowed. She led them through a department store and out of a side exit. She bent over, clutching her side. Piers was panting hard.

“Merde,” she said.

“You have a way with words.”

She massaged her stomach. “Damn, that hurts.”

“Sorry,” said Piers.

“Sorry? You bloody well should be. Next time you steal a car, let’s use it to get away, huh?” Her eyebrows were at angles as sharp as her tone.

“It was all I could think of at the time.”

The angles on her face melted and she gave a snort of laugher. “It was pretty funny.”

Piers smiled. “I can’t wait to see that on TV.”

Sidney waved two envelopes. “I can’t wait to see what’s in these.”