Harlequin's Shadow

Chapter 3: Place des Vosges

That lucky Perseid meteor shower was still working its magic. One of Gordon's associates provided Mozzie with contact information for Leila Bedford. She owned an apartment under an assumed name on the Right Bank in the Place des Vosges. The fence who supplied the details had met with her the previous day. The chances of her still being in town were excellent.

Neal's pulse quickened at the thought of seeing her again. He held no animosity toward her, but if she'd sold her services to Ydrus, she'd have to pay the piper. Leila had been a person of interest in many cases, but authorities had never accumulated enough evidence to charge her with anything. Her luck was about to change.

Marcel submitted a rush request to obtain a search warrant and by midday, Neal was standing beside him and Peter in front of the door to her apartment. A police car with backup personnel was parked outside, but Neal hoped they wouldn't be necessary. Leila was no dummy. If they found incriminating evidence, she'd realize it was time to cut her losses and strike a deal.

The Place des Vosges suited her. One of the oldest and most beautiful squares in Paris, it was lined with mansions from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In London, Leila had a Georgian flat at Mecklenburg Square. For her to afford two such prestigious locations indicated her business was thriving. Was it also evidence she had Ydrus as a partner?

Leila was in a state of elegant dishabille when she answered the knock on her door. She'd draped an Hermès silk robe carelessly over gray silk pants. Her long brunette hair was swept off her face and held in place with a large clip. She surveyed them with a look of innocent surprise until her eyes rested on Neal who'd deliberately positioned himself off to one side.

"Darling, why didn't you call?" She pulled him into an embrace, prolonging the kiss. "Are these your friends?" she murmured in his ear.

"Of course, chérie," he whispered before breaking away. Marcel appeared to enjoy the spectacle and gave him an amused look. Neal chose to ignore Peter's frown.

"Normally my friends call first—particularly when so early in the day—but Neal is welcome anytime." She kept her arm wrapped around his waist and reached up to stroke his hair.

Neal introduced Marcel and included his title.

"Did you get yourself into trouble, darling? Do you need a character reference?" She gave him one of those impudent little smiles that used to set his heart racing.

Turning to Peter, she appraised his appearance, taking note of his expensive shirt and the European cut to his pants. Neal detected a slight wariness in her expression. Marcel looked the part of a French detective in his off-the-rack attire, but Peter was an unknown.

When Peter introduced himself and took out his badge, her banter vanished. She removed her arm from around Neal and stepped back. "Do you have a badge as well?"

He pulled out his wallet. "I also work with the FBI."

"Pity." She invited them into her apartment with a languid wave of her hand and took her seat on a black leather sofa.

Neal surveyed the salon as Marcel launched into the reason for their visit. The furniture consisted of sleek contemporary pieces. They were set against an exuberant backdrop of Rococo wood panels painted in stark white. A grand piano was positioned in front of the French doors.

"How distressing for you!" Leila said in dulcet tones. "I'd heard about the theft, of course. To have a Van Eyck stolen is a tragedy. You must feel terribly embarrassed."

"The loss of the painting is a grave matter, but even more serious is the death of the guard," Marcel replied, cutting short her fake commiseration.

As Neal had expected, Leila had a ready explanation for being recorded at the museum. She'd escorted an elderly friend on an outing. "I'm afraid I can't help you. I didn't notice the commission of the foul attack on the guard. I must commend your thoroughness. Are you talking with everyone who visited the Louvre on the day in question?"