A Paris Melody

Vanishing Act

"Do you trust Marc Moreau?" Mabel Weeks asked, in a husky voice. Her unexpected words punctured the sleepy silence of the spa.

"Huh?" Jill and Mabel had been pounding the rain-slick pavements of Paris since early morning, searching high and low for any sign of the wealthy American woman's missing daughter. Now they were out of the rain and taking a break at the hotel spa. Mabel was having a manicure while a mouthwatering male bodybuilder massaged Jill's towel-clad body from head to toe.

"The French cop," Mabel persisted, a worried frown creasing her worn, flabby features. She turned her head to one side, studying the slim, golden-haired young woman lying beside her. "He's your boyfriend, isn't he?"

"Mm." Jill couldn't pretend she wasn't attracted to Marc. The other day he dropped by her flat with the promise of fresh coffee and a fresh start. One thing led to another, and before she knew it the two of them had very nearly crossed the invisible line separating past and present, partners and lovers. But at the last possible instant Marc pulled back, leaving Jill angry and confused, with the humiliating feeling of wanting more. "Marc is too complicated to talk about," she murmured at last, keeping her eyes closed. "But he's a good cop."

"That's just what worries me." Mabel Weeks seemed to be talking mostly to herself. "The thing is, Meredith has been in trouble before."

"We've all been in trouble sometime in our lives." Jill didn't mention that Marc was already probing into Meredith's past. Apparently his instincts had been right on the money. Helping Mabel Weeks find her daughter was the top priority for both of them, but that wouldn't happen unless the American woman came clean and told them everything from the beginning. 

"Meredith went on her first ski trip when she was just sixteen." Mabel waved away the manicurist and the masseur, and began speaking in a low, husky voice. "She developed a crush on an older man, a tall blonde ski instructor from Norway. Virile, strong, very much the Viking type! Well, I was going through a divorce at the time, and Meredith was always very close to her father. She turned to this Viking type for comfort, and he . . . well, it was her first time with a man. Meredith fell so hard! If only I'd been paying more attention . . ."

"No use blaming yourself." Jill could picture Meredith falling for the rugged ski instructor. What girl wouldn't? He'd probably made her feel sexy and grown up and independent, while awakening needs that quickly made her into his slave. That was nearly every girl's downfall.

"My daughter made some mistakes," Mabel admitted. "Charging gifts on a credit card, giving Gunner things she couldn't pay for. But still, nothing would have happened except that he had a girlfriend, a nasty older Italian woman who was fiercely jealous."

"Mm." Jill saw herself trying to hold on to Marc. Which was better, really? Every girl wondered. Crying and hurling insults . . . or playing it cool and walking away? She would never steal for him. But if a girl was young, and very foolish . . . and so far from home . . . and so in love . . .

"Giulia set a trap for Meredith," Mabel continued, in her low, husky voice. "There was a party . . . the older kids brought alcohol . . . and someone gave Meredith some pills . . ." 

"That sounds like trouble." Jill was greedy for details, but it was hard to stay alert after such a crazy, hectic morning. Despite the chilly October wind and the rain, she'd gotten up early and guided Mabel all around Paris. Searching for Meredith, the two of them had hit every youth hostel Jill could think of, especially the cheap ones around Porte De Bagnolet and Pere LaChaise. It was especially exhausting because poor Mabel was worried and close to tears most of the time. She needed encouraging words and kindness, and that took a lot of energy. Now Jill was finally able to relax. The older woman's voice was beginning to sound very far away.

"Fast crowd . . . loud music . . . a neighbor called the police . . . Meredith was the only one the officers bothered to question. No arrests, but somehow all of it went viral on the internet. The disgrace . . . the tabloids . . . Meredith was absolutely humiliated! Never the same after . . ."

"Never the same." That was like her. Jill felt hardened and cynical after all she'd been through, and she couldn't help thinking about her rocky relationship with Marc. Was it on or off? Love or lust? Mabel was still chatting away, something about Meredith making a fresh start in Paris. She was making new friends, and she adored her dance program at the university. Maybe. But Jill felt that the American mother was putting a good face on an experience that had really changed her daughter, making her angry and bitter and vengeful. She fell asleep wondering if Meredith had truly been abducted, or if her disappearance was part of a deliberate vanishing act.