A Paris Melody

Vacation Plans

"Marc, is that you? Did you dig up anything more on the missing girl? I looked all over but . . ." Jill was so excited that she breezed right into the Paris apartment without even noticing the collection of ladies' hats and coats in the hall.

"Ah, la voilà enfin!" The ladies in the parlor were all drinking wine, but it was Marc's aunt who pulled the cork from a fresh bottle. "Here she is at last, just in time for the celebration!" With a loud pop, the cork gave way, provoking a ripple of laughter from the well-coiffed, elegant women seated at the table. Madame Amelie patted the cushioned seat of the vacant chair beside her.

"What are we celebrating?" Jill didn't recognize the other two ladies, both older and strikingly sophisticated. These were chic women of Paris. Since she'd been prowling the Latin Quarter all morning, and working out at the hotel gym all afternoon, Jill felt unkempt and almost grubby by comparison.

"My good friend Nicolette has just been named cyber-security chief of the Central Bank," Madame Amelie said proudly. "And Christina here is in charge of passenger safety at Air France!"

"That's so amazing!" Raising her glass with a bright smile, Jill felt more out of place than ever. She reckoned she was the youngest person at the table by at least ten years. She was also the only one not wearing a smart suit or a string of pearls. She didn't even have a job. And thanks to Madame Amelie's handsome, arrogant and domineering nephew Marc she'd just been kicked out of her tiny apartment on the Left Bank!

"And what about you, mademoiselle? Que fais-tu, ma chérie?" The shrewd brown eyes of the bank agent were full of curiosity.

"Oh!" Jill's slim white hand flew to her throat. She wished she hadn't gulped down the strong Merlot so quickly. "I'm a student . . . that is, I was a student . . . that is, I took a leave of absence . . . just a short one . . ."

"Jill is the most incomparable musician!" Marc's aunt was already passing around a platter of fruit and cheese to go with the rich red wine. "Not only is she a promising classical pianist who won a scholarship to the Sorbonne, but she can break men's hearts with a sultry ballad or sing racy jazz songs into the small hours!"

"Your nephew Marc is a music lover, is he not?" The head of Air France security was the tallest woman at the table. But her regal bearing couldn't disguise the twinkle in her bright blue eyes.

"We're not a couple! I mean, we're friends, but Marc's not interested in hearing me sing and play." Jill didn't want these powerful and important women to get the wrong idea. "I'm here in Paris because he's trying to solve a missing persons case. I'm helping because my uncle is one of the missing people! Where is Marc?" Jill didn't like discussing police matters in front of strangers. She had been expecting Marc to be waiting for her!

"Marc will turn up soon, ma chérie." Madame Amelie gave an elegant shrug. "When I came up from the country this afternoon, he told me that you were busy digging up clues, and that I should give you a hand. What have you uncovered, exactly?"

"Well, I'm not sure I should go into it. Marc might not like it." Jill sipped her wine with a thoughtful look on her face.

"Oh, Marc is a tyrant!" Madame Amelie snapped her fingers, a bold French gesture that made the older women laugh out loud. "It's time you began showing your independence, ma chérie."

Jill laughed too, but it wasn't until Christina and Nicolette had told her all about their careers and they'd all consumed the platter of fruits and cheese and a bit more wine that the story of her uncle and Mabel's daughter came pouring out of her.

"Clearly the two disappearances are related," Christina surmised. The aristocratic, strikingly attractive blonde woman in charge of airline security specialized in stopping crime in and around French airports. She had the lean, fit looks of a champion athlete, a retired tennis champion perhaps. As she finished off her red wine, Jill could picture tall, long-legged Christina Martel snapping the cuffs on suspects and even wrestling stupid, unwary criminals into submission.

"But what about the missing jewels? The Russian mob never orders a hit on anyone unless there's money to be made." Though she appeared petite and almost delicate, chic, dark-eyed Nicolette Lavalle had real street instincts. Jill sensed that she must have started out in law enforcement before moving over to the world of finance. She really understood the criminal mind.

"Well, I'm sure my uncle never meant to get mixed up in murder!" Jill knew better than to blurt out all her family secrets. But with her cheeks flushed and her head buzzing from the potent Merlot, she just couldn't stop herself from defending her kind, crooked uncle. Her words seemed to echo as tall, dark Marc Moreau entered the room.

"Attention, ce sont les flics!" Madame Amelie giggled like a schoolgirl caught stealing sweets by a handsome young teacher. "Look out, it's the police!"

"Thank you for coming, aunt. And for bringing along your very talented friends." The tough cop bent down and kissed the older woman's wrinkled cheek, his piercing dark eyes full of gratitude and surprising tenderness. Then he shook hands in a courteous and crisply professional way with the two expert security women.

"We were just talking about the case," Jill told him, feeling off balance and irritated. Marc just sucked up all the air in the room, and it seemed he was paying attention to everyone but her!

"You did an amazing job finding out about Mabel's daughter." Marc's warm praise made Jill glow. But his black eyes were grim and serious as he rested a firm hand on her shoulder. "Meredith's not missing, Jill. She's been spotted in Martinique."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Jill's shoulders sagged with relief. Her uncle couldn't be a murder suspect if the runaway girl was alive!

"It is if we can find her," Marc replied. "But I can't leave Paris."

"Martinique is a French island in the Caribbean," Christina put in. "Air France has luxury vacation flights that leave every hour."

"Yes, thanks. I've heard of Martinique. I know where it is!" Jill winced at the sound of her own voice. She sounded childish. Her head was spinning, and she couldn't understand why Marc was telling her all this in front of strangers.

"A girl like Meredith is much too clever to talk to the police," Marc explained, his midnight-black eyes studying Jill's wan features. "But she might let her guard down with you. You got through to Mabel, Jill. Maybe you can get through to her daughter too."

"You want me to go alone?" Jill's tongue felt clumsy, stumbling over the simplest words. Part of her longed to be alone with Marc, to prove her loyalty and show him how she really felt. But another part was angry at him for sending her away. Was he only using her after all? She hated having such a heavy responsibility.

"It won't be easy," Marc acknowledged, stroking her pale cheek. "You'll have to blend in, just a typical girl with vacation plans in the Caribbean. Sunbathing, sightseeing, shopping. A very leisurely routine. But you can't relax. You'll have to watch for Meredith, and watch the smoking and drinking. But you won't be alone."

"What do you mean, watch the smoking and drinking? I don't smoke! And I do watch my drinking." Jill struggled to make sense of it all. "What do you mean, I won't be alone?"

"You need to be strong, ma chérie." One of the women patted her hand. Apparently Christina and Nicolette were going to travel with her. At last Jill got it. If she wanted to save her uncle she had to catch Meredith. She watched Marc fill up her empty glass, wondering if this was yet another test. Jill was tired of all the games. And she desperately wanted another drink.