'Vanished into thin air. And after working for me for two years. I'm puzzled – and worried.'
'Would it be worth informing the police?' Tweed suggested.
'I thought of that, then rejected the, idea. After all, she's a free soul. She was a good worker, but often I was never sure what was going on in her mind.'
'Sorry to bring that up,' Tweed replied. 'Let's settle down and enjoy ourselves, as we were doing.'
'Husband Number Two,' said Newman.
'He doesn't. let go, does he?' Sharon put her hand across her mouth to suppress a giggle. 'I really did fall for him. After we became engaged he took me to Hawaii. Before I knew what was happening we were married – on the beach. It all seemed very romantic. Then after six months he Was running after other women. By then my lawyer, Joshua Warren, had become a friend. After a year I'd had enough of it. Joshua again took over – and again I was astounded at the size of the settlement. I won't bore you with Number Three, which followed the same pattern.'
'Where were you by then?' Newman asked.
'Washington. The trouble there is a single woman is suspect – the wives of high society men think you're after their husbands. So you don't get invited anywhere. I'm all right on my own – I love reading, but there's a limit to the number of books you can occupy yourself with. Then Joshua introduced me to Number Four. I admit I married him so I could lead a more social life. When my fourth husband went off the rails Joshua was in attendance to handle the divorce.' She paused. 'I was rather naive. It was only then I understood the enormous fees Joshua was making out of my divorces. Enough to set him up for life.' She went very quiet, staring at the table. 'I began to feel like a high-class call-girl – with Joshua manipulating me like a pimp. That's the way it goes in America – they're all corrupt. Which is why. I hanker for England.'
She looked up as the wine waiter showed her a bottle. He waited while she looked at it, then at him.
'I ordered 1992 – that's 1994,' she said sharply.
'I'm sorry, madame. I must have misunderstood you.' 'I spoke clearly enough.'
Tweed glanced down towards the main entrance. Rupert and Basil had just come in together. They strolled along the aisle and then Rupert paused by their table. He was staring at Sharon.
'I can recognize Venus-like beauty soon as I see it.'
Sharon glanced up with a blank expression. She stared at him, then lowered her eyes, her mouth tight with annoyance.
'Bob, aren't you going to introduce me?' Rupert persisted.
Basil stood by his side, smiling blandly. He adjusted a silk handkerchief in his top pocket.
'No, I'm not,' Newman told Rupert brusquely. 'And for your information this is a private dinner party.'
'I say, I say. A cordon sanitaire, as the French would say. Excuse me for being alive. Basil and I are on the way to the bar.'
'Your usual watering hole. I suggest you shove off there now.'
Newman had pushed back his chair. If necessary, he was ready to grab Rupert by the scruff of the neck and escort him through the Brasserie next door into the bar beyond. At that moment the head waiter, sensing trouble, appeared.
'Is everything all right – to your satisfaction, I hope?' 'It's tewwific,' Rupert told him. 'They want the same all over again.'
Before Newman could intervene Basil pulled at Rupert's sleeve. He said something in an undertone and guided Rupert away from them into the Brasserie.
'Everything is perfect,' Tweed told the head waiter. 'You have served us a meal to remember.'
'Thank you, sir…'
By then they were well into their main course. Tweed and Newman had chosen 'fillet of turbot. Sharon and Paula were both eating skewers of scallops and lobster on a bed of mashed potato with diced vegetables. During brief pauses in her conversation Sharon had delicately devoured large portions of her meal. Now she put down her knife and fork and looked at Paula.
'Who was that silly schoolboy?'
'Oh, that was Rupert Strangeways. His father is Sir Guy Strangeways.'
'I met him several times in Washington – Sir Guy, I mean,' Sharon explained. 'A nice man. I shouldn't say it, but he deserves a better offspring.'
'If you hadn't said it,' Newman told her, 'I would have done. Anyway, he's gone now…'
There was silence for a while as they concentrated on the meal. After dessert had been served and consumed Tweed posed his question to Sharon.
'Have you encountered a man called Jake Ronstadt?'
A heavier silence descended on the table. Sharon was dabbing at her lips with her serviette. She turned to look at Newman.
'Tweed is an interesting man. He fires intriguing questions at the most unexpected moment.' She smiled warmly at Tweed. 'Like a detective. Yes, I have encountered Ronstadt twice at the Embassy in London. Briefly on both occasions. I think he's a horrible man. Like a gangster. I can't imagine what he's doing at the Embassy.'
'He's not there now, Sharon,' said Tweed.
'Oh, have they sent him back to Washington?' 'No, he's at the Euler.'
'The Euler?'
'It's a top hotel here in Basel, no more than a mile from where we are sitting.'
'I find that very peculiar Why here in Basel?' Sharon asked.
'I've no idea. Someone who knows him by sight spotted him, told me. I was just curious.'
`So am I,' she said. 'Well, I'll be moving on soon. Not sure exactly when.'
'Moving on?' Tweed queried.
'Yes.' She turned, gave him her full attention. 'I was going to suggest we have coffee in the bar with a liqueur. That's when I was going to tell you.' She looked up as the waiter appeared. 'Can we have coffee in the bar? A quiet table if you can manage that.'
'Certainly, madame.'
Newman had turned round in his chair to survey the restaurant behind him. There were just a few couples here and there. He then saw Ed Osborne sitting at a table by himself. Osborne had a grim look on his face. Newman gave him a small salute. Osborne pretended not to see it, bent his head over a newspaper. What has disturbed him? Newman wondered.
Earlier, when Basil guided a wobbling Rupert through the Brasserie, the second restaurant in the hotel, and on into the bar, he had to hold him up. He had found Rupert at a table in the lobby. There were several empty glasses on the table Rupert was sitting at.
'Need another drink,' Rupert mumbled.
'Are you sure?'
'When I say need 'nother drink, I need 'nother drink. Wha's the matter, Basil? Don't understand the King's English?'
'It's the Queen's English these. days. Has been for long as I can remember.'
'Basil!' Rupert said aggressively. 'You tellin' me how you want me to speak my own language? 'Nother Scotch. Wanna sit down.'
The bar was empty. For the moment there was no one behind the serving counter. Basil guessed the girl had taken an order into the restaurant. He kept Rupert moving. There was another exit which led out straight onto the street.
'You need some fresh air first,' Basil said firmly. 'Then we can come back and get something to drink.'
'Fresh air? Can't drink fresh air. Didn't you know that?'
'I'll bring you a drink outside,' Basil lied.
'Against Swish law. Drinkin' in the street. End up in pokey, we will.'
'Almost there.'
Basil was anxious to get Rupert out of sight before someone returned to the bar. He got a strong hold on Rupert, propelled him to the door at the rear. He opened it with his back, hauled Rupert out with him. The outside air hit them like a blast from the Arctic. Rupert's legs gave way. Basil let him slide down until he was slumped with his back inside the alcove. Then he left him there, confident he would recover swiftly. He had no doubt Rupert
