and Malpeques.
'It's a very long story. I'd so much rather talk about your summer and anything that has to do with getting you to New York more often.'
'I sent you that key for a reason, Alexandra. You know the Marches aux Puces in Paris? Clignancourt?'
'Of course. It's my favorite place for antiquing.'
'Then I shall add that to our list of things to do together when you come to France. That brass key is from the wine cellar of an old chateau in Bordeaux. You can add it to your collection, but you know I bargained hard for it. I'm trying to find a way to get into your heart. Open you up a bit. Perhaps one of those keys will be useful.'
Luc reached across the table for my hand.
'I don't think you need any help with that.'
'But I realize that I learned more about you from my conversation with Nina than I know from talking to you.'
The afternoon after Joan's wedding, I had been called back to the city for a break in a case I was working on. Luc had been fogged in on the island, and my college roommate had told him more of my personal history during that long evening than I probably would have revealed in the most intense cross-examination.
We finished the oysters and opened a second bottle of Cristal by ten o'clock. I didn't want any more to drink. My hair was coming loose from the barrette, wisps of blond ringlets curling around my brow and neck. By this time there seemed to be very little we didn't know about each other.
'You know, I had a reservation in the dining room for nine o'clock,' he said, laughing as he looked at his watch.
'I'm not the least bit hungry now.'
'Not for anything at all?'
'I didn't say that.'
Luc reached into his pocket and put the small gold room key on the table. I picked it up and closed my hand around it.
He stood up beside me. 'Dancing?'
'I think it's a waste of a lot of euros to keep that driver waiting.'
'But that dress looks so lovely when you move.'
'Then I'll move,' I said, slipping out of the banquette and leading Luc across the room. I looked at the number engraved into the key. Four seventeen.
I crossed through the lobby to the far side of the reception desk and called for the elevator while Luc went outside to dismiss the driver for the night. We got on and the doors closed.
Luc took my head between his hands, putting his lips to mine. I opened my mouth and we exchanged kisses, deep and long. He pressed my back against the gilded elevator wall. I started to laugh.
He lifted my chin and kissed my nose. 'Am I that funny?'
I closed my eyes so I wouldn't see the camera lens in the corner of the ceiling. I kept telling myself to stop being a prosecutor and pay no notice to the surveillance equipment that this hotel, like every other, had installed in public areas as a security measure.
'Somebody's watching us,' I said, pointing at the miniature device.
He held up one of his long arms as though to block the lens. 'Then let me take you to a more private place.'
Luc led me down the hallway to his suite. He stepped aside for me to unlock the door, and then I followed him in.
The first time we made love was slow and playful. I was comfortable with Luc, trusting him, giving myself to him with an excitement I hadn't thought possible.
We rested, talked, and made love again. Finally, at two o'clock, Luc said, 'We still haven't eaten any supper yet.' He nibbled at my stomach. 'Not enough there to feed me.'
'How can you even think of food now?'
'It's against my religion to skip a meal, Alexandra. You've got to get used to that. What will you have?'
'Whatever you order.' I went into the bathroom, wrapping myself in a thick white terrycloth robe.
'Suppose I give you a choice. Two things easy for the chef in the middle of the night. They don't have to do much to get some caviar up here. Or you might indulge one of my favorite childhood memories.'
'What's that?' There were bottles of sparkling water on the desk in the living room. I opened one and curled up in an armchair.
'A peanut butter and jelly sandwich,' he said, kissing the crown of my head as he walked to the phone to dial room service. 'I can't get peanut butter in Mougins. I usually come to the States with an empty suitcase and take home jars of it. That and Oreos and English muffins.'
'Hold the caviar. I'd much rather have a sandwich.' Luc's sophistication was irresistible, but so was his lack of pretension.
In the morning, the previous night's driver was standing beside his car at the curb in front of the hotel. 'We'll drop you on our way to La Guardia,' Luc said.
'I feel like I'm walking on air. I'll just stroll up Park Avenue and be home in no time. Just kiss me once more and tell me when you're returning.'
The driver was discreet enough to turn around while we said our good-byes, and Luc rode off with a wave, promising to call when he reached home the next afternoon.
It was another sultry day, but I cheerfully greeted dog walkers and people out to get their newspaper and coffee. I said hello to all the white-gloved doormen I passed and stopped for the men unloading furniture for the ongoing renovation at the massive brick structure of the Seventh Regiment Armory.
This would be the second week in a row that I missed my Saturday morning ballet class, but I was too tired and had no desire to concentrate on the drill of barre and floor exercises.
I was digging for my key chain in my small jeweled handbag as I heard a wolf whistle from behind me.
'You're either way too early for streetwalking or you're late for Cinderella's pumpkin.' A car door slammed and Mike Chapman's voice turned the heads of two of my elderly neighbors, gossiping on the sidewalk.
'I-uh-I'm just getting-I didn't-obviously, I've been out all night,' I stammered, suddenly embarrassed, with no idea how long Mike had been waiting for me.
'Sequins and sandals. I didn't know breakfast was going to be formal or I would have put on socks. What happened, the guy didn't think you were worth the cab fare home?'
'Look, I'm sorry I wasn't here if you needed me. Is something wrong?'
'There's another girl dead,' Mike said, running his fingers through his hair. 'You've got to help me, Coop. We've got a maniac on the loose.
EIGHTEEN
Forty-two minutes later, having traded in my evening clothes for sneakers, jeans, and a cotton sweater, I was waiting with Mike for Mercer at the Thirty-fourth Street heliport.
There were clouds moving in over the East River, and Mike kept glancing up at them. He was a nervous flier, especially in small planes and choppers
Fifty-five miles north of here,' Mike said to Joe Galiano, one of the Aviation Unit's crack pilots. 'How long is that going to take, Sarge? 'I should have you down in twenty minutes. The craft was a brand-new Bell 412-one of seven for which the NYPD paid ten million dollars each. In the aftermath of 9/11, the faster, more powerful equipment had been purchased to enable hightech surveillance and serve as effective counterterrorism tools.
Today, it would be the fastest way to get up the Hudson to the place where the twenty-year-old victim's body had been discovered the previous afternoon
It's an island, Sarge. It's a piece of rock in the middle of the river.
How the hell are you going to land?'
'I got six acres to work with, Chapman. And the local cops are try ing to clear the weeds to give me a pad right now,' Galiano said, patting the side of his blue and white flying machine. 'I've put cops on project rooftops
