“Well?” Gage pressed.
“Do you drink?”
“What?”
“It’s a simple question: do you drink?”
“Not alcohol, no.”
She slumped. “What are you, one of those American Boy Scouts?”
“Yes.”
“Well, will you at least sit with me while I drink? Because there’s no way I’m talking about this while sober.”
“I’ll sit with you…if you’ll tell me the damned truth.”
“I’ll tell you the damned truth.” Katja again began walking toward her house. She halted and beckoned him. “Don’t just stand there, Boy Scout, come on.”
“Can I bring Sheriff?”
“I’d prefer it.”
CHAPTER TEN
Once inside, Katja acted completely different. Gage had never encountered this woman before—it was confusing to witness her change so quickly. She was actually warm and hospitable. Before she went to get drinks, she sat cross-legged on the floor, playing with Sheriff. Then she led them to an area of her house Gage hadn’t seen before—her version of an entertainment room. It had a massive television on one end and a comfortable, u-shaped sofa that ringed the room. There were no windows and the walls were made of a dark sound-absorbing fabric with brilliant red stripes. The ceiling was black and had faint lights around the edge that cast a creamy glow around the perimeter. In the center of the room was a custom table made of what looked like rock. It measured at least six feet in diameter. Gage took a seat and rapped on the table with his fist. Holy crap—solid rock. He couldn’t imagine how they’d gotten it in here, not to mention what must have been supporting it underneath.
“They built the house around that rock,” she said, gliding back in with a bottle of wine and a mineral water. “Everyone asks.”
“I was about to.”
“It’s mine forever, whether I like it or not.” She wagged the bottle of wine. “Sure you won’t have any wine? It’s a red Sancerre…I have several bottles. It’s good.”
“You enjoy it,” Gage said, cracking the top on the mineral water. He poured it over the ice, listening to the soothing fizz.
At Katja’s beckoning, Sheriff leapt onto the couch and curled up beside her. Just as she was about to say something, Gage’s phone rang. It was Marcel.
“I need to take this. Five minutes?”
“Make yourself at home,” she said, gesturing to the door.
He stepped away and answered the phone in the kitchen.
“Sorry to disturb you, but I just personally spoke with the man known as Il Magnifico,” Marcel said. “He’ll meet with you.”
Gage was thrown. “What did you tell him?”
“Very little. But he and I have several mutual interests. I personally vouched for you. That should prevent any problems.”
“Where is he?”
“In a city on the Cote D’Azur called Antibes. Very elegant.”
“Does he know the nature of my business here?”
“I told him you were in the employ of the Vogel family and a close friend and associate of mine. I told him you’re settling Vogel accounts, that type of thing.” Marcel paused. “I’d say, judging by his reaction, that he’s rather eager to meet with you.”
“Do you think he has any clue that I’m attempting to find out who killed Karl Vogel, or does he genuinely believe I represent the Vogels in the business they once had?”
“No idea.”
Gage thought for a moment. “Would you recommend that I wade into the meeting with a bit of misdirection?”
“What do you mean?”
“Should I tell him much in the way of the truth?”
“Just feed him a few Vogel morsels and let him come to you.”
“If he killed Vogel, then I’ll be on dangerous ground,” Gage reasoned. “But if he didn’t, and he was involved in some scheme with Vogel, then he thinks perhaps I can carry it on. Maybe that’s why he’s eager to meet.”
“Possibly.”
“Should I have any reason to be concerned for my safety at this meeting?”
“Gage, I would never tell anyone that any meeting with a man such as this is completely safe, but I would be extremely surprised—and upset—if this meeting were anything but cordial.” Marcel paused. “And, believe me, he knows that. I vouched for you. If he harms you, he’ll expect retaliation from my organization. I seriously doubt he’ll take such a path unless you make him an enemy. He doesn’t have that sort of reputation.”
Gage and Marcel spoke for a few more minutes. Il Magnifico was available for the next three days. Gage promised Marcel a full report after the meeting. Back in the entertainment room, Katja had put on some low classical music.
She topped off her wine. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back, Boy Scout.”
“Here I am.”
“Tell the truth: you think I’m a raging bitch don’t you?”
“Not raging.”
She smiled, stroking the sleeping dog. “Points for being honest. I come by it naturally.”
“We all have negative tendencies, Katja. It takes effort to overcome them.”
“Who said I want to overcome anything?”
“It’s your life.”
She sipped her wine. “Before I start, I want to ask you a few questions.”
“Fine.”
“Have you slept with Ina?”
He whipped his head around to Katja. “Seriously?”
“You give answers, not questions.”
“No.”
“Has she come onto you?”
“No. Well…not really.”
“So, she has. I knew it.”
“I didn’t say she’d come onto me.”
“Whatever. Next question: have you slept with our little Schlampe cook, Ursula?”
“No. What the hell is this, Katja? Since I’ve been here, I’ve slept with no one, not that it would be any of your business if I did.”
Katja’s deep red lips pursed into a smirk. “Ursula will try her best to ensnare you.” She pointed a finger at Gage. “Mark my words, she will. She’s a desperate little gothic tart and, in the end, she’ll make trouble for you. She’ll invite herself to your bed at some point for candle wax
