Devious Minds (9 page)

“Ready to go?” Blake asked.

“Yeah,” I answered, turning to face him. “But before we do, can you tell me what’s going on? Is tonight when we’re meeting with... uh... your friend?” I almost said Mason, but luckily stopped in time, since I wasn’t supposed to know his name yet. Sheesh! I was getting way too comfortable with Blake and mentally kicked myself.

“Yes,” he answered. “But there’s been a slight change. Instead of the opera, we’re going to a concert at a gothic chapel called Sainte-Chapelle on the Ile-de-la-Cité. It’s not far from Notre-Dame, and it’s beautiful.” He was thinking it was necessary to change plans in case Louis had been spying on him, and a smaller venue would make it easier to meet up with Mason and walk out together.

“Nice. What kind of a concert is it?”

“It’s a string quartet with a harpsichord. They’re playing Pachelbel’s Cannon in D and Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. It should be good.”

“Oh cool. I love those pieces. That sounds great.”

“We’ll meet my friend there and find a café where we can talk and catch up. That’s where I’m hoping you’ll pick up if he’s telling me the truth, or any insights... you know... like you did with that Matt guy.”

“Right,” I agreed, knowing exactly what he wanted, but not sure I could make it work as well this time. “Um... just a quick question... is your friend French?”

Blake’s gaze snapped to meet mine, and his brows drew together. “No. Why? Does that make a difference?” He was thinking that was an interesting question, and he wondered why it would matter. My premonitions couldn’t be based on language unless it was a thought process of some kind. What exactly did that mean?

I sucked in a breath. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked, but it was too late now. “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I’ve never been involved with someone who didn’t speak English before, so I don’t know how, or if, it would affect my premonitions.”

“Hmm... well, no... he’s American, so no worries about language.”

“Oh... good to know.  So, do you want me to say anything, or ask questions, or just let him talk?”

He smiled, glad I was taking this seriously. “Yeah, I think I do, at least to draw him out. Or you could just nod yes or no to me if you think he’s lying about something.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“Good. Let’s go see Paris. I thought we’d start with Notre-Dame and go from there.”

“Awesome!”

I slipped my purse over my shoulder and then shrugged on my jacket, not wanting to take any chances that someone could run off with all my stuff. Blake locked the door behind us, and we opted to take the stairs. Rather than go out the door into the courtyard, we left by the door on the other side which opened right onto the street.

We started off, and I was happy to be with someone who knew his way around Paris. The streets had buildings about the same height on either side and, once we got to an intersection, they all merged into a round-about-like thing. I could probably cross the street to the other side and not know which street I’d just come out of.

Blake took the second street on the right, and we soon came out near the big building I first caught sight of from my window. It was even bigger than I thought, with a clock in the middle, and statues of Roman-looking soldiers all around the top. In fact, there were statues in between the windows all around the building as well.

“Right over there,” Blake pointed, “is a bridge across the river Seine, and Notre-Dame is down that way.”

We crossed at the light, and on the other side of the street, I caught my first glimpse of the river. Staircases went down on either side to the famous walkway along the riverbank, and a little thrill went through me. I was in Paris! This was a dream come true.

After crossing the bridge, we came to another group of buildings and turned down the next street. This street held all kinds of little tourist shops full of scarves, tee shirts, key chains of the Eiffel Tower, and all sorts of interesting memorabilia.

Naturally, I couldn’t help but stop and look at everything. Some of the scarves were really cute, and I found one I especially liked. It was black and white with “Paris” lettered in red cursive, and it would look great with my outfit. Plus, it was only six euros.

I glanced around for Blake, but he must have kept going because I couldn’t see him anywhere. Damn. I really wanted that scarf. With regret, I left the shop behind and hurried forward to see the tall spires of the cathedral at the end of the road.

Mesmerized by the sight, I slowed my step and hardly noticed where I was going. I came to a stop at the street corner and took it all in. As my gaze swept across the plaza, I found Blake standing right in front of the doors.

He saw me looking and motioned me toward him. “We’re lucky,” he said, after I arrived. “It’s not very crowded.”

I gazed up at the cathedral, awed by the intricate work surrounding the three doors that led inside. Each door held sculptures of dozens and dozens of figures, with the circular, stained glass window centered above, and the famous gargoyles hanging out from the top.

“Want to go in?” Blake asked.

I nodded and followed him inside, awed by the sheer vastness of the space and the beauty of the stained glass windows that told the story of Christ. I tried to take it all in and managed to snap a few pictures with my phone. We came full circle back to the doors and a little bookstore in the corner, where I bought a book about the history of the cathedral so I could read up on it.

As we left, the bell in the tower began to ring, sending a thrill of excitement through me. I could hardly believe I was there listening to the bells of Notre-Dame. Blake smiled at me, thinking it was fun to see my reaction, and glad I was there with him.

“Let’s walk around so you can see the flying buttresses.”

I followed him, taking more snapshots and marveling at this beautiful building. We reached the other end and, after taking a few more pictures, Blake turned back to the sidewalk to cross another bridge. “This direction takes us to the famous Saint-Germain-des-Prés neighborhood. I thought we might get a bite to eat in a café there. There are also several chocolate shops. I’ll show you my favorite.”

My mouth watered at the thought of chocolate, and I eagerly followed him into another maze of buildings and cobbled streets. We passed a few outdoor cafés before Blake stopped at the one he wanted. We sat outside, even though it wasn’t real warm, and ordered lunch. My order of a buckwheat galette filled with ham, cheese, tomatoes and mushrooms seemed to melt in my mouth.

After finishing up and, after a quick restroom break, we left for the chocolate store. On the way, we passed the real, honest-to-goodness, Louis Vuitton shop. I swallowed and glanced inside at all those expensive and non-knock-off handbags. Blake slowed down and studied me. He was thinking I had that glazed look of a woman just about to spend more money on a purse than it was worth.

That settled me down some, and I snapped my mouth shut. Letting out a breath, I caught up with him. He shook his head at me, and I only looked back once before we continued on. Several twists and turns later, we came upon another shop with a sign above it that read “Henri Le Roux Chocolatier et Caramélier.”

I understood the chocolatier part pretty fast and eagerly stepped inside. All the chocolates were displayed behind the glass case just like jewelry in a jewelry store, and I took my time looking at them all. A young woman came out to help us, and Blake spoke to her in French, so I didn’t know what they said. She got out a box and wrapped it up, then handed it to him.

“For you madam?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“What do you like?”

“Chocolate covered marshmallows,” I replied.

“Ah... I have just the thing.” She left and came back with a circular shaped plastic container with lots of square chocolates inside. “These are chocolate outside, and inside is a tender cocoa marshmallow heart. You will love it.”

“Oh, thank you... uh... merci beaucoup... très bien!”

“De rien,” she said with a smile.

While Blake paid for the chocolates, I couldn’t wait to try a piece and opened the container. I pulled out a square and carefully placed it on my tongue, then closed my mouth around it. As the chocolate flavor burst along my taste buds, I tried not to moan, but I did anyway. Next came the sweet marshmallow center, which sort of melted in my mouth. It was the most perfect chocolate-covered marshmallow I’d ever tasted in my life.

“Come on, Shelby.” Blake steered me out of the shop and checked his watch. “We have just enough time to see the Eiffel Tower, but we’ll have to take the metro. There’s a station this way.”

I followed him in a daze. I didn’t know if it was the jet lag finally catching up, or the excitement of being in Paris, or all of that chocolatey goodness. I only knew that if magic existed, this was how it felt. We came to a stairway with a railing around it and a metro sign posted above. Several kiosks lined the wall at the bottom of the stairs. Blake inserted his credit card into a kiosk and tapped on the screen until several tickets came out. He handed me half of them.

“Keep these for later.”

I shoved them in my pants pocket and watched as Blake showed me how to put a ticket through the meter, pick it up at the other end, and go through the gate. Then we headed down into the well-lit passages under the city. Blake pointed out the words above each turn in the passageway that said which way to go for the Eiffel Tower. We followed along, going down several steps, until we came out at the tracks.

A short minute later, a train pulled up, and we hurried aboard. After finding a couple of seats, Blake pointed out the different stops showing on the line above us. A little yellow light came on at each stop, so it was easy to see where we were, and how far we had to go.

Relaxing a bit, I glanced at the people next to us, trying to figure out which thoughts went with whom. I heard a few words in English, and tried to figure out who they belonged to, but in the crowd it was too hard to guess.

With everything else in French, it started to sound like a lot of noise. Holding my breath, I mentally put up my shields, dulling the noise until I could breathe again. Still, it was a relief to get out of that cramped space.

We followed the tiled path until coming to the stairs, which took us outside onto the sidewalk. I took a breath of fresh air and followed Blake toward a walkway that followed along the river Seine. It was peaceful and quiet here, with only a few people and bike riders on the gravel path.

“So what kind of chocolates did you get?” I asked, my mouth still watering for more chocolate.

“It’s a box with a variety of their best chocolates. I thought we’d open it when we got back to the apartment.”

“Sweet! You can try one of mine too, if you’d like.”

“If it tastes as good as you made it sound, I think I’d better.”

“Right,” I said, embarrassment flooding my cheeks. As we rounded the bend, the Eiffel Tower rose in all its majesty before me. “Wow, that’s amazing.”

“We’re on the side closest to the river now,” Blake explained. “I think it’s a fun way to see it.”

“It sure is,” I exclaimed, stopping to take a picture with my phone.

The path ended just before the tower, and we crossed the road before heading onto the plaza. I could hardly believe I was there, and I walked to the point directly below the center of the tower and looked up. “Man, this thing is huge.”

“Yes it is,” Blake agreed. “I’m afraid we don’t have time to go up right now, but maybe we can fit it in tomorrow.”

“Oh... sure. That’s fine.” I glanced at the people around us and noticed several men in camouflage uniforms toting machine guns standing several feet apart. There were enough to encircle the entire area under the tower. “I guess the security’s pretty big here.”

“Yes, it has to be. You’ll find that it’s like this at most of the museums, too.”

“That makes sense.” I took a few more pictures with my phone, and then it was time to head back to the apartment. We retraced our steps back to the metro, and it made me realize I had no idea where Blake’s apartment was. If I ever got lost, how was I supposed to find it?

“I need the address to your place,” I said.

“That’s a good idea,” Blake agreed. “When we get back, I’ll write it down for you. You can keep it in your purse.”

Relieved to have that settled, the ride back to Blake’s apartment didn’t take too long. Still, I was grateful to get on the elevator in Blake’s building. Even though it was creaky and old, after all the walking I’d done, I didn’t even hesitate to step inside. At the end of the hall, Blake unlocked the door, and I trekked into my room. With a sigh of relief, I slipped off my boots and rubbed my feet, then I flopped back on the bed and closed my eyes.

***

The sound of my cell phone woke me. I sat up and then sagged back down before reaching into my pocket. “Hello?”

“Hi honey,” Chris said. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m great. How about you?”

“I’m good.”

“How are things at home? How did the trial go yesterday? Or was it today? I’m kind of mixed up.” I could hear some talking in the background. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the courthouse in the hallway right now, so it’s a little noisy. We’re taking a quick break, but everyone’s fine. I presented the court with the evidence from the forensic accountant yesterday afternoon. We should be able to go over it today, so that’s good. It might take most of the day, though. But the bottom line is that the chance for an acquittal is a real possibility now.”