Ghost Phoenix (17 page)

Chapter Fifteen

The two men seemed unexpectedly unsure of what to say next. Marian had simply wanted to join the conversation, but instead she seemed to have stunned them into silence. She should have spoken sooner, comforted Richard when the conversation turned to the man who'd killed his brother, but her prince had gone so remote and inward that she couldn't find a good moment to interrupt.

Damn. Once again, she'd done it all wrong.

What to do next? Coffee seemed the safest bet. She poured her mug while they watched. Just great. It seemed like she had the next move. Or word. Or something. All this attention focused on her made her feel more naked than she had felt last night with Richard.

“Daz, I appreciate your concern, but you realize if he Hulks out, as you put it, I can just become a phantom.”

“Uh, I hadn't thought of that.”

“I can take care of myself. The Russian monks couldn't touch me, remember?”

Daz leaned against the counter. “Let's not keep all these secrets from each other from now on, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.” She looked over at her new lover, who seemed completely lost in thought from his perch on the couch. He still had secrets. The identity of his Queen, for one. Last night, he'd mentioned a Marshal, but that could be just a court title rather than a name.

“Did you call your Phoenix Institute last night? Do they know anything about the monks?” Richard asked.

“I wish they did but, no.”

“They know nothing?” Richard asked.

Marian tensed, expecting Daz to challenge Richard. Instead, Daz simply shrugged. “They've got nothing but speculation and guesses, just like us. And now that we're all up and awake, we should get moving before the police around here know we were involved with what happened yesterday.”

Richard walked over and stood at her side. Supporting her or laying his claim? No, he had already done the second. Several times last night.

“We'll go in a moment. First, tell me why your people are so short of information? The original sniper was after you, not us. And the monk said something that could be interpreted as referring to Alec Farley. They should be putting all their resources on this.”

“It might help if I knew exactly what the monk said. You told me last night but I need the exact translation and my memory isn't photographic. Could you write it down?”

“Record me,” Marian said.

Daz clicked on his smart phone and pointed it at her.

“This nearly exact to what he said. First, he said, ‘No, as foretold, you are the devil! You are upon us! You will destroy my soul in fire! No, I will not give in to you, foul thing. Saint Rasputin, save me.'

“Then he said, ‘You can destroy me but you cannot frighten me. Saint Rasputin has blessed me. My soul is cleansed. It has been foreseen that our saint must destroy a devil made of fire coming to challenge him. You are the vanguard of this one and you hope to convince me to stray from the path? Never! We will not listen; we will help our savior cleanse the world to make it safe for Him. You must be cast back into Hell, all of you. Whatever happens to me, I will be in Heaven with God's blessing. I Curse you and yours forever!'”

Marian let out a deep breath. “That's it.”

Richard raised an eyebrow. Daz had his mouth open.

“I have an excellent memory,” she mumbled into her mug.

“Who's been hiding you under a bush all these years?” Daz asked. “It's pretty clear you should be running the family business.”

“I want out of the family business.”

“Like I said last night, the Phoenix Institute would be happy to have you.”

“And, as I said last night, I want to make my own choices, not work for someone else again.”

Richard put a hand on her shoulder. “That can happen. I can help you.”

She turned around to face him. “Wait, no, how did we get to talking about me? We were talking about the monk's rantings and what to do next.”

“And about getting out of here before someone knocks at the door,” Daz said. “Let's pack up and go.”

“Where?” she asked.

“You and Daz should go to the airport and back home.”

“No way,” Daz said.

“I'm going with you.”

Richard took her face in her hands and kissed her lips, gently. It would probably look bad to Daz if she melted down at his feet. But she almost did anyway.

“This is more dangerous than I anticipated. This isn't what either of you signed up for.”

“We'll pack,” Marian said. “And then we'll get out of here and talk about what's next.” She glared at Richard.

Someone knocked.

“Crap,” she said.

“It's probably room service or housekeeping.” Daz walked to the door. “Who's there?”

The answer was in French. She knew French well but her brain froze after hearing
police
.

“Fuck,” Daz said under his breath.

Richard moved past them and opened the door. The pair standing in the hallway, one man and one woman, were French municipal police. Marian knew that because she recognized blue uniforms, which looked like American police uniforms, except the jackets had gold buttons and the pair were wearing traditional circular French
képis
.

The municipal officers were responsible for protecting certain areas of national interest and maintaining order. Marian guessed this pair was assigned to protect the abbey.

Richard ushered them in and offered coffee. Using his charm again, Marian thought.

The female officer refused the offer with a frown. “It was my understanding you are Americans,” she said in French.

“Yes, this is true,” Richard answered in the same language.

“You speak French as well as I, if somewhat formally,” she said.

Very formally, Marian thought. She'd thought the same at the airport as they went through customs. It was as if his French was out of date. Which, she realized, it was.

“We're Americans,” he said, switching to English, and somehow, his whole posture changed. His shoulders slumped. He tucked his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. He was back to the California beach bum he pretended to be. “But I spent a considerable part of my growing up in your country. So what's up? What can we do to help?”

The man pushed forward. “Who are your companions?”

The woman elbowed him. “Claude, introduce yourself and state why we are here.”

Claude, obviously the younger and less experienced of the two, took off his
képi
and introduced himself and the woman, one Angelique Morneau. Richard's mouth twitched at the name, and he glanced at Marian.

Marian wished he would take this more seriously.

Richard took the woman's hand and kissed it. Okay, not that seriously. Angelique rewarded him with a small smile as he let go of her hand. Marian wondered if the officer was as nonplussed as Marian had been when Richard did that to her for the first time. How many women did he charm that way? She'd thought last night meant as much to Richard as to her. But it was hard to know.

“I see you absorbed some of our manners growing up here,” Morneau said.

“But of course.”

Claude cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. “And who are your companions, sir?”

“This is Marian Doyle, who I've commissioned to help purchase artwork, and Daz Montoya, a bodyguard.”

Richard put his arm around Marian's shoulders. Marian played along. No, not playing. She was glad again of his show of support, though she wished he hadn't revealed their relationship. She would have better standing as a professional.

But maybe it was obvious what was between them. When in doubt, always stay as close to the truth as possible.

Marian said her greetings in French, happy she could keep her voice clear and even. She stayed in the safety of Richard's arms. Daz just waved at the officers.

“And you're at our door because…?” Richard asked. He stroked Marian's back.

“There was an incident at the Fontevraud Abbey yesterday. We are interviewing all who were seen entering the abbey around the same time.”

“An incident? That's horrible. Was anything damaged?” Marian asked, in English this time.

“No damages, mademoiselle, at least not to the abbey,” Claude said.

“Oh, good!”

Thank God that the abbey and the effigies were intact. Something that ancient and beautiful should never be destroyed.
I must get back to that secret passage and see it in better light.

Richard said nothing. Obviously, he wanted the officers to do the talking.

“What were you doing at the abbey?” Angelique asked.

“Sightseeing,” Richard answered.

“Is this part of your trip to purchase artwork?” Claude asked.

“No, it was a side trip,” Marian answered. “We had been to visit another client of mine for a lead on what Mr. Genet wanted and since we going this way and I had never been to the abbey before, Mr. Genet agreed to stop here for the night.” She smiled and stared up at Richard with adoring eyes. It wasn't even an act.

“I really wanted to see Eleanor of Aquitaine,” she added.

Richard broke their eye contact and focused his gaze on the police. “How could I resist such a request from the lady?” He kissed her cheek. Her face grew hot. Dammit. She wished she could control that.

Claude cleared his throat. “So you went to the effigies, then?”

“I believe we strolled around first and eventually saw them,” Richard said.

“You entered the abbey just about the same time as, well, as the incident occurred. Yet you saw nothing?”

They might be on camera. Marian tried to think of the right answer but no idea came.

Daz leaned against the kitchen counter and shrugged. “Strolled around. Right.” He rolled his eyes and gestured to Richard and Marian. “I doubt they saw much other than each other for a while, no matter what room we were in.”

Taking the cue, Richard kissed her. She was happy to cling to him, happy to forget about the police and the murderous monks, to concentrate on him.

She broke the kiss before it got out of hand. “It's not really the time right now, Richard,” she muttered, loud enough for them all to hear.

“I think it's safe to say that I'm not exactly sure what we did and when at the abbey,” Richard said. “Save that I had company.”

“Perhaps not. But you were keeping a close eye, monsieur.” Angelique directed the question at Daz. “Presumably, your job is to watch them. And you saw nothing?”

Daz frowned, as if trying to remember. “I caught a glance of some monks all walking in a group.”

“Did you notice anything unusual about them?”

“Uh, monks all by themselves are pretty unusual for me.” He shrugged again. “How could I know if there was something more unusual about these monks?” He grinned. “Were they a flash mob or something?”

Angelique's answering smile was strained.

“Why are you asking us about monks?” Richard asked.

“That is our concern, not yours,” Angelique said. “For now, I need to know how you left the abbey.”

“Same way we came in,” Daz said.

“We have established that this is not the truth, monsieur. There is video of your party going in but not out.”

“You're kidding?” Daz asked.

“You find this amusing, sir?” Claude asked.

“Damn straight, I do. How else would we get out of the place except the exit? It's not like we walked through walls or anything.”

“Indeed,” Richard said. “Is that what this is about? You cannot establish when we left the abbey? I'm sorry, but that seems not to warrant a knock on our door so early in the morning. I dislike being interrupted.”

Richard took his arm off Marian. He could be playing a role or truly angry. Or maybe it was all the same to him at this point. “You ask us questions and do not tell us why. Unless you do, I cannot see how we could help you. And if you are accusing us of something, well, I shall have to call my lawyer.”

“You are the ones who disappeared in the abbey,” Claude said.

“Disappeared? We are right here,” he said.

“The hotel clerk says you arrived late last night, looking disheveled,” Angelique said.

“We, ah,
walked
after we left the abbey. It is very beautiful country.”

This time, Marian looked away and down, hoping they would interpret her embarrassment as confirmation of what Richard said.

“And you, monsieur bodyguard?” Angelique asked.

“I get paid to make sure they don't get hurt, not to keep them apart,” Daz said. “They want to go
au naturel
in the countryside, not my problem.”

“If that is all, officers?” Richard said.

Angelique and Claude looked at each other. Claude whispered something in his partner's ear. Angelique nodded, her face stuck in that sour expression.

Claude bowed to them. “For now, we are done with questions. But we require a number we can reach you if we have future inquires.”

Marian produced a business card from her purse. “This is my antiquities firm. There is also a London office.” She wrote the number of the back. “I'm not sure where in Europe we will be next and cell service is unreliable at times. Please contact the London office and they will know how to reach me.”

Angelique took the card with a snap of her wrist. “Very good.”

But she glared at them as she left.

Marian collapsed in a chair when the door was closed. “Oh, God, Daz, you were right. We should have left right away. Maybe even last night.”

“Nah. I think we're good. If they had us on video fighting the monks, they would have come to arrest or, at least, detain us somehow. Instead, they sent two low-level cops, probably just following a minor lead. That's what cops do, look for the pieces that don't fit. And we didn't fit neatly into any scenario. But they can't take it further than that. Besides, even if we told them the truth, they'd never believe us. Suppose one of the crazy monks talk? Who seems more credible? Them or us?”