Chapter Sixteen
ROUX
Long after midnight, Bene and Marius returned from their fact-finding trip to the bar.
“How did things go?” I asked, keeping my voice down since Gen and Mina had gone to bed.
I’d scrubbed my hands and changed my clothes, but I still kept as far from Marius and Bene as possible. If they found Gen’s scent on me…
What she and I had done was between the two of us, and I really didn’t want a lecture on maintaining focus at this critical time.
With less than two weeks to the end of our contracts with Gordon, I couldn’t afford to blow things — and getting involved with his beloved goddaughter would be the best way to do that.
Can’t not get involved, my tiger insisted.
True. I normally prided myself on strong self-disciple, but the instinct to hold, to touch, and to claim had been overpowering.
It’s destiny, my tiger murmured.
Maybe, but I wished destiny would work on its timing.
“We were able to go through security footage of Gordon’s street,” Marius said, bringing my mind back to the business at hand.
Video evidence showed Celeste staking out Gordon’s apartment days ahead of the break-in. It also showed her making a quick exit the day of the theft and hurrying into a waiting taxi. Unfortunately, the camera angle made it impossible to tell whether she’d been carrying a painting.
“What about things here?” Marius asked. “Everything quiet?”
My blood heated, and I fought to keep my voice steady.
“Nothing to report.”
Marius disappeared into Mina’s bedroom, while Bene and I shifted and settled down on the floor.
I started out a good meter away from the couch where Gen slept, but the next morning, I woke up touching her.
Or rather, she touched me, poking her hand out of the mound of blankets to rest gently between my ears.
The moment she woke, she flexed her fingers and resumed lightly scratching my skull.
I leaned into her hand. Heaven.
When we turned to face each other, her awestruck expression warmed my soul, and I felt a ridiculous rush of pride in being such a fine specimen of a tiger.
“You like that, don’t you?” she chuckled, scratching gently.
Hell yes. It might not equal the pleasure I’d given her on the roof, but the moment was special in its own way.
My tail kept tapping in joy, which was tricky, because the place was full of breakable objects. A half-filled wineglass. Framed prints of Prague in the early 1900s. Vases.
I snorted. What the hell did Henrik do with a vase? Fill it with cheery daffodils to brighten up his miserable, eternal existence?
Soon, the others stirred. Bene flopped from side to side for a while, then chuffed, rose to sphinx position, and started meticulously grooming his golden fur. Mina padded from the bedroom to the bathroom, and Gen stood to put on the kettle.
I stood, stretching out one hind leg, then the other, and gave my body a thorough shake. Then I shifted in the hallway and pulled on my clothes.
“I’ll fetch breakfast,” Gen volunteered.
I practically jumped to follow her. “I’ll go with you.”
“Me too,” Bene added cheerily, spoiling everything.
So, no hand-holding on the way to the convenience store, no stolen kisses at the boulangerie. Just a crackling field of sexual energy that followed us everywhere.
We happened across Henrik on the way back to the apartment, and soon after, everyone crowded around his dining table for a breakfast of baked goods, yogurt, and cereal.
“Clement was kind enough to send me a few details,” Mina announced, squinting at her phone.
Marius grumbled into my mind. Kind? The bastard is just trying to curry favor with my woman.
Gen’s expression went hard.
“Apparently, Claudette was keeping notes on our working hours and comings and goings,” Mina said grimly.
“Nothing someone couldn’t figure out from the outside,” I noted.
“Maybe that’s why she was killed,” Bene said sadly. “The information wasn’t sufficient for their purpose.”
“Maybe she refused to do more than that, and that’s why they killed her,” Gen murmured.
“She never did like to do as she was told.” Mina’s tone was bittersweet.
Gen mustered a tiny smile. “Always a rebel.”
“The question is, who killed her?” I asked after a somber moment passed.
Henrik cleared his throat. “I visited the coven Claudette frequented in the past. They were rather bitter about her being wooed away by the vampires of Saint-Germain.”
I stirred the air with my hand. “And?”
Henrik shook his head as if I was so, so stupid. “Celeste is known to have worked with members of the Saint-Germain coven in the past.”
Members? That was a fraternity of bloodsuckers, not a goddamn country club.
“Still not very solid evidence linking Celeste to Claudette’s murder,” Mina observed.
Marius made a face. “Not enough evidence to hold up in court, but I’ll buy it.”
My gut said the same thing, but we needed more.
Eventually, we divvied up jobs, agreeing to regroup at lunchtime. Mina and Marius set off to touch base with a few of his contacts. Henrik headed out to find more of his contacts, while Bene and Gen tracked down the taxi captured in the bar’s video footage.
Yes, Bene and Gen. I stayed behind in my usual role as coordinator.
Funny how that used to make me feel important. Now, all I wanted was to be out on the streets, getting this case solved so we could all move on to better things.
But I sure as hell wasn’t leaving Gen alone in Henrik’s place to act as coordinator, nor was I willing to entrust Bene with that responsibility. Hell, not even Bene trusted himself to coordinate things.
So I whiled away the next few hours amid Henrik’s Gloomsta decor, making and taking calls and scrolling through the internet for any hint of Celeste and her associates.
As a narcissistic succubus, she couldn’t resist social media, though she was careful about what she posted. Still, I found a few leads.
One of France’s gossipy newsfeeds had captured her on the arm of a billionaire pharma CEO at a charity dinner for Friends of Notre Dame, for example, and her own feed indicated she hadn’t left Paris for the past few weeks.
I researched the pharma CEO as well as Henrik’s list of vampires who might have colluded with Celeste. But who? Why? To what end?
Slowly, the hours ticked by. At one thirty, everyone returned to trade notes and eat. Gen took out her sketchbook and drew a mind map, with a spider web of lines intersecting at Claudette, Celeste, and Dad’s painting.
The taxi driver that Bene and Gen had tracked down remembered Celeste, but not her destination or whether she’d been toting a painting. Clearly, her succubus charms had overwhelmed the poor man’s brain.
Otherwise, our investigation had turned up a few tidbits, but nothing that turbocharged our investigation. Not until Mina’s phone rang, at least.
Still chewing her sandwich, she pulled out the phone.
“All??” she said, then switched to English. “Oh hello, Sid. How are you?”
Gen’s head whipped around, and my ears perked. Sid, the former art forger and family friend?
Mina nearly choked on her sandwich. “You saw what?”
Everyone cocked their heads.
“I’m sending the photo now,” she said, tapping into her phone.
“What is it?” Gen whispered.
Mina stuck up her hand, intent on the call.
“Did it come through?” she asked Sid. A short time later, her eyes went wide. “You’re sure?”
Gen practically tap-danced in place, dying of curiosity. Me too.
“Yes, please do,” Mina continued. “Thank you so much. I’ll await your call.” Then she hung up, stunned.
“What?” Gen demanded.
Mina stared at her phone, processing what she’d just learned.
“Sid just saw a listing for Dad’s painting. It’s going up for auction tomorrow evening at a shop in Belleville, in the nineteenth arrondissement.”
Gen clasped her hands in hope. “That means it hasn’t been destroyed or damaged.”
“Hopefully not,” Mina said.
“Wait. How would Sid know the painting is missing?” I asked.
Gen rolled her eyes. “You’re always so suspicious.”
“I prefer careful,” I emphasized. Something not at all in Gen’s nature.
“Sid is always scouring flea markets and auction listings,” Mina explained. “It’s how he makes a living, along with painting portraits.”
That, I remembered. The ex-art forger also painted pet portraits in the style of any grand master a client requested, like bulldogs in classic Napoleon poses. Pretty kitsch, if you asked me, but people with money to throw away on such things were unlikely to ask anyone, let alone a guy like me.
“Can we trust him? This could be a setup,” I warned.
Gen rolled her eyes. “Sid was one of my dad’s closest friends.”
“So was Gordon,” I pointed out.
Bene chuckled. “Sid is an art forger. What’s not to trust?”
“Ex-art forger,” Mina emphasized.
As if that made me feel better. But Gen was her usual runaway train, charging down tracks that hadn’t yet been laid.
“We need a plan, fast. We need to be there,” she insisted.
Even Mina, the more cautious sister, plowed ahead. “Oh, we’ll be there, all right.”
“Can I suggest you leave this to us?” Marius tried.
Mina’s look was uncompromising. “What do you know about art auctions?” She let a pregnant pause tick by, then exchanged sassy looks with Gen. “I say, you leave this to us.”
I exchanged wary glances with Marius, but neither of us said a word.