Kathleen Tessaro - The Perfume Collector

‘No, thank you.’

She passed it to him.

‘They’re not the only ones who take their jobs seriously, madame. One can’t be too careful with heiresses roaming about the streets of Paris.’

‘You read too many cheap novels, Monsieur Tissot. Your sense of the dramatic is overdeveloped.’

‘Except in this novel the heroine is difficult to track down.’

‘The truth is,’ she explained, ‘a friend of mine has joined me from London, quite unexpectedly. I’ve been caught up with her the past few days.’

‘I’m pleased to hear it. However, I’m here with news. I’ve had an offer on the apartment.’

She frowned. ‘But how? Have you been advertising it already?’

‘No. The offer comes from an unexpected source. Madame Jacques Hiver.’

‘Jacques Hiver’s widow?’

He nodded. ‘Her lawyers contacted me two days ago. She would like to purchase the property before it goes on the market publicly. And she’s willing to pay twice its estimated value in order to complete the transaction quickly.’

‘Twice its value! But why? Doesn’t it strike you as in particularly poor taste to want to purchase the apartment your husband’s mistress lived in?’

‘I’m not sure what her interests are. However, she would like to meet you.’

‘Meet me?’ Grace put her cup down. ‘Oh, I don’t think so!’

He leaned back. ‘What do you think is going to happen?’

‘I don’t know… what if she rails at me for her husband’s affair?’

He looked at her quizzically. ‘And why would she do that? What have you got to do with it? Her offer seems entirely above board. However, it’s up to you. I felt it was important that you be aware of these developments and have time to consider them. It is, after all, a great deal of money.’

‘Of course. I’m grateful, Monsieur Tissot, that you took the time to inform me. And I apologize for not keeping in touch.’

He smiled, taking another sip of coffee. ‘So, what else have you been doing besides avoiding my calls? Did you make any enquiries? Or find anything else out about Madame d’Orsey?’

‘Well, as a matter of fact, I have been to see the old woman who lives above the perfume shop again. She’s a perfumer herself. And she knew Eva d’Orsey quite well.’

Monsieur Tissot’s face turned serious. ‘You shouldn’t go there by yourself. She seems quite mad.’

‘I’ve only spoken to her once.’

‘Well, I should come with you next time, if there’s going to be a next time. I don’t like the idea of you going there on your own.’

‘I can’t take you everywhere I go,’ she laughed.

‘And why not?’

‘People will talk.’

‘You’re in Paris. People began talking when you got off the plane.’

‘I didn’t wish to waste your time – you’re a busy man.’

‘Who’s wasting whose time?’ Mallory had come down to breakfast and was standing between them, looking from one to the other.

Immediately, Monsieur Tissot was on his feet, offering his hand to Mallory. ‘Edouard Tissot, madame. At your service.’

‘And how very lovely to meet you, Monsieur Tissot.’ She smiled her most charming smile.

‘This is my dear friend, Mrs Hayes,’ Grace introduced them. ‘Monsieur Tissot is my lawyer here in Paris, acting on behalf of Eva d’Orsey’s interests,’ she explained.

He shot her a look. ‘And your interests as well,’ he corrected her.

‘And how are matters proceeding, Monsieur Tissot?’ Mallory took a seat, as a waiter brought her a cup. ‘Please, sit down and join us.’

But he remained standing. ‘There have been several new developments. However, I don’t wish to intrude upon your time together.’

‘I would love to see this apartment.’ Mallory looked across at Grace. ‘I find it all so exciting!’

‘It would be my pleasure to arrange another viewing. Let me know when it’s convenient.’

Folding her napkin, Grace stood too. ‘I’ll walk you out.’ She turned to Mallory. ‘Darling, order some tea, will you? I’ll be right back.’

‘Think about the meeting with Madame Hiver,’ Monsieur Tissot advised, as they made their way through the dining room. ‘I would give it serious consideration. Twice the asking price is a great deal of money. By the way,’ he glanced at her sideways, as they strolled into the front lobby, ‘your new hairstyle is very fetching.’

Grace felt the heat rise to her cheeks. ‘Yes, but it failed to throw you off the scent. Perhaps I will have to become a redhead next.’

‘You aren’t going to lose me that easily.’

They’d reached the main entrance.

‘I forgot,’ she held out her hand, ‘you’re a dedicated professional. You won’t rest until that flat is sold.’

He took her hand. ‘That’s certainly part of it.’

He gave her fingers a squeeze, then released her. ‘I will be in contact when I’ve arranged the meeting. And I would be grateful if in future you would be so kind as to return my calls.’

With a little bow, he left.

Grace headed back into the dining room and sat down.

Mallory bit into a croissant. ‘Well, he’s certainly very attentive,’ she said with a smile.

‘He’s just doing his job.’

She arched an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

‘So, what are your plans for today?’

‘Well, I’m practically almost completely at your disposal. Only I’ve got a luncheon arranged with Tippi Miller who’s on her way back from Nice and is only here for two nights. She’s staying at the Ritz and I know she’d love to see you,’ she added hopefully.

‘God save me from Tippi Miller!’ Graced groaned, filling her cup again. ‘She’s a terrible gossip. No sooner is someone’s back turned than she’s sticking a knife in it. What are you thinking of, Mal?’

‘She rang me. Besides,’ she added with a little shrug, ‘everyone becomes a friend when you’re in a foreign country.’ She leaned forward. ‘She’s been up and down the French Riviera for a month and yes, she will be choking with gossip and I want to hear it all first-hand. She’s already told me she only just avoided being named in a divorce suit, also that she gambled away her mother’s diamonds one night and had to do unspeakable things to a Swiss banker to get them back. And apparently three very famous sisters have been sharing the same wildly handsome tennis instructor without any of them knowing, only Tippi refuses to confirm names until I see her!’

Grace shook her head. ‘No, thank you. I haven’t got the stomach for it. The entire place sounds like a zoo.’

‘But a beautiful zoo,’ Mallory sighed, ‘with sun and sand and glorious sea!’

‘And far too many wild animals. Be careful, Mal,’ she warned. ‘Don’t let Tippi eat you for lunch!’

Shortly after midday, Monsieur Tissot rang; he’d managed to arrange a meeting with Yvonne Hiver, who’d requested that they meet at the apartment.

Grace decided to walk to the appointment. When she arrived in the courtyard outside the apartment, a large shiny black Daimler was already parked outside; a uniformed driver was leaning against the bonnet, smoking a cigarette as she passed by.

She’d hoped to be the first one here, to have a few moments alone in the apartment again.

The front door was propped open. Someone had been scrubbing the steps; a tin bucket and brush were pushed to one side in the hallway. Mounting the stairs, she heard voices – Monsieur Tissot and a woman; low voices, speaking French.

The door to the flat was open. Grace walked inside to find them standing in the drawing room, facing the wall of windows that overlooked the garden square below.

They turned.

Yvonne Hiver looked younger than she’d expected. Dressed in a very modern tweed sheath dress that hugged her figure, with a Persian lamb scarf, she exuded the air of a woman used to spending her days glowing brightly at the centre of her own, personal solar system. Her matching hat had a thin mesh veil which she had folded back; her hair was brushed away from her face, highlighting her excellent bone structure, and her eyes were accentuated by bold flourishes of black eyeliner. It was the kind of deceptively simple day ensemble that easily cost a fortune.