Chapter 8
"May I help you, gentlemen? My lady?" The elderly man hobbled towards them, leaning heavily on a cane.
"I certainly hope so. It's about this item." Ray extracted the sales receipt for the sapphire from his pocket and handed it to the gentleman. After squinting at it for a moment, the man returned the paper, and frowned. "I don't understand. That can't be from my shop. It's dated two days ago."
"Yes?" Ray prompted impatiently.
"Sir, my shop's been closed since last week. My assistant was called away for a family emergency and then my wife became ill. Today is the first day that I've been able to leave her long enough to open the shop."
"But this came from your shop, did it not?" Ray took out the jewelry case and opened it to reveal the rare sapphire. The man took the gem and examined it from several angles before returning it with a shake of his head."
"It's an extraordinary sapphire, but it's not from this shop. I would certainly remember it."
"It was from an estate sale," Laila prompted helpfully. "We saw it in your window two days ago. We even came in and talked to the salesman. He was a stout man, mid-forties, with dark brown hair and glasses." The man glanced over at Florian, who was moving towards the window display.
"It was right there," Florian pointed to the spot where a large cameo lay.
"Well, that cameo is from an estate sale," the shop owner said slowly. He seemed as if he were about to say something else, then shook his head. "I'm sorry I can't help you." He gave them an eager smile. "Perhaps there is something else of interest, M. de Rochefort?"
Florian almost laughed when he realized the man was addressing Ray. Beside him, Laila coughed into her hand and gave Florian an impish look. Ray cast a look in their direction but didn't bother to correct the man.
"Not today, thank you." Ray nodded to the man and left perhaps a bit more quickly than was polite, gesturing for Florian and Laila to follow. He led the way towards the hotel without a word. It wasn't until they had returned to their suite that he spoke.
"Laila, I want you to do some discreet research on that jewelry shop. I want to know who owns it, if it was closed last week, and if that man's story holds up." He turned to Florian who was perched on the edge of a chair looking frustrated. "I want you to write a letter to the Countess Kourey accepting her invitation to dinner. If that shop sells anything worth having, she's been there and might have useful information. I also want to know if there's been any news of other sapphires being stolen. I need to make a visit to the local bank."
"What about Cora and Matilde?" Florian wondered. "They sent me an invitation to tea for tomorrow afternoon."
"Accept it." Laila urged. "They're bigger gossips than the Countess." Ray nodded his agreement as he pulled on his coat. He left the room without a word; his mind fully occupied with solving the mystery.
Florian sighed and went to the writing desk, wishing for all the world that he was back in Paris.
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He was trapped in that dream again – the one about Morocco, where everything was heat, sand and blinding blue. There were whispers all around him – voices he didn't recognize saying words he couldn't understand. The explosion of sound made his insides quake, but he couldn't seem to move. He needed to, he wanted to, but an unseen something held him fast. He lay, exposed and helpless, surrounded by that blue pain arcing through his body as if he were being stabbed. Again and again the pain cut through him until he was sobbing, unable even to beg for relief.
He knew it wasn't real but he was as helpless as his dream self to stop the torment. So he writhed, moving as much as he was able while so cruelly constrained, and his throat grew raw from the struggle to make a sound, any kind of sound. Tears burned salty paths onto his skin and wet his pillow, but still he slept.
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It was 4:06 in the morning when Noir returned, dusty but triumphant. He'd acquired not only the sapphire he'd been after, but an emerald ring. Given his research, he suspected the lady of the household wouldn't miss the additional item. The husband's mistress on the other hand, was going to be very disappointed.
He shook out his cape and put it into the wardrobe making a mental note to have Florian brush it down in the morning. Glancing toward the bed, he noticed that Florian had made a cocoon of the blankets again. He'd have to remedy that, but first Ray secured his acquisitions. Changed and ready to sleep, he walked over to the bed and tugged at one of the blankets. When he got no response, Ray tried again, tugging a little harder. When Florian still didn't move, Ray climbed onto the bed intending to resort to more drastic measures; he stopped cold at the sight of Florian's tear-streaked face.
Burrowing a hand under the blankets, Ray made contact with Florian's shoulder. It was rigid and the touch made Florian inhale sharply, an almost inaudible whimper escaping his throat. Despite the blankets, his skin was cold and Ray swore softly as he pulled urgently at the blankets. Finally working a section loose, he burrowed in beside Florian and pulled him close.
"Wake up," he demanded, patting Florian's face lightly at first. When that didn't work, he patted harder. That got a small response, so Ray tried again, harder, and harder still, until Florian's eyelids fluttered open.
"What's wrong?" the blond asked, confused and hurt. He put a hand on his face where Ray had struck him and pulled it away again, wet with tears. He stared at the moisture for a moment, then looked up at Ray, seeking answers. "What's happened?"
"You tell me. Were you dreaming?" Ray didn't need to hear the words, Florian's expression answered for him. "Morocco again was it?"
Florian nodded, unable to meet Ray's eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Why? You can't control your dreams." He held Florian against him, petting him soothingly until the rigid muscles loosened and Florian's body warmed. He grew heavier as he grew drowsy but suddenly jolted upright as if he were trying to keep himself awake.
"What are you doing?" Ray asked as he slid a hand teasingly down Florian's side. "There are better ways to stay awake. Want me to show you?" He reached over to the bedside table and pulled his whip out of its hiding place, brushing the coiled leather lightly across Florian's chest. Florian nodded eagerly and all thoughts of sleep left Ray's head.
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"You're having tea with the ladies this afternoon?" Ray asked as he gently smoothed Laila's healing ointment over the welts on Florian's back. They were still red but Ray knew from experience that they'd fade in a few days without leaving a mark. He was careful never to inflict too much damage – he loved the smooth planes of Florian's body and didn't want to see them permanently marred.
"Mmhmm," Florian mumbled dreamily. Ray had worn him out just a few hours ago and he still felt relaxed and well-loved.
"I won't be out for long. Try to sleep as much as you can; you'll need your strength for tea." Ray laughed at Florian's expression and patted him on his naked backside. "If you're good I'll take you out to dinner."
"I'd like that. The food here is fine but sometimes it's…" he thought for a moment then concluded, "not to my taste. Too much spice."
"I hadn't noticed." It was a small point between them that Ray liked spicy foods while Florian preferred a milder taste. It drove Ray's cook to distraction at first but lately she seemed to have found the right compromise.
"Ray?" Florian reached out to catch the man as he moved away from the bed. Ray stopped and leaned down to brush a kiss against Florian's shoulder. "What about the sapphire?"
"I'll get to the truth of the matter. Try not to worry about it."
"Mmmm," Florian's eyes were closing, so Ray gave him another kiss and gently pulled away.
"Laila has some errands to run and I've put up the 'do not disturb' sign so use the quiet to get some rest." Florian made a vague noise that might have been agreement and was asleep before Ray left the room.
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Laila had stopped at the café where she'd had ice cream with Florian a few days earlier. She wanted time to review the results of her research and a mid-morning snack was always a good idea. The café was proving an excellent choice as she kept her eyes on her book and her ears trained on the conversation behind her.
Two men had stopped in for tea and were discussing the morning news. Neither Laila nor Ray had taken time to read the paper that morning so she was very interested when she overheard the words jewel and robbery.
"Two of them in one night. Jewelry worth millions I understand. It's getting to be like Paris. You don't suppose that Noir fellow has come to Brussels?"
"It's possible, but wasn't there a big jewel robbery there just two days ago?"
"I hadn't heard. They have so many robberies in Paris these days, who can keep up. Still, there's plenty of fashionable ladies around here. Some of them could just about blind you with all their jewelry. Foolishness, I say. You'd never catch me wasting my hard earned money on such things and I told my wife that, you can be sure."
"And you're still on your feet? You're a brave man, it's true. I know what you mean though. All that finery just brings in the criminals. Why, look what happened to old Sam's jewelry store up the street. Some man came in yesterday, a real gent, mind you, and he had a couple of fancies with him. Well the gent starts waving a fancy stone around claiming it had come from Sam's. The old guy set him straight he did, but then Sam got to wondering about things so he went looking around and there in the back room he found bits and pieces moved around. He didn't find anything missing, but you know how he is. Without his boy around to keep things straight, Sam gets kind of confused."
"Well he does about small things, but Sam knows that store inside and out. If he says a thing's not right, I'd believe him. Still, it doesn't make much sense. Why would the gent be claiming a fancy stone came from Sam's if it didn't? He didn't try to get money for it, did he?"
"No, that's the funny thing. He had a receipt saying it had been paid in full. You'd think if you spent that kind of money, you'd know where you spent it."
"Not if you've been socializing, if you get my meaning."
"True enough. But there's one more thing. You heard about that tough attacking some gentleman in the park a few days ago? Well Tommie in the police department tells me they found a body early this morning and it fits the tough's description. The guy's face down in a fountain and the only thing he's got on him is one of those fancy name cards – like the rich folks use – and it's the same name as the gentleman from Sam's shop!"
"What do you suppose that's about?"
"I haven't the faintest but if I don't get a move on the wife'll toss me in the fountain. Come on."
The men left the shop and Laila turned to watch as they walked down the street together then parted ways at the corner. She lingered over her tea, scribbling notes from the overheard conversation into her notebook. She wanted to get as much down as she could to report to Ray.
Once the words were on paper she re-read them, trying to calm the sense of unease that gripped her. Sometimes she hated how Ray hovered over Florian, but after everything that had happened in the past few days she was starting to feel the need to hover too.
Checking her watch, she drained her teacup and left the shop, setting a brisk pace for the hotel but remaining hyper-alert to the people around her. Someone knew too much about them and their movements in this city and she didn't like it one bit.
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Ray was in a foul mood when he left the bank, two pieces of paper tucked into his pocket. The first was the balance of his household account, used for everyday purchases and times like now when he was traveling. It contained exactly the correct amount, which had reassured him. It was the second paper, showing the holdings of Florian Rochefort that had him upset. The number on that paper was far beyond what Ray expected – an amount that would allow Florian to pay off his debt to Ray several times over. It was an amount that could only be explained by a sudden inheritance, or the sale of an extremely rare and valuable jewel.
It was only after he'd been reassured several times that the number was accurate that Ray had a revelation. He'd once stood among the most amazing treasure in the world with Florian at his side. When the secret underwater chamber began to crumble, he and Florian had been forced to leave the riches to save themselves. Only one piece of the treasure had been saved – a priceless blue diamond that Florian had put in his pocket because it was pretty. Ray had told the blond it was worthless, not secure enough in their relationship to risk losing the man who would become his lover. He hadn't thought of the diamond since.
Until now, with that piece of paper weighing heavily in his pocket, it occurred to Ray that he hadn't seen that diamond in a very long time.
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Florian made a face and pushed the plate away, the eggs and sausage barely touched. He'd taken one bite of each and found them strangely bitter. The tea was better once plenty of sugar was added and he drank three cups before covering the remnants of his meal and wheeling the cart outside the door to the suite for the staff to take away.
The dull pain in his temple was getting worse and he abandoned his correspondence chores after one failed attempt. Passing his blurred vision off as the result of too little sleep, he changed back into his nightclothes and climbed into bed.
Heat and cold rushed through him, alternately making him sweat and shiver as he ran from nightmare visions in his dreams. Fear consumed him, banishing all rational thought and his stomach twisted with nausea. He barely had time to realize he was awake and dash for the bathroom before he vomited.
Leaning weakly against the sink he wet a washcloth and ran it over his face. The water was too cold and made his teeth chatter. Rinsing out his mouth, Florian leaned forward to spit out the water and felt himself falling, his body responding too slowly to stop the descent. He managed to twist a little before his head made contact with the edge of the sink and he dropped to the tile floor, unconscious.
::end chapter 8::