The apartment snuggled under the eaves of the hotel; the rooms, all dominated by large round dormer windows overlooking the Place Vendôme, were identical in size; originally they had been used as individual servant's rooms, but Kate McCloud had strung six of them together and decorated each for a particular purpose. The effect, overall, was like a railroad flat in a luxurious tenement.
"Miss Kate? The gentlemen are here."
And, magically, there we were inside Kate McCloud's bedroom. "Aces. Angel." She was perched on the side of a bed brushing her hair. "Will you have some tea? Perla's having some. Or a liqueur? No? Then I shall. Corinne, would you bring me a drop of Verveine? Aces, aren't you going to introduce me to Mr. Jones? Mr. Jones," she confided to Mme. Apfeldorf, who was seated in a chair beside the bed, "is going to drive the demons out of my spine."
"Well," said Mme. Apfeldorf, who had slicked-black hair shiny as a crow's and a voice with a crowlike croak, "I hope he's better than that sadistic little Japanese Mona sent my way. I'll never trust Mona again. Not that I ever did. You wouldn't believe what happened! He made me lie naked on the floor and then, in his bare feet, he stood on my neck, walked up and down my back, positively danced. The agony "
"Oh, Perla," said Kate McCloud pityingly. "What do you know about agony? I've just spent a week at St. Moritz and never saw a pair of skis. Never left my room except to visit Heinie. just lay there munching Doridens and praying. Aces," she said, handing him a silver frame that had been standing on a table near her bed, "here's a new picture of Heinie. Isn't he lovely?"
"This is Mrs. McCloud's son," Aces explained, showing me the picture in the frame: a chubby-cheeked solemn child muffled in mufflers and a fur coat and fur hat and holding a snowball. And then I noticed that placed around the room, there were really dozens of pictures of this same boy at varying ages.
"Lovely. How old is he now?"
"Five. Well, he'll be five in April." She resumed brushing her hair, but harshly, destructively. "It was a nightmare. I was never allowed once to see him alone. Dear Uncle Frederick and beloved Uncle Otto. The two old maids. They were always there. Watching. Counting the kisses and ready to show me the door the moment my hour was up." She threw the brush across the room, which made Mutt bark. "My own baby."
The Black Duchess cleared her throat; it sounded like a crow gargling. She said: "Kidnap him."
Kate McCloud laughed and collapsed against a heap of Porthault pillows. "Odd, though. You're the second person who's said that to me within the past week." She lit a cigarette. "It isn't quite true that I never went out in St. Moritz. I did. Twice. Once to dinner for the Shah, and another night some crazy fling Mingo had at the King's Club. And I met this extraordinary woman—"
Mme. Apfeldorf said: "Was Dolores there?"
"Where?"
"At the Shah's party."
"There were so many people, I can't remember. Why?"
"Nothing. Just rumors. Who gave it?"
Kate McCloud shrugged. "One of the Greeks. The Livanos, I think. And after dinner His Highness pulled his old stunt: kept everybody sitting at their table for hours while he told tasteless jokes. In French. English. German. Persian. Everybody howling with laughter, even if they hadn't understood a word. It's painful to watch Farah Diba; she really blushes—"
"Sounds as though he hasn't changed much since we were at school together in Gstaad. Le Rosey."
"And I had Niarchos sitting next to me, which was no help. He had enough Cognac in him to pickle a rhinoceros. He started at me, very belligerently, and said: 'Look me in the eye.' Well, I couldn't-his eyes were unfocused. 'Look me in the eye and tell me what makes you happiest in the world?' I told him sleep. He said: 'Sleep. That's the saddest thing I've ever heard. You'll have thousands of years to sleep. Now I'll tell you what makes me happiest. To hunt. To kill. Prowl through the jungles and kill a tiger, an elephant, a lion. Then I am a peaceful man. Happy. What do you say to that?' And I said: "That's the saddest thing I've ever heard. To kill and destroy, that seems to me a very pathetic thing to call happiness.'"
The Black Duchess inclined her head, agreeing: "Yes, the Greeks are dark-minded. The rich Greeks. They bear the same resemblance to humans as coyotes do to dogs. Coyotes look like dogs; but of course they aren't dogs—"
Aces intervened to comment: "But, Kate, you like to hunt. How do you account for that?"
"I like to play at hunting. I like the walking and the wilderness. The only thing I ever shot was a Kodiak bear, and that was in self-defense."
"You shot a man," Aces reminded her.
"Only in the legs. And he deserved it. He killed a white leopard." Corinne appeared with a small glass of Verviene, and Aces was right—the liqueur matched perfectly the ultra-green of her eyes. "But what I started to tell you about was this amazing woman I met at Mingo's fandango. She sat down next to me, and said: 'Hello, honey. I hear you're a Southern girl, and so am I. I'm from Alabama. I'm Virginia Hill."
Aces said: "The Virginia Hill?"
"Well, I didn't realize she was all that famous until Mingo told me. I'd never heard of her."
"Nor I," said Mme. Apfeldorf. "Who is she? An actress?"
"A gangster's moll," Aces informed her. "The Most Wanted woman. The F. B. I. have pictures of her posted in every post office in America. I read an article about her, it was called 'The Madonna of the Underworld. ' Everybody's after her, not only the F. B. I. but most of her old gangster chums, too: they figure if the F. B. I. ever catch her, she might talk and talk too much. When things got too tough, she fled to Mexico and married an Austrian ski instructor; she's been holed up in Austria and Switzerland ever since. The Americans have never been able to extradite her."
"Mon Dieu, " said Mme. Apfeldorf, making a sign of the cross. "She must be a very frightened woman."
"Not frightened. Despairing, even suicidal perhaps; but she wears a jovial mask very convincingly. She kept putting her arm around me, squeezing me and saying: 'It sure is good to talk to somebody from down home. Hell, you can take the whole of Europe and cram it up your shithole. See my hand?' She showed me her hand; it was wrapped in plaster and gauze, and she said: 'I caught my husband in bed with one of these ladeda bimbos, and I broke her jaw. I would've broken his, too. If he hadn't jumped out the window. I guess you know all about my troubles stateside; but sometimes I feel I'd be better off to go home and get it over with. I can't be more in a jail there than I am here.'»
Aces said: "But what was she really like? Is she beautiful?"
Kate considered. "Never beautiful, but pretty, cute, like a cute little carhop. She has a nice face, but two chins to go with it. And I can't imagine what her tits weigh—at least a couple of kilos."
"Please, Kate," complained the Black Duchess. "You know how I dislike those words. Tits."
"Oh, yes. I always forget. You were educated by Brazilian nuns. Anyway, what I started to say was, suddenly this woman pressed her lips against my ear and whispered: 'Why don't you kidnap him?' I simply looked at her; I had no idea what she was talking about. She said: 'You know all about me but I know quite a lot about you. How you married that Kraut bastard and how he kicked you out and kept the kid. Listen, I'm a mother, too. I have a boy. And I know how you feel. With his money, and these European laws, the only way you're going to get that kid back is by kidnapping him."'