He frowned. “I do not understand why it is so important for you to know this,” he said. “There must be so many dead and injured.”
“You remember the couple I told you about? They were found just outside your store — the woman with the ruby engagement ring?”
“Ah, you found the ring. So it is her?” He nodded sadly. “I am so sorry they did not survive. She was so beautiful. And she seemed so happy.”
“Her name was Gabrielle Dubois,” Marcus said. “What can you tell us about the man who was with her?”
“Her fiancé?” Rojas gave a confined shrug, as much as his injuries would allow. “He was a man of… sophistication. A man of the world, I think you would say. Older than she, but good looking, of course, to have snared such a beautiful lady.”
“Mr Rojas, our doctor has just carried out an autopsy on this man — we believe his name is Enzo Lefévre. He was shot in the chest shortly before the earthquake struck,” Marcus said gravely. “Would you happen to recall anything about that?”
His level tone and gaze would have been enough to make a nun confess, but Rojas just stared with his mouth slightly agape.
“Shot?” he repeated. “Holy Mother of God…” His focus went into middle distance as if trying to latch onto a fragment of memory. Eventually he murmured, “So, that was it.”
“That was what?” Marcus demanded.
Rojas pulled his attention back onto us with an effort. “I’ve been having… strange dreams,” he said hesitantly. “Of violence, of someone crying out, of a loud noise and fear and falling. I thought… I thought it was all to do with the earthquake, with being buried, but now…”
“Now?” Marcus prompted.
He was not the subtlest of interrogators but his technique seemed to work because a moment later Rojas said, more firmly, “Now I believe that, just before the earth opened up and swallowed me… I believe I was robbed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“I remember the couple coming into the store,” Rojas said. “They said they had just become engaged — that he had asked her only that morning, and she had said yes. She was still blushing, so pretty.”
“Just that morning?” I queried and he nodded.
I was sure Peck had said Gabrielle Dubois was listed as travelling with her fiancé on the flight details. Perhaps it was just easier that way. In the past I’d wondered how I should introduce Sean. He was too old to be called “boyfriend”, too practical be described as “lover”, but the all-encompassing “partner” sounded so soulless.
It was all a bit of a moot point now…
“How long were they in the store?” Joe Marcus asked.
“Oh, almost an hour. She tried on a great many beautiful rings before she settled on the marquise-cut ruby. It was an exquisite stone. And the size, it was perfect for her. She said it was a sign that she was meant to have it.”
His eyes began to fill again. Marcus said, “Take your time, Mr Rojas.”
I plucked a handful of tissues from the box on the bedside cabinet and passed them across. Rojas took them with a nod of thanks.
“The doctors tell me it is the… relief of my rescue still coming out,” he explained and we didn’t call him a liar.
“Do you remember anything about the robbery itself?” Marcus asked after a few moments. I raised an eyebrow at him. What part of “take your time” did this fit into?
But Rojas was nodding. “Yes… yes, I think so. I have a remote lock on the door. I would have had to press it to let the couple out. I think that was when the man pushed his way inside. He pushed them back inside, also. He wore black, and a mask. And he had a gun. He forced me to open my gem safe. He threatened the lady… what could I do?”
“I’m sure you did everything you could,” Marcus murmured.
“He was expecting more stones. I was waiting for a shipment, but it was delayed. I tried to explain but he was very angry. Eventually he took what he could, including the cash in the register, and just when I thought he might finally leave, he saw the woman’s ring — the ruby. And he wanted it.”
“And Monsieur Lefévre didn’t want to let go of it,” Marcus guessed.
Rojas nodded helplessly, his English breaking up in his distress. “He shoot him in the chest and he go. And then the building start to shake and I… I don’t remember much after that.”
He sagged back into his chair as if the retelling of the tale had physically exhausted him. I sat quiet for a moment, lining his story up with the holes in our own timeline. It would all seem to fit except for the unknown intruder who’d broken in to steal the couple’s identities — and from a secure building in the middle of an army base at that.
I still didn’t see the point of it. Unless Peck had been right and there was some connection between the couple and the robber that he thought too obvious to risk exposing.
“Do you have any ideas who might have robbed you?” I asked. “Or if there might have been any connection between the couple who came in, and the robbery?”
“How could there be, when he shoot that man?” Rojas demanded.
I exchanged a look with Joe Marcus, saw no enlightenment in his face either. Perhaps I needed to get Parker Armstrong digging on the French pair to see what he could come up with.
We got to our feet. Marcus reached a hand to Rojas, who clasped it again briefly, and did the same with mine.
“Well, thank you for your time and your patience, Mr Rojas,” Marcus said. “We hope—”
“What in the name of hell is going on here?” said an annoyed voice from the doorway. Commander Peck came striding into the room and stopped dead when he caught sight of the man in the chair, his head bruised and still swathed in dressings.
“Ah, Commander Peck, is it not?” Rojas said, and there was a rueful note to his smile. “My name is Santiago Rojas. I believe you want to speak with me.”
“Mr Rojas,” Peck returned, so stiffly it made his treatment of us seem positively effusive. Enmity rolled off him like cold air from an open fridge door.
“You must excuse us, Mr Marcus, Miss Fox,” Rojas said then, a bitter smile curving his swollen lips. “I’m afraid the commander and I have some… history together, is that not right?”
Peck said nothing.
Rojas laughed. “The good commander works long hours,” Rojas went on, “and his wife is a lonely and attractive woman.” He shrugged as far as he was able. “Our… friendship was over some time ago, but I think I am not yet forgiven.”
Peck forced some of the rigidity out of his shoulders and jaw. “Our personal… differences will not prevent me from doing my job,” he ground out. “You can be assured of that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“We’re working in the dark,” Marcus said when we were outside and heading for the Bell.
“You should be used to that in your job,” I said, which raised the beginnings of a smile that never made it any further. “Why don’t you check with your sources — see what they have to say?”
“My sources?”
“You found out all the gory details about me fast enough after I arrived,” I pointed out mildly. “You must have a good source of intel somewhere along the line.”
“Good, yes,” he agreed. “Sporadic, also. And right now my ‘source’ as you call him, is on deployment and out of regular cellphone contact.”
“Well, it’s fortunate that my source is sitting by his phone in New York,” I said. “I can ask my boss to do some digging on this if you want?”
“We talking about Sean Meyer?” he demanded. “Or Parker Armstrong?”
My hesitation was only fractional. “Parker.”