“If you’re going to be at home alone you might want to consider hiring someone to look after you,” I said.
He frowned. “I am sure I do not need a personal nurse.”
“Not a nurse,” I said. “I meant someone to ensure your safety — a bodyguard.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Santiago Rojas glanced quickly between the two of us.
“A bodyguard?” he repeated. “But why?”
“We believe the man who robbed you may return,” Marcus said after a short pause. He gave the jeweller the shortened version of our trip back to the street of boutique stores and of the unknown sniper. “It could have been a random looter, but you may not want to take chances.”
Rojas nodded carefully. “I–I cannot believe all this trouble over so small a prize. If my delivery had not been delayed…” He gave a lopsided shrug.
Behind him the lift doors binged and opened again. This time it was Dr Bertrand who strode into the lobby. Joe Marcus excused himself at once and went to meet her. I noticed they moved out of earshot before they began speaking in low tones.
“Who is the lady?” Rojas asked.
“Dr Bertrand. She’s the one who treated you at the scene.”
“Ahh, then I must thank her also before I leave.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that,” I said, mentally crossing my fingers.
“Did you find out any more about the beautiful young lady with the ruby ring?” he asked then. “Dubois, I think you said her name was.”
I shook my head. “It turns out Gabrielle Dubois was not her real name. She and her partner, Enzo Lefévre, were jewel thieves wanted by Interpol,” I said. “Looks like there may have been more than one plan in the works to rob you.”
“No! I cannot believe it. They seemed so… ordinary. And so much in love. Do you know… what was her real name?”
“That we don’t know — yet. We have someone working on it.”
Marcus and Dr Bertrand finished their conversation and came over. To my surprise she offered the injured man a smile that was at least polite if not exactly effusive.
“Hola Señor Rojas. ¿Cómo se siente?” she rattled off in Spanish.
Rojas looked momentarily stunned, then he stumbled into speech. “M — mucho mejor, gracias. Gracias a su pericia. Sin usted…”
My own Spanish had improved working for Parker, to the point where I could work out she’d asked how he was feeling and he’d told her he was much better, thanks to her expertise, because without her…
She paused as if to consider and then nodded her agreement with his evaluation.
A harried-looking woman in a white coat appeared from a doorway and hovered where she could catch Dr Bertrand’s attention.
“If you will excuse me, I ’ave a patient to attend to.” To Marcus she added a curt, “I will not be long. Wait ’ere.” And then swept out without waiting for a response from either man
Rojas subsided into his wheelchair looking a little overwhelmed by the encounter.
“She is a force of nature, is she not?”
Marcus’s mouth twitched up at one corner. “That she is.”
“I would very much like, if it is possible, to say thank you also to Hope and the dog who found me. Is she here?”
“They’re outside,” Marcus said. “You’ll see R&R’s helo sitting out on the parking lot. She’s there with the pilot who brought you in.” His eyes flicked to me. “I’m sure Charlie will be happy to take you.”
“Excellent,” Rojas said. “But I do not want to be any trouble?”
I wondered what Dr Bertrand intended to discuss with Joe Marcus that was so urgent, and too private to have me around. I hid my irritation behind a smile and gripped the handles of the wheelchair. “No trouble.”
But almost as soon as we got outside, my cellphone rang insistently in my pocket. I halted to fish it out and check in the incoming number. Parker.
“I’m very sorry,” I said to Rojas. “It’s my boss and I really need to speak with him. Are you OK for a few minutes?” The wheelchair was not one the occupant could propel themselves.
“Do not worry. I think I see the helicopter Mr Marcus talked of — the parking lot is just behind those tents over there, yes? And I am sure if I become lost then I can ask the way. Please, I think I can manage to go to meet my rescuers on my feet, if you would not mind returning this?” He tapped the arms of the wheelchair.
The phone continued to ring. “Of course,” I said, already stabbing my thumb on the receive button. “Thank you. If you’re sure?”
He smiled. “It is no trouble,” he said and hoisted himself slowly out of his seat using his unplastered arm. I watched him walk away, hesitantly at first and then with increasing confidence when he didn’t end up falling flat on his face, carrying his bag of rags. Perhaps he wanted them as a memento of his close call.
“Hi boss,” I said into the phone. “What’s up?”
“You with someone? Can you talk?”
“I was seeing off Santiago Rojas, the guy we pulled out of the rubble of the jewellery store a few days ago. He’s just discharged himself from hospital to free up a bed.”
“Nice guy,” Parker said. “He checks out clean, you’ll be glad to know. No criminal record, no shady deals. He worked for a diamond merchant in São Paulo for years before family pressure made him leave to set up his own store over there.”
I steered the wheelchair with one hand, turning it in an awkward circle and pushing it back through the glass doors into the lobby area. Joe Marcus, despite Dr Bertrand’s order, was nowhere to be seen.
“Family pressure?”
“Yeah, the family are all devout Catholics. They didn’t approve of his lifestyle, shall we say.”
“He does seem to be a bit of a flirt.”
Parker laughed. “Yeah, but you’re not quite his type, Charlie.”
I frowned, thinking of Rojas’s manner, those sensual hands, his admission of the affair with Commander Peck’s wife, and his reaction to Dr Bertrand’s icy beauty.
“I don’t get you.”
“Well, they didn’t approve of the fact he was gay, of course,” he said, losing the smile in his voice now. “You mean you couldn’t tell?”
“Not a flicker. Quite the opposite in fact. Are you sure he’s not bisexual?”
“Not according to the information we have. Otherwise he would have given in and married one of the procession of eligible young ladies his parents kept presenting him with, just to make them happy. By all accounts he was a dutiful son.”
“I don’t like this,” I said. “Something’s not right here. Look, Parker, can I call you back—?”
“There’s just one other thing before you go,” he said quickly.
“Can it wait?”
“No, I don’t believe it can. It’s about Hope, and you need to hear it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Joe Marcus reappeared just as I finished my call with Parker, putting away his own cellphone.
“Looks like we got that woman and her baby just out in time,” he said. “I’ve just gotten word the whole of that apartment building collapsed about ten minutes ago.”
I thought of Wilson’s warning that they’d wanted to leave me in the cellar during the last aftershock and didn’t respond.
To be honest, I was still reeling from the information Parker had given me.
“Joe, we need to talk.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. About Hope—”
Behind us, the lift doors pinged and slid back, and Dr Bertrand came out at her usual speed. Perhaps she had been a greyhound in a previous life.
“I ’ave done what I can for them,” she announced. “I must get back to work. There is much still to do.”