La Fleur Rouge The Red Flower (25 page)

Hildy turned and looked at Roger, still lying unconscious on the floor. I have to revive him and get him to untie me. She was amazed at how calm she suddenly felt. Although she had dreaded this moment, now that it was here all fear left her. A strange, unexplainable conviction came over her, and she felt sure they would find a way out of this.

She tried to inch her chair over near Roger, but the more she struggled, the tighter the ropes pulled around her.

Roger moaned and opened his eyes. He stared, not able to focus at first. He blinked and sat up. Gradually his vision cleared and he saw Hildy. “What happened?” he moaned. “Where are we? And what are you doing tied up in that chair?”

“Roger! Are you all right?” Now that he was conscious her bravado and optimism faded, and she burst into tears.

Roger struggled to his feet and staggered over to her. He reached down and untied the ropes that held her captive.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the circulation in her hands returned. “Thanks,” she said, brushing the tears from her eyes. She rose and went to the window. It had started to snow, and although it was almost completely dark by now, it seemed like daylight. Strange, she thought, how the sky lights up at night when it’s snowing.

Roger moved slowly and painfully to her side and looked out. “We must be in the Alps!” he exclaimed. “How in the world did we get here?”

“How do you think?” Hildy snorted. “Gregory Wilcox brought us here. He owns this lodge.”

“Mr. Wilcox?! Oh! I remember!” he exclaimed. “But how did he get us here?”

“Trust Greg! He’s an expert pilot. He rented a plane and flew us here.”

The bleeding from Roger’s head had stopped, but was still slightly damp. Hildy looked around and saw some towels on a shelf nearby. She picked up one of them and dabbed at the wound.

Roger winced.

“I’m sorry,” Hildy said. “Here. Keep dabbing this on your head till the blood dries. We’ve got to figure a way to get out of here.”

“We don’t know where we are!” Roger reminded her. “Just somewhere in the French Alps.” He looked outside and became alarmed. “It’s snowing hard.” He looked at his watch. “How did it get to be so late? I must have been unconscious for hours!”

Hildy began to shake - not just from the cold, but the full realization of their predicament suddenly overwhelmed her and she began to sob with frustration. “We’ll never get out of here,” she wailed.

Roger put his arm around her. “Yes, we will. But we’ll have to stay here tonight and try to figure out something in the morning. I’m sorry, Hildy. We wouldn’t be in this mess if I hadn’t come to Paris and talked to Peter.”

Hildy stopped crying. “No, Roger, you’re wrong. Greg has been trying for two years to stop me from exposing him. You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t come to warn me.”

Roger turned and faced her. “Hildy, blaming ourselves isn’t going to get us out of here.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. She hesitated, then came to a decision. “Roger, there’s something you should know. I think I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, no!” he exclaimed. “Jay left you knowing this?”

“He doesn’t know. And there’s no way I’ll tell him now!” Roger was all sympathy. “What a lousy time for you to be pregnant.” He looked around. “Is there any food here?”

“Not that I know of. You don’t think Greg would have left it if there were, do you?”

“I’m going to look in the other rooms and see what I can find,” he told her. He reached into his pocket for the small, pen-like flashlight he always carried. “There must be some canned goods around somewhere,” he muttered.

He walked down the short, narrow hallway. In a few minutes he reappeared and held up some instant, prepackaged shelf-top meals. “Voila!” he exclaimed. “Now all we need is a stove.”

“Maybe we could use the fireplace,” Hildy suggested. “But how do we light it?”

Roger disappeared again and came back with some wood he found in a back room, and a frying pan with a cover. This would act as an oven to cook the food. He looked on the shelf and found a box of matches. “Voila!” he exclaimed again. “We’re in business!”

He soon had a warm fire going. Hildy opened the packages of food - delicious lasagna with tomato sauce and garden salads with packets of dressing. Roger looked in the kitchen cabinet and found some cans of soda. In the drawer below he found a can opener.

It took only a few minutes to prepare the food. They sat on the floor in front of the cozy fireplace relishing every bite. Roger found some brandy on a shelf, and they each had some to keep themselves warm. The meal and the brandy, along with the warmth of the fire, made them drowsy, and before they knew it they were fast asleep, curled up in front of the fireplace.

It was six o’clock in the morning when Hildy woke up. The sun was streaming through the window. At first she didn’t know where she was. Then, with a sudden surge of memory, it all came back. She looked around for Roger, but he wasn’t there. “Roger? Roger!” she screamed, sheer panic in her voice.

Roger came running in from the other room. He grinned as he held up some packets of dry, prepackaged omelet mix he found in the pantry. All that was needed was the pan they used last night, and more wood on the fire. Next, he found some instant coffee and a pot which he filled with water from the tap. It was soon percolating over the fire.

The friendly aroma almost made Hildy forget the predicament they were in, but not for long. One look out the window told her the whole, frightening story. She could barely see out. The snowfall from the previous night had been heavy, and they were snowed in. Icy fingers of fear crept over her. “What do we do now?” she asked in almost a whisper.

Roger looked grim but hopeful. “Don’t worry. I think we have enough food for several days if we’re careful. And there seems to be plenty of wood for the fireplace.” For a moment he looked almost gleeful. “Do you get the feeling we beat Greg at his own game?”

Hildy managed a faint smile. She looked at him, hardly daring to ask. “How - how long do you think we’ll be snowed in?”

Roger peered out the window. “I don’t think it’s as hopeless as it looks. I opened the window for a minute when I woke up this morning. It seemed quite mild. The snow is melting already. Maybe a few days at the most if it doesn’t snow again."

"I wonder what they'll think when they find out we're gone?"

Hildy asked. "Zack and the others, I mean."

Roger shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe they already know." He was quiet for a moment, and Hildy hoped for one wild moment that he might have figured a way out of here. "We'll have to stay here until the snow melts enough for us to get through to the nearest road and find a phone," he said.

"Are you sure there isn't one here?" Hildy asked him.

"If there is I haven't been able to find it. It would probably be disconnected, anyway." Then on a lighter note - "I've got an idea!" he said with a valiant effort to act as though this were a great adventure. "While we're waiting, why don't we spend the time writing that musical we were going to work on together?" he suggested. "We may even have it finished by the time we get back to Paris!"

Hildy was dismayed. "Oh, I hope we'll be out of here before then! Not just for me, but - what if I really am pregnant?"

“I’m sorry, Hildy,” Roger apologized. “I was only joking. Some joke! We don’t even have paper to write on.”

CHAPTER XXXVII
 

When Greg arrived at the Saint Germaine Hotel in Paris it was nine PM, Paris time. He threw his things into his suitcase and phoned Parisian Airlines. “When does the next plane leave for New York?” he asked the ticket agent.

“There’s one that leaves in an hour,” she told him.

“What time does it get to New York?”

“With almost seven hours flying time, and the time difference between Paris and New York, that would be eleven PM tonight in New York.”

“Fine! This is - - “ He started to give his real name, then changed his mind. Cover your tracks, he muttered to himself. “George Wilson,” he told her. “Book me in First Class.”

He hung up and went down to the lobby. After he checked out, he hailed one of the cabs outside the hotel, and was on his way to Orly Airport.

The plane landed early in New York - about ten-forty-five. Greg had called ahead, and a limousine was waiting. It was almost midnight when he finally knocked on the door of Jay’s condo.

Jay looked drawn from lack of sleep. “Greg! I thought you were going to let me know when you were coming. When did you leave Paris?”

“Two days ago,” Greg lied. “Sorry to arrive so late.”

“Where have you been?”

“I went directly to Boston,” he lied again. “I wanted to check and make sure everything was okay at home. I spent a couple of nights there. How is the musical coming?”

Jay looked sad as he spoke. “It’s coming along. Did you speak to Hildy about stealing 'La Fleur Rouge?'"

"Oh, yes," Greg answered. "She won't be stealing any more." He changed the subject. "How is 'Sunny Days' coming along? Is everything straightened out okay?"

"Yes," Jay assured him. "Things are going smoothly now." He spoke as though it no longer mattered.

He's taking this hard, Greg thought. But that's his problem. I've taken care of Hilary for good this time.

CHAPTER XXXVIII
 

It was ten o’clock in the morning in Paris when Zack dialed Hildy’s room. There was no answer. They had all decided the night before to sleep late and meet for a late breakfast. He became concerned and dialed Peter.

“Hildy’s not in her room,” he told him.

“She probably went for a walk,” Peter said.

“She should know it’s not safe to go alone,” Zack said.

“Greg is back in New York with Jay,” Peter reminded him. “Besides, Roger may be with her. Perhaps they’re planning their strategy for the court battle. I’m sure there’s no reason to worry.”

But Zack’s intuition told him something different. “I’m going down to the lobby,” he told Peter. “Something isn’t right. Maybe the clerk knows where she went.”

“Fine.” Peter spoke with confidence. “I’ll see you both for breakfast at the sidewalk cafe.”

Zack took the elevator to the lobby and approached the desk clerk. “I’m looking for Hildy Swenson. She’s not in her room. Have you seen her?”

“She went for a walk last night by the River Seine,” the clerk informed him. “She said she’d be back in an hour.”

Zack stiffened. “Is her room key still here?”

The clerk looked on the key rack. “That’s strange,” he said, holding up the key. “It is still here. She can’t get into her room without it.”

Zack’s face paled. “I’ll go and look for her,” he told the clerk.

He went outside and hurried over to the pathway beside the Seine. He sped down the path beside the river. His legs felt like lead as he tried to pick up speed.

He finally reached the remote area of the river bank where Hildy and Roger had been. He walked slowly, scanning every inch of ground, when he spied Hildy’s wig and glasses, and a handkerchief lying beside them. He stooped down and picked them up. The handkerchief bore the initials “G.W.”

He put the hankie to his nose and sniffed. With his strong sense of smell he detected a faint odor of chloroform. He looked around and saw spatters of blood leading to the nearby bushes. There was more dried blood on the leaves. He stood rooted to the spot. Chills crept along his spine as his worst fears were confirmed.

A half hour later he returned to the hotel just as Jenny and Peter entered the lobby. He looked grim as he approached them with the wig, the glasses, and the chloroform-tinged handkerchief in his hand. He held it up so they could see the initials.

“The clerk said Hildy went for a walk by the Seine last night,” he told them. “I found these by the River. That’s not all. There were blood spatters on the pathway and the bushes, and the maid says Hildy’s bed wasn’t slept in last night.”

Jenny put her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. She grabbed Peter for support.

Peter was stunned. “Have you called the Saint Germaine? Roger’s late. Have them check his room.”

Zack walked over to the house phone. “Please get me the Saint Germaine Hotel,” he told the operator. “Thank you.” It didn’t take long. “Would you please have someone check Room #218 and see if Roger Fielding is there?” he asked the clerk. “Yes, I’ll wait.”

In a short time the clerk came back on the line. “Monsieur, he’s not there,” he told Zack, “and the maid says his bed hasn’t been slept in.”

Zack put the phone down and turned to Peter and Jenny. “They’re both gone and neither of their beds has been slept in.”

“Where are they?” Jenny gasped. “Maybe that’s not Greg’s handkerchief,” she suggested. “He’s not the only person with the initials ‘G.W.’ Maybe - “ Her voice trailed off.

Peter led her over to the sofa and tried to calm her down. “I’ll call Jay in New York,” Zack said. “If Greg is there, we can stop worrying and trust that they’ll show up. Wait here. I’ll just be a minute.”