Perfect Strangers

‘Was the boat safe?’

‘There was no one there. No blue tape, no police, no Russians.’

Sophie widened her eyes.

‘So we can go home!’

Josh frowned.

‘When we’ve come this far? Sophie, I think this wine scam is the thing that got Nick killed. But do you trust the police to pursue it? I don’t.’

She knew he was right.

‘So have you phoned that number Sandrine gave you?’ she asked officiously, perching on the bed. Josh shook his head, obviously disappointed.

‘Been trying since eight this morning, but for some reason it won’t connect. I keep getting that annoying French voice telling me the number is not recognised.’

‘Can I try?’

‘I don’t see why you’d have any more luck,’ he said, but he still handed her Sandrine’s note and his mobile phone.

Sophie carefully keyed in the number written on the paper, but Josh was right, it didn’t seem to be connecting. She looked down at the phone for a moment, thinking.

‘Do you think maybe Nick’s new girlfriend is having the same problems as us?’ she said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, we’ve been assuming they’re chasing us for some information Nick gave me about this wine thing, right? If that’s true and Nick had multiple women on the go, then it follows that the bad guys will have been chasing them too. Maybe they found this mysterious “A” woman and burgled her flat too. If I was her, I would definitely have changed my number.’

Josh nodded.

‘That would explain why we can’t get through,’ he sighed. ‘We should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.’

He put the note back in his pocket.

‘Anyway, enough of that, Columbo,’ he said, ‘better make use of that shower, ’cos I’m taking you out.’

‘Where?’

He smiled mysteriously.

‘You’ll have to come with me to find out. It’s a surprise.’

Sophie raised her eyebrows sceptically.

‘Josh, the last two times you “surprised” me, we ended up breaking and entering and playing fisticuffs with Maurice the fence.’

A smile played at his lips.

‘You will like this. I promise.’

Sophie stood in the street, giggling nervously.

‘What is it, Josh? Tell me, please!’

‘Stop struggling, it’s a nice thing, remember?’

He was standing behind her, his hands over her eyes. Their taxi from the hotel had dropped them near the harbour, then Josh had led Sophie through the streets of Cannes, past the bustling Forville market and the majestic Carlton hotel with its steel-domed turrets, and finally up past the exclusive shops of Rue Mace. He’d stopped her at a corner, then covered her face and turned her around. Sophie was feeling the flutter of butterflies as if she was on a first date.