Private Paris (Private 10)

Peaks got the princess to her feet, but she didn’t like it.

“I want to sleep, Randy,” she groaned.

“Back at the Plaza,” Peaks said.

“No,” Maya grumbled. “I want to sleep here.”

The bodyguard hesitated, and then hauled off and slapped her hard across the rear.

“You’re going to the hotel, Maya,” he said. “Now.”

That got her wide awake, and she shouted, “You’ll lose your job for that! I’ll make sure of it!”

Peaks grabbed her tightly about the wrist and dragged her toward the rear hallway, saying, “I figure I’ve already lost the job because of you, but I will get you to your mother’s room safe and sound whether you like my methods or not. You’re a princess, for Allah’s sake! Start acting like it!”

When they’d gone, Alexandre’s lower lip quivered, and he said to Hoskins, “Can I go downstairs, please? I can’t stand seeing her this way.”

“Of course,” the investigateur said.

Strong lights bathed the window.

Louis went over and looked out. “Television cameras. Four of them.”

The designer’s assistant went to the stairs, wiping his eyes with his suit sleeve. “Am I free to inform her family and friends?”

Fromme said, “Yes, but don’t talk about the crime scene.”

“No, I couldn’t.”

As Alexandre trudged down the stairs, I studied the room again.

“Why is the body positioned differently?” I asked. “Her arms, I mean. They’re not spread to the side like with the others.”

Louis said, “Maybe someone from AB-16 was in here about to do that when the princess opened the door downstairs.”

“We can’t suppose that until we get a time of death,” Hoskins said.

“Where is our forensics team?” the magistrate asked.

“They’re wrapping up another scene.”

“Once again, I offer Private Paris’s aid,” Louis said.

Fromme shook his head. “We will wait for our people, and the both of you should leave. Now.”

He stated this all flatly, without the rancor and innuendo he’d shown after he’d seen the letter sent to Ali Farad.

“Juge?” I said. “Has our associate, Mr. Farad, been released?”

The magistrate stiffened and said, “He has not.”

“What?” Louis said. “Why not?”

“As I indicated last night, Monsieur Langlois, AB-16 is a direct threat to our national security, and—”

“So Farad is a suspect because AB-16 sent him a letter?” I asked, incredulous. “Are you going to arrest people at all the news outlets that received copies of the letter?”

Fromme glanced at Hoskins, who was stone-faced.