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Murder at the Lanterne Rouge: An Aimee Leduc investigation. (Aimee Leduc Investigations) - Hardcover

Buch 12 von 21: An Aimée Leduc Investigation

Black, Cara

 
9781616950613: Murder at the Lanterne Rouge: An Aimee Leduc investigation. (Aimee Leduc Investigations)
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 1616950617 ISBN 13: 9781616950613
Verlag: Soho Press Inc, 2012

Inhaltsangabe

Aimée Leduc is happy her long-time business partner René has found a girlfriend. Really, she is. It’s not her fault if she can’t suppress her doubts about the relationship; René is moving way too fast, and Aimée’s instincts tell her Meizi, this supposed love of René’s life, isn’t trustworthy. And her misgivings may not be far off the mark: Meizi disappears during a Chinatown dinner to take a phone call and never comes back to the restaurant. Minutes later, the body of a young man, a science prodigy and volunteer at the nearby Musée, is found shrink-wrapped in an alleyway—with Meizi’s photo in his wallet.

Aimée does not like this scenario one bit, but she can’t figure out how the murder is connected to Meizi’s disappearance. The dead genius was sitting on a discovery that has France’s secret service keeping tabs on him. Now they’re keeping tabs on Aimée. A missing young woman, an illegal immigrant raid in progress, botched affairs of the heart, dirty policemen, the French secret service, cutting-edge science secrets and a murderer on the loose—what has she gotten herself into? And can she get herself—and her friends—back out of it all alive?

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Cara Black is the author of eleven previous books in the New York Times bestselling Aimée Leduc series, all of which are available from Soho Crime. She lives in San Francisco with her husband and son and visits Paris frequently.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Friday Evening

Too small for a bomb, Aimée Leduc thought, nudging
with her high-heeled toe at the tiny red box on the cold
landing outside Leduc Detective’s office. No card. Curious, she
picked up the red gift-wrapped box, sniffed. Nothing floral. A
secret admirer?

The timed hallway light clicked off, plunging the landing
into darkness. She shivered, closed the frosted glass door
behind her, and hit the light switch. The chandelier’s crystal
drops caught the light and reflected in the old patinated mirror
over the fireplace.

For once the high-ceilinged nineteenth-century office was
warm, too warm. The new boiler had gone into overdrive. Her
nose ran at the switch from the chill January evening to a
toasty, warm office. She set down her shopping bags—January
was the season of soldes, the big sales. She’d blown her budget.

Et alors, yogurt and carrots at her desk for the next week.

She slung her coat over the chair and noticed a chip on her
rouge-noir-lacquered pinkie. Zut. She’d have to spring for a
manicure.

The office phone trilled, startling her.

“Tell me you found Meizi’s birthday present, Aimée,” came
the breathless voice of René, her business partner at Leduc
Detective. “The damned jeweler screwed up the delivery.”

“Small red box? You mean it’s not for me?” she joked. She
shook the box and heard a rattle. Maybe those jade earrings
she’d seen him looking at. “You’re serious about Meizi? I mean,
that kind of serious?”

“One day you’ll meet your soul mate, too, Aimée.”

Soul mate? He’d known Meizi what, two months? But
Aimée bit her tongue. So unlike René to rush into something.
A surge of protectiveness hit her. She ought to check this girl
out, see what she could learn from a quick computer background
search. Could be a little ticking bomb, all right.

“Save my life, eh?” René said. “Bring it to the resto, Chez
Chun.”

“But I’m in the middle of a security proposal, René,” she
answered, hoping he didn’t hear the little lie in her voice. She
surveyed their bank of computers, which were running security
checks, updating client systems she’d programmed before she
left. The boring bread and butter of their computer security firm.

“Take a taxi, Aimée,” he said, his voice pleading. “Please.”

Meizi must have something his previous girlfriends from the
dojo didn’t. Better to check her out in person. Aimée put the
box in one coat pocket and dug through the other for her cell
phone.

“A taxi, with this traffic? Métro’s faster, René.”

She grabbed her leopard-print coat and locked the office door.

Twenty minutes later she ran up the Métro steps, perspiring
and dodging commuters. Frustrated, she found herself at the
exit farthest from where she wanted to be, by the Romanesque
church that was now the Musée des Arts et Métiers. Harmonic
Gregorian chanting wafted in the cold air and drifted into the
enveloping night. Petals of snow lodged like nests of white
feathers in the bare-branched trees. What a night, the temperature
falling, a storm threatening in the clouded sky. The
frigid air sliced her lungs, shot up the mini under her coat.

Great. She hadn’t thought her wardrobe through, as usual.
René had better appreciate this. Listen to sense and slow
things down.

She ran across the boulevard into the medieval quartier,
still an ungentrified slice of crumbling hôtel particuliers, narrow
cobbled streets lined by Chinese wholesale luggage and jewelry
shops. Red paper lanterns hanging from storefronts shuddered
in the wind. From a half-open door she heard the pebble-like
shuffling of mah-jongg tiles. This multi-block warren comprised
the oldest and smallest of the four Chinatowns in Paris.
Few knew it existed.

She reached Chez Chun, the oldest or second-oldest building
in Paris, depending on whom you talked to, sagging and timbered
beside a darkened hair salon.

Inside Chez Chun a blast of garlic, chilis, and cloying Chinese
pop music greeted her. The resto, an L-shaped affair, held
ten or so filled tables. Roast ducks dangled behind the takeout
counter. Not exactly an intimate dining spot.

René cornered her at the door. “Took you long enough,
Aimée.” René, a dwarf, was always a natty dresser. Tonight he
wore a new silk tie and a velvet-collared wool overcoat tailored
to his four-foot height.

“Work, René,” she said. “I’m still running programs.”

He raised his hand. “Routine. We’re good till Monday.”

She’d never seen him like this. For once work took second
place.

“Yet look who came out in the cold,” she said, wiping the
snow from her collar. “Why so nervous?”

“Her parents.”

“Use your famous Friant charm,” she said under her breath.
She pulled the gift from her coat pocket. “But why rush this,
René?”

René reached for the box, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Time to listen to my heart, Aimée.”

At the table, Meizi, her black ponytail bobbing, smiled at
them. A warm smile that reached her eyes. “René said you’d be
joining us. We ordered, I hope you don’t mind.” Petite, not
much taller than René, she wore jeans and a green sweater as
she stood ladling abalone soup into small bowls. “Love your
coat, Aimée. Meet my parents.”

“Bonsoir,” Aimée said politely.

The unsmiling Monsieur and Madame Wu stared at her.
“My parents speak Wenzhou dialect,” said Meizi with an
apologetic shrug. “I’ll translate.”

Aimée grinned, determined to thaw the atmosphere. Her
black-stockinged thigh caught on the plastic-covered seat.
Under the disapproving stare of Madame Wu, she remembered
René’s complaints about how Meizi’s parents insisted on chaperoning
their dates.

René set the present on the table beside the steaming soup.
“Happy birthday, Meizi.”

Aimée tried not to cringe. Even if it was only earrings, it
was too soon. René was nuts, or crazy in love.

Madame Wu turned and spoke to her husband. Aimée heard
her sharp intonation, and could imagine what was being said.

But Meizi’s face lit up in happiness as she untied the bow
and opened the jewelry box. To Aimée’s surprise, it was a ring.
A pearl ring, luminous and simple. “How thoughtful, René,”
Meizi gasped. “I lost my other ring at the dojo.”

He winked. “I hope the next one will sparkle more.”

Meizi blushed.

Madame Wu pulled the reading glasses down from her
short, very black hair—dyed, Aimée could see—and shook her
head. Round-faced Monsieur Wu, who was much older, averted
his gaze.

Were they criticizing René’s gift or objecting to the relationship?
Perhaps they didn’t want their daughter involved
with a dwarf? Despite her own reservations, Aimée felt a pang
for René.

“Lovely, non?” Aimée said, trying to ease the almost palpable
tension.

“Try it on,...

„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Verlag
Soho Press Inc
Erscheinungsdatum
2012
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1616950617
ISBN 13 
9781616950613
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Auflage
1
Anzahl der Seiten
298
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Verantwortliche Person
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