Claudine (5 page)

“Trust the French to have a particularly intriguing term for a cathouse—‘the house of illusions.’ A madam runs a fantasy establishment, a place of mirrors and dark chambers. The set designer is really going to town on that. The brothel clients include a judge, a bishop and prominent local officials. Outside, a brutal revolution is taking place in the city. The director’s
even recruited real-life hookers for the walk-ons. That will be a total shot in the arm for marketing when we publicize it.”

“The other actors don’t mind rubbing shoulders with them, then?” Maria asked.

He laughed. He’d completely missed her acid undertone. “No, of course not. They think it’s fun. The women are very interesting. Well-endowed to say the least, and I haven’t seen that much bling in a jewelry store. I suspect one of the male actors has been practicing his lines pretty hard—off hours.” He pushed his chair back, got up. “Come with me.” He took her hand again and led her over to the edge of the balcony. “Knockout view from here.”

He slid his arm around her and held her tightly so that her left breast pressed against his chest. “I intend to see a lot more of you, Maria.” He turned his dark eyes on her. He had a way of drawing her in that she found hard to resist—in spite of his references to prostitutes and his elitist attitude.

“What if I don’t have the time to date?” She pulled away slightly and gave him a flirtatious smile.

“Make the time.” He leaned over and pressed his lips to her cheek. When she didn’t move away, he kissed her. She parted her lips and met his caress. She rarely kissed her clients; it had been a long time since she’d felt a man’s tongue explore hers.

He pulled back and his gaze traveled up and down her body. “Student clothes don’t suit you. I bet you look fabulous all dressed up.” Or wearing nothing on at all, he seemed to imply.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, placing a hand upon his chest. “Right now I have to get back. Do you mind?”

“I mind very much.” He kissed her again. “But I won’t press
my luck.” He walked over to their table and left a pile of cash for the bill and tip.

Reed talked animatedly on the way back to the library, mostly about the staging of the Genet play. Maria answered his questions perfunctorily, her mind elsewhere. Was it pure coincidence he mentioned a play featuring prostitutes? Maybe the topic arose naturally from their discussion of her thesis. Or did he know who she really was? She never took pains to hide her face at her performances and her New York clients no doubt traveled in the same circles as he. Then again, maybe she was just being paranoid.

“Thanks again for lunch,” she said as he bid her good-bye at the library door.

“Send me those chapters. I’d love to take a look.” She felt the brush of his fingers on the nape of her neck. “I mean to see you again. Very soon.”

When she entered the building, a student librarian she recognized was sitting at the front desk. “Hi, Claire.”

“Have a good time? I saw you with Whitman through the window.”

“Terrific, thanks.”

“A word to the wise. Whitman’s got quite a rep.”

“What do you mean?” She knew perfectly well what Claire was getting at but wanted to hear the gossip.

“He’s high on romance but short on sticking around. If you look hard enough, you’ll see a string of broken hearts around here.”

“No worries. Mine won’t be one of them. But thanks for the tip.”

Maria settled back into her carrel to concentrate on
Fanny
Hill
. Almost immediately she shut off her tablet in frustration. The conversation at lunch had been too unsettling. She didn’t like Reed’s insinuation that she’d get a teaching post if she played nice, although it was an enticing offer. She was suspicious that Reed knew about her after-hours activities and even more unnerved by the memories of Romania their conversation raised. The conditions at Spital Neuropshici di Copii, the death camp euphemistically called an orphanage, hidden away in Romania’s desolate countryside, plagued her mind now. She’d lied when she told Reed she remembered none of it. She’d lived there for five months at the age of six when her parents were declared enemies of the state. A harrowing place. Babies packed like battery hens into filthy cribs, lying in their own waste, older children kept in basements for years on end, drugged and chained to their cots, never allowed into the fresh air and sunlight.

One night she’d woken to find the young boy named Lani curled up beside her, his skin like fine marble, bluish white and cold to the touch, his eyes open, unblinking. She’d screamed until her throat bled. But no one came.

CHAPTER
5

Maria walked from Grand Central Terminal back to her West Side co-op overlooking Central Park. She liked to wander along the park’s green verge, especially on fine, warm days. Just last week she’d seen Pale Male, one of the park’s red-tailed hawks, perched with his new mate on a tree branch, casting his yellow raptor’s eye on the dog walkers’ teacup poodles and Chihuahuas. Today, the pleasures of the park eluded her. Despite all the people on the walkways, she glanced over her shoulder checking for anyone who seemed suspicious. She felt a warm rush of relief at seeing the doorman and she passed through the marble foyer.

Two women, both a little older than Maria and very stylish, waited for the elevator. They carried shopping bags from Armani and Chloé. She recognized them as residents, although she didn’t know their names.

She entered the elevator behind them. They exchanged a
glance when they saw her. The older of the two arched a perfectly threaded eyebrow but said nothing.

She nodded to them in greeting. “I’m Maria Lantos. I moved into the building six months ago.”

The woman standing to the right, slim boned with fashionably tangled hair, glanced at her friend and smirked. “We know who you are, Claudine. Word gets around. Some of your clients have been boastful.”

Maria’s cheeks burned.

They reached her floor and the doors whooshed open. She stepped out. Behind her the woman spoke again. “Don’t even think about bringing your johns here. The board will throw you out if you do. We’ll see to it.”

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face them with a smile that blazed. “That won’t be necessary. Your husband’s only a couple of floors up.” She tossed her satchel over her shoulder as the elevator doors pinged closed behind her.

In spite of herself, the woman’s remark cut her like a razor. It also took her by surprise. The careful separation she’d built between her two lives was collapsing like a blown-out tire.

S
till shaken from the harsh words with her neighbors, Maria threw her satchel on the kitchen island and poured herself a vodka and soda over ice. She was sitting on one of the tall kitchen stools with her drink on the island in front of her when Andrei appeared in the doorway. He’d come over as he’d said he would.

“I can’t believe you went out by yourself today after everything you learned this morning,” he said quietly.

“Andrei, please don’t start with me. I’ve had a very tiring day.” She tossed back her hair and stared into her tumbler.

“Well, there’s something I’ve got to tell you and you’re not going to want to hear it.” His look commanded her attention and she waited for him to speak.

“There’s been a breach. Your secret is out. Someone has made the connection between Maria Lantos and Claudine. I don’t know how it happened—only that it has.”

She sighed. “Yes, I know.”

“You know! How? Have you been checking the messages?” He walked over to where she sat at the island and placed two hands on the granite surface.

“No, Andrei. I didn’t need to. Some snotty bitch in the penthouse just outed me in the elevator. She referred to me as Claudine. I don’t know how she figured it out, but I think she’s going to go to the condo board and try to have me evicted.” She shook her head. “I really don’t need this right now.”

“Maria, it’s worse than you think. We have a bigger problem than your neighbor.”

“What?” She looked up sharply.

“There have been text messages. Threatening ones. Calling you a whore. Saying you’d regret not living up to your promises. I received them a couple of days ago but I dismissed them, not wanting to upset you. Now this—this murder and your stolen ID—” He paused. “I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry. We have to assume that the threats and this murdered girl are linked.”

She fought her rising panic; to acknowledge it would be to go to a very dark place. “We don’t know that. Maybe the threat’s from a disgruntled client, and it’s got nothing to do with the murder. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s gotten
pissed off. But back up a bit. What makes you think this guy’s made the connection between Claudine and me?”

“The text was addressed to ‘Miss Lantos.’ ”

Her face fell.

“I’ve done everything possible to check the origin. It’s a dead end. I can’t trace it.”

“Do you think it was someone I’ve seen recently?”

“That’s my guess. You know I check them all out. Someone’s fallen through the cracks. I’m sorry.” His taut shoulders stretched the fabric of his well-cut jacket as he leaned toward her. Andrei’s mood was often cool, at times even detached. The anxiety on his face was something new and she didn’t like it.

“It’s probably someone in New York, don’t you think? Maybe a guy who’s seen me on the street, or followed me home?”

Andrei was scrupulously careful—it was a point of pride with him. When a performance was requested, he went first on Apollo, a clandestine website with restricted membership that a group of high-end escorts put together to warn each other about dangerous johns. If someone turned out to be a problem, the details would be posted anonymously. Once a client passed the Apollo test, Andrei did a further background check.

“I’m not sure. You remember London?” he asked. “You promised the earl to show up the next night—and you didn’t.”

“One night. That’s the deal. We tell them that up front.”

“It doesn’t mean they have to like it.”

Strangely, the mention of the earl brought her some relief. “You think it’s the earl? He didn’t seem the type at all.”

Andrei shrugged. “It could be anyone. What concerns me is that I’m not always around to watch out for you. Someone has made the connection between you and Claudine. That means he
might make a move when you’re studying at the library or out shopping.”

She squirmed on her stool. “Well, I can hardly take you to the library with me. How would I explain it? And you’d be bored out of your mind.”

A faint flush tinged his cheeks and he drew back. “What? You think I don’t read? I may surprise you.”

“Okay,” she said, rising to the challenge. “Who’s your favorite author? And don’t say Dostoyevsky.”

“Tolstoy.” He grinned.

Maria made a face. “C’mon, that’s the same.”

“George Orwell.”

She picked up her drink and tilted it toward him. “Good choice.”

Andrei grabbed a tumbler from the cupboard and poured a generous hit of vodka. He grew serious again. “Coming on top of this murder, these new threats against you seem really bad. Could be the same man, or maybe someone different. Who knows? You need to lie low for a while. You don’t want to be playing the starring role in this guy’s sick fantasies.”

Maria had to reach back in her memory to find a time when Andrei had been this forceful with her and still she came up short. Endearing though his concern was, he had no business telling her what to do. The alcohol loosened her tongue and she let her irritation show.

“No way. I’ve got an important performance tomorrow night. The client’s already paid for it. If I let this . . . stalker, whoever he is, get in my way, my business is finished. Don’t even try to suggest it.”

“You pay me to look after you. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Did he mention any of those fantasies in his texts, or are you just speculating?”

“No, he didn’t. But I want you to think hard about this. If anything happened to you . . .”

His fingers trembled slightly as he grasped the glass. His apprehension seemed to have jumped the bounds of a business relationship and taken on the possessive tone of a boyfriend. Something about the softness in his eyes when he looked at her, the depth of emotion in his voice was new. Maybe. Or perhaps in her troubled state of mind she was reading too much into it all.

“I’m not going to run and hide, Andrei, but I do need your help. We need to step up security and find out who this guy is.”

“I’ll keep working on it.”

“You know how much I appreciate everything you do for me. I feel safe having you to count on.”

He threw back a slug of his drink and set his glass down on the counter. “I can’t be there all the time, Maria. Don’t forget that.”

CHAPTER
6

Claudine lay on the spotless white sheet covering the raised table while Lillian worked on her. The bathroom in her condo, enlarged to accommodate the table, also contained a cupboard filled with the specialized tools and cosmetic aids needed to fashion her fantasy personas. Tonight’s performance required an elaborate costume and makeup, so Lillian had started her preparations early.

Claudine was scheduled to appear at a small, private party at the Aqua Club where guests were required to wear Victorian evening dress. The host, who owned a sizeable stock portfolio, had paid her to stage a Victorian dinner and play the role of his consort. She’d hired a first-rate party organizer and approved all the arrangements.

After carefully cleaning, exfoliating and buffing Maria’s skin, Lillian was in the process of applying a lightly frosted, gold-tinted body powder to every inch of her, except around her eyes. The
powder enhanced her skin’s natural luminosity. A few pounds had crept on during her trip to Europe, so for the last week she’d taken an appetite suppressant and gone on a partial fast. Better than the bulimia practiced by so many movie stars. She was still regretting her lunch with Reed.

Lillian grasped her left foot, lifted it and held it to apply the tint to her sole with a soft brush. Claudine winced.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. It’s all right. Just my baby toe again. It’s been bothering me lately.” She’d had her baby toes surgically shortened to make the five-inch stilettos she frequently wore fit more comfortably on her feet. She knew a few women in the business who had had their baby toes removed altogether. She wasn’t prepared to go to those lengths.