Paris Love Match - By Nigel Blackwell Page 0,36
no. For me it’s the five-franc hooker look. The bimbo who’s been groped by every drunk at the bar.”
“What are you talking about? It’s not that bad. Besides, it might slow them up identifying you.”
“Great consolation. I look like a tramp and that might slow up my identification. Yeah, great, thanks.”
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant. You meant you’re all right and you don’t care about anyone else.”
He grabbed her hand, dragging her to a stop. “Stop it. This is stupid. It’s a picture. It’s a bad picture, yes, but it’s just a picture.”
She shook him off. “Just what you’d expect a man to say.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Pah!” She resumed walking.
He breathed deep and followed her. Rover trotted dutifully, his head down, concentrating on his steps.
She turned down an alley and a minute later, just as Piers thought they had doubled back they emerged into Place des Vosges.
He touched her arm. “Is the Swiss Free Bank around here?”
She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Do you use your eyes at all?”
It took only one glance. “Sidney. We need to find this bank, not go shopping.”
“I told you. I am not going anywhere in these stinking clothes.” She punctuated each syllable by poking him in the chest. He grabbed her hand, but she pulled away and walked off.
He followed her past the cafés and boutiques that lined the arched walkway around the buildings. Fluffy pastries nestled between elegant china, and mannequins displayed haute couture. Nowhere did he see a price tag.
He felt for his wallet. He daren’t use a credit card. The police had his picture, and maybe his name, so they would track them in moments. “We can’t buy anything here. I don’t have enough cash.”
She looked at him. “I wasn’t expecting you to buy me anything.”
“Okay, I was just thinking, we can’t use a credit card.”
“Listen, do you want a change of clothes or not?”
“Okaaay.”
She walked on past a long string of designer boutiques until she came to one with an alley down the side. “This one.”
Piers looked in through the window and saw rustic wood floors with occasional items of clothing hung from statues, and what seemed to be real miniature trees. The clothes in the window were a uniform bright red. A giant lava lamp bubbled in the corner, and sequins were sprinkled over the floor. He glanced at his bargain basement jeans. It was just his sort of place.
He tied Rover to a bench under the shelter of the arches. The dog sat with his tongue out, and watched them go.
Sidney gripped the door handle. “Just do as I say, understand?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Okay.”
They went inside, and she tucked the umbrella into a stand behind the door.
A stick-thin girl appeared from behind a giant mushroom. She wore a fluorescent blue oriental-patterned dress, a glitter-covered black beret, and flat black shoes. Her nose wrinkled as they approached.
“Bonjour,” she chimed in a singsong voice.
“Bonjour.” Sidney’s thousand-watt smile burst out and her voice went up an octave. She explained they were looking for new clothes after they had had an impromptu dip in a fountain. The girl took the idea in her stride, looked Piers over and, to his surprise, quoted his size correctly.
“And you will be swimming again?” she said.
“I don’t think so.”
She looked dubious. “Shoes?”
He looked at his bedraggled Marks and Spencer’s specials. “Uh-huh.”
The girl departed, leaving Piers standing and Sidney looking over the items hanging from the trees. He couldn’t help but notice that one of the outfits she looked at seemed uncannily like the one she was wearing. He stared hard and Sidney saw him. She gave him a cold stare and placed one finger over her lips to silence him.
The girl came back with several suits, all very slim and in a shiny fabric. He chose a dark gray one with a fine pinstripe. The girl didn’t ask about a shirt but simply handed him a bright white one and a thin black tie. He took them to a small, enclosed area that had a revolving mirror for a door.
Outside, he could hear Sidney and the girl discussing the merits of various dress, suit, and shoe combinations. He was glad to catch Sidney steer the conversation away from the red items in the window. Red didn’t have a molecule of low profile to it.
To his surprise, the outfit was his size, though the jacket was cut for a tight fit. He looked at himself in the mirror and got the immediate impression he had turned into