Next, Alice. She was horrified when I told her about the break in. “Told you so. That man is definitely a crook.” I then explained how we were concerned that they might pay her a visit as well, so we planned to supply some security. I had no trouble persuading her to accept a repainting job on the outside of her house, free of charge. She was a Scot after all. And she agreed that she could put Mac up for the few days it would take, on condition that he was a non-smoker. I assured her that he was although I hadn’t a clue. I was going to have to phone back Mike after all.
Once that was all settled Pierre and I reviewed the situation. There was not much we could do over the next few days. Mac would be guarding Alice. Mike and Doug would be investigating Purdy. And I would have a chat with Steven in a couple of days to see if he had found out anything.
His article in the Thursday paper had been just right. A brief report of the conference with no reference to the awkwardness caused by my question. It was neutral on the issue of AIM’s results, which would not please Purdy very much. But he couldn’t complain. It was factual.
Pierre was quiet and thoughtful as I did my little “where we’re at” speech.
He left me in the early afternoon. As he was leaving he informed me that, as not much was likely to happen in the near future, he was going to go back to France for a few days. He would be back on Wednesday or Thursday. He didn’t tell me why. But then why should he? I simply nodded and asked him to call when he got back.
Nothing happened over the next few days. I called Alice a couple times. She was delighted with the painting. She and Mac had agreed on an olive green for the woodwork, which she thought would brighten things up and would go well with all the shrubs and trees she had in the garden.
I spoke to Mac who had nothing to report except that he was eating like he hadn’t done in a long time. Alice was spoiling him and was clearly enjoying having someone to cook for. His only complaint was that he had to play Scrabble every evening and she always won.
I tried to get in touch with Steven but his assistant told me he was out of town and wouldn’t be back until the end of the week.
I managed a round of golf. I went over on Tuesday and bumped into Keith in the clubhouse. He was about to go out with Jack and he invited me to join them. I played reasonably well. Jack was not on form with his putting and Keith thumped his way round the course, cursing bad shots, complaining about the greens when he missed a putt and celebrating as if he’d won the Open when anything went in from over ten feet.
On Thursday morning I had a call from Mike who suggested that he come over and report on his and Doug’s efforts over the last three days. We agreed to a bar lunch at Fernie. He’d come over himself and leave Doug on the job.
Just as I was about to leave the phone rang again. It was Pierre.
“Hi,” he said. “What’s new? I’m just back and wondered if you fancied lunch.”
I told him I was meeting Mike so his arrival was well timed. We’d see him in about half an hour.
Mike was waiting in the bar. No sign, as yet, of Pierre, so we settled down for a debriefing on Edinburgh.
We had hardly started when Mike glanced up and said “Here’s Pierre”.
I looked round over my shoulder and saw Pierre wending his way through the chairs and tables towards us with a smile on his face. He was dressed in his usual tidy, elegant way – blue, cotton, neatly-ironed trousers, soft brown loafers, fresh cream shirt. His face was, if anything slightly more tanned than before. A couple of days in the sun, I thought.
Mike and I glanced at each other. Mike raised his eyebrows. We had been expecting him but we had not been expecting him to be accompanied.
We got to our feet as he approached and shook hands and welcomed him back.
“Hi, guys. Good to see you,” he said and then stepped back to motion forward the person who had been following closely behind.
She was a distinctly attractive lady and looked as if she was in her early forties. She had an open and friendly expression on a face that was tanned and very appealing. She was an inch or so taller than Pierre, slender with shoulder-length black hair and was dressed neatly in a blue cotton blouse and a white denim skirt which stopped just above the knees. Bare legged. Sandals with just enough heel to tighten up the calf muscles. There was no doubt the picture was exquisite. She took a pace forward and shook us each by the hand. There was a whiff of a seriously expensive perfume in the air.
“It’s good to meet you both,” she said, with a slight touch of a French accent. “Pierre has told me all about you.”
Pierre pulled out a seat for her and we all sat down again, Mike taking slightly longer than the rest of us. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She seemed aware of this and smiled back at him.
“Bob, Mike, I’d like to introduce you to Sophie Lamarre, a long-time friend of mine.”
We nodded and smiled a welcome to her. Mike promptly got up to order drinks for the new arrivals.
“Beer for you, Pierre? And Sophie . . .?” “A small glass of cold, dry white wine, please,” she said, her eyes following him as he went over to the bar.
Pierre sat back in his chair with a satisfied smile on his face, as if he had made exactly the effect that he had intended. He said something in French to Sophie who laughed out loud, revealing a perfect set of teeth.
There was a definite elegance about her, but also an indication of strength and fitness in that slim body. Someone who looked after herself or someone who enjoyed outside pursuits. The slight tan seemed to indicate the latter.
We chatted for a few minutes as one does when a stranger suddenly arrives in your midst and you want to make them welcome. Have you been to Scotland before? What do you think of the weather? And other such comments.
I tried my best to get the conversation going but I couldn’t bring up our Purdy adventures because I didn’t really know who she was. Was this Pierre’s partner? Could be. They certainly seemed to be very much at ease with each other.
Meanwhile Mike, unusually for him, hardly opened his mouth.
When I started to stall a little Pierre decided to let us off the hook. He murmured again to Sophie in French and received a nod of the head in return.
“Listen guys, we both know what you’re thinking. We’re used to it. Let me just say straight away that Sophie and I are not, as you say it over here, an ‘item’. We are just very good old friends. Most people have the same reaction, which I take as a compliment to my sense of taste. Sometimes we let people think so because it gives Sophie some protection. But this time I have to tell you straight away. I just wanted to have a little fun.”
“Well you certainly looked very much like a couple when you came over here,” I said. “Pierre, the well-dressed Frenchman, with his beautiful partner” – I can be a charmer when I want to be!
“In France we dress to please the ladies,” said Pierre. Mike grinned and couldn’t stop himself from coming out with a rejoinder.
“Over here we undress to please the ladies.” Then he realised that he’d perhaps over-stepped the mark, coloured slightly and buried his face in his beer. Sophie was clearly not bothered by this remark and joined the laughter.
Pierre continued. “I hope you guys don’t mind but I’ve invited Sophie over here to help us in our project.”
He then proceeded to explain to us that Sophie had worked for his company from just after she had graduated from college and she had been with them until he sold out. She had developed into a top-class IT security and hacking expert. When Pierre had sold the company she had sold the shares that she had accumulated from various bonuses and had set herself up as an independent expert.
“Bob, when you mentioned that it would be good if we could get hold of other AIM investors, I immediately thought of Sophie. Perhaps she can hack into their systems. So I went over to discuss it with her. She has some free time at the moment and said she’d love to help.”