Free The Case of the Black Pearl by Lin Anderson

Royal and carried it outside for a closer look at the assembled party. The atmosphere on deck was muted, the guests behaving much more sedately than those he’d encountered at the launch party. He suspected the important business of money, power and prestige was being discussed here.
    The party stood around in small groups, with only three of the guests being women, who looked more like same-age partners than younger arm candy. There was a handsome black couple. The man was tall and dressed in a European suit, his wife more traditionally in a colourful robe and headdress that looked West African in origin. Passing them by, Patrick heard them speak French but with a definite accent.
    The rest of the guests looked French. The women were chic, the men well groomed. As he hovered in the background, Patrick picked up a mix of French and English conversations, but recognized no one. If, as Stephen said, these were important people from Cannes, then they didn’t mix in the same company as himself.
    Chapayev stood alone talking to a short, grey-haired man whose back was turned towards Patrick. As Patrick approached, the man turned. Almost immediately Patrick swiveled on his heel, to no avail.
    ‘
Garçon!
’
    Too late now to heed Monique’s warning, he turned to face Lieutenant Martin Moreaux. Moreaux selected a glass and thanked him, the only sign of recognition being a delicately raised eyebrow. Patrick nodded, his face blank.
    When Chapayev barked at him in Russian, asking for his name, Patrick feigned puzzlement and explained in French that he didn’t understand. He declared himself a Cannois, hired for the evening.
    His explanation brought a hidden smile to Moreaux’s lips, but the detective didn’t out him.
    Patrick retreated and quickly dispensed with the tray. Whoever he’d expected to find on the
Heavenly Princess
, it had not been Lieutenant Martin Moreaux. He removed the waiter’s jacket and headed for the galley, where Stephen eyed his arrival with undisguised relief.
    Patrick nodded his thanks to Monique, who indicated she wanted to speak to him. She ushered them both into the corridor outside the galley.
    In a low voice she told him, ‘The word is that the woman you’re looking for left the boat with the second chef, Leon Aubert.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Of course that could be kitchen gossip. They also say she took the black pearl with her when she went.’
    ‘Is that why Moreaux is here?’ Patrick said.
    ‘Lieutenant Moreaux?’ Stephen looked aghast.
    By her expression, Monique hadn’t been aware of the detective’s visit. ‘I don’t know if he’s here because of the pearl, but I do know that our police lieutenant likes to move among the monied and you don’t get any more monied than Chapayev. I hear the fat Russian’s buying a villa in Cannes worth five million euros.’
    There was a clang followed by an explosion of curses from the galley.
    ‘I’ll have to go. If I find out anything else, I’ll tell my father,’ Monique said.
    She headed off, before turning back, having suddenly remembered something else.
    ‘Leon Aubert has a room somewhere in Le Suquet. You could check there.’
    As the little fishing boat chugged away from the super yacht, Patrick thought he caught sight of Moreaux watching their departure from the upper deck. If the policeman had been unsure what Patrick was up to, he wasn’t any longer. The question was, why was a lieutenant in the Police Nationale being wined and dined on a Russian’s magnate’s yacht?

EIGHT
    L ieutenant Martin Moreaux and his wife, Michelle, lived in a large villa on a rocky promontory on the Estérel peninsula, ten minutes west of Cannes. It had a swimming pool in a walled garden with a wonderful view over the bay to the island of Sainte Marguerite.
    Upmarket for a policeman, but rumour had it that Michelle’s family had money. Either that or Moreaux was earning over and above his police pay. If he was, Patrick had never been able to