The Midnight Club_ A Novel - James Patterson [22]
22
STEFANOVITCH HIT THEPLAY button of the VCR with the heel of his hand. Two naked bodies appeared on the television screen. An appropriate punctuation to the conversation.
“Great. Really terrific.” He couldn’t remember the last time he had boiled over the top like this. The investigation definitely had him uptight. He couldn’t stop baiting her, either.
“You usually watch your X-rated videotapes at home, I imagine?”
“Sometimes at home.” Sarah was beginning to enjoy herself. At least she was winning most of the skirmishes, she felt. “Hotels with pay TV are great, too. Occasionally I catch a pornographic movie by myself, over on Ninth Avenue.”
John Stefanovitch’s eyes bored into the flickering television screen. He tried his best to concentrate on the sequence of images.
The tapes from Allure were as explicit as anything shown on Ninth Avenue in New York, or Zeedijk Street in Amsterdam, or the Peeperbahn in Hamburg. But there was a subtle, important difference. Nobody seemed to be acting on these tapes.
On the television screen an exotic blonde, who didn’t look any older than eighteen or nineteen, posed seductively. She lolled on the edge of a double bed draped with silver lamé sheets. The young prostitute was slender and narrow-waisted, as entrancing as any Vogue or Cosmopolitan model.
A gauzy, cream white nightgown revealed the outlines of her breasts. Her large brown eyes were dusted with delicately applied eyeliner. Her hair was clipped back on one side, held by an exquisite ivory barrette. He thought of Kay Whitley and Kimberly Manion; of the perfection demanded at Allure.
Where did they get such beautiful women? Sarah McGinniss was also wondering. What did any of this have to do with the murder of Alexandre St.-Germain? With some kind of gang war that might be erupting around the world? With the shooting of John Traficante on Third Avenue? With the Midnight Club?
Watching the glossy film, she thought that she understood what a high-budget pornographic movie might look like. Sarah also began to feel embarrassed. Then, a bit later, more than a little embarrassed.
A well-preserved, silver-haired man, probably in his early fifties, entered the scene from camera left. He sat beside the blond woman on the bed.
Sarah could tell that the man worked out. He also looked rich; there was something pampered about him. His silverish hair was still wet, combed straight back. He wore a puffy, white half-robe. She thought she ought to be writing some of this down.
“I haven’t been with anyone for three weeks,” the blond woman said. Her voice was soft, melodic. Her smile was slightly crooked, even more appealing because of the imperfection. The nipples of her breasts poked and pointed against the nightgown.
“You look so good to me, but you always do. I love the way you dressed for me tonight. All over Chanterelle, men and women were staring at you. Did you happen to notice, Gerard?”
The older man smiled, and seemed taken in completely by her. His ego was obviously close to bursting. A pair of expensive Italian loafers lay turned on their sides near the bed.
“Where did you go on your little trip?” he asked.
“Oh, I was on St. Bart’s. Lazing out completely. A friend of mine owns a villa up in the hills.”
“A friend?”
“Oh, a girlfriend.” The young blonde’s movements were almost feline; she had a natural grace, a poise that suggested dance training, maybe even professional dancing. There was a faint rustle of her nightgown, silk against soft skin. Sarah imagined somebody paying for her dancing lessons once upon a time. It made her sad to think about that. What a waste.
The girl curled herself around the old man’s back. She began to massage his furrowed temple with both hands. Her nails were bright vermilion. He sighed at her touch.
After several minutes of massage, she suddenly left the bedroom suite. The romantic music in the background was subdued and sensual. Every detail had been attended to. Had it been this way for Alexandre St.-Germain? Was it always like this at Allure?
The young woman returned