Follow Your Star, Jennifer Bohnet [best fiction novels to read txt] 📗

enterprises,’ Jean-Claude said angrily.

Zac looked at him steadily. ‘Mathieu is a businessman – he makes his own decisions as to the deals he gets involved in. No-one twists his arm.’

‘So, is he is mixed up with you and the Russian in something then?’ Jean-Claude demanded.

Zac sighed.

‘Jean-Claude, if Mathieu has chosen not to confide in you about his business, I can’t help you. Now, are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay?’ and he looked at Nanette hopefully.

She shook her head and moved away to retrieve her high-heeled sandals from the jumble of footwear in the basket placed at the head of the gangplank.

Slipping them on, she saw Jean-Claude move closer to Zac and place a hand on his shoulder before leaning towards him and saying something that was clearly intended for his ears alone.

Zac’s face darkened and he vehemently shrugged Jean-Claude’s hand off his shoulder before turning away and making for the bar in the main cabin.

Both Nanette and Jean-Claude were silent as they made their way along the embankment to the apartment, each lost in their own thoughts. Jean-Claude took her arm as they prepared to cross the road.

‘Let’s have a coffee before I see you home,’ he said.

The pavement café at the bottom of Rue Princess Caroline was noisy with late night revellers as Nanette and Jean-Claude sat at a small table and ordered their café noisettes.

‘Try not to worry too much about Mathieu,’ Nanette said gently. ‘Didn’t he tell you that things would be clearer to everyone in a couple of months?’

Jean-Claude nodded.

‘Well then, try and trust him for a bit longer. Difficult I know.’

As Nanette looked at him sympathetically, he reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘I know you’re right.’ He shook his head as he looked at her. ‘I just wish I didn’t have this fear in the pit of my stomach.’

Mathieu wasn’t home when Nanette took the twins to school the next morning.

Strolling back Nanette wondered where Mathieu was. When her mobile rang she answered it quickly, half expecting it to be him, but it was Jean-Claude.

‘Have you seen Mathieu?’

‘No. And according to Florence his bed hadn’t been slept in,’ Nanette said. ‘Have you heard anything more about the raid?’

‘Apparently the police did find something, but nobody knows what exactly – although rumour has it as a case full of money.’

‘Did they arrest anyone?’

‘A couple of the truck drivers have been spoken to but the motor-homes and transporters were all allowed to park up without any problems. The Formula 1 circus keeps to a very tight schedule as you know, and nothing must interfere with race week. The police are still up on site searching some of them.’

There was a short pause before Jean-Claude continued, ‘Will you let me know when Mathieu returns?’

‘Yes, of course.’

Replacing the phone in her bag, Nanette wandered slowly along a side street filled with various stalls selling Formula 1 racing paraphernalia and fast food.

Even at this early hour there were fans strolling around, mixing with the locals trying to go about their normal lives despite the inconvenience of barriers and streets filled with seating stands. Tomorrow, a practice day, the road around town and along the harbour would be closed to traffic as the drivers began to get to grips with driving around the narrow winding street circuit at over a hundred miles an hour.

Although it was several years since Nanette had been in Monaco for the Grand Prix, it was still all so familiar. Walking past the souvenir stands and the touts already up and about trying to sell tickets for lunch on practice day at restaurants with views of the circuit, she even recognized one or two people and smiled briefly in their direction.

Ferrari red was the dominant colour of the bunting hanging from balconies and the smell of crêpes cooking on a mobile catering stall on the corner competing with the usual breakfast smell of fresh croissants from the boulangerie, was hard to resist.

Nanette pushed open the glass door of the foyer to the apartment building and pressed the lift button. The two concierges behind the reception desk stopped in mid conversation as she entered, but not before Nanette heard the words ‘Monsieur Mathieu’.

As she walked into the sitting-room, Florence appeared and pointed to Mathieu’s bedroom. ‘Mathieu has returned. He is sleeping and asked not to be disturbed,’ she said quietly.

Quickly, Nanette rang Jean-Claude to tell him the news.

‘I’ll be there in five minutes,’ he said.

It was lunchtime before Mathieu appeared in the sitting-room and both Jean-Claude and Nanette stared at him.

Jean-Claude immediately started to fire questions at him about the raid.

‘So, they found a suitcase of money? It’s not a crime to keep your money in cash,’ Mathieu said, going to the fridge and pouring a glass of milk.

‘Depends on where the money came from – and where it’s going,’ Jean-Claude replied.

‘One of the mechanics apparently had a lucky bet on the Spanish Grand Prix. He simply hadn’t had time to bank his winnings.’

‘OK,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘We’ll accept that story. Now, tell us why you ran from Zac’s party when you heard about the police raid.’

His face was impassive as he watched Mathieu, waiting for his reply.

‘Coincidence. I was about to leave anyway. I’d arranged to meet someone at the Automobile Club and I was late.’

Mathieu simply shrugged as Jean-Claude stared disbelievingly at him. ‘Interrogation finished? I need a shower and then I promised Pierre I’d meet him from school, take him down to the pits and Zac would introduce him to a couple of the drivers.’

‘Non. It is not finished,’ Jean-Claude shouted at his son. ‘Not until you tell me the truth about what is going on.’

Mathieu shook his head as he looked at his father. ‘I can’t tell you anything. But if it’s the family reputation you’re worried about, don’t.’

‘It’s you, I’m worried about, not the family name,’ Jean-Claude said angrily. ‘Scandals can be lived through, but the repercussions are never nice.’

‘Oh believe me,’ Mathieu said grimly, ‘the repercussions in this