The pretty French waitress was staring at Roxy like she had rocks in her head.
“You want a Milo?” she said. “Chocolat drink, oui?”
“Er, no. Definitely do not want a chocolate drink.” Roxy looked to Caroline who was studying the menu oblivious to everything but her stomach. “Merlot—mer-low.”
The woman kept batting her eyelids blankly and then held a finger up. “Un moment.”
As she dashed off towards the front of the restaurant, Roxy glanced around the room. It was actually a very beautiful space, probably once a ballroom by the look of it, with polished wooden floors and soaring marble pillars and elaborate crystal chandeliers. It was only just starting to fill up, the first of the large tour group wandering around their tables as though looking for the prime position. Another long table at the other end of the room was already filled with men, about twelve of them, all in military uniform, and Roxy was about to point them out to Caroline when another waiter appeared at her side. This one was tall and handsome, with two small plates in his hands and a wide, white-toothed smile on his face.
“Here you go, ladies,” he said in an accent that was part American. “Courtesy of the chef, a smoked salmon roulade.”
“Thank you,” Caroline almost purred, dropping the menu to give the gorgeous waiter her full attention.
He smiled at her then turned to Roxy. “Now, my French friend’s English is not so good. Was it a Merlot you were after, ma’am?” Roxy nodded. “We have 2008 French. Cool?” She nodded again. “Merlot for you, too, miss?” He turned back to Caroline, his smile widening further, and this clearly pleased her. She smiled back then fake shuddered.
“God no, I actually have taste! I’ll stick with champagne, if that’s all right.”
“Perfectly. Enjoy your hors d’oeuvres.” He bowed and walked away.
“Yummy,” Caroline said and Roxy nodded.
“Mmm, it looks delicious.”
Caroline laughed. “I wasn’t referring to the food!”
Roxy rolled her eyes. “Try not to lose focus, Caroline.”
“Oh lighten up, Missy. Max would want me to have fun. Besides, maybe I can lure some information out of our hunky black waiter.”
“Or maybe we could just ask.”
When the waiter returned with their drinks, removing their first course at the same time, Roxy produced her iPhone and said, “We’re wondering if we can ask you a couple of quick questions.”
“Sure, shoot.”
She tapped the screen to life, revealing the mugshot of Max. “Do you remember this guy at all? He was a guest here last week, and—”
“An Aussie guy, yeah, sure I remember him.”
“Great, did you speak to him?”
“Not really. Klaus served him.”
“Klaus?”
“German waiter. He’s not on duty tonight. But I remember he said that Max was a lot of fun.”
“That’s my brother,” Caroline said and he smiled at her anew.
“He’s a photographer, right?”
“That’s right. How did you know?”
The waiter glanced about the room then leaned into them, his voice considerably softer. “Well, according to Klaus, your brother got in a bit of trouble, shooting up at the peak. I think they asked him to delete some of his images. He wasn’t happy.” He stopped. “That happens a bit, though. Why you askin’ anyway? He okay?”
“We don’t know,” Roxy said. “Do you know why he had to delete those photos?”
He held a hand up. “Oh, it ain’t nothin’ to worry about. They just don’t like people gettin’ too close, you know?”
“Too close?”
Before he could answer, a tinkly bell rang out from the back of the restaurant and he stepped back. “Sorry, got to get back to it. Second course awaits.”
They watched as he returned to the kitchen then Caroline turned to Roxy with her eyes squinted. “That’s really interesting. Why would they make him delete his shots?”
“And what’s he talking about—‘getting too close’? Too close to what?”
Caroline shrugged and Roxy recalled the satellite dishes she’d spotted earlier, and the picture of the man with the rifle. Was that all part of it, and did Max see something he shouldn’t have?
“Were there any other strange pictures on his page, of people with guns or ...?”
“Not that I noticed, but then I wouldn’t, would I, if he had to delete them. We should ask Leon.”
“Speak of the devil,” Roxy said and Caroline followed her eyes to where Leon was standing at the front of the restaurant, deep in conversation with their waiter. The waiter had his head low and appeared to be shaking it ruefully then he nodded and returned to the kitchen. Leon glanced around at the women and Roxy waved at him, batting her eyelids innocently.
Between a clenched smile she said, “He’s hiding something. I don’t know what. But I’ll bet my second course he’s just told our waiter to keep his big mouth shut.”
“You think?”
“Yep. Be cool, Leon’s on his way over.”
A minute later the hotel manager was smiling down at them.
“Hello again, are we enjoying our meal?”
“Delicious!” Caroline gushed.
“Good, good,” He hesitated before saying, “Please forgive me, but if you could refrain from questioning the restaurant staff. They are extremely busy tonight, we have a full house so they really must not be interrupted. I am sure if you have any further questions, you could speak to me directly.”
“Well, actually, I do have some—”
He held a thin finger up to stall her. “I am most sorry, I can not speak at this moment. Please, make an appointment in the morning, after breakfast? Yes?”
The two women nodded silently and watched as he walked away, making a detour to the table of uniformed officers and glancing back at them several times.
“Oh yes,” said Caroline. “He’s definitely hiding something.”
At the end of the meal, Roxy had every intention of ignoring Leon’s instructions and tracking the waiter down to question him further, but her body had other ideas and by the time she’d finished her dessert—a tasty chocolate-apricot mousse tartlet served with raspberry jelly—she could barely keep her eyes opened. And so, against her better judgement, she held up the white flag and followed Caroline back to the hotel room to bed. It would all just have to wait until morning.
At 4:14 a.m., Roxy was wide awake. She lay staring at the ceiling for some time, the soft sighing of Caroline’s breath in sync with the eerie whistling of the wind outside. After half an hour attempting to get back to sleep, she gave up and slipped out of bed and across to the window, looking out at the dark, swirling sky.
She felt deeply melancholy. Clutching her arms to her chest, she wondered where Max was, why he wasn’t the one snoring in the bed beside her, and if she’d ever get a decent night’s sleep again. She thought of her mother, too, and how she had not been at all surprised by Roxy’s failed relationship. Had expected it, in fact.
“You’re destined for spinsterhood,” Lorraine had said matter-of-factly only the month before and Roxy had tried not to rise to the bait. “I used to wish you’d find Mr Right. Now I just wish you’d find Mr Anyone’ll-do.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mum.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Roxanne, but you’ve only got yourself to blame. I mean, Max was never my favourite, you know that, but he would have done. Don’t you see? He was perfectly adequate.”
Oh God, she had thought then as she did now. Her mother was wrong on so many levels, but most of all, she was wrong about Max. He was more than adequate, he was her best friend, and she had not only managed to lose him, she might never find him again.
She allowed a fat tear to roll down one cheek, then swiped at it impatiently and was about to return to bed when something outside caught her eye. There was a figure moving in the distance, across one edge of the far rock face. Roxy wiped her eyes dry and kept watching. It moved again. A man. Now another. Then two more.
They couldn’t be tourists out and about this early, could they?
She kept watching as the men moved out of the darkness and under a light. They were wearing camouflage, like soldiers. Two of them appeared to be talking, heads held closely together, while the other two turned in a circular motion around them as though on some kind of look out. All four had long sticks in their hands. Rifles.
Roxy stepped back behind the curtain quickly, her breath catching in her throat. She was sure they couldn’t see her here in the darkened room, but she still felt a surge of apprehension as she watched them, then she thought of Max’s photos, the ones that were confiscated. Had he spotted the soldiers, too? Had he taken photographs and ended up witnessing more than he should have? Was that why he had checked out in such a hurry and disappeared from their lives?