Anything Considered by Peter Mayle Read Free Book Online Page B

this the kind of chance he’d hoped for when he ran the ad? Why not take it? Why not live soft for a change?
    He looked up at Poe. “OK. I’ll do it.”
    “I’m delighted.” Another clap on the shoulder. “Leave your address, and I’ll send Shimo round in the morning with the details.” Poe stretched and yawned. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I need my eight hours.”
    They walked out into the quiet chill of the night, the vast blackness of the sky pricked with stars. Bennett glanced back from his car and saw Poe’s figure framed in the lighted doorway, one hand raised in farewell. He drove out of the courtyard, and the great gates slid shut behind him. From start to finish, it had been a perfectly orchestrated evening, as all evenings were, Bennett imagined,
chez
Poe.
    ——
    Shimo parked the big Citroën in the village square and walked up the street, his exotic appearance and formal black suit attracting undisguised stares from a group of women chatting outside the épicerie. They stopped talking as they watched to see where he was going, and nodded to each other when he turned up the alley that led to Bennett’s house. Later, they would ask Georgette what business such a visitor had with her Englishman. Shimo paid them no attention. He was used to being stared at in that impolite, gaijin way.
    He knocked at the door. Bennett opened it, and the two men exchanged solemn inclinations of the head.
    “Bonjour, Monsieur Bennett.”
    “Bonjour, Monsieur Shimo.”
    “Bonjour, bonjour.”
Georgette appeared from the kitchen, eyes bright with curiosity under the peak of her cap.
“Alors, un petit café?”
She returned to the kitchen and turned off the radio, the better to eavesdrop. Bennett scratched his head, while Shimo looked at him impassively. To have Georgette as an unofficial member of the meeting, and subsequent reporter to her friends in the village, would give the proceedings the secrecy of a news broadcast. Going down to the café would be almost as bad. Bennett decided to change languages.
    “I seem to remember you speak English.”
    The faintest shadow of a smile. “Of course. I speak all the European languages.”
    Bennett grinned with relief. “We’ll speak English, then.” He nodded back toward the kitchen. “She can’t understand a word. Let’s sit over here.”
    “You may wish to make notes,” Shimo said. “And before we start, I must ask you to give me the letter you received from our mutual friend.”
    Bennett went to fetch a notepad and Poe’s letter, as Georgette came in with coffee, tried to engage Shimo in conversation, and retired in a huff when he thanked her in English.
    “There you are.” Bennett slid the blue envelope across the table. Shimo checked that the letter was inside before putting it in his pocket, lit a cigarette, and began to speak in a low monotone.
    “The address is the Residence Grimaldi, Avenue de Monte Carlo, just off the Place du Casino. The top two floors. The car is a dark-blue Mercedes 380 SL, with Monegasque plates. It was serviced last week. You’ll find it in the underground garage. There’s a spare place next to it for your car. Accounts have been opened at three restaurants—the Coupole, the Louis XV, and the Roger Vergé Café. Sign for your meals. When you receive the bills at the end of the month, call me with the amounts. Checks will be sent to you, which you will then mail from the Monaco post office. The same system with the phone and electricity bills, and with parking tickets. Be sure to get three or four of those a month. Are you clear so far?”
    Bennett looked up from his scribbling. “It doesn’tsound too arduous. Tell me, does anyone come into the apartment to clean?”
    Shimo stubbed out his cigarette. “The
previous femme de ménage
has been sent back to the Philippines. You will hire another one.” He made a slight motion of his head toward the kitchen. “Not her. Pay in cash.”
    “Ah,” said Bennett. “That’s