As Ari was about to begin the second course of his favourite lamb tagine and couscous supper early on the following Tuesday evening, the telephone rang ‘Oui.’ he answered abruptly, having just popped a large olive into his mouth. He hated anyone interrupting his meal. He eyed what remained the meze platter, but the telephone cord wasn’t long enough to reach the table. On the other end of the line was an unfamiliar voice.
‘Is that M. Mayer? My name is . . . actually my name is not important. We have never met, but I believe that you are interested in evidence regarding the court case that is starting tomorrow.’
Ari stretched out a foot, hooked a chair from the dining area and sat down, his red-checked napkin still around his neck. His dinner was forgotten.
‘I may be,’ he answered cautiously. ‘Who are you, and what information do you have?’
‘I have some facts that will blow the case sky high.’
‘Why don’t you take that evidence to the prosecution? Why bring it to me?’
‘Come to the Luxembourg Gardens tomorrow afternoon if you want to hear the answers to your questions, but come alone.’ The voice proceeded to describe where he would wait for Ari at two o’ clock the next afternoon. Abruptly the line went dead. Ari pounded the cradle of the phone with impatient fingers before he slammed down the receiver grimacing with frustration.
The next day he could hardly wait for the end of his morning lecture. He was almost sick with anticipation. He had not been able to eat his usual breakfast of fresh croissants and espresso. He had opted for the espresso alone, and lots of it. Who was this man? How had he obtained Ari’s phone number? These thoughts were buzzing around his head and he was asked to repeat himself several times by his students.
‘You seem very distracted this morning, Prof. You haven’t forgotten that today is my last day?’ Libby said when he came to the office.
He stopped short, feeling slightly embarrassed. In truth he had been so taken up with events that the fact had slipped his mind. He was grateful for her calm presence and the efficient way she had tidied up his messy office. He knew he would miss her. He brought his thoughts down to earth.
‘I’m so sorry my dear! I‘ve had too much coffee this morning. Your going will leave a big gap here, I’m afraid. Thank you for everything you have done for me, Libby. I scarcely recognise myself.’ He took out his pocket watch and realised that he was almost due at the Luxembourg gardens. ‘There will always be a place for you here, as you know. When are you leaving for Venice?’ he asked hurriedly as he moved to the door, thinking that he should have bought her flowers or a gift of some kind. He was then cheered by the thought that as she was leaving soon, flowers would have been inappropriate anyway.
‘I’m booked on tomorrow night’s train. Would you mind if I leave a little early this afternoon? I have some shopping to do and my packing to finish. ’
‘But of course. Oh. I should pay you now then…’ he hastily scribbled a cheque and handed it to her. ‘Let me know how you get on,’ he said absentmindedly. He took her hand in both of his and patted it before kissing her on both cheeks.
‘I’ll write from Venice . . .’ she called after him, but he was gone. She looked wryly at the door as it clicked shut. How not to make a girl feel like a million dollars! She stood there thoughtfully for a moment, before she packed up and locked the office.