Sara ended the call, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d just made a fatal mistake.
3
SARA ARRIVED AT THE CAFÉ thirty minutes early on Tuesday afternoon, still trying to convince herself that she didn’t feel the tiniest bit paranoid or nervous about meeting the mysterious Juliet. She chose an outdoor table where she had a clear view of the walking paths that meandered through the gardens and an easy escape route over the decorative chain that separated the tables from the passersby, if required. She told herself that she was being overly imaginative, but if Juliet really was involved in something illegal, there was no telling what she might be capable of, especially if she considered Sara to be a threat.
The afternoon was clear and cool, scented with the fragrant aroma of freshly brewed coffee from the café. Sara ordered a steaming mug of hot chocolate and sipped it as she watched the people walking past on the sidewalk. A gust of wind rustled through the small trees along the nearest path, catching a handful of golden leaves and swirling them along the ground. Sara’s gaze followed them, until her attention was arrested by a man standing beside the nearest garden. He was leaning against a decorative lamppost and was studying what looked to be a Washington, D.C., guide book, but Sara had the distinct impression that he was watching her from behind his dark glasses.
Unsettled, she picked up the menu and pretended to be absorbed in reading it, feeling conspicuously alone despite the comfortable buzz of people all around.
“Miss Sinclair?”
Sara looked up and saw a woman standing by her table. She was older than Sara, probably in her mid fifties, but was one of the most elegant women that she had ever seen, with sleek black hair pulled into a ponytail, and exotic dark eyes. She oozed wealth, wearing boots and a pair of fine woolen slacks, and a leather coat that looked buttery soft.
“Yes, I’m Sara,” she said, rising to her feet to take the other woman’s extended hand. “Please, sit down.”
When Juliet had ordered a cup of coffee, she turned to look at Sara with a shrewd, assessing gaze. “You’re younger than I thought you’d be.”
“And you’re older.”
A smile touched the other woman’s lips. “Touché. But age is no deterrent to a youthful spirit.” She glanced at her watch, an expensive piece of jewelry that glinted with what looked like real diamonds. “Shall we cut to the chase? I have a plane to catch this afternoon and I don’t want to be late.”
“Of course.” Withdrawing the small black book from her purse, Sara laid it on the table, but kept one hand on the cover. “This is the book that Colette left in my car, after she was involved in a car accident with Edwin Zachary. It contains detailed descriptions of Colette’s appointments. Salacious descriptions.”
Juliet’s eyes gleamed. “Were you also involved in the car crash?”
Sara shook her head, watching Juliet closely. The other woman didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by the fact that Colette’s book contained potentially damaging information. “No, I wasn’t involved. I was driving behind them and let’s just say there was a reason why Mr. Zachary was unable to concentrate on his driving,” Sara said drily. “Considering what Colette was doing to him, it’s a miracle neither of them were killed.”
Juliet didn’t look surprised or shocked. Instead, a knowing smile curved her lips. “I can only imagine.”
Sara picked the book up and as Juliet sipped her coffee, opened it and began to thumb through the pages. “No, I don’t think you understand. Here, let me read a sample entry to you.”
She flicked her gaze to the other woman’s face. Juliet looked patiently composed, but Sara didn’t miss how her hands curled tightly around her mug. She gently cleared her throat and began to read.
“‘T.F.—Prefers group activities with toys, likes to watch g-g action.’” She slid Juliet a blandly innocent look. “I assume that means girl-girl action.”
Juliet briefly raised one hand from her mug. “That’s very nice. I’ve heard enough.”
“Wait, there’s more. ‘Sometimes brings a friend to watch.’” She turned to the next day and quickly scanned the entry. “Oh, this is a good one. It involves food items. I wonder who L.P. is? Hey…isn’t there a cabinet member named Lawrence Palmer? Of course, he’s pretty old, but you never know…”
“Okay, stop.” Juliet leaned across the table, and although her smile never wavered, her dark eyes glittered dangerously. “I don’t need to hear anymore.”
“Why is your number written in the back of this book?” Sara glanced around to ensure they couldn’t be overheard, and lowered her voice. “Are you running a sex ring?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what is your connection to Colette? You can’t deny that you know her.”
“Colette does work for me,” the other woman acknowledged, “but it’s not what you think.”
“Then explain it to me, please, because from where I’m sitting, it certainly looks like she was selling her services.”
Juliet sighed and then sat back in her chair to consider Sara for a moment. “I run a business that caters to an exclusive clientele, men who are willing to pay outrageous sums of money to have their fantasies come true.”
Sara raised her eyebrows. “Sexual fantasies?”
Juliet gave a dismissive wave of her fingers. “Don’t be ridiculous. That would be illegal. We sell fantasies, but our services only include role-playing. Our clients pay a fee for us to create a realistic illusion of romance or seduction, but the girls are expressly prohibited from having sex with the clients.” She shrugged. “And if they do, it’s strictly consensual and has nothing to do with the business arrangement.”
“What’s the name of this fantasy-come-true business?” Sara asked drily.
“I called it the Glass Slipper Club,” Juliet replied. “Appropriate, don’t you think?”
Sara smiled faintly, recalling Colette’s observation that she had resembled Cinderella running from the ball on the night of the car crash. “You’re speaking in the past tense.”
“Yes, I am. I’ve wanted to travel for some time now, and I’ve decided to put the fantasy-come-true business behind me.” She gave Sara a meaningful look. “It’s not worth ruining my life for.”
Sara looked at the other woman, noting the fine webbing of lines around her dark eyes. While there was no question that Juliet was still a beautiful woman, she wasn’t getting any younger. Despite her composure, there also seemed to be a vulnerability to her, as if she’d been through some tough times. Did she really want to publicize a story that could destroy her life? Who was Sara to pass judgment on what occurred between consenting adults?
She sighed deeply and passed a hand over her eyes, undecided. After a moment, she pushed the little black book across the table toward Juliet. “Look, why don’t you take this?”
Juliet’s eyebrows lifted, and Sara thought she saw grudging admiration in their dark depths. “Really? Why would you want me to have it? After all, you could
