Language in the Blood

  ***

  It hardly ever got really cold in Nice in the winter, but sometimes it rained for days. Snow was very rare but, when it came, traffic ground to a halt. The Côte d’Azurians didn’t know how to drive in snow and with the roads being quite hilly it could be complete chaos when a few snowflakes did fall.

  The city was never dull, even in winter. The old town adjacent to the port had a lively nightlife and the casinos on the Promenade des Anglais kept me entertained at night. I often played poker online but it didn’t beat the thrill of a live game. It was a good place in summer too, as the shops in the centre stayed open till midnight, so even I was able to indulge in some shopping.

  Nice was also a good hunting ground for the likes of me. For the previous few nights I had been staking out a residence on the Promenade des Anglais, a building with a sea view popular with investors who wanted to run holiday lets and with wealthy retired people. Half of the apartments would be empty over winter, but others might have rich pickings. Often, the presence of a small dog gave away that an old lady lived there on her own.

  As I walked through the hallway of the building, I heard high-pitched barking behind one of the doors. What are you? I wondered, stopping in front of the door and rummaging through my pockets for some dog biscuits. I quickly opened the lock with my tools and was confronted by a yapping Chihuahua. She calmed down as soon as I gave her the biscuit.

  ‘What are you barking at, Fifi?’ shouted a voice and a light came on under the bedroom door before the handle moved and the door began to open. As soon as the old dear saw me she tried to shut the door again, but I was too quick and pinned her against the wall with my hand over her mouth. I looked into her eyes which bulged with terror and lack of air. When I hissed and showed her my fangs she started to convulse. Soon she lost consciousness and went limp. She was dead, which was very convenient. It often works, the frightening an old dear to death routine.

  Fifi had started barking again so I fed her another biscuit. I laid the old lady on her bed and then picked up Fifi. While stroking the little dog I walked through the apartment, it was a large three-bedroom apartment, but had not been decorated or modernised in a while. The sofa and chairs were covered in horrible fabric with big printed roses and there were lace doilies scattered about. She also collected ornaments of cats and dogs. I picked up a statuette of a kitten and let it smash on the floor.

  ‘We don’t like cats, do we Fifi? Ghastly creatures.’ Fifi looked up at me with her big brown eyes and I gave her another biscuit and scratched her behind the ears.

  ‘Well, I hope her taste in jewellery is better,’ I said to the Chihuahua and she licked my hand.

  I started going through all the drawers and cupboards systematically, making sure not to disturb things too much. The absence of a dog and some jewellery might not be noticed if the woman wasn’t too close to anyone. Even if they were, I didn’t think the police would organise a major manhunt to find Fifi and some baubles.

  I found the jewellery box in her bedroom and tipped the contents out next to her body on the bed. I was pleased that most of jewellery was gold and was careful not to touch the silver pieces. Oh, you do have good taste after all! I do like van Cleef and Arpels. The piece was a magnificent sapphire and diamond brooch with their trademark invisible settings. It was even in its original box.

  ‘Rashid will like this. These are always easy to sell,’ I told Fifi, feeding her another biscuit. ‘This should keep The Count Dracula afloat for a wee while.’

  I also found about 200 euros in her purse and some other items that might be worth something.

  ‘Right Fifi. Let’s go. Nothing more to do here,’ and I put the Chihuahua under my coat without resistance and left the apartment.

  I always chose a residence with CCTV, as it often indicated richer residents who felt safer with a camera at the entrance. It gave me immense pleasure to think of all the head scratching by anyone who bothered to monitor or watch the tape when the front door opened by itself.

  Roberto always told me off for playing with my food, but I couldn’t help it. Chihuahuas were just so much fun.