Fool's Errand

by Jeffrey Stephens

  Gilles and I made plans to meet the next day for lunch. I thanked him for dinner, and especially his memories of my father. I could see in his eyes that our discussion was not yet at an end.

  I told Inspector Durand that it was a great pleasure meeting him and asked if either of them needed a ride to wherever they were going.

  The Inspector thanked me, but said he had his car and would take Monsieur de la Houssay home.

  “In that case,” I said, “perhaps you would be kind enough to tell our driver we’d like to take the scenic route back, and to stop at the Monte Carlo Casino. We’ve had a little trouble communicating with him.”

  The Inspector obliged by walking over and bending down to speak with our driver.

  When the translation was done, I shook hands with Durand then turned to Gilles.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then say you will see me tomorrow, yes?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.” When he took me by the shoulders and held me to him, it was as natural as if we had embraced a thousand times in the past. I was pleased that we did.

  Both men kissed Donna good night, then she and I climbed into the back of our car and headed off into the darkness.

  It was a warm night, and we had the windows open, the breeze swirling around us as we motored along the Grand Corniche, a road cut high into the side of the mountains that rise up from the shore. The sea was an obscure expanse below, lights from the many boats, anchored here and there, creating the impression of a dark, enormous canvas upon which so much had been painted. The hills above were dotted with houses and small buildings and thick greenery that is difficult to discern at night. The moon cast shadows around us that were pierced by the headlights as we drove on. Donna and I were quiet as we observed all of this, but she reached out and held my hand.

  The silence left me to deal with several things, although the wind in my face helped me realize I had probably consumed too much wine to bother trying.

  Our dissolute driver followed the instructions from Inspector Durand, but when he dropped us off at the foot of the steps leading up to the casino in Monte Carlo, I wondered if we would ever see him again.

  At that point I didn’t care.

  I stepped out of the car and stood at his open window. Then I said in plain English, with no funny accent and no attempt to indulge him, “I don’t know how long we’ll be. Just wait out here somewhere and we’ll see you later.”

  I watched as he drove off, then stood on the sidewalk beside Donna, where she was looking up at the brightly lit entrance to the casino.

  “It really is grand,” she said, the first words she had spoken to me in quite a while.

  “Uh huh,” was my snappy reply.

  We watched as the uniformed doormen attended to their duties. Then I noticed Donna had turned to face me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I understand, why you worried about who I am and all that.”

  “Thank you,” I said, then began to ask her something, but she cut me off.

  “No more questions right now,” she said softly. “There are already too many questions.”

  “I agree with that.”

  A couple was moving slowly up the staircase toward the majestic entrance, holding hands, talking and laughing as they went. At the top, two young ladies and an older man emerged from behind the heavy brass and glass doors and began their descent to the street. They were not laughing, looking as if they had a rough night at the roulette table. Or maybe that was just the kind of people they were.

  “Are we going in?” Donna inquired patiently. She had not had as much wine as I, so maybe she figured a little patience was in order.

  I turned to her, noticing again how great she looked in her purple silk dress. “Why not? We’re here, right?”

  She laughed. It seemed like days since either of us had laughed. “We’re definitely here.”

  I took her by the arm and said, “This is all pretty confusing for me.”

  “I know. Give it some time. You may sort it out.”

  Just as we were about to negotiate the staircase, a man walked up to us. He was nicely dressed, in a suit and tie, not as tall as I but definitely wider. He was obviously an American.

  “I’m John,” he said.

  I thought the polite thing to do was to introduce myself, which I did.

  “I know who you are,” John informed me in a tone that told me I must be a dope not to have realized that. “You should come with me.”

  He was standing right in front of me now, so I pulled my head back as far as I could, trying to see him better. “Come with you? Why would I want to come with you? I just met you.”

  “I think we have some common friends.”

  His increasingly aggressive tone helped to sober me up a little. But only a little. I said, “Speak for yourself, pal. I don’t have any common friends.”

  I don’t think he found me amusing.

  I made another effort to focus my eyes and get a good look at him. His hair was dark and cut just short enough so the waves in it couldn’t run amuck. He had a swarthy complexion and blunt features. He looked Italian but spoke like a New Yorker, and I assumed he was the man Inspector Durand had spotted.

  “You’re, uh…” I began, then switched gears. “Who? Who do we have in common?”

  “Your cousin Frank, to name one,” he said, coolly as you please.

  “Uh huh. You’re telling me my cousin wants to see me, here in Monaco, and he sent you?”

  “Not exactly, no.”

  “Okay,” I said, raising my voice a bit, “why don’t you tell me exactly what the hell it is you’re saying?”

  We were almost nose to nose now, except he was shorter, so it was more like nose to chin. “There’s no reason to make a scene, is there?” The way he asked the question, I could tell he was trying to sound sinister. He wasn’t very good at it.

  “What do you mean by a scene?” He had that stale, sour-smelling breath that really drives me crazy, especially when someone moves up close, like they have this need to share it with you. I figured the wine and fish and garlic I had for dinner served him right.

  “The best thing you and your lady friend can do is come with me,” he said again, delivering the message with another blast of foul air. Words like “come” and “with” can involve a lot more exhaling than you might realize. I thought about offering him a mint.

  “Look pal, I don’t know you from a hole in the ground.” Not an original line, I admit, but from champagne to sauterne, I wasn’t at my best. “If my cousin wants to see me, he can give me a call.” As I reached out for Donna’s arm and began to turn away, he took my shoulder in a surprisingly strong grip and slowly but forcefully turned me back around.

  “Your cousin isn’t here, that’s why he sent me. He thought you might need some help, and that’s what I’m here to do. I’m going to give you some help.”

  I tried to shake loose from his hold, but he was strong. Reaching up and pushing his hand away, I said, “I don’t need any help.”

  “Frank thinks you do.” Then he tilted his head in the direction of a car that had pulled up alongside the curb. “Why don’t we get in?”

  I bent down and squinted at the sedan, getting a look inside. I didn’t know the man at the wheel, but I can’t say I was completely shocked to see Frank’s friend Lou sitting in the back seat. You remember Lou Grigoli or Grisanti or whatever, the huge guy with the awful wig who conspired with my cousin to stick me with the tab for a lunch I didn’t even want.

  “Hey,” I said. “How are ya?”

  Lou sort of nodded, which is to say that he inclined his head forward slightly, then moved his hands a lot.

  The stocky guy in front of me, who called himself John, put his hand on my shoulder again. Feeling somehow emboldened b
y the presence of Lou’s familiar if homely face, I reached up and grabbed John’s wrist, twisting it away from me.

  I said, “If you touch me again, I’m gonna kick your balls up through your throat.”

  All he did in response was show me this thin, evil smile, and I thought, Damn, Blackie always told me that you should do whatever you can to avoid a fight, but if you see you can’t avoid it, then there are three things you’ve got to do. One, make sure you hit the other sonuvabitch first. Two, make sure you hit him hard, never just give him a shove or some wimpy move like that. And three, never, and he meant never, ever, ever talk about what you’re going to do before you do it.

  I was thinking about that advice as the stocky guy who called himself John doubled me over with a quick right to my stomach.

  For a blinding instant I thought, I’ll show him, I’ll throw up all over his shoes, but I was already being pulled into the back of the sedan, as Donna was abruptly yanked into the front seat by the driver.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  It all happened so fast I doubted anyone noticed us disappearing into the night, except maybe the threesome who had been slowly making their way down the regal staircase. Unfortunately, they looked like they lost so much money in the casino they would view being abducted before making your way inside as a lucky break.

  There I was, stuck in the back seat between big Lou and my new friend John. I managed to catch my breath, just enough to say, “Nice sucker punch, Sluggo. I owe you one.”

  John offered up another one of his thin smiles, a grin he must have practiced watching old Richard Widmark movies.

  Lou said, “All we wanna do is talk, that’s all we wanna do.”

  “Sure,” I agreed between gasps, “talking is good. I guess talking out there in the open air would have been against your religion.”

  Lou laughed, if you could call it a laugh. It was more like an asthmatic wheeze. “Your cousin always says you’re a funny guy.”

  “That’s me all right.”

  Donna turned toward me from the front seat, the concern visible in her beautiful blue eyes. “You all right?”

  “Ducky,” I told her, still working on getting a deep breath. Turning back to the big man, I said, “Lou, you don’t mind if I ask where we’re going, do you?”

  Lou said, “I don’t mind,” waited a couple of seconds, then started that wheeze again. “You get it? I don’t mind if you ask, you get it?”

  Lou was a stitch.

  We didn’t drive very far—let’s face it, Monaco’s not big enough to drive very far, even if you go from one end to the other. We traveled up a hill to a small park, where the driver pulled the car to a stop.

  “Come on,” Lou said to me as he swung his door open. “You and me is gonna have a little walk talk.”

  “What about my friend?”

  Lou was already climbing out of the car. Once outside, he shrugged his massive shoulders. “She can take a walk on her own, far as I’m concerned. She’s got nothin’ to do with me.”

  “Why’d you bring her, then?”

  “What was I gonna do? Leave her there to yell for the cops.”

  For once, I could not argue with his logic.

  “We only need a minute,” Lou told me.

  Donna said, “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  I looked at her. “Maybe that’s not such a great idea.”

  She opened her door, got out and slammed it shut. I got out too. The driver and Sluggo stayed in the car.

  Donna said, “I’ll wait right there,” pointing to a bench nearby.

  “Fine with me,” Lou said.

  I nodded. “All right. But if I’m gone more than a couple of minutes, head back down the hill to the casino. Okay?”

  She didn’t answer, she just gave me a worried nod, then turned and headed toward the bench.

  “Come on,” Lou said, and so we began to stroll into the park.

  The night was late and dark, but still pleasantly warm. I loosened my tie, then reached down and felt my stomach. I sure wanted some payback from that stubby creep in the car.

  After we walked about thirty or forty paces I said, “Look Lou, I’ve had a long day. Why don’t we stop and talk right here?” From where we were standing, I still had a clear view of Donna sitting on the bench, which made it the ideal place to have our discussion.

  Lou spun his large ugly head around, really cautious, like a wary cat or a guy who’d seen too many gangster movies. “Good enough,” he agreed. He squared up his massive shoulders to face me, just in case I forgot that he was the size of SubZero.

  I asked, “What the hell is this about?” As if I didn’t know.

  “Your cousin thinks maybe you didn’t level with him. About this action, I mean. He says he has a piece of it, that he had a deal with your father.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah, that’s what he says. He says he thinks you’re cutting him out and he’s very hurt about it.”

  Hurt? When he said that, I knew the big oaf was reciting a script written by Frank, something Lou probably struggled to memorize on the plane ride all the way across the Atlantic. I could picture him, jammed into a coach seat, reading from a page of notes, his lips moving as he went through it.

  “Hurt? God, I really feel bad that he’s hurt. You tell him that I said so, okay? Is that it?”

  Lou scowled at me. “No bullshit now, huh? Where’s the thing?”

  “What thing?”

  “The thing, you know.”

  “No, I don’t know. And I don’t think you know either, do you?”

  Lou couldn’t look me in the eyes now. The one thing ignorant people absolutely cannot deal with is being confronted with their ignorance.

  “I’ll bet Frank didn’t tell you what this is about, did he?”

  He still wasn’t looking right at me as he said, “Hey, it’s a thing, all right? What else do I gotta know?”

  “What you gotta know,” I told him, “is that this is bullshit, since my cousin has no idea what he sent you here to look for.”

  “Hell he doesn’t,” Lou protested.

  I laughed in his face, which provided me immeasurable pleasure. Inebriation is not only a great fortifier of courage, it also does wonders for my sense of humor. “This whole thing is a fairy tale, and you can tell that asshole cousin of mine I said so.” I laughed at him again. “I do hope you’ve had a nice trip to France, you and Sluggo.” Then I turned away, but he grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me back around.

  Lou was a whole lot bigger than I am, but goddamnit if I wasn’t getting tired of people grabbing me by the shoulder. I was also full of wine, full of stories about my father and full of an overwhelming sense that it was time for me to take charge of my life. In more ways than one. As I completed the half-pirouette Lou had yanked me into, I came up with my right foot and kicked him square in the balls, hard enough to launch a punt sixty yards. Big Lou let out a groan as he began to fall to his knees, but before he could hit the ground I sent my knee up into his face, which caused some part of his nose or mouth to give way, blood spurting out all over the place. Then I tried to grab his hair with my left hand, having some idea of finishing him off with a right uppercut, but I forgot who I was dealing with and found myself holding a handful of wig as my punch grazed the side of his temple. Even so, the kick, the knee and the de-wigging created enough physical and psychic pain to cause Lou to crumple to the ground.

  Then the real action began.

  Sluggo and the driver saw what happened and came racing out of the car. Donna jumped to her feet and started in my direction, but the driver reached her, clutched hold of her arm and dragged her across the hill. Sluggo came directly at me with fire in his eyes, but when I saw Donna being pulled along, I ignored him and took off toward her.

  I was running as fast as I c
ould and, coming just a couple of steps from the driver, when I took a flying leap at his head, miscalculating by just a tad, and ending up with a tackle around his knees. He, Donna and I all tumbled to the ground.

  The three of us wrestled around as Sluggo got there. I took a punch to the side of my face from the driver, but managed to land a couple of solid shots of my own, then scrambled to my feet. Sluggo took a wild swing, which I ducked, then I drove forward with my head into his midsection, taking the two of us down.

  That was the moment when a series of searchlights went on and a booming voice with a familiar French accent spoke through a loudspeaker, ordering everyone not to move. “We are the authorities,” Inspector Durand announced in clear English. “Stop where you are.”

  Blackie always believed in the importance of friends. He was fond of the old adage about being able to pick your friends but not your relatives, which seemed particularly apt that evening. He also liked the one about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.

  Nicky would have loved those clichés, but I don’t think I need to bother with any others, at least not right now.

  The point is, Gilles was my father’s friend, which meant he was a friend of mine. He made sure that the Inspector arranged for my safety during our visit to the Riviera, which Durand, being a good friend of Gilles, undertook personally.

  Frank, of course, was one of those relatives I never would have chosen.

  We all ended up in the Inspector’s headquarters, where the three men who had abducted us were placed in a holding cell while Donna and I sat with Durand in his office and talked things through. After reviewing our options, Donna and I decided not to press charges against Lou and his cohorts. On certain levels, some of which involved how this might affect Gilles and his reputation, the Inspector was relieved. Instead of pressing the criminal case, we made an agreement that, in exchange for us not prosecuting them for kidnapping, assault and whatever else they could have thrown at them, the three thugs would consent to the entry of an international protective order of non-disturbance, or something like that. They also had to immediately return to the States.