by T. F. Pruden
Despite giving vent to his anger in the company of his partner Rene he continued to miss the tall chef.
Wayne sighed and again shook his head as he reached the intersection of Roch Street and Kimberley Avenue. He stopped at the red light and signaled his intention to turn left.
He hoped the tall chef was satisfied with his choice.
The decision to leave was his to live with now. Wayne hoped Maurice was happy with whatever venture he decided was more suitable than staying to open ‘Rene’s at the Marlene’.
The atmosphere of both kitchen and restaurant were affected by the absence of the tall chef. Wayne and Rene soon missed the quiet fellow and his often biting sarcasm. It surprised the partners to discover they missed Maurice’s sharp wit more than his excellent cooking.
The likeable J.D. Dryer and his large sous chef Ron White proved capable replacements in the kitchen.
He executed the left turn and headed for Watt Street only a block to the south. As he neared St. Boniface and the Marlene Hotel, home of the new restaurant and budding destiny, Wayne’s excitement grew.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Rene adjusted the collar of the white blazer once more.
He slid the jacket back and forth across the neckband of his crisp pressed shirt. It did not eliminate the binding against the soft cashmere of the sweater he wore beneath it.
Only the most rare of events caused him to wear a suit.
The grand opening of his namesake restaurant proved of insufficient importance for him to do so.
He wore instead a pair of pleated and pressed black wool trousers, the white shirt, a black cashmere sweater with a crew neck, and the expensive white blazer. In earlier times it would be known as a dinner jacket. The black pants and sweater with the white jacket delivered a slimming effect to his thickening torso he found beneficial.
Rene looked years younger than his age tonight.
His hair he slicked back above his ears. While his thick blonde curls hung loose atop his head a gold Rolex flashed from his left wrist and a thick gold chain hung from his right. Custom-made gold rings occupied each finger of both hands save that reserved for a wedding band.
The dashing and undeniably youthful figure he presented tonight was rarely seen. Even those who had long known him could be forgiven for taking a second glance to make sure it was Rene they looked upon this evening.
He grunted with satisfaction as he noted the gleam of the black patent leather loafers twinkling from beneath the hem of his tailored trousers. As he reviewed himself once more in the full-length mirror, he congratulated himself for deciding against wearing his western boots.
Rene checked the watch on his wrist for the third time in ten minutes.
He took a deep breath, and the tension rose within him as the clock moved toward the bottom of the hour. He must leave for the Marlene Hotel soon. With the doors of the restaurant open to the public at seven p.m. he was determined to arrive early enough to greet the first of his customers.
Rene gave his reflection a final approving nod before turning from the mirror to stride with confidence out of the bedroom.
He walked down the wide stairway and across the foyer of the empty house toward the kitchen and the attached four-car garage. Rene stopped there to appreciate the beauty of his home despite the giddiness due to the grand opening. He waited a long time to see his dreams become reality. Now the time arrived when another would manifest. Despite his position he now seemed a passenger in the events to come.
Rene reminded himself it was neither a dream he was having nor a movie role he would play at tonight.
He must be on his best behavior. The future of his investment and his new launched career as restaurateur was on the table. The success or failure of the grand opening would decide if he could manage the professional transition.
It would be a night filled with pressure.
Rene grabbed the keys to the seventy-two Corvette from the hook mounted on the wall beside the garage door. He reminded himself the people attending the celebration were old friends and on his side. He needed only to relax and enjoy a party with them. The friends and colleagues who attended the grand opening were there to support his dream, not damn it.
Rene sighed as he punched the alarm code into the panel on the wall alongside the door and closed it behind him.
He walked down three steps and crossed the garage to the favorite of his toys. Rene opened the wide door and slid behind the leather-wrapped steering wheel. As he turned the key in the ignition, the small block barked to life. He grinned at his reflection staring back from the rear-view mirror.
Rene hit the garage door opener attached to the sun visor. His patience was tried as the door opened. He wanted to move. As the heavy door reached its’ zenith he backed out of the garage and swung the car in a wide turn to access the curved driveway. He pressed the button to close the door behind him as he pulled away.
The long final week before the grand opening had at last reached its’ end.
The event they had each prepared with diligence for would soon arrive.
Rene sighed as he reached the entrance to the quiet street. As he pulled away from his home, he thought of the departed Maurice.
It saddened him, and for a moment he wished the tall chef waited at the soon to open restaurant. That he would not be there caused Rene a sorrow he did not expect to feel. He hoped the tall chef’s choice served him well. Rene no longer felt a hint of anger toward the taciturn and difficult fellow.
Instead he discovered an enduring fondness for the now departed Maurice.
So strong was Wayne attached to the tall chef he mentioned missing him earlier in the week. To hear a man as cynical as his young partner make such a confession for Rene had been disturbing.
Rene shook his head as he drove Lyndale Drive with care in the falling dark.
He hoped again the tall chef was in a good place and pleased with his choice. Silently he wished him the best with whatever opportunity it was he had instead pursued.
He turned right as he reached Poulin Drive and headed for the busy St. Mary’s Road intersection. The entrance to Marion Street would lead him within a few moments to the Marlene Hotel and the soon to open restaurant. He turned left onto Lillian Avenue and drove the few car lengths to the stop sign at the corner.
Rene waited for a break in the traffic to allow him to cross the busy street.
As he waited, he reminded himself to speak to Wayne about the young waitress Sarah Lampley. Rene knew she was smitten by his young partner. The situation could create trouble for them all if allowed to develop any further.
Sarah was only a girl while Wayne would soon be a middle aged man. The likelihood of true compatibility existing between them was remote. The lust drawing the two youngsters together was now apparent and needed to be avoided at all cost.
Mixing business with pleasure could only lead to heartache and lost profits.
While unconcerned by the former Rene cared much for the latter.
He must keep his partner from making what was a foolish mistake. If a suitable opportunity presented itself, he would do so tonight.
As the traffic thinned, he made a right turn and pulled away from the intersection to cross the three lanes of the wide street. He pulled to a stop near the boulevard and signaled an intention to turn left to the oncoming traffic.
Rene thought of Jane McIntyre and her concerns for the business and its effect upon the partners. He hoped the successful opening of the restaurant would put her at ease. For him the restaurant was the cherry atop his growing empire. He was sure she would appreciate his commitment to it as soon as the first profits appeared.
In the event she remained unsupportive of the new venture he also knew real estate attorneys were easy to hire.
It should be no more difficult than acquiring a new girlfriend for a successful man and of Rene’s success there remained little doubt. He briefly considered the previous decade and the many good times spent with Jane.
Rene wondered if the next years would see them do the same.
As the approaching traffic thinned he stomped the accelerator pedal and the low sports car leapt across the street. It fishtailed as he gunned the engine and crossed the busy St. Mary’s Road to speed up a now quiet Marion Street. He soon reached the intersection of Tache Avenue.
He braked to a stop and waited for the light to change.
In moments he would arrive at the new ‘Rene’s at the Marlene’ where his dream would play out before him. The nearness of the treasured plan held so long in secrecy for a moment almost overwhelmed him.
He swallowed twice to clear a lump that rose in his throat.
Only two blocks remained between him and the dancing red neon sign of the Marlene Hotel. It was joined by a smaller sign in blue neon reading ‘Rene’s’ and pointing with an arrow to the street entrance of the restaurant.
The sight of it near caused the exceedingly well dressed truck driver to burst into tears.
Rene shook his head and grinned to himself. He enjoyed the sight of his name in lights and forced aside the emotional outburst to better appreciate the moment. He knew it would not repeat and wanted to remember it.
As the traffic light changed to green, he pulled away from the intersection.
Rene drove at the posted speed limit to enjoy the sight of his name in lights as long as he could on this, the first night of his new life.
The remaining blocks passed quickly and instead of pulling into the parking lot behind the big hotel he turned to pull ahead of his young partner’s shining black Camaro. Wayne parked on the street in front of the restaurant. Rene backed up close so the chrome bumper of his gleaming Corvette was only inches from the nose of the newer car.
He switched off the ignition and took a deep breath before climbing out to meet his destiny.
He was careful not to soil either his patent leather shoes or his exquisitely pressed trousers while climbing from the car. With the grand opening now upon him he wanted not a hair on his head out of place when his customers arrived the first time.
As he closed the door of the red Corvette and turned to enter the restaurant he smiled with relief and satisfaction. Night was falling and soon the party would begin. For the first time he would pursue a professional activity he believed suited both his personality and his dreams.
Rene laughed aloud.
He wanted nothing more than to embrace the assortment of pleasures surrounding the exhilarating new life.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Maurice passed the topless bottle of peach schnapps over the seat to his new friend Ronnie Sargeant.
He leaned back onto the rear bench of the extended cab passenger compartment where he rode in the pickup truck. Reggie Sargeant was behind the wheel and the radio blared country music. They traveled Saskatchewan’s Highway Ten through the snow-covered countryside of the Qu’appelle River Valley. He watched through bleary eyes as the ancient prairie waterway carved by receding glaciers passed outside the window. Maurice stared through drooping lids, ignorant of his proximity to a historic locale first settled thousands of years before by the local Aboriginals.
Who yet survived though they had long since been trapped onto reservations created for them by their European conquerors.
Though aware the truck slowed, he did not notice the road sign showing they turned off Highway Ten and now headed north on Provincial Road Two Hundred Ten. A connector highway, it led into country more sparsely settled than the empty prairie surrounding the busier highway.
Ronnie Sargeant sipped from the twenty-six ounce bottle of the sweet liquor Maurice purchased for the trip. He nodded in recognition as they pulled onto the less traveled road. They would soon arrive at the narrows of a small lake and a dirt hunting trail west of Star Blanket that was their destination.
They left the restaurant at the Regina bus depot an hour earlier. A visit to a Saskatchewan Liquor & Gaming Authority retail outlet to load up on alcohol for the overnight stay at the Sargeant brothers’ home was next completed. The tall chef as their guest insisted he pay for the liquor though Ronnie went into the store to make the purchase.
“Tabernac mon ami!” Maurice had said, “don’ insul’ moi by not h’allow’ang me to pay for our party, non? ‘Ere is un ‘undred dollar bill, ‘dat should cover what we need pour tonight, oui oui?”
“All right my friend,” Ronnie agreed with a smile as he took the brown bill from the hand of the intoxicated chef, “I’ll grab us a couple bottles an’ be right back!”
The two men earlier collected their bags from the bus terminal lockers. They rode in the cold bed of the pickup truck behind them. As the sun rose to its’ noon position in the clear light of the spring afternoon, they traveled to a rural destination.
The tall chef was unaware the drinks he consumed through the night were laced with Valium. When combined with the rum at breakfast and the schnapps they drank since leaving Regina it made him sleepy.
The struggle to keep himself awake embarrassed Maurice as the Sargeant brothers seemed scarce affected by the alcohol. This although Ronnie like himself poured the stuff back through the long night.
Maurice believed it was because he hadn’t taken a drink in over a year.
Soon enough his tolerance would return.
With this as his operating theory he continued drinking to encourage a rapid improvement. By now he had difficulty with most bodily functions including speech. Maurice remained sure he would soon recover from the effects of the liquor.
The schnapps was so tasty he couldn’t help but give in to the craving he now experienced for it.
Reggie Sargeant slowed the pickup truck. They approached a curve in the road a mile south of Pasqua Lake. He checked his rear-view mirror to confirm the road behind them deserted.
They encountered no traffic while traveling the two-lane blacktop to this point.
As the barely visible entrance to a dirt trail appeared he slowed near to stopping before making a left turn to cross a gravel bottomed ditch. The ditch was covered in new snow dropped by the recent storm. A path of only a pair of hidden tracks through the trees from nowhere appeared.
After traveling a moment they were lost to sight from the highway.
Now the overgrowth of heavy spruce trees and red willows surrounding the small lake concealed them. They traveled a short distance north. The big man drove the pickup truck at low speed to avoid bottoming out on the icy hunting trail. Though familiar with the road he exercised caution to avoid either getting stuck or breaking down here.
“Not too much further now,” Ronnie said to the tall chef seated behind him as he handed the schnapps bottle over the seat back, “we’re isolated but ain’t nuthin’ finer ‘n bein’ offa the beaten track.”
“Tabernac!” Maurice mumbled his reply, “you h’ar off ‘da track for sure for sure, mon ami.”
“Would anybody min’ if we stopped fer a piss?” Ronnie said.
“What a great h’idea ‘dat would be mon frere!” Maurice said, with his voice a little louder than he meant it to be.
Reggie Sargeant smiled from behind the steering wheel and nodded.
“How ‘bout I stop jus’ by ‘at stand o’ trees?” the big man said.
“Oughta work.” his brother replied.
“For sure for sure.” the tall chef chimed in, with nascent relief filling his voice.
The big man pulled the truck to a stop as he breasted the stand of spruce. The shadows here were thick, and the ground covered by an inch of new snow. He threw the truck into park and switched off the engine. The silence of the wilderness surrounding them soon returned.
Ronnie Sargeant opened his door and climbed out. He held it open as he worked the concealed handle of the extended cab door on the passenger compartment. As the narrow second exit opened, he grinned at the tall chef waiting in the cabin.
The tall man sat with an eyebrow raised as though preparing to ask a question.
“H’aim
ok mon frere,” the tall chef reassured him, “jus’ give ma’ h’a minute an’ h’ai will climb out of ‘ere on ma’ h’own, for sure for sure.”
Ronnie laughed.
“Awrite my friend,” he said, “I’m gonna take a piss.”
The younger Sargeant brother turned and walked away.
He stopped a few steps beyond the end of the truck bed, turning away from the pickup and undoing his pants to accomplish his task.
The tall chef climbed out and stood on shaking legs next to the truck. It thrilled him to discover himself able to stand in spite of the brave words. The tall chef was badly in need of relief from an overfilled bladder.
Maurice took a few steps into the snow covered moss and stood with his legs wide apart as he undid his pants.
The impending relief brought a smile to his lips as he opened the zipper.
Reggie Sargeant meanwhile climbed out of the drivers’ seat and retrieved a three pound steel hammer from beneath it before walking to the front of the truck.
As the tall chef took care of his business, the big man moved with athletic quickness and in near silence behind him. He raised the hammer far above his head as he did. The splash of urine hitting the ground was his trigger.
He swung the three pound hammer with all of his considerable might. The hammer landed with a sickening thump at the base of Maurice’s skull.
The thin man folded; silent and limp, into the weeds surrounding him. Maurice came to rest face down with arms and legs akimbo. His brain stem separated from his spine with the immense force of the single blow.
The big man leaned over to confirm his work had been successful. The tall man lying at his feet made no sound.
Reggie stood and nodded to his brother waiting at the side of the truck.