by Gerald Lopez
“She was an angel sent from Heaven is what she was,” Lucie said to Maxime, who was looking down at Corinne.
“She is truly an angel,” Maxime said.
“Exactly,” Adele said. “That’s why I think her body should be displayed for viewing in Father Albion’s chapel.”
“What?” Father Albion and Maxime said in unison.
“THE POLICE ARE giving you time to look over the scene before they arrive,” Walter said to the detective as they walked down the bright hallway with glass on one side toward the elevators. “It only took a small bribe to get their cooperation. Tourism is the mainstay of this town, so they don’t want this all getting into the public realm.
When they entered the elevator Dalida’s “La Vie en Rose” was playing. No sooner had the elevator doors closed than Walter was on top of his old friend kissing him hard on the mouth. But he was gently pushed back.
“Dalida was playing when you took my virginity all those years ago, Walter said as he looked away from the detective and at the wall in front of him. “It was my fault, I admit it. I’m totally to blame for what happened between us. I admit it, damn it!” He turned toward the wall behind him and leaned against it.
Moments later Walter felt strong arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him close. Soft kisses administered by the detective went up his neck sending warm chills down his entire body. The detective’s hot breath in his ear made other things stir in Walter.”
“Business first,” the detective said.
“I’m forgiven then?”
The detective merely smiled in response.
“Thank you,” Walter said. “For that and for coming when I called. Luckily, you were already in the country. French is the commonly spoken language here, but everyone knows English, don’t let them fool you into thinking they don’t. This hotel is seven stories and we’re headed to the penthouse. The pretty blonde outside the hotel is keeping watch for any pesky journalists or the like.”
“Not when I came in,” the detective said.
“It’s not like her to run off.”
“Her?” the detective said. “Beard or girlfriend.”
“Beard of course. I haven’t changed in that respect, or in my feelings toward you.”
THE HANDLE TO Louise’s wagon had fallen off before she’d even gotten to the end of the street La Mer was located on. Some of the local boys had appeared, and were busy looking for supplies to reattach the handle as she waited.
“I DID SAY IT was a mess,” Walter said.
The detective and Walter were in the bedroom of the penthouse looking at the naked dead man on the bed. He was on his stomach and his hands were cuffed to the headboard. His back was scarred with fairly fresh whip marks and there was a large dildo stuck in his ass. But his body was missing a head which had been placed on a plate on the bedside table. Silently, the detective went around taking pictures of the scene using his phone.
“Cabot Chambers was his name and he was into some kinky stuff,” Walter said. He liked it rough, but not quite this bad.”
“Girls or boys?” the detective said.
“Women,” Walter said. “He had a longtime mistress named Naomi. I’ll get you her particulars. She lives in a villa up the hill. “Naomi is very open-minded and didn’t mind Cabot entertaining the occasional dominatrix or two. In fact, she was usually the one to set up those meetings.
“She and I need to meet—soon.”
“I’ll arrange it,” Walter said then his phone rang. He was only on a second before speaking to the detective again. “The police just drove in.”
“Later,” the detective, said then went downstairs.
Upon entering the lobby once more, the detective spoke with the pretty, dark-haired female clerk on duty.
“The last time I saw Corinne—that’s the name of the blonde friend of Mr. Peters— she was talking with a ten-year-old blonde girl named Louise. Little Louise looked so cute pulling her red wagon.”
“Was there anything in her wagon?”
“No, it was empty.”
“There was a suitcase in it when she left,” the bellman to the left of the clerk said.
“How long ago did Louise leave?” the detective said.
LOUISE’S LUCK HAD changed for the better. While waiting for the boys to return, she’d found enough money on the ground to buy a gelato on the way home. Her stomach growled as she thought about the sweet treat.
“THAT WAS SO nice of the police to say we could clean this mess up now that big brother is gone,” Lucie said to Adele, Father Albion, and Maxime. “And it was nice of them to let Maxime take them for such a small bribe.”
“We still need to move Corinne’s body,” Father Albion said.
“I’ll take care of the arrangements for her,” Maxime said. “The sisters are right. Corinne was an angel and should be given a proper viewing.”
“In Father Albion’s chapel,” Adele said. Not many people ever visit the sweet, little chapel. There just aren’t a great deal of Episcopalians here. The viewing, if done right, should bring in a crowd for a few days at least. How long do you think we can keep the girl on view?”
“You make it sound like it will be a sideshow, Ms. Adele,” Father Albion said.
“Nonsense,” Adele said.
“We just want everyone to see the beautiful angel who saved us,” Lucie said.
“And she will be made to look like the angel she was,” Maxime said. “I’m trained in taking care of the body as a mortician and embalmer, and will make her look more beautiful and angelic than ever.”
“We can put her in Mama’s old wedding dress,” Lucie said and clapped. “Maybe even buy her some feather wings.”
“The wings are a tad too much, I think,” Adele said.
“Thank you for that,” Father Albion said.
“She should be surrounded by white flowers,” Adele said. “Lots of white flowers like a saint. You had better start practicing a sermon fit for an angel, Father Albion.”
“I’m not accustomed to lying,” Father Albion said.
“Oh no, Father,” Maxime said. “You didn’t know Corinne like I did. She truly was an angel on Earth. You’ll see. When I finish fixing her up she’ll look like the angel she was.”
“Don’t worry, Father,” Adele said. “We’ll stick by Maxime’s side so there’s no freaky business. We’ve heard a story or two about morticians and embalmers, haven’t we Lucie?”
“Have we, sister?”
“Whatever—it doesn’t matter,” Adele said. “We’ll stay by Maxime’s side and arrange for the flowers. Now that our brother’s dead we don’t have to be so tight with money.”
RAMVIR WAS STILL outside in his taxi, so the detective got in the backseat. He asked Ranvir to be on the lookout for a small, blonde girl wearing a cotton, floral print dress who was pulling a red wagon.
“You mean Louise,” Ranvir said. “I know the girl.” He turned on his CD player and the Dalida song “Tico Tico” came on. “Sorry, I know—yet more Dalida. I can turn it off.”
“No problem. I like Dalida.”
“Oh you must be that guy then. The one who broke Walter’s heart.”
“Drive,” the detective said.
This city was significantly larger than most of the ones the detective had spotted on his train ride. Ranvir took a left after leaving the hotel’s driveway, and headed into the historic district with its narrow streets. A couple of left turns later they spotted Louise in front of a gelato stand across the way from them.
“I’ll get out here,” the detective said.
Ranvir handed him his card. “My number’s on there if you need a quick pickup.”
The detective tucked his card into his pocket and exited the taxi.
Time to get to work, the detective thought.
Chapter 3
Luck is a Fickle thing
HE WATCHED LOUISE trying to clean a spot of gelato she had just spilled on her dress, but managed to keep from getti
ng too close. When she was on the move again, he followed from across the street. While walking, the detective peered into shop windows as if he were a tourist. A large mirror in one window made him gasp. He’d been in a rush that morning and hadn’t gotten a chance to shave. The button-down shirt he wore over khaki pants was rumpled. And Walter had the nerve to act as if he looked good rather than like a bum. Removing his sunglasses he noticed dark spots beneath his eyes from lack of sleep. Before putting the glasses back where they’d been he ran his hand through his straight hair and pushed it back.
The detective couldn’t deny he was a mess. But he’d just buried an ex-lover and settled the lover’s estate a few days ago. And he had made up his mind to retire from the business the day he turned fifty but he’d gotten the call from Walter. The one person he could never say no to—Walter.
They were in a more modern section of the city now, and Louise was heading toward a bus depot. He had to make sure not to lose her in the gathered crowd, so he crossed over to her side of the street. Luck was on his side at that moment.
Louise had stopped in front of a handsome young man who was holding a boy in his arms—probably a brother. The young man was tall, and slender. His brown pants and shirt had seen better days. And he needed a haircut, as his straight black hair hung over one eye and was down to his shoulders in back. The boy in his arms had similar black hair. Louise had opened the suitcase and given them a large, black, leather folder that was zippered all around. She then continued onward. It was time for the detective to make a decision.
“IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL,” Lucie said as she held her deceased mother’s long, white, wedding dress in front of her. “Are we doing the right thing, Adele?”
“Of course,” Adele said, as she fluffed up her short auburn hair in the mirror,, then applied lipstick to her lips. “I’d never wear that old thing to my wedding. And who’d marry you at your age, dear?”
“At sixty-seven I’m only two years older than you,” Lucie said.
“Two years is two years, my dear. We need to hurry, Maxime is waiting outside for us.”
Lucie looked at her brown and gray hair in the mirror. “I haven’t taken very good care of myself, have I?”
“No you haven’t. I tried many times to get you to go to the salon with me and have your hair done, but you never wanted to go.”
“There didn’t seem to be much point. Brother never let us go out without him, and you know how I hated going anywhere with that man.”
“That’s true. Whereas, I took every opportunity to be out and about, even if it meant having him by my side.”
“Will we have to wear black now?”
“Feel free to if you want, but I feel like dressing in red, and going out dancing.”
“Dancing… it has been so long, Adele, since we’ve been dancing. Can we really do that?”
“Yes, but we need to get you to the salon. We can’t have you frightening any eligible bachelors away.”
THEY WERE DEFINITELY brothers, the detective thought, as he followed the young man with the folder. The older brother could easily be a model if a little luck shone his way. He had the height and slender build for it.
A twentysomething man with long blond hair and blue eyes, who was leaning against the side of a building gave the detective a glance. Enough of a glance to make the detective think his luck had just run out.
“American?” the man said to the detective.
He got no reply as the detective continued walking.
“I know you are American,” the man said. “You’re not French or Spanish.” Then he decided on a different approach. He smiled.
The change was startling. Rather than looking thuggish, his true handsome looks shone forth, and the detective was impressed. The man knew how to work his God-given gifts to his advantage.
“Hey, American,” the man said, then smiled. “Forget the young ones, I know somewhere we can go and have a good time.”
The detective continued onward, and the man who was directly behind him spoke again.
“Sorry if I misread something. I’ve got a sister. She’s pretty and available for a price. Hey, we all have a price, don’t we, friend?” He put his hand on the detective’s shoulder and got a surprise.
The man got an elbow in the gut, followed by a punch that winded him enough that he fell to the ground. When he tried to get up he was rewarded with a kick to the stomach. Before the detective could kick him again, the man curled up in the fetal position and tried to cover his face.
“Not the face,” the man said. “Please not the face—I need it for work.”
Without a word the detective walked away and looked around for the young man with the folder. He ran down the street then called Ranvir. While giving him his location, the detective noticed a group of about five men headed his way. They were led by the man he’d knocked to the ground. The guy must’ve used an alleyway to get ahead of him. Quickly he mentioned them to Ranvir.
“Those guys are bad news!” Ranvir said on the phone. Turn right at the alley, and two blocks after that take a right turn and go in Club Le Paradis.”
As he listened on the phone, the detective swiftly walked, then ran. The men after him were all bigger and younger than him. He wouldn’t get out of a brawl involving them without more than a few scratches and bruises.
“Find a platinum-haired girl named Marianne,” Ranvir said. “She’ll help until I get there.”
“WHAT IS THAT on your shirt?” Louise’s mom said as Louise walked into her one bedroom attached house. It was one in a row of such houses that occupied two sides of a narrow street tucked away in a hidden corner of the city.
“I don’t see anything,” Louise’s father said.
“It’s right there,” Louise’s mother said, angrily pointing to a spot on the dress before brutally ripping the dress off her daughter. “How dare you steal money from me, child?”
“I didn’t, Momma I swear,” Louise said, trying to cover herself with her skinny arms.
“She’s a liar too,” Louise’s mother said. “Time for me to get the paddle.”
“No!” Louise said through tears. “I’m not lying… I’m not!”
“Count the money in the suitcase while I get the paddle,” Louise’s mother said to Louise’s father.
“Yes. I don’t think she would steal, Nina.”
“Shut up, François. I should never have married a French man like you.” She got the paddle down from where it hung on a hook on a crumbling plaster wall. If I were still living in my own country I might be married to a real man and living in a house, not a hovel where the roof leaks, and I have to chase the mice away morning, noon, and night!”
Louise ran to her father François, and wrapped her arms around him.
“You know what’s coming, girl,” Nina said. “Delaying things will only make them worse.”
“But I haven’t counted the money yet,” François said.
“That doesn’t matter,” Nina said. “I already know about her buying the gelato.”
“No, Momma, no!” Louise said, then screamed.
François tried to count the money in the suitcase as quickly as he could. His wife grabbed hold of Louise, dragged her to the wood table, and pushed her down on top of it so her small butt faced her.
“I found the money for the gelato on the ground!” Louise said. “I swear. There was only enough for one gelato.”
“The money’s all here in the suitcase,” François said.
“I knew all that already,” Nina said. “The same way I knew she found the money on the street.”
“Then why all of this?” François said.
“Nothing this girl in front of me has or finds belongs to her,” Nina said, then looked at François. “Or to you. It belongs to me. Doesn’t matter if she found the money or someone gave it to her. Even if someone had given her the gelato—it belonged to me. That gelato was mine.” With the paddle firmly in hand she raised her arm high.
THE DETE
CTIVE WAS surrounded now, with no escape in sight. He was still around the corner from the club, but would have to fight. A heavyset man approached him and lunged forward.
Chapter 4
Beatdowns
“NOW I’M GONNA show you that you never steal from Mama,” Nina said.
Louise screamed loudly when she felt the first sting from the paddle. The second and third paddlings were even harder.
François tried to pull his wife away, but she smacked him across the face with the paddle, causing him to stumble back and fall hard against the cold, bare cement and broken tile floor. All François could do was crawl into a corner, pull his long legs up to his chest, and cry as his wife mercilessly beat their daughter with the paddle.
THE DETECTIVE WAS able to use the first man’s own weight to take him down, but there were too many of them coming after him, and he was on the losing end of things. A punch to the right side of his face made him stumble backward into the street.
“Leave his face alone,” the man from earlier said. “I owe him that much for not touching mine.”
Someone punched the detective in the stomach, and another tried to grab him from behind. A head butt took care of the man behind him and the detective managed to grab the arm of a man throwing a punch his way. After twisting the man’s arm the detective pushed him against the other men. That gave the detective a chance to run around the corner. He breathed heavily, and ran unsteadily toward the neon lights of Club Le Paradis.
The club was dark, smoky, and dank, with scattered tables and a small dance floor.
“Marianne!” the detective said to no one in particular, while trying to catch his breath. “Ranvir said you’d help.”