Mystery: Quest for Justice: (Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Suspense Thriller Mystery)

by James Kipling

  "I promise you I will forget about Barry Scott!" I emphasized. I did truly want to forget about the whole case back at home – that was one of the main reasons for spending five days in France. Mitchell saw the stress I was going through, and he suggested I take a break for a few days. I reluctantly agreed, so I was there, standing in the airport, waiting for the taxi to take us to the hotel. I had to agree, I was beginning to become obsessed with catching Barry Scott for what he did, but I knew I needed to forget, and Paris was just the place to make me forget.

  And ever since I broke up with Danny (again), I had to come to Paris by myself. I told him I was prepared to take him back, to see if we could sort out our worries and problems, but after a couple of weeks, I decided to give up again, as he did not seem to appreciate me. I told him we could take things slowly, although deep down, I did not think we could get back together again after what had happened, but I still cared about him, and I could not deny that at all. So there I was, standing in the airport with my parents, waiting for the taxi to take us to the hotel.

  The taxi did arrive after a few minutes.

  "Here it is!" cried Dad, hugging Mum and half-jumping around. I just put my case into the trunk of the car and jumped in without a fuss. Clearly, my parents were more excited about this trip than me, even though I was looking forward to it. We were told that the hotel itself was not in the centre of Paris – it was on the outskirts, so I was quite relieved and disappointed at the same time. I could relax properly, but I wanted to get to the city center easily to see all the sights, but I knew that problem could be solved.

  While we were loading the bags into the car and whatever else, I heard a heated conversation behind us. I could hardly make out what they were saying, so I turned around to look at them.

  "Just shut up with your snide comments," cried the woman. "There's no point in trying to deny it now, Christopher!"

  "Then why don't you just divorce me, you stupid woman?"

  The woman gave the man a sly look. "I'm not going to let you get away that easily! I'm never going to divorce you, so when you die first, and you will because you are significantly older than me, I will be able to take all of your money and your businesses!"

  The woman laughed out loud. I assumed that she had found out about an affair the man had been having, so I did not know whether to empathize with her or dislike her for her childish behavior. Despite the blazing hot weather, the woman was wearing a fur coat. The man was wearing business clothes, so I deduced they were of a higher class. Obviously, they were. I did not want to look that much into it, because I was concentrating more on going on vacation.

  We were sitting in the taxi, seeing the sights of France, and French radio was playing. I could not believe how fast the French could speak! Neither my parents nor I could speak a word of French – apart from "bonjour!" – so we might have been struggling. Unfortunately, the taxi driver started to speak French. I think he asked us if we had been to France before, because I heard the words "à France" and he sounded like he was asking a question, from his tone of voice. I just said, "non" and my parents looked very confused.

  "Ah," said the driver, "c'est assez dangereuse, mais c'est très reposante et incroyablement beau!"

  I only understood one word in that sentence: dangerous.

  We arrived at the hotel, and it was the most stunning place I had ever been to! There were plants growing from the sides of the walls, and there was a miniature waterfall on each side of the gate. A young female servant came to the gates to greet us, and she helped with the luggage.

  "Bonjour, et bienvenue à l'Hotel du Soleil!" she said.

  We all looked at her, as if to say, "we don't know any other word than 'bonjour'."

  "Oh, sorry," the servant replied. "Hello, and welcome to the Sunshine Hotel!"

  That was quite a simple name, I thought, but it did not matter. This place was clearly the best hotel I had ever stayed in, and I could not wait to get inside and start my adventure.

  Chapter 26

  "I know now that this is going to be a great holiday!" my mother cried, hugging her husband. "I just wish we went away before now!"

  "I can't wait to get started!" cried my father, almost dragging his suitcase inside.

  When we walked inside, the ambience was stunning. In the background, beautiful slow French music was playing, and the whole room was spotless. The stairs were made of marble, and they reflected the glittering lights that hung from the white ceiling. It was like being in Heaven. Everywhere I looked was either white or near to that: this was the place to be for a holiday.

  At the reception, we noticed a nervous-looking woman waving us over.

  "Hello," she said. "I'm Chloe, and I'm the manager of the Sunshine Hotel."

  The manager was quite tall, had short, curly hair and a long, thin nose. She seemed unconfident for a manager, but that may have been due to stress.

  "This is a lovely place!" my mother expressed, knowing that this was probably the best place she had ever been to.

  "You're too kind!" said Chloe, rubbing her hands together. "Now, we need to see your passports before we check you in, just so we know who you are."

  My parents and I showed Chloe the passports.

  "Right, then, said this seemingly friendly woman. "We'll have your room ready in about ten minutes. For now, why don't you sit on the balcony with the rest of the guests; it's a lovely day."

  So, we were ready to begin our holiday. We took the bags. Before I left the room to go to the balcony, I heard Chloe speak to one of the staff members:

  "Adrienne. Allez à la cuisine et donnez lui des boissons. Maintenant!"

  I did not know what she said, but she seemed quite aggressive. Perhaps Chloe was not as nice as I thought she was, I thought.

  Anyway, we walked outside onto the balcony, which showed us a view of the beautiful French countryside. I looked out for the Eiffel Tower, but no such luck yet. I was looking forward to climbing it, and seeing Paris from the top. I knew that my time would come.

  There were other guests sitting around the balcony, drinking glasses of various different alcohols. I saw a young couple, a fairly young couple and an elderly couple. They were all looking at us.

  "Hello!" said the elderly man.

  "Hello," I said, taking a seat right in the middle of them all.

  "Anyway, as I was saying," said the fairly young woman, "we were quite surprised to see you here, Stephanie. You never said you were going!"

  "Well, it was to celebrate out engagement," replied the young woman, holding the hand of the man next to her.

  "After the wedding, we are going to Tenerife, but we just thought we'd have a romantic stay in Paris first," added the young man.

  "How long is it now?" asked the other man. I saw a wedding ring on his finger, so it was obvious that he was married to the woman sitting next to him, although anyone could deduce that.

  "Four months," replied Stephanie, almost jumping up and down with excitement. "I still can't believe it when I say that!"

  "We've been married for ten years, haven't we, Alan?" said the woman.

  "Yes. Shona and I came here because of our anniversary. Even though we had a party, I wanted more for it, just to celebrate a little more," said Alan, giving his wife a kiss.

  I looked at the married couple. I thought it was unusual, because looking at them, you would not think they were able to afford a luxury holiday and a party at the same time, just for one special occasion.

  "Well, this is certainly the place to be!" replied the old woman. "Frank and I have been coming here for almost thirty years, and we still love it!"

  "Really?" said Shona.

  "Yes. Paris is literally the city of love."

  "How long have you been married?" asked Brendan, the one who was engaged to Stephanie.

  "Sixty-one years," the old man replied with pride.

  There were gasps all around. It was amazing to see such happiness in the atmosphere. I had never had that much. Instea
d, I was stressed out and could not even afford to go on vacation, but the hotel had introduced a special offer, and we were fortunate enough to be the first to get a place.

  I then noticed that, apart from Brendan and Stephanie, who were about to get married, I was the only one here who was not married or with anyone. That made me slightly depressed, but I did not worry because I was determined to enjoy myself.

  Then, the servant who Chloe yelled at came in with some drinks.

  "Your...drinks," he said, with a broken accent.

  As this conversation about love and happiness was going on, I heard voices in the background. I was stunned when I turned around and saw that those voices were those of the same two people who were arguing at the airport!

  "Oh, hello, Veronica," said Chloe, with a bitter tone of voice.

  "Chloe, my old friend!" cried Veronica, clearly sarcastic.

  "How are you these days?" asked Chloe.

  "Still as happy as ever," Veronica said, unconvincingly.

  "So, are we going to get checked in or what?" said the man.

  "Yes, Christopher," replied Chloe.

  "We want the best service in this hotel!" cried Veronica.

  "Well, you've come to the right place," said Chloe, trying not to be overly dramatic.

  Chloe checked them in, and told them their rooms were ready.

  "So, later this evening, are we having cocktails?" said Christopher, rubbing the palm of his hand against the back of hers.

  Chloe moved her hands away from his. "As we always do," she replied, swallowing the lump in her throat.

  "Oh, that's fantastic," said Christopher, winking at Chloe.

  Veronica laughed it off just to hide the embarrassment, if there was any. They walked upstairs in silence, and that was that.

  "I hate that bitch!" cried Stephanie.

  "So do I," said Shona. "I can't believe she's here."

  Chloe was listening to our conversation.

  "How do you know her?" I asked them.

  "Over the years, she's done all sorts of things," Alan said.

  "Like what?" my mother asked.

  "Well, she lives in the town we live in, in that big, fancy house. Anyway, years ago, she got pregnant from this wealthy man, and she blackmailed him, telling him that if he did not give her any money, she would terminate the child. Anyway, she did have the termination in the end, though she pretended that she was pregnant, still. So, he was paying her money, and by the time she was five or six months gone, she said that he could have the child. She carried on pretending to be pregnant by carrying a watermelon in her stomach. That man was now with another woman, and she was jealous of that, because he had previously dated her. Anyway, Veronica did not reveal her lies until she pretended to go into labor, right in front of this man's eyes, and she threw the watermelon out of her shirt. He's never been the same since!"

  "She sounds insane!" cried the elderly woman.

  "She is. I could go on all day, telling you stories, but I don't want to ruin the atmosphere," said Alan.

  I then looked up, and saw a window open. I wondered if it was actually their window that was open, because I did not think it was open before. If so, then it would be awkward the next time we saw Veronica.

  "Right, everyone," said Chloe, dashing into the seating area. "I have two good things to tell you. First, your rooms are ready, and secondly, I've booked a trip into Paris for tomorrow, if anybody wants to come!"

  There were cheers of excitement in the air. It was official: everyone there was going to Paris.

  Chapter 27

  After having finished all of the unpacking in the room, we realized that it was coming close to night-time. We were surprised at how time had moved so fast, although we then realized that France was in a different time zone anyway, so it would seem like that.

  Earlier that day, Chloe had invited us down for some cocktails, free of charge, as a complimentary drink for choosing to go to her hotel. It seemed to me that she was desperate, but I did not care. I did not care about alcohol much either, as I had neither the time nor the interest to consume it, but I knew that this time I was defeated – I had to let my hair down at some point.

  We dressed nicely for the occasion, since we assumed that everyone in the hotel would be down for these complimentary drinks. It was a very small hotel. If I had to estimate how many rooms there were, I would say twenty, but I was not sure. Chloe had obviously worked very hard to get here. For its size, I assumed that the hotel would not get very much revenue compared to the costs of maintenance, which made me interested. Perhaps Chloe had future plans.

  We arrived downstairs, and, to our surprise, hardly anyone was there. The Sandersons (Alan and Shona) and Stephanie and Brendan were there, and that was it.

  "Hello," said Chloe, rushing over to us like an excited terrier dog. "I hope you have enjoyed your stay here so far!"

  "We have," my parents replied.

  "That's fantastic news! Other people should be down shortly, but please, take a cocktail each."

  "What's in it?" I asked Chloe, taking a cocktail from the bar.

  "Well, it is made of absinthe and champagne. The name of it is ‘Death in the Afternoon’."

  "That's an unusual name for a cocktail," I said.

  "Isn't it just?" said Chloe. I didn't know why, but she gave me some sort of twitch when she said that – a rather psychotic look. I was beginning to think that she was planning a murder, but then I remembered that not everyone in the world is a psychopath.

  "So," my father said, trying to converse with Alan, "where are you actually from?"

  "Well, we're living in North Dakota now, but we're not originally from there," said Alan. "We used to live in San Francisco – both of us."

  "Ah," said my father, as if he were a detective.

  A couple more guests arrived, but then the atmosphere changed when the Wilsons arrived. Before they arrived, there were laughs and jokes, and it was overall a relaxed, friendly atmosphere, but when the Wilsons entered the room, hardly one word was spoken. The Sandersons and Brendan and Stephanie looked at Veronica, as did Chloe. Somehow, Veronica reminded me of one of the murder victims in a previous case of mine – she was arrogant, and bitchy. She had many enemies. Nobody in the building liked her. She liked to show off. She was mean. I had not even spoken to her, but I knew exactly what she was. I was beginning to feel sorry for Christopher, and I was beginning to think that he had a justifiable reason for cheating on his wife.

  Veronica approached Chloe.

  "What the Hell is this?" she said, her fingers grasping the glass.

  "This is called ‘Death in the Afternoon’," said Chloe.

  "Well, I've never tried this one before," said Veronica, taking the glass and sipping it. She put it back on the tray and said, "I don't like it. I want another cocktail."

  Chloe turned round to her female servant.

  "Allez à la cuisine et donnez lui du vin pas cher."

  I tried to translate that in my head: go to the kitchen and give them some wine. Or it was something like that. I recognized some of the words because Chloe had said them before when we first entered the hotel.

  The female servant reappeared with some new wine.

  "What on Earth is this?" said Veronica.

  "It's something you'd like," said Chloe, trying not to be too smug.

  "This is probably the cheapest wine on the market!" she yelled.

  "Well, ‘Death in the Afternoon’ is one of the most expensive cocktails on the market, so I thought you'd like the opposite."

  Even though she was vile, I still would not treat Veronica like that if she were my guest. Veronica just turned around and walked over to the piano, muttering, "when I get home, I'm going on TripAdvisor to write a bad review of this place!"

  Then something startled even me. Christopher sat down at the grand piano, with Veronica standing next to him. He pressed a few keys, and Veronica started to sing.

  "You're the top, you're the coliseum.
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  You're the top, you're the Louvre Museum.

  You're the melody from a symphony by Strauss.

  You're a Vendel bonnet, a Shakespeare sonnet, you're Mickey Mouse!

  You're the Nile, you're the Tower of Pisa,

  You're the smile on the Mona Lisa.

  I'm a worthless cheque, a total wreck, a flop.

  But if babe I'm the bottom, you're the top!"

  This woman was clearly the biggest show-off I had ever seen. She had attracted the attention of everyone in the room, and worst of all, she could not sing. I wondered if she was drunk, but then again, I did not think she was. She then thought up her own lyrics for the song:

  "You're the top of the Eiffel Tower.

  You're the top, you're the finest hour!

  You're the boat I like on the lovely River Seine.

  If you were Champs Élysées, I'd like to say I'd come again!

  You're the top, you're the Pont Alexandre,

  You're the wine, with a snail-filled dinner.

  I'm the frog without a leg on which to hop.

  But if babe I'm the bottom, you're the top!"

  Veronica then stopped singing, and bowed down. Many of the other guests who were there clapped, not including those who knew who she was. The members of staff clapped, not including Chloe. Veronica loved the attention, which proved my deduction of her earlier on.

  Chloe then approached me and said, "if you want a fantastic view of the countryside, go outside in the back, where the swimming pool is. You can see for miles around!"

  It was not completely dark yet, although the sun had set. I decided to catch a quick view of the countryside – I wasn't one for socializing anyway.

  I went outside, and Chloe was right – the view was absolutely stunning. It was breath-taking. So this was what it was like to see the world, and tomorrow, I would see the whole of Paris. I was very excited about it.

  Suddenly, although he did not notice me, I spied Christopher Dewell sneaking off. He went behind the back of the building, literally tiptoeing so he did not make any noise. Quietly, I followed him, to see what he was up to.