by Nic Saint
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chris and Kate didn’t really get to see much of the movie that night, for they spent the rest of the picture’s playtime kissing and hugging like two bashful teenagers on their first date.
For the very first time, Kate had uttered the three magic words ‘I love you’ and Chris felt so happy he could have jumped up onto the cinema stage and entreated a surprised audience to an impromptu performance.
Of course, he didn’t, for he didn’t want to spoil the other cinemagoers’ fun.
The only thing that now remained was for her to break off the engagement, and they could finally be together like they were always meant to be. He wondered when she’d make the move, but since it wasn’t his place to push the issue, he decided not to mention it. He didn’t want to spoil their precious time together by harping on that engagement of hers. After all, if he were in Franklin’s place, he would want his fiancée to show him the same respect Kate afforded Franklin. In fact, he admired her for it, and loved her all the more.
And then of course there was that other issue: the date on her return ticket to the States was approaching fast, and though they hadn’t really discussed it, he didn’t think she felt much for a long distance relationship and neither did he. So how were they going to handle that?
He hadn’t been home ten minutes, before his front doorbell rang, and he jumped from his couch, hoping it was Kate having come back for a nightcap.
It wasn’t. When he opened the door, he found Kirt standing on the mat.
“Oh, it’s you,” Chris said, disappointed.
“That’s a nice way of greeting your best friend,” said Kirt as he stepped inside.
“I thought it was Kate,” Chris said, and Kirt said he understood. When you’re expecting someone as piping hot as Kate, and what you get is Kirt Raisin, it’s only natural to display a modicum of disappointment.
The two friends plunked down onto the couch, and Chris switched on the TV. They’d spent hours watching soccer games in this exact setup, and though Chris couldn’t be bothered to get up and get them some beers from the fridge, it felt just like old times. Then he noticed that Kirt looked quite disheveled. And if he hadn’t known him better, he would even have described his mood as upset.
“What’s wrong with you?” he said. “You look like shit.”
“I feel like shit, brother,” Kirt said, drawing a weary hand across his brow.
“What happened? Trouble with the missus?”
“Yep. That’s exactly right. Trouble with the missus sounds about right.” He glanced up suspiciously. “How did you know? Kate tell you what happened?”
“Nope,” Chris assured him. “Kate and I had our own, erm, issues to deal with tonight.” And he gave him the wide grin known to all men.
Kirt rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like the bear who just ate all the honey. Did you eat all the honey?”
“Yes, honey,” Chris said.
“You’re disgusting,” Kirt said.
“Hey, you started with the bear and honey thing!” Kirt slumped deeper into the couch, and Chris said, “No honey for you, I take it?”
“Nada. And what’s more, she wants me to promise to move to the States with her before she’s letting me near the beehive again.”
“Huh? Come again?”
Kirt heaved a deep shuddering breath. “She said she’s too old to start fooling around like a horny teenager, and if I’m serious about this commitment, either she or I or both will have to change jobs and move countries so we can really build this relationship into something strong and durable.” He rolled his eyes. “Strong and durable? For a moment I thought she was talking about superglue. I don’t want to move away from Belgium, Chris. I like it here. All my friends are here, my family, my job…”
“Perhaps she can move to Belgium?”
“She said she can’t. Her mother is sickly and her father isn’t too well, either. And she has a real job, whereas I don’t. At least according to her. Messing around playing detective isn’t her idea of a real job, she said. The woman’s crazy, that’s the only explanation.”
“I think it’s more than that, Kirt,” Chris said. “I think she really cares about you, and would like to keep on seeing you.”
“I want to keep on seeing her,” said Kirt. “But that doesn’t mean I should move. We can see plenty of each other. On Skype. And I can go visit, you know. Or she can come here.”
“That means you won’t see each other for weeks, sometimes even months.”
“That’s cool,” said Kirt. “If she loves me, she’ll wait.”
Chris grinned. “Good luck with that, buddy.”
“What? Don’t you agree?”
Chris shook his head. “I don’t know about you, but the moment Kate breaks up with Franklin, I want us to move in together. Here or in the States, I don’t care. If I can’t see her every day, wake up next to her every morning… I’ll go nuts, I swear.”
“Well, that’s where we differ, you and I,” said Kirt. “I kinda dig this long distance relationship thing, you know.”
“I couldn’t do it,” said Chris. “But if you can, more power to you, my friend.”
“Whatever. All the spoils and none of the disadvantages of shacking up is what I say. And if she doesn’t like it, she can lump it!”
“Sure,” said Chris, but his mind had already drifted back to Kate and the amazing evening they’d spent together. No LDR for him, thank you very much. The moment Kate said the word, he knew he’d come running, wherever and whenever she wanted him to be.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Hello, honey,” said Franklin, his face lighting up when Kate stepped into the room. She’d decided to pay him a visit in his new lodgings.
“Hello, Franklin,” she said, her attitude perhaps lacking a little in pre-conjugal warmth.
He was lying in bed, reading a Walt Disney biography, dressed in Donald Duck pajamas and looking rather feverish. On the nightstand, she noticed his favorite Mickey Mouse clock next to his Pluto watch and his Monsters, Inc. mug. Franklin was big on Disney collectibles, part of his house practically a shrine to his enormous collection of figurines.
She took a seat next to him on the bed, and put a hand to his forehead.
“You feel kinda hot. Are you sure you don’t have a fever?”
“Oh, I’m all right,” said Franklin, putting his book to one side so he could give her all his attention. “It’s just this boatel, see. You know how I get seasick on boats?”
She nodded.
“Well, it’s the same thing here. The moment I stepped on board, my stomach lurched.”
“But I’m sure the boat is extremely well anchored. And there’s no tide on this canal.”
“I know all that,” he said, looking plaintive. “And the man behind the reception explained to me how the boat is securely fastened and could never be swept away. But whatever he says, it’s still a boat, and I can still feel it moving.” He groaned in agony. “Why can’t I stay with you in that Bouquet place? I’m sure there’s an extra bed or cot for me somewhere.”
“Queenie’s very adamant, I’m afraid. She really won’t tolerate unmarried couples in her rooms.”
“Queenie. Is that the harridan’s name? That horrible woman doesn’t even know the meaning of the word hospitality. It’s a miracle that place has the five-star reviews it has on TripAdvisor. I’m sure she bribed them all. But wait till I post my review! She’ll never know what hit her!”
“Oh, Franklin,” said Kate. “I’m sure it was all a big misunderstanding. She told me you were quite insistent about staying in my room, and made quite a nuisance of yourself.”
“She said that?” Franklin exclaimed, sitting bolt upright in bed. His face had turned from pink to puce. He slammed his hand with his fist. “Wait till I get through with her!”
Kate shook her head sadly. How she ever thought she could be happy with
this man, she didn’t know. There was so very little they had in common. She patted his arm commiseratively. “Poor darling. Belgium hasn’t treated you well, has it?”
“No, it damn well hasn’t!” lamented Franklin.
Kate bit her lip. Perhaps now wasn’t really a good time to break off her engagement, but on the other hand, if not now, when?
“Franklin?” she began.
“Uh-huh?” he said distractedly. He was still breathing smoke through his nostrils, no doubt thinking about Queenie and all the things he wished he’d said to her and all the things he would say to her when they met again.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“I…”
For the first time, he seemed to notice her, and his expression changed to one of sympathy. “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry. Here you are, all tired and worn out after a long day, and all I do is pour my petty little problems in your ear. Here, let me have your feet.”
“No, that’s all right,” she said. “I’m not tired, really.”
But before the words had even left her mouth, he’d shifted on the bed, removed her shoes, and was kneading the soles of her feet. It felt great, and she closed her eyes.
“Franklin?”
“Yes, darling?”
She hesitated. “That feels great.”
“Just lie back and relax. In half an hour you’ll be as good as new.”
Oh, God. She was such a horrible person. Here she was, about to break off her engagement, and the man was giving her a foot rub.
For a moment, silence reigned, then he suddenly said, without looking up, “You know, the weirdest thing happened to me just before you arrived.”
“Uh-huh?” she said, still trying to figure out how to break the news to him.
“You’re quite the local celebrity, did you know that?”
She looked up in surprise. “No, I didn’t know that.”
He inclined his head. “Oh, yes, you are. Daughter of Mayor Piet Peeters. Seems like everybody knows you. Well, at least Dirk does. He’s the owner of this boatel and a very sociable guy. Says he was quite surprised to see you at the cinema with Chris tonight.”
Kate’s heart skipped a beat, and she broke into a cold sweat at these words.
“He—he did?”
“Says he went to see a movie called My Fair Gentleman, some historical drama, and was quite surprised to see the mayor’s mistress—some woman called Geyser apparently—and the mayor’s daughter, respectively sitting one row in front and one row behind him.”
Kate swallowed with some difficulty. “Franklin…”
“Says he was quite upset that, instead of watching the movie, both the mayor’s mistress and the mayor’s daughter spent the entire time making out.”
Kate’s blood had to ice in her veins and she was incapable of speech.
“He just mentioned the fact because I had told him, in a casual sort of way, that I was engaged to be married to the mayor’s daughter, and he said he wondered why, if that was the case, she was kissing Jacques Van Damme’s son the entire time she was there.”
The lump in Kate’s throat, preventing her from uttering a single sound, appeared to grow larger still, and her heart was racing now.
“I told him that you two were working on a case together—I explained that Chris Van Damme runs a private detective agency—and that you were probably tailing a suspect—that’s the official term, isn’t it? Tailing? When Dirk argued he didn’t see any suspect worth tailing, and that he didn’t get where all the kissing came in, I replied that Chris and you were professionals and Dirk wasn’t, so he probably missed the suspect altogether. I also explained that kissing is a technique often employed by detectives working a case, as part of their cover story.”
Still frozen, Kate just wished Franklin would stop fingering her feet already, tears now trickling down her cheeks.
“I’m afraid he wouldn’t be convinced, though, no matter how hard I tried.”
He stopped handling her feet and looked up for the first time, his eyes round and questioning behind his spectacles, his bare scalp shiny in the lamplight, and his chest heaving.
“So tell me, honey, was I lying to Dirk when I told him you were on a case?”
“You were,” she said hoarsely, her face wet with tears.
“Oh,” he said, and his face fell. “So… You’re in love with Chris?”
She nodded, her heart breaking for him.
“Oh,” he repeated, then took his glasses from his nose, and started polishing them with the hem of his Donald pajama shirt. Then he wrinkled his nose, as if something puzzled him. “But you just met him…”
“No, honey,” she said. “I met him six months ago. When I went to that police convention in New York, remember?”
He looked up slowly. “Is he the one who…”
“Yes.”
“But I thought he broke your heart?”
“He did. Turns out it was all a big misunderstanding. And when I saw him again, I…”
He inclined his head, giving her a sad smile. “I understand.”
“Oh, Franklin,” she said, reaching out to him. “I never wanted to hurt you. It just… happened.”
“Happened,” he repeated. “No, I get it. I get it.” He rubbed his eyes, put his glasses back on and then patted her hand. “It’s all right, Kate. Quite all right. Like you said, these things happen.”
“But I never planned for them to happen.”
“I know that. It’s just life. It has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it and…” Then he shook his head. “No, that’s not true. I’m not being fair. I never really expected for us to be together, Kate, if I’m really honest.”
“You didn’t?” she said. “I did.”
“No, you didn’t, either,” he said, and she knew he was right. “This…” He gestured between them. “This would never have worked. We’re two completely different people, Kate. We have nothing in common, really.”
“But I love you, too, Franklin,” she said.
“No, you don’t. You appreciate me. As a friend.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “And I hope that’s what we’ll be. Friends.”
“Of course,” she said. “Oh, Franklin, you’re such a good man.”
“No, I’m not,” he said, then smiled. “But keep saying that. It’s good for my self-esteem. Which is pretty low at this moment, I’m afraid.”
“You’ll find someone, Franklin,” she said, handing him back his ring. “You’re a real catch.” And she pressed a tender kiss on his cheek.
“Sure,” he said, deflated. “Sure I am.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The next morning, Chris awoke with a song on his lips and a spring in his step. At least, the song was on his lips from the moment he opened his eyes. The spring in his step he only noticed once he’d lissomely emerged from between the covers. Glancing at his warm bed, he imagined Kate lying there next to him, and his gay mood intensified.
Oh, how wonderful life is, he reflected. How simply wonderful! And he had just gaily hopped into the bathroom for a refreshing shower and a quick shave, and had pirouetted into the living room of his small studio apartment, when he noticed an inert body slumped on his couch.
Now, when running a private detective agency, one gets used to inert bodies slumped around. It’s amazing how many dead bodies life will start throwing your way once you’ve decided that solving crime is how you want to make a living from now on. As a cop Chris had, of course, seen his fair share of dead people—but now they really seemed to be piling on, all of a sudden.
Then the corpse stirred, and he recognized it as belonging to his friend Kirt.
“Hey, Kirt,” he said cheerily.
“Hrmph,” said Kirt, a lot less cheery.
“So you decided to spend the night, eh?”
“Hrmph,” repeated Kirt.
“You know? I think Lauren’s absolutely right. You
should simply move to America. It’s the land of opportunity and I’m sure you’ll be perfectly happy over there. So go over to Queenie’s, clasp Lauren to your bosom, and give her the good news.”
“You’re nuts,” Kirt grunted, rolling out of the couch onto the floor as a way of getting up.
“Love, my friend. Love really is all you need. Love, love, love, love, love, love, love,” he sang.
“Oh, put a sock in it,” Kirt said, having managed to raise himself onto hands and knees and seemingly having decided to remain in this position. “My head,” he groaned.
Chris looked over to the salon table, where an empty bottle of wine was an obvious clue to Kirt’s distress.
“You really shouldn’t drink so much,” he said reprovingly.
“Who are you? My mother?”
“Why don’t I call Lauren and tell her the good news?” Chris said.
“Don’t. Please,” Kirt said.
“It’s obvious you love her,” Chris pointed out. “And we all should do whatever we can for love.”
“Look, Oprah,” Kirt said, now on his knees and holding his head in both hands to prevent it from falling off, “I’m not in love, and I’m not moving to the US of A! Is that clear?”
“Methinks thou protests too much, my friend,” Chris said, and hopped into the kitchen for a hearty breakfast. “Coffee?”
“Please. And an aspirin… bottle.”
* * *
Before arriving at City Hall, Chris quickly popped over to Barbara’s for a bouquet of flowers, then hurriedly made his way to the meeting room upstairs, for the now customary morning tryst. He was early, for Kate hadn’t yet arrived, and neither had the two mayoral candidates. Only Hock was there, looking his customary glum self, and Coleen, prim and proper. Chris seemed to detect a certain frostiness in the air as he entered, and wondered if these two had just had a fight.
Just then, Wallace Pruym waltzed in and started distributing some documents around in his capacity of city secretary. Chris didn’t personally know Wallace very well, but even to him, he looked even worse than the day before, when he’d seen him at the Perch, where Jacques had unceremoniously bumped him out of the way on his race to the toilet.