Bender at the Bon Parisien (A Novel)

by Pres Maxson

  Janie read, “If I am dead, blame Trudie.”

  The room stood quietly as all eyes found Trudel.

  “Where did you find that?” she asked.

  “It was taped under the bar,” Janie answered.

  “Well, I have no idea why he would have written that,” she defended herself with a shake of her head.

  “Probably,” Pistache interjected under his breath, “because you’re a crazy witch.”

  Her eyes burned as she looked at him. Fleuse was also gnashing his teeth over the comment, but no one addressed it.

  “Is there a date on it?” I asked.

  “Nope,” Janie responded.

  Renard craned his neck to see the note. He was still hovering near the curtain. His wheels were turning as if every word were a clue.

  “Well, I don’t know what that note is about,” Trudel stated matter-of-factly.

  “What did you do to him?” Pistache hissed.

  “Nothing!”

  “Now Jacques,” Fleuse began. “That doesn’t mean anything yet. It’s just a letter.”

  “Victor must have written it because he saw his own disappearance as a real possibility!” Pistache exclaimed.

  “Well, I know,” Fleuse said with a pacifying tone. “But …”

  “He was your friend!” Pistache exclaimed. “Doesn’t it seem obvious what happened? She got rid of him!”

  “I was in love with Victor!” Trudel yelled. “I miss him so much! Why would I kill him?”

  Fleuse silently withdrew a little.

  “Because,” Pistache explained, “you wanted the coin!”

  “Not in exchange for Victor!”

  “Everybody, hang on,” I said. “I know that some of this stuff isn’t my business, but this note isn’t much to go on. We have no idea when he wrote it, or the context in which he wrote it. Plus, his name isn’t even on it anywhere. It would be different if he’d signed it or something.”

  “Don’t be naïve, American!” Pistache blurted out.

  “Well, you guys don’t know if he’s even dead, right?” I countered. “He is just gone. Madame von Hugelstein thinks he’s off with another woman!”

  “I’d rather he were dead if that were the case,” Trudel huffed.

  “You don’t mean that,” Fleuse finally spoke again.

  “What’s your play, man?” Pistache answered Fleuse. “Are you so taken by this woman that you will defend her no matter what she says? Even if it means your heart is on the line?!”

  “Or a million euros?” Renard interjected.

  “The American is right, though,” Fleuse began. “We don’t even know for sure if it’s Victor who wrote that!”

  “Or whether or not he’s dead,” I reminded everyone again.

  “C’mon,” Pistache said with a flick of his wrist. “I need another drink.” He approached the bar.

  “She said it’s his handwriting,” Janie pointed out.

  As I poured him another, Pistache slumped on a barstool, creating a rush of air that sent the envelope to the floor in a featherlike fall. I bent to retrieve it. Trudel spoke as I crouched.

  “Well, I don’t know what to tell you all. I certainly didn’t do anything to Victor.”

  “Except play him for a fool and maybe kill him,” Pistache grunted.

  “Please,” she answered.

  I barely registered any of their conversation. With envelope in hand, I was about to stand up again when I noticed something peering at me from the darkness beneath the sinks. It was the door to a safe.

  “Hey check this out.” I put a hand on it to pull it out, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “What is it?” I heard Janie say.

  I shifted my weight. My eyes adjusted to the darkness. The safe was small and very heavy for its size, though not immovable. It’s grey rough exterior felt like thick stone. It could fit easily in my arms, but first I would need to brace my legs on something to drag it out from under the bar and into the light.

  Janie repeated herself. “C’mon, Pete. What is it?”

  “It’s a safe,” I said with a grunt. It took all the power that my legs could muster, and my back torqued as I hugged it close to my chest and dragged it out of the darkness. With one quick and painful motion, I hoisted it to the bar top. It landed with a thud. For a moment the wood made a “crack” sound beneath the weight of the safe, but nothing was damaged.

  “What’s inside?” Fleuse asked.

  “I have no idea,” I said. “Feels like bricks.”

  “Maybe it’s the bar money,” Janie said.

  “I think it’s too small for that,” I said. “You’d need more cash on hand to properly run this joint. The hotel probably has a much larger office safe for that kind of stuff. This looks like it’s for jewelry or something.”

  “Or maybe a coin,” Pistache said with a glint in his eye.

  Instinctively, I lowered my ear to the safe door and turned the dial of the combination lock.

  “What are you doing?” Janie asked, laughing.

  “I have no idea. Aren’t you supposed to hear a little click or something when you pass the correct number?”

  Pistache laughed too.

  “You watch too many movies,” Janie said, smiling.

  She was right. I had no clue what I was doing. I don’t even know what made me think that was going to work.

  “Well, does anyone have the combination?” Fleuse asked.

  “I didn’t even know that was there,” Trudel answered.

  We all stared at it for a second.

  “Here, I’ll tip it back a little and you guys look under it,” I offered.

  “Why?” asked Janie.

  “When I was a kid, I had a safe. There was a sticker on the bottom with the combination on it.”

  “No way it’ll be there,” Fleuse muttered quietly.

  “Buy me a drink if it is?” Pistache answered him under his breath.

  I tipped it back, and Janie shook her head. Nothing.

  “Knew it,” Fleuse said.

  “Sorry, honey,” Janie said. “Long shot. This safe isn’t a toy.”

  “My safe wasn’t either,” I joked. “It legitimately protected my baseball cards.”

  She rolled her eyes at me.

  “How are we going to get it open?” Fleuse asked.

  “I bet we can find a way,” Pistache uttered with his trademark energy.

  “Hang on a second,” I said. “We can’t do anything that will harm this safe. I know I don’t officially work here, but it belongs to the hotel. We can’t open it without their permission.”

  “Listen to you,” Pistache smirked. “Afraid it’ll be charged to the room?”

  “Actually yes,” I said with a look toward Janie. “That hadn’t occurred to me, but now that you mention it, yes.”

  “Take it easy,” Pistache said as he threw his arms around the object. “There’s a lot more at stake here.” With one heave, he pulled the safe from the bar. He must have misjudged its weight, because it instantly sent him to the floor beneath the momentum of his action. Pinned to the ground, he groaned. I was not the only one trying to conceal a smile.

  “Could someone give me a hand?” he asked from beneath the weight.

  Fleuse went to his aid, and they both managed it back to the bar.

  “Let’s leave it up here,” Pistache said, with hurting body and bruised pride.

  “Good idea,” I snickered.

  “So really. How do we open it?” Janie asked.

  Chapter XI.

  Victor scurried down the sidewalk in the pale Parisian summer evening’s light, swerving through pedestrian traffic. The ends of his shoelaces gently tapped the pavement as he ran. Passing several artists painting the great Notre-Dame de Paris, Victor was in too much of a rush to notice their bright depictions of the sunset in front of its twin bell towers.

  He’d asked Trudel to meet him somewhere other than the bar, and he was running late. Surely, this turned her off and would add t
o their recent troubles. Lately, Trudel had grown jealous of anyone who commanded Victor’s attention, which was exacerbated by his recent distractions with Fleuse and Jacques.

  He knew that Trudel would also be disappointed that he had asked her to meet him at an inside table. Victor didn’t think she’d like being kept from the cool natural light that hung in the sky late into the summer evening. But given the sensitive nature of their conversation, the soft yellow of the interior would have to do.

  Trudel sat scowling at him when Victor burst through the door of Le Rive Gauche, a long thin café with dirty tiled flooring. There was no chair sitting at the small table across from her.

  “Someone asked if I was using it, and I said no. I just assumed you weren’t going to be here.”

  “Okay. Sorry,” he answered, out of breath. He glanced around for another chair.

  Trudel silently bristled as she sipped on her brandy. Victor snagged a chair from an empty table next to him and craned his neck to see the barista.

  “A whiskey, please,” he called out.

  “Really? What’s happening to you?” Trudel asked.

  “What?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink whiskey.”

  “I drink it all the time.”

  “No you don’t. I’ve only seen you drink a beer once and a while in the bar.”

  The waitress delivered his glass just as Victor reached inside his coat pocket and produced a pouch of tobacco and rolling papers. He quickly downed the spirit.

  “Another, please,” he said to the woman as he began assembling a cigarette.

  “What is this?!” Trudel continued.

  “I know, I know. You’ve never seen me smoke.”

  “Do I know you at all?”

  Victor fussed over his process as he spoke. “I did this much more regularly as a young man.”

  “You aren’t smoking that, you know.”

  “Why not?” he asked without even looking up, refusing to be interrupted.

  “Because you can’t smoke that in my face.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Yes you will. You’re going to smoke that right here and I’m not going to be able to keep it away from me.”

  “Relax.”

  “I am a singer!” she protested loudly. “Do you have any idea what that could do to my throat?!”

  Victor stopped. He had just finished. He made a face and placed the pouch back in his jacket pocket and left his newly rolled cigarette on the table.

  “Fine,” he said frankly as he set the cigarette next to his empty whiskey glass.

  They sat in silence for a brief moment until the waitress brought Victor’s second whiskey.

  “So,” he continued. “How was the show today?”

  “Why did you ask me here?” Trudel answered.

  Victor picked up the new drink and said, “Can’t we just get out of the bar every once and a while? Plus, I have something to show you.”

  “Are you breaking up with me?” she asked with a sharp tone.

  “What? No!”

  “Did you bring me here to break up with me? If so, I see what you’re doing and it’s not going to work.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m not breaking up with you.”

  “You want to get me on neutral territory,” Trudel accused.

  “Trudie. Stop it.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “Who is she?”

  “Will you please stop it with this. You sound crazy.”

  “Really? Then it’s time to explain yourself.” It was her turn to need another drink. She motioned for the waitress before snapping at Victor, “So get on with it. Here I am sitting across from my boyfriend, and he won’t even tell me what’s going on.”

  “Okay, okay. I just got here, let me take a second.”

  “Sure you go ahead with that. Imagine how silly I felt sitting here alone, the weird lady. Plus, I just heard myself say the words ‘my boyfriend.’ How old am I, anyway? It’s embarrassing.”

  “What would you prefer to call me?”

  She didn’t answer. She just took a sip of her newly delivered drink.

  Victor followed suit. After quickly draining his second glass he shifted in his chair momentarily.

  “Like I said before your tirade just now, I have something to show you.” He pulled a small box out of his jacket pocket.

  “It wasn’t a tirade,” she began until she saw the object. Trudel gasped. “What’s that?!”

  “Oh, just a little something that I’ve run across.”

  Trudel seized the tiny package. “Oh, Victor!”

  He was a little uneasy with how quickly she nabbed it from him. Still, he reminded himself that it was highly unlikely that Trudel would just up and run off with it.

  “It’s not wrapped,” she muttered as she removed the top. “Huh. A coin?”

  “Well, it’s not just any …”

  “What the hell am I going to do with a coin?”

  “What? What do you mean you?”

  Trudel was silent. She looked at him and blinked.

  “It’s not for you!” Victor continued.

  “Oh,” she processed. “Why would you give it to me?”

  “I didn’t. You just grabbed it. I’m showing you.” Victor said, snatching it back.

  “Oh well, why would I care about that?” She grunted and took a drink.

  “Well, it’s an exciting coin. It’s extremely valuable.”

  “Do I look like I care about coins?” she snapped.

  “I bet that you’ve never seen a coin like this one, though,” Victor said, forgetting about Trudel’s misunderstanding.

  Barely believing what she heard, Trudel paused a moment before saying, “You know what? I have to go.” She swallowed the last of her brandy with one gulp and stood to leave.

  “Wait a sec, Trudie! What’s the matter with you?” he protested as she was turning to leave.

  Trudel immediately pivoted toward him. “You’re a dick, that’s my problem.”

  “Take it easy. Sit down. Let me buy you one.”

  She just stood and stared at him.

  He continued, “I’m sorry that I didn’t pay you more attention just now. When I walked in, my head was spinning. Let me make it up to you now.”

  Trudel bit her lip, blinked three times rapidly, and sat down again. “I’ll have just one more,” she finally conceded.

  “Good. Thank you.”

  “So what is the story about your coin?”

  “Well, really it is the key to my retirement.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, madame,” Victor stated proudly.

  “I don’t follow,” she deadpanned.

  “Well once I get this thing moved off I won’t have to work in the bar, for starters.”

  She put her glass down and looked at him. “How can something that small possibly be that valuable?”

  “Oh, it is.”

  “So what then? What will you do when you don’t work in the bar?” Trudel asked.

  Victor wondered for a moment, smiling. “I’m thinking move down south. Enjoy the sun for a while.”

  “The Riviera? Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely,” he said with another drink.

  “Well, where would I sing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t leave! I am too attached to my theatre. How do you think my fans would react?”

  “Wait, you’d want to come along?”

  “Well, that’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

  “Sure.” Victor tried to cover his tracks. It hadn’t occurred to him to invite Trudel.

  “You weren’t going to invite me?!” She shouted as she rose grandly.

  “Of course I was, that’s what I’m doing now!” Victor answered, lying.

  Trudel turned to leave again. “I don’t know why I put myself through this kind of thing,” she huffed as she rifled through her purse to find money for her drinks. “It’s al
ways the same with you. I come in to the bar, you don’t get around to talking with me for thirty minutes these days, and even then you’re distracted.”

  “I’m at work when that happens.”

  “You are always more interested in other women than you are in me, and here is another instance when I am not a priority for you!”

  “Those other people in the bar are actual patrons. Would you take it easy?” He too stood and reached for her arm, but she slapped his hand away.

  “Don’t touch me!” she snapped. The baristas were now beginning to notice the behavior from the table.

  “Okay. Hang on. Don’t go,” Victor said with renewed calmness. “Please, let me start over with this.”

  “I’ll give you five minutes. Start making sense.”

  “Great, thank you.”

  “After that,” she said as she sat down, “I’m going to find somewhere to enjoy the evening outside without you.”

  “Yes, great. Thank you. Actually I do have to apologize,” Victor explained as they both sat again. He shot a reassuring look toward the café employees as he spoke. “I chose to sit inside for a reason.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, it’s the coin. It is very valuable.”

  “Yes, you said that.”

  “No Trudie, you don’t understand. It’s really valuable.”

  “Okay?”

  “I haven’t even told Fleuse or Jacques, yet,” the bartender admitted.

  “Fleuse? What does he have to do with anything?”

  “Well, he brought it to me. Apparently his friend, Jacques, is the one who first got the coin.”

  Trudel thought for a moment. “Jacques? I don’t remember a friend of Fleuse’s named Jacques. Actually, I’m not sure that I even remember him being mentioned.”

  “Trust me,” Victor said with a sip. “You would remember this guy. He’s an impressionist.”

  “I hate impressionists.”

  “I told them you would.”

  “Okay, continue,” she said with a sigh.

  “Well, these guys bring me this coin, because they know that I’m into this stuff. Only thing is, they have no idea how much it is worth.”

  “And you haven’t told them?”