Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  After a last look at the old man who’d collapsed over the table, his arms crossed under his head, the students left and François locked the door behind them.

  Cheryl wet a clean towel. “Look at me, Bernard. Let me clean your wounds.” Bernard raised his head and she gasped at the extent of the swelling. After gently wiping his face, she applied a cold compress over his puffy eye.

  François swore savagely. “When I find the skunk who did that to you I’ll kill him.”

  “Calm down. I’m alive, my boy. Thank God it wasn’t worse. That’s what counts,” Bernard said, forgetting his usual formality.

  “Come, upstairs. I don’t want you going back to your own cottage tonight just in case someone has some ideas about continuing his nasty job. You’ll rest in my former bedroom.”

  They slowly proceeded up the stairs. François opened the door of a small room at the end of the hallway and turned on a night-table lamp. Several posters of soccer players decorated the walls. A typical teenager’s room. Cheryl strode straight to the twin bed and fluffed a couple of pillows while François helped Bernard lie down. The poor man cradled his skull and moved his head right and left, whimpering in pain.

  “François, I’ll go get him a couple of pain killers.” She was too distressed to stand idle, watching Bernard suffer.

  “You’ll find a bottle of aspirin in the medicine cabinet of your bathroom. Bernard always insists that the medicine cabinets of the guestrooms be well stocked with the first aid items.”

  She left them and went to her room. In the bathroom, she ran the faucet and splashed cold water over her face. What a horrible night. Her throat suddenly constricted. Doc was dead and Bernard cruelly beaten. She could be next on the murderers’ list.

  To think she went running on her own at night a week ago, to catch the stalker. Granted she was a karate expert but if someone had shot her, all her expertise wouldn’t have helped her. She drank a glass of water and then breathed slowly, inhaling and exhaling deeply to calm her racing pulse. Quelling the surge of fear that slithered down her spine, she grabbed the bottle of aspirin, filled a glass of water for Bernard and rushed back to his room. The poor man was waiting and suffering.

  “Here take these. It will ease the pain.” She handed Bernard the pills and glass. He swallowed the analgesic without protest and gave her back the half empty glass.

  François observed him, his arms crossed on his chest. “Bernard, do you want to sleep or can we talk?”

  “I can’t sleep. I keep on thinking about those two jerks who dragged me out of my cottage.”

  “Did they break in?” François asked, his voice gruff.

  “No, I heard a meow and then several more. I thought my cat had squeezed out of the window so I went out in the yard to look for her. That’s when someone threw a blanket on my head. I lost my balance and fell down. They caught my feet and dragged me away.”

  “I’ll kill them,” François repeated, his hands fisted. “You couldn’t manage to scream at that moment?”

  “I tried but the blanket suffocated me. When we reached the middle of the fields, they stopped. One of them tied my hands behind my back and the other removed the blanket, but stuffed a piece of cloth in my mouth. It was all done so fast.”

  “Poor Bernard. You must have been terrified.” Cheryl rubbed a soothing hand over his arm.

  He nodded. His gaze darted to the window and his shoulders caved as he seemed to relive his ordeal. “I couldn’t talk or move.”

  François gently stroked Bernard’s hair. “Did they ask you something about the statue?”

  “Yes, she said—”

  “She?” Cheryl mouthed the word François shouted.

  “There was a woman there?” François’ eyes narrowed under a deep scowl.

  “Are you sure?” Cheryl gently probed. “Were you able to see her?”

  “I couldn’t see their faces. They had masks covering their heads except for their eyes. Her voice was muffled by the mask but I’m sure it was a woman’s voice. I could even smell her perfume.”

  Cheryl’s mouth twitched in a grimace. “What type of women wears perfume to go on a criminal expedition?”

  François shrugged. “Maybe she had it on all day.”

  Still the thought bothered Cheryl. “What did she ask you?”

  “She said, ‘what do you know about the statue that was on the chapel’s altar?’ and then she removed the gag. That’s when I screamed the first time.” A trembling shook Bernard’s body. “The man…punched me in the face and…” Bernard paused, his eyes widening with dread. “And then he hit me with the gun on my head.”

  “I’m sorry, Bernard.” Cheryl closed her eyes, feeling the old man’s pain, understanding his fear. If these skunks had no scruples about attacking the butler, she might be next.

  “The woman said, ‘If you don’t answer, we can make you talk. Where’s the statue hidden?’ I told her I had no idea. Probably under the rubbles of the chapel. Destroyed or broken in many pieces. The man punched me again. In the stomach. And I doubled up.” Bernard rubbed his throat and cleared it several times.

  Cheryl handed him the glass and he gulped the rest of the water.

  “What happened next?” François probed while flexing his knuckles.

  “She repeated the question. I hurt so much I couldn’t talk. And then we heard steps running. They hit me on the head again and ran. Thank God, you came. I struggled to hold on.”

  “François, I think we should take him to the emergency room. He may have some internal bleeding.”

  A deep scowl gathered on François forehead and his gaze rested on Bernard’s disfigured face. “No.”

  “What do you mean? He needs medical treatment.” She raised her eyebrows doubting she heard him right.

  “People can die in a hospital.” His eyes darkened. “Remember Professor Howard.”

  The blood drained from her face as she thought of her beloved mentor. Bernard was facing a similar situation at the moment but François would do his best to protect his dear butler from a tragic fate.

  “I’m calling our family doctor right away.” He pulled out his cell phone, punched a programmed number and asked the doctor to attend an emergency. “He’ll be here in twenty minutes,” he said as he clicked the phone shut.

  “He’d take a house call in the middle of the night?”

  “Yes. This is the countryside. Doctors do house calls at any time for their patients. Especially when the call comes from the chateau.”

  How could she forget that a count was entitled to some privileges? Especially in his own realm. Still, she was pleased the doctor would arrive soon. Bernard’s black eye would heal in time but the way he patted his belly and clutched his side didn’t bode well.

  “By the way, what happened to the security guard who was supposed to patrol the fields at night?” she asked as she remembered François’ promise to have the police provide surveillance of the area.

  “I put in a request five days ago but my application has yet to be approved.” François raked his fingers through his hair and groaned. “Administrative procedures take too long.”

  “Can you use your title to hurry the process?”

  He snorted. “Believe me I did. That’s why they promised a policeman in a couple of days, instead of two weeks.” His scowl relaxed and a glint softened his eyes as he glanced toward her. “I was too worried about you to let them tarry longer. And now…now, it’s getting more dangerous. As soon as the doctor reassures us about Bernard, I’m going back to the police station. I’ll insist they provide immediate protection around the chateau.”

  His cell phone chimed. François checked it and hurried to the door. “It’s the doctor. He didn’t want to knock or ring and wake up the domestic staff.” François came back a few minutes later with a stocky man wearing a goatee and introduced him to Cheryl. “This is Dr. Leblanc. He was a friend of my father’s. I already briefed him about what happened tonight. Mademoiselle Cheryl Stewart from
Boston.”

  “Enchanté, Mademoiselle,” the doctor said and then turned to Bernard. “When are you going to stop frolicking in the fields?”

  Bernard’s eyes narrowed in a disgusted look and he groaned, obviously not appreciating the joke. “Just check my belly.”

  Cheryl discreetly slipped out of the room to let the doctor examine his patient. She paced the dimly lit hallway back and forth, counting the number of doors to kill the time.

  Five doors on each side. Ten bedrooms. Was that a standard size for a chateau? To think her parents’ house was considered big with four bedrooms. She stifled a nervous giggle. What a stupid idea to compare her parents’ cozy house to this formal impressive castle. Her amble stopped in front of the guestroom on the right of François’ bedroom—the one assigned to his former girlfriend. Her lips twitched in a grimace and she glared at the door. Had he really asked Bernard to have the woman’s clothes removed?

  “Cheryl.” She spun as she heard François calling her. “We’re going to the hospital. Bernard needs blood tests and X-rays. Can you come with us to help?” he asked as if he hadn’t even noticed where she stood.

  She hated to be caught staring at his girlfriend’s room—or ex-girlfriend. Not that it made any difference. For her sanity and her heart’s safety, François should remain as inaccessible as if he stood on the tip of the Eiffel Tower.

  “To help?” she asked, trying to recover her composure.

  “We need you with us.”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll get my purse and join you in a sec,” she automatically answered and then she realized there was nothing for her to do at the hospital. Obviously François didn’t want her out of his sight and for once she didn’t feel like arguing.

  He was a man used to tackling his responsibilities and he’d proven many times he considered her a grave responsibility. Just like Bernard at the moment.

  “My car is right in front of the door,” the doctor said.

  “Thank you but I would rather use our station wagon and have Bernard lie on the back seat.” François supported Bernard down the stairs, seated him on a chair in the Grand Hall and asked Cheryl to wait with the old man while he brought the family car around from the garage.

  A moment later he was back to help Bernard walk to the car. Cheryl lent a hand when they arrived at the car to make sure the old man rested comfortably. Always the gentleman, he held the passenger door open for her. After she sat and buckled her seat belt he slid behind the wheel and took off smoothly, the doctor following in his own car.

  François focused on the dusty roadway dimly lit by the low beam while silence hovered in the car. Cheryl seemed to concentrate on her thoughts and the shadows projected by the trees. If she’d been shocked by the last two hours’ events, she hadn’t shown any sign of panic. Had it occurred to her that she could have been attacked when she went on her own to check the marauder hiding in the fields? The thought pricked at François’ heart. If anything happened to her…

  As soon as he exited the estate and reached the main road he pressed on the accelerator and zoomed toward the hospital.

  Half an hour later Bernard was lying comfortably in a hospital bed at the ER. A few nurses fussed around him to measure his blood pressure, put an IV line in his arm and apply patches on his chest for an electrocardiogram while Dr. Leblanc silently observed. François remained in the doorway with Cheryl, watching the procedures.

  “We have to take him to x-ray.” A technician transferred him to a gurney and wheeled it out of the room.

  François looked questioningly at the doctor who followed Bernard. “I will be with him. I’ll call you when he’s done,” the doctor said. Now that Bernard was under Dr. Leblanc’s care, François could afford to breathe better. “Cheryl, I think we can use a cup of coffee.” He led her to the cafeteria through a maze of corridors.

  The place was deserted at that time of the night. François filled two cups at a vending machine and strode to a table against the far wall. Cheryl sat and sipped her coffee. “What are you going to do if they have to keep him?”

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “We would have to stay here, stick by his bedside.” He focused on her face to make her understand his meaning. “Both of us.” She could be next and he worried about her safety.

  That reminded him he had to call the police now, the quiet cafeteria offering the privacy he needed. “I think I will call the FBI agent first. Let’s see what he suggests.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and she immediately handed him the agent’s card she’d extracted from her purse.

  The agent answered on the first ring and François related the events of the night. “Call the French police and tell them. I’m on my way to talk to the chief. And then we’ll come to see Bernard and question him if he’s up to it.”

  “As long as you don’t tire him. My doctor is with him,” François said as he finished his coffee.

  “I will send the police to investigate the fields and collect evidence if there’s any. See you later.”

  François called the police and gave them a detailed report.

  “How about another coffee?” he asked as he shoved his phone in his pocket. “Maybe a chocolate croissant too?”

  “Good idea.”

  He strolled to the vending machines and brought back the croissants and two more steaming cups.

  “Delicious.”

  He smiled and watched her chew her croissant as if she hadn’t eaten dinner. Emotion and fear must have triggered her hunger.

  She licked her lips. “Is there anything else to do right now?”

  “It’s up to the police and the FBI investigator to take over.”

  His phone vibrated against his hip. Dr. Leblanc informed him that Bernard was back in ER. “Let’s go.” François led her out of the cafeteria.

  They rushed toward Bernard’s cubicle and stopped in their tracks at the sight of four men standing at the entrance, the FBI investigator, the French chief of police and two policemen.

  Cheryl’s eyes rounded as she flicked her gaze from one officer to the other. They were going to exhaust poor Bernard.

  “Only two persons in the room at one time,” Dr. Leblanc said with an ominous look.

  François stepped into the room and motioned to the FBI agent to follow him. “Messieurs,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind waiting for your turn.”

  “But the patient will be too tired soon,” the chief of police protested. “I will come with you. My men will wait with Mademoiselle Stewart.”

  Dr. Leblanc nodded after a questioning look at François. The chief of police approached the bed. Cheryl crossed her arms, resigned to remaining at the door. She’d heard the story already but she’d be more comfortable without the two policemen hovering around her. One of them smiled at her and tried for small talk. “When did you come to France, Mademoiselle?”

  “Almost ten days ago.” Ten days that felt like three months.

  “A series of strange things has happened recently.” The second policeman, his face stern, examined her as if he couldn’t wait to handcuff her.

  She glared at him. “Yes. It’s scary. I didn’t expect this area to be dangerous.”

  “It was the safest county in France, until last week,” he insisted.

  Turning her back she strolled to a chair, next to the nurses’ station and sat, determined to ignore his insinuations. What was the matter with this man? Couldn’t he differentiate between a victim and an aggressor? She wasn’t a victim but she could have been.

  The two policemen looked at each other and followed her. “Mademoiselle,” the nice one said. “Our chief has ordered us to protect you. Please don’t wander around.”

  “Sure.” She snorted with a disgruntled look at his nasty companion. If they were going to stick by her side all day long, her life promised to be fun for the next few days. A real nightmare. She leaned her head on her hand and closed her eyes, wishing she could sleep and wipe away the anxiety simmerin
g in her heart.

  “Cheryl, are you asleep?” François’ voice startled her.

  “Sorry. I must have dozed.” She straightened and looked around. Only the nice policeman remained beside her. “Where are the others?” Her back hurt from sitting too long in a chair. She checked her watch and almost gasped. It was already eight a.m. Lord, what a night.

  “They are done interrogating Bernard.” François explained in a few words the line of questioning and the answers they received. Nothing new as far as she was concerned. “The chief of police will launch a full investigation.”

  “How is Bernard doing?”

  “There are no serious injuries. Only a mild concussion. I’m taking him home as soon as a nurse comes to discharge him. Charles will keep an eye on him while he recovers at the chateau.” François gestured to the unsympathetic policeman standing at the door of Bernard’s cubicle.

  Poor Bernard, as if he hadn’t suffered enough. Now he’d have to put up with the continuous presence of a policeman. A real pain.

  “And Luc will be your bodyguard when I’m not around,” François added.

  “You must be kidding me?” She bolted out of her chair, her fists clasped against her hips.

  “Trust me, Cheryl, I don’t feel like kidding right now.” He blew out an exasperated sigh. “It’s a decision made by your FBI investigator and our chief of police. And I agreed. It’s only for your protection.”

  Protection. Maybe she should print this word on a huge board and stick it to the wall of her room to avoid forgetting all François did was aimed at protecting his people. Don’t misunderstand him, girl. Once she was safe she’d be out of his system for good and he’d return to his usual philandering with a clear conscience. That last thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.

  “Mademoiselle Cheryl, I promise I will be discreet.” His face the color of a juicy plum, Luc fidgeted from one foot to the other. Obviously, he wished he could be anywhere but next to her.

  “It’s okay, Luc.” She wouldn’t complicate the policeman’s job by giving him a hard time. Having him around might even keep François at bay and provide her with the peace of mind she’d lost since she set foot in France.