by Alice Quinn
Léo wandered in. He still seemed drowsy. “What are you two doing?” he asked.
“Erina’s telling me things,” I replied.
She glanced at him quickly and then continued her woeful tale. Léo didn’t join us at the table, but he stayed in the room, listening to every word.
Her voice was without emotion. It had no particular tone to it. She would not stop talking. I figured it had to come out.
When Erina thought about Albania, she saw herself back in the mountains with her mother and father. Or going out on crazy runs with her beloved dog, Nico. For her, Albania was nothing but fond memories and happiness. When she’d left, she thought she would return home again after she’d helped her father pay back what he owed. She would be working off his debts. She crossed the border with other “accompanied” children. There were plenty of kids going through. Always escorted by a man, usually on his own. He would hand out bread and water at regular intervals.
All this in a truck. Days and nights of it.
Suddenly, she stopped talking. It must have been too difficult for her to continue. Léo and I didn’t say anything either. What could we say? There was nothing to add.
She crossed her arms on the table and put her head down.
Léo glanced at me, but I couldn’t think of a way to reassure him. This boy had been with me only a few days, but wow, how he’d changed. He was no longer the sulky teen prone to mood swings—he’d become a knight in shining armor. To the rescue! What was I going to tell his mother? She wouldn’t recognize him when she saw him.
I took Erina by the hand and we plodded back to the bedroom. I imagined she’d need more sleep. I took a short nap alongside her.
A little later, I heard a huge kerfuffle coming from the kitchen. It was mainly Gaston’s voice. He was all excited, hollering, humming, singing . . .
I snagged Rachel Amar’s bathrobe (the softest, fluffiest thing you could imagine), wrapped myself up in it, and went to investigate. My hangover had started to kick in. I wasn’t up for all this racket. I’d had far too much wine the night before. And romance. And other things. What I needed there and then was coffee. A short, strong black espresso.
Gaston was dancing around the kitchen doing some sort of mime? Who knew. Bintou was also all bright eyed and bushy tailed, sipping tea. Laroche was watching with intense concentration. They started a deep and meaningful conversation about the Icelandic poem—the heroic gestures of the saga, the rhythms, the characterizations. Go figure.
I tried to listen, but the yawns got the better of me. “What are you all doing up so early? What time is it?”
“Ten o’clock! If a person’s not up and about by ten a.m.! My goodness!” chuckled Laroche.
“Ten o’clock! Why didn’t anyone wake—” I stopped to yawn.
“You got in quite late last night, didn’t you?” asked Bintou with a definite nudge nudge wink wink undertone to the question.
I turned pink. “Where are the girls? Did Léo take them to school?”
“He took the twins, then went off with Erina,” explained Gaston.
“Erina went outside? Don’t you know how dangerous that is? She’s not supposed to leave! What about Sabrina? Didn’t she go to school? Sabri—”
I hadn’t even finished calling her name and there she was, making her way toward the table, where she sat down and picked up a giant piece of bread, which she then covered in Nutella.
Sometimes that one knocks my shoes off. My blocks? My socks? She surprises me, OK?
“But Sabrina . . .”
“Yeth, Mommy?”
“You’re not at school?
“Well, you didn’t wake me up thith morning, tho I jutht thought that you wanted me to thtay at home one more day. Like I did yethterday. Anyway, it’th thchool vacation on Tuethday, you know.”
“You can’t stay here all day long doing nothing with your little life! Did you have breakfast earlier?”
“Yeth, Mommy. It wath a good breakfatht. Much better than uthual.”
“What did you eat?”
“Blinith with thalmon eggth that the lady made thpecial for uth.”
“What lady?”
She pointed to Bintou, who was giggling. I smiled at her.
“That’s fab, Bintou! You’ve done a great job. It’s very difficult to get a kid to change eating habits. And you did it on the first try!”
“They all really liked the blinis,” she replied.
Sabrina continued to plead her case. “Don’t worry about what I’m doing with my little life today, Mommy. I’ll play with my imaginary friendth. You know, like, Pirate Anorak. All hith thtorieth are pretty fun. I like making up thtorieth for him. You like it when I uthe my imagination, don’t you?”
“Yes, OK, but you could do with coming back to earth at some point, sweetie. Back in the land of reality.”
“I am in the land of reality, Mommy! I like to invent thingth when I play, that’th all. But I never lie. You know that.”
The whole group was following our conversation with interest, probably wondering which one of us was going to win this particular battle.
“Point taken,” I agreed. “I’ll admit that you never lie. That’s true. So, what are you doing now?”
“You mean in my game?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Pirate Anorak ith hungry, tho I’m getting him a bite. Thingth are going OK at the minute. He theemth pretty calm. But I have to keep doing what I’m doing.” She got very excited all of a sudden, rabbiting on and on. There was no stopping this kid. “Well, it’th the full moon, you thee, and it’th very dangerouth. He wanth to thet fire to everything. Thith meanth he hath to be watched all the time. Luckily, I have all my thtring and my yarn. He fell into my trap and now I’ve thtrung him up like a thauthage, Mommy! He wath thaying he wanted to burn thith houthe down and burn you with it. He doethn’t believe that you’re a real thpykayakitht! I told him you were, too, but he wouldn’t believe it. When he knew that I knew that he wath Pirate Anorak, he got all nithe and kind with me. He wanth me to do thrinking on him now. I told him that theeing ath it wath the full moon, it would be better for him to jutht thtay in the clothet without any matcheth. He cried with happineth when I told him I’d go get him thome bread and butter. Bread and Nutella ith even better! He’th going to love thith! When I grow up, I want to be a thpykayakitht like you and help people’th headth get better. Tho, I’ll take thith to him now.”
And off she went with her big chocolatey sandwich.
I could feel the pressure already, and the day hadn’t even gotten started. Raindrops were certainly falling on my head. It felt like it. Great big fat ones.
The gang looked to me, waiting for a verdict.
My brow furrowed. “I wasn’t the same at her age,” I spluttered. “She’s so bright. She has such an incredible imagination. How can I win when I’m up against a girl like that? It’d be a crime to stop her having fun.”
They all nodded.
Clack, clack, bang, bang. Someone at the door. So what else was new? Surely everyone was accounted for. It was too early for this. Rachel Amar wasn’t just a shrink; she was running a drop-in center here!
It was Léo. He was back with Erina and the twins. They jumped up all over me as soon as they saw me, chirping loudly. Such giddy little kippers!
“Our teacher is away this morning. She’ll be here this afternoon! Léo took us to McDonald’s!”
They scurried off to find Sabrina. Pastis went with them, ecstatic at all the action.
“And you? Why aren’t you at school?” I asked Léo.
He didn’t respond but simply asked his own question, only aggressively. “Hey! What’s going on here? You all stuffing your faces? Was breakfast good?”
The others stared, nonplussed.
“Why are you asking?” asked Laroche. “Did you do something to the food?”
Léo guffawed and pointed to Erina, who looked shy and worried. “No. We don’t have time to be fooling around
with food. What’s wrong with you? We have to figure out a way for Erina to pay off her debts. If not, her father and her whole family are going to be in an insane mess.”
“Let’s just go over this again,” said Laroche. “What is the exact problem? We can come up with an exact method—an algorithm, if you like—to solve it. How does that sound?”
“The problem is that Erina has been sold to pay back a debt owed by her father. The reason her father owed this money is because he wanted to send her to Italy for her studies. But now, she’s being used to carry drugs. Muling, it’s called. And when she’s too old to deliver drugs, the guy in charge of her will sell her for . . .”
He stopped, too embarrassed to go on.
“OK, enough, Léo,” I barked. “You’re giving me a migraine. Can’t you see I’ve just woken up? And my mother has sent me a very catchy song, but a song that might spell trouble. I’ll spare you the details.”
I think he was confused by my attitude. “Sorry, Cricri! I didn’t mean to wake you up!”
A teenage boy apologizing. I’d seen it all.
“You didn’t wake me; I was already awake. It’s just that I haven’t totally joined the human race yet. Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. Anyway, these guys can’t do much about Erina and her troubles. These are just normal folks with normal folks’ problems. They’ve come to see a normal folks’ shrink so they can get on with their lives normally, like normal folks do. That’s it! They don’t need you ripping into them all! Because these people have been hard done by enough already.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bintou waving at me, almost hysterically.
“Yes?”
“I absolutely have to say something very important to you.”
Oh no! What now? All the housework was building up again. If I didn’t clean this damned place, how would I ever get paid? I wouldn’t, that’s how!
39
Bintou stepped toward me and whispered, “It’s about Erina. You can’t keep her here. It would be very dangerous. I did a write-up about the child trafficking situation in Europe and I really wish I hadn’t. I can’t remember if I told you or not . . . I think that’s where it all started . . . the burnout.”
I gaped at her. “So is that what you think? That I have no idea how dangerous this thing is? Well, Erina’s in a massive amount of danger too, so what do you expect me to do? Just throw her out on the street? Come on now, Bintou, let’s think this over.”
Laroche turned the sound up on the TV and yelled, “Hey, everyone! Victor Falso!”
“Who is Victor Falso? Is he famous?” I asked, trying to be polite. I wasn’t really paying any attention to him, I was too busy thinking about what Bintou was saying.
“It’s the arsonist. They’re calling him the Mental Pyromaniac or something.”
“Oh, right!”
“Well, it’s almost comical now! He’s taken the judge hostage!”
“What?” everyone shouted at the same time, as if this new twist in the story concerned them directly. I know local stories tend to be more interesting, but it’s not like we knew the guy. I suppose we were in Amar’s house, though. That made it a bit more exciting.
“Yes! Hostage!”
“But what for?” I asked.
“He says he’s sick and tired of waiting for your colleague, Amar. He wants to see her now and he has threatened to burn everyone, starting with the judge, if he doesn’t get to meet with her.”
“Wow! So he’s still asking for her. Why her? He’s out of luck—she’s not around. Won’t be for a while, I imagine. Well, forget about him. I have enough worries. I’m going to go get dressed. I’m expecting someone.”
I felt like the whole world and its dog were after me to solve their problems. Well, I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t have enough room in my brain to worry about everyone.
I headed into the hallway, but Laroche and Bintou intercepted me, eager to bend my ear. Bend my ear. What a weird expression.
“Wait up!” cried Laroche with unexpected authority. “Bintou and I want to finish what we started.”
“Do you think the two of you might be going a little bit overboard with these demands of yours? I’m not even dressed! I haven’t even had my breakfast! And while we’re at it—Bintou, how are things going with Tony down at Sélect? The job?”
“Not that great. I didn’t last long. Some drunken moron put his hand on my ass, so I kicked him in the balls. He rolled around on the floor in agony and Tony fired me.”
“I guessed something like that might have happened. Oh well, that’s the way the cookie crumbles.”
“Should we do another exercise with the orange dishcloth?” asked Laroche.
I frowned, eyebrows meeting in the middle. “Lordy! What did I do to deserve this? It’s loopy! You’re all loopy! Are you trying to put an end to me? Is that what you want?”
I walked away and Gaston shouted after me, “Get a move on! We’ve a lot on our plate. I’ve brought a cassette and recorded a few melodies on it. I’d like us to try a few things out.”
Laroche was upset about the whole orange-cloth thing. He followed me, hoping I’d give him instructions for another exercise. He wasn’t giving up that easily. He was sticking to his guns!
“Shall I make more coffee?” Bintou asked anyone who was still listening, playing the role of hostess with the mostest.
I slammed the bedroom door shut, almost smacking poor Laroche in the face.
“Do you think I could maybe get dressed in peace?” I yelled.
The raindrops from the song were definitely falling. I could feel the pressure of them on my headachy head. The day was getting more complicated by the second.
I managed to grab a quick shower and then put on some proper maid clothes. An old pink tank top and some pink neon shorts from one of the bags I’d brought from the trailer.
As I got ready, I noticed the kidlets sitting on the floor, playing together quietly. They were speaking in muffled voices as they opened and closed the closet door. When they noticed that I was trying to see what they were up to, they locked the door to the big walk-in closet thing and left the room. I could see that Sabrina was smiling, trying to stop herself laughing, maybe.
I decided to have myself some quiet time in the office to catch up on some z’s. Not for long, just a power nap in the big therapist’s chair. Oh soooo comfy.
Around ten minutes later Bintou came in. I knew Laroche was sitting on the couch, waiting for some sort of session to begin, but I’d been trying my hardest to forget about him. She came in on her tippy-toes. Her movements were very exaggerated. She was trying to let me know that the last thing she wanted to do was disturb me. On the corner of the big desk, she put a small tray with some buttered baguette and jam and a big cup of milky coffee, steam wafting up into my face.
“I thought that after that teensy-weensy coffee you had, you wouldn’t say no to a frothy one! Was I right?”
I treated her to one of my widest grins as a thank-you. Laroche stepped into the doorway and held out the famous orange towel. Bintou took the other end.
I watched their little game as I gobbled down my yummy breakfast. Bintou, still holding the orange thingy and studying Laroche’s eyes with great intensity (Laroche seemed to be in a bit of a trance by this point), suddenly said, “Can we just get back to the young girl a second, please?”
“Don’t start, Bintou. Don’t push me. You can’t come anywhere near to understanding. Let me explain a couple of things. She’s Albanian. She’s hiding out here awhile. That’s it. I’ve just given you all the information you need to know. I will find a solution. On my own.”
“Madame Maldonne, are you sure everything is quite all right? I thought you were more reasonable than this. What you’re doing right now is highly dangerous. It’s more than that—it could get you all killed. I know that young girl. I met her when I was writing my report. She’s in with Monsieur Charles’s gang. He’ll end up buying her, I’ve no doubt about i
t.”
“What you were just talking about there? What do you mean when you say ‘gang’? And who’s Monsieur Charles?”
“There’s this man who goes by the name Monsieur Charles, Madame Maldonne. I don’t think it’s his real name, of course. He’s the one in charge of all the drugs around here. He has a legit business as a cover-up, so he can launder the money, but I don’t know what kind of business it is, exactly. One of my sources arranged a meeting with this guy, and I went to visit him in his kingdom. A great big villa in the hills somewhere around Mougins. I was blindfolded on the way over there. I’ve never been able to find the place again. I’ve traipsed up and down countless streets and I’ve tried searching online . . . nothing. The only thing I ever managed to find out about him was the address of a place he used as a rendezvous spot. But I don’t even know if it still exists today. The man is just awful. Open your eyes, Madame Maldonne! You’re going to have to wake up and smell that coffee I’ve just put in front of you! What kind of world do you think you’re living in? He’s had his eye on that young girl for some time now. The human-trafficking business is a big deal these days. Drugs, prostitution, you name it—he’s into it all.”
“Bintou, are you telling me that you know the big boss of this whole deal? The guy who’s responsible for the pain of all these children? The slave master?”
“Yes! That’s exactly what I’m saying!”
“That’s great! You can tell me everything you know, every last detail, and then I’ll pay this guy a little visit. We’ll have a chat and he’ll come to the understanding that early retirement is the only option for him. He’ll forget all about Erina and everything will work out just fine and dandy.”
“What! Madame Maldonne! This guy’s as f-bleeped up as they come! He’s sick in the head. He runs the whole system. He’s emperor of it. The king! Think Tony Soprano, but without a soft, duck-loving side to his character, you know? He’ll swallow you whole. You’d be nothing but an appetizer to him! And then he’ll get ahold of your girl. Please believe me. It’s as simple as that. And you know what? Consider yourself lucky if he doesn’t do the exact same thing to you.”