I had wondered about how Fauchon and Moira had pulled it off, the switch that is. I wondered no more. As I said, there was something about this Manny that was genuine, a warmth and sensitivity the other Manny did not possess. Fauchon was in many respects Manny's double, perhaps close enough in appearance to be his fraternal twin. There was still a bit I didn't understand but figuring out the rest was guaranteed. Fauchon had yet to admit guilt and as we know, Moira Ryan had been silenced forever. It was just a matter of time until all was revealed.
Thorne walked slowly toward him, her eyes wide with astonishment. Manny looked up at the stranger, grinned and began to giggle. A sister rushed over to Thorne, offering her tissues to dry the fresh torrent of tears running down her face. Manny giggled with greater intensity as the strange woman hugged him and smothered him with kisses. She looked up at me for a moment. "This is my Manny," she sobbed, “my sister's child." Thorne continued to cry. When she was finally done, the sister handed her a small piece of notepaper. "What's this?" Thorne asked.
The sister's English was weak, but her words were understood. "Manny, he write a little bit."
Thorne looked down in amazement. I could see her throat tighten. She unfolded the paper and read aloud the solitary word written upon it. It was not a quatrain. It was something far simpler and yet far more miraculous. Manny had written, "Mere", mother.
Fifty-one—REUNION
It was about 10:00 PM when we arrived back in Paris. Thorne went back to her room and we did the same. We ordered up dinner and showered while we waited for it to arrive.
We sat down to dinner in our robes, wet hair, starving, depleted of every ounce of emotion we possessed, and ate as if we had never tasted food before in our lives.
And then we slept as if we were dead, past breakfast and past lunch.
After we woke we spent a few hours running around the city, trying to soak up as much of Paris' charm as possible. The city was gorgeous, with its grand boulevards and monuments. I wanted to stay out all night but tomorrow as they say was another day, a very special day. We were due back at the hotel before dark—it was, after all, Christmas Eve.
Thorne had taken a private room for the occasion. What an amazing woman. She had come through so much in the last two days and was still standing as tall as a giant. She and Alicia had pulled together a spectacular dinner. Manny came too, giggling throughout the night, playing with friends from the orphanage. He picked at the exquisitely prepared main course only to gorge himself on dessert. He showed us that he loved chocolate mousse, wearing it on his face long after the meal was done.
There was just one thought on our minds as we walked back to our room, holding hands, grinning like kids, knowing we'd be all over each other the moment the door closed behind us.
I couldn't wait.
It had been forever. It felt like forever, perhaps longer.
I pressed my mouth against Lido's in the elevator, backing him against the wall, clawing at his sport coat. "Off, I want it off," I insisted with my lips still Krazy-glued to his. His coat was on the floor and I had his shirt pulled out of his pants when the elevator stopped. A mature French couple caught us in the act. My first impulse was embarrassment, but then, this was Paris. They smiled at us and stepped away to catch the next car.
No time to waste. I dove back in. I was moaning. Lido was moaning. I was hoping we didn't set off the fire alarm.
The doors opened onto our floor. We stepped from the elevator but did not part. Lido slammed me into the wall and then I returned the favor.
"Open the door! Open the damn door!"
Lido slipped the key into the lock and we fell into the room. We were on the floor, kissing, peeling clothes, and desperately trying to kick the door closed when my cell phone rang. We paused for a second, looking at each other in disbelief.
Amazing how the mind works. I was in the deepest throes of passion but my guilt-o-meter was still working. I realized that it was Christmas Eve and I hadn't talked to Ma. Lido read it in my eyes as I fished the phone out of my evening bag. The caller ID read MA.
I was gasping for breath as I answered the phone. I put it on speaker so that Lido could hear it all.
"Hey, Brat, it's Christmas Eve, you can't call your mother?"
I rolled my eyes. Lido chuckled. He was a good sport, horny but a good sport all the same. "We just finished dinner. I was going to call you as soon as—"
"As soon as you finished screwing your brains out?"
"Ma. "
"Ah, come on, I know what's been going on...enjoy. Call me in the morning," she said. "Here's your brother."
Lido smirked. He was running his fingertip over my bosom when Ricky came to the phone.
"Hi, Stephanie, did you buy me a present?"
"I'll bring you lots of presents, Ricky, but you can't have them until I come home." I shrugged. I mean what was I supposed to say?
"Did you buy me the Eiffel Tower?"
"The Eiffel Tower?"
"I want one for my keychain so every time I open the door I'll remember you went to Paris."
Pang.
"That's so sweet. I'll get you a nice one."
"Okay, thanks. Ma says I should get off the phone so that you and Gus can play. Bye."
I chuckled and then Ricky's voice disappeared. "Ready?" Lido asked. He was alongside me on the floor, staring deeply into my eyes.
I closed my phone and tossed it away. "Oh yes, baby. Oh yes."
In The Stephanie Chalice Mystery Series
Don’t Close Your Eyes
Ransom Beach
The Brain Vault
Stephanie Chalice will return in Our Honored Dead
Summer 2012
About the Author
A resident New Yorker, Kelter often uses Manhattan and Long Island as backdrops for his stories. He has written three novels featuring street savvy NYPD Detective Stephanie Chalice: DON’T CLOSE YOUR EYES, RANSOM BEACH, and theTHE BRAIN VAULT.
BookWire Review wrote of the character, Stephanie Chalice, “Chalice’s acerbic repartee is like an arsenal of nuclear missiles.”
Early in his writing career, he received support from bestselling novelist, Nelson DeMille, who reviewed his work and actually put pencil to paper to assist in the editing of the first novel. DeMille said, “Lawrence Kelter is an exciting new novelist, who reminds me of an early Robert Ludlum.”
His novels are quickly paced and feature a twist ending.
For more information, please visit the author at: www.lawrencekelter.com, or contact him by email at: [email protected].
Table of Contents
One—OUT OF THE BAG
Two—DREAM A LITTLE DREAM FOR ME
Three—TATTOO
Four—STREET TALK
Five—COME INTO MY PARLOR SAID THE SPIDER TO THE FLY
Six—THREE STRIKES
Seven—THE MALL CRAWL
Eight—THE OTHER SHOE
Nine—HASTE
Ten—THORNE'S GARDEN
Eleven—YUM
Twelve—GUNS
Thirteen—DECK THE HALLS
Fourteen—BAD MOON RISING
Fifteen—DECEMBER RAIN
Sixteen—PAY DIRT
Seventeen—CANDY?
Eighteen—WHO'S WHO?
Nineteen—THE FAITH
Twenty—HERE AND GONE
Twenty-one—GOTCHA
Twenty-two—A SPOONFUL OF SUGAR
Twenty-three—GOOD TIMES, BAD TIMES
Twenty-four—WHAT?
Twenty-five—COME ALONE
Twenty-six—BETRAYED
Twenty-seven—REASON
Twenty-eight—HOPE AGAINST HOPE
Twenty-nine—BIG SHOES
Thirty—ALONE
Thirty-one—SHOWTIME
Thirty-two—UH OH
Thirty-three—THUGS
Thirty-four—WHITE KNUCKLES
Thirty-five—WHO ELSE COULD IT BE?
Thirty-six—RANSOM BEACH
Thirty-seven-
THE COVE
Thirty-eight—OH SHIT
Thirty-nine—SLIP SLIDING AWAY
Forty—IN THE NAME OF GOD
Forty-one—DAMSEL IN DISTRESS
Forty-two—MAKE A WISH
Forty-three—HELP ME
Forty-Four—SOLID RED
Forty-five—RESTLESS
Forty-six—THE MORNING AFTER
Forty-seven—BUSTED
Forty-eight—WINGS UP
Forty-nine—AH HAH
Fifty—MOTHER
Fifty-one—REUNION
About the Author
Ransom Beach (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 2) Page 23
