Chapter 32: Jean-Claude
We had booked an apartment in Nice online, one that accepted pets and had a parking space. It was also close to the prison so Emmy could visit her dad. We agreed that if she looked after the dog I would only eat occasionally and, big dog that he was, he should survive for a while. She came back from her first prison visit looking glum.
‘It is a horrible prison, old and overcrowded – and I think that Dad has been in a fight,’ she said sounding depressed.
‘Then I feel sorry for the other inmates,’ I said trying to cheer her up. ‘We can’t leave George in there, it wouldn’t be fair on them.’
She wasn’t amused and stroked Baz absentmindedly. ‘I asked his lawyer to visit us here tomorrow night, so we can discuss his case,’ she told me.
‘I did manage to get a guy out of a Russian prison once. Not sure if Nice would be that easy though. I read that there have been about eleven escapes from French prisons by helicopter. Not sure if my mate Andrei would let me use his helicopter for that,’ I pondered aloud.
‘And then my dad would have to be on the run for the rest of his life. I don’t think I like that option. By the way, he says that this guy Roger is holding some cash for you. He managed to withdraw about 50,000 euros before they blocked your account,’ she said.
This was excellent news! I could always do with a bit of extra cash and I’d be able to give Emmy some to pay for the lawyer. I got in touch with Roger and we arranged to meet in a café in Antibes.
‘Terrible business, this. I can’t believe they suspect George of murder,’ said Roger when we met in the café.
‘I know. We’re doing everything we can to get him out,’ I said as we sat down at a table and ordered beer.
‘I’m surprised you came back – they’re looking for you too. Good thing you don’t look anything like that sketch they have of you,’ he said.
‘Have you been to see George yet?’ I asked him.
‘Yes, once. It’s a depressing place that, but if anyone can handle himself in a prison it’s George.’
Very true. I’d always wondered how my man George would do against Andrei’s man Sergei. Not sure who I’d put my money on... I bought Roger a few beers and then I took the bag of money from him and headed back to Nice.
Maître Delorme visited us the next evening. I’m sure she was very good at her job but she didn’t think George had a very good chance of avoiding a lengthy prison sentence. She didn’t know who I was as I’d just introduced myself as a family friend, there to lend Emmy moral support. When she’d left, I packed a bag and told Emmy I would be gone for a few days.
‘Where are you off to? I thought you came here to help!’ she said, obviously disappointed.
‘I did and I will. There are just a few things I need to do, or rather want to do, and you don’t want to be there when I do them,’ I assured her.
‘Promise me it won’t involve dogs,’ she said, and gave me an appealing look.
‘My dear, it most certainly will!’ I said brightly.
She wasn’t pleased, but by now she knew me well enough not to persist. I wasn’t going to go out without just one more Yorkie and maybe a bichon frisé if I could find one. It was time to paint the town red and I couldn’t have Emmy there to see it.
Language in the Blood Page 50
