by J. T. Lundy
Eustace looked more determined than ever. He chuckled viciously. “All right, Jason, but you’re going down. Today is my day.”
“Very well,” Stumpy/Aceau said. “Monsieur Tiny, you have something to prove. Can we see this proof?”
“One simple phone call will reveal the truth about Jason Barnes. I assume you can help us out with the necessary communications, Sister Claudette? Do you have a fax machine or email?”
Stumpy looked around and walked behind the desk. “Here is a telephone.” He touched the top of the receiver and searched the room. Sister Claudette cleared her throat. She nodded to a computer and all-in-one printer at the side window. “Yes, you can use the fax machine.”
Eustace turned the telephone toward him and dialed some numbers. “Can we put it on speaker phone?”
“Of course.” Stumpy pushed a button on the phone and disconnected the call. Eustace dialed again. Sister Lucia reached over and pressed a button. The speaker came to life.
“I had too much wine for lunch,” Stumpy said.
A pleasant woman’s voice answered. “Kankakee County Court—public notices and reports. This is Mary.”
Sister Claudette sat behind her desk. Sister Lucia stood behind her. Eustace stood in front of the desk, breathing heavily trying to catch his breath. Stumpy and I stood together. We all stared at the phone.
Eustace spoke in a loudspeaker phone voice. “Hello, Mary. This is Eustace Small calling from France.”
Mary’s voice took on an exasperated tone. “Hello, Eustace. Making the daily call to check on the Barnes’ case?”
“Today is the big day. I’m here with the French attorney, Monsieur Aceau, who is handling my late stepmother’s will.”
“Former stepmother,” I said under my breath.
“Bonjour, Madame,” Stumpy said.
“Would you be so kind, Mary, to fax over the automatic conviction notice that took effect today for Jason Barnes?”
Eustace smiled and looked around at us.
Stumpy said he had wired the money and even had a receipt, but still, I worried. I thought back to senior year in high school. Stumpy and I sat in a movie theater waiting to see Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace. I gave Stumpy money to go buy popcorn and he never came back. He mistakenly returned to the wrong theater and became so engrossed in Notting Hill, he didn’t realize his mistake. I looked at Eustace. He was so confident I suddenly became terrified.
Why didn’t I check the wire transfer? The odds of Stumpy messing it up were about the same as him ogling a short girl. I looked at the clock. Five minutes past three. The wire room was closed. Even if Stumpy wired the money correctly, what if the payment clerk notified the court I was in France? Could they put out an arrest for me for fleeing the country even though I had paid my fine? I chewed the inside of my cheek and ground my teeth.
Stumpy stared at the phone like he wanted to bite it. I kept forgetting he had a ton riding on this call, too.
We could hear papers stirring over the speaker all the way from Illinois like green beans in the hopper. “This is interesting.”
“What?” Stumpy and Eustace said at once.
Mary’s voice became chipper again. “There is no conviction notice for Jason Barnes, just the opposite. The conviction against him has been revoked. Mr. Barnes paid his obligation early this morning.”
Eustace looked like he was choking down an ear of corn. His skin turned pale and his knees shook. He was about to crumble.
My insides screamed for joy.
Stumpy remained calm, ever the professional lawyer. “Ms. Mary, could you fax me the payment notice and documentation of the revoked conviction? The fax number is …” He looked at Sister Claudette.
Sister Claudette said the number to Mary. Stumpy then ended the phone call.
“Thank you, Sister.”
Sister Claudette put her hand on Stumpy’s arm. “Thank you, Stumpy.”
Eustace looked back and forth between Stumpy and Sister Claudette.
Stumpy ripped off his beard. “That’s right. I’m not Aceau.” He threw his beard at Eustace and hit him harmlessly in the chest. “Remember me? Stumpy? The fat kid you used to make fun of?”
“Amen and Alleluia,” I shouted. “The wine is mine and the good Lord can expect me on Sundays.”
Sister Lucia clapped her hands.
Eustace’s jaw opened and shut but no words came out.
Sister Claudette spoke with an authoritative voice. “Jason, it appears this difficulty is behind you. You are now free and clear to inherit St. Sebastian.” The fax machine made a click and a beep and pages began purring out. “We still need that passport. Any word from the consulate in Bordeaux?”
I hadn’t told the Morceau sisters about the passport. It didn’t seem relevant, and why add to my character flaws? “I should be receiving it early next week,” I said confidently and truthfully. Since I couldn’t find Hammersmith, I would have to call the court and have them send it to my apartment. I could have Lucky Mike pick it up and express it over to me. I’m sure he would be happy to get his own passport back.
“Passport!” Eustace regained his energy. “This isn’t over yet.” He pointed at me. “I know Jason entered this country illegally and I’m going to prove it. He must have a fake passport or something—” Eustace looked at me sharply. “—and that is a Federal crime.” He shook his finger at me. “And that is a Good Character Clause violation.” He ran out the door. “And I’ll inherit the vineyard!”
I shook Sister Claudette and Sister Lucia’s hand. “Thank you.”
“What’s this passport business about?”
“Nothing you need to worry about, Sister.”
CHAPTER 25
“We showed that bastard Eustace,” I said.
“I wonder about him,” Stumpy said.
Stumpy and I walked home immensely relieved after our meeting with Eustace and the sisters. What a wonderful feeling to not have the impending doom of prison hanging over your head. I picked up stones and flung them further down the dirt road. I picked up another one and threw it as far as I could. “Yes!” The blue sky, the green vines, the sandy-colored road, they all looked so vivid. I was free.
“You better call the court first thing and see about getting your passport back.”
We walked up the drive. “Number one on the list.”
Jacqueline and her mother were waiting for us on the patio. We were supposed to give them a cemetery and chapel tour and we were late. I sighed. “Make that court call number two on the list.”
Stumpy walked with Marjette, Jacqueline, and me into the vines toward the chapel on the hill. The vine colors were crisp in the late afternoon sun. Their leaves were a vivid bright green on their sunny side and a deep cool green on their shady side. The afternoon breeze had settled into wafts and the earth and air were blanketing us with soothing warmth.
When we reached the cemetery I couldn’t contain my excitement. I showed Jacqueline all the pictures and told her the names of my ancestors that I could remember.
“Our family tomb is in the Père Lachaise cemetery in Paris,” Marjette said.
“It is so crowded and dreary there.” Jacqueline looked down the ridge and to the grand view of the vineyard. A gust blew and the tree leaves softly rustled around us. “I would rather be buried here.”
Marjette frowned. “Let’s go see the chapel. I really don’t like cemeteries. Your live family members are what’s most important.”
“I don’t have any live family members.” I ran my hands over the vault and photographs. “This is my family.”
Marjette turned red, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
Jacqueline put her hand on my shoulder. She looked at me with empathy, or pity, but she seemed concerned. “You have Stumpy.”
Stumpy punched me in the arm. “Yeah, bro.”
“And Sister Claudette and Sister Lucia,” Marjette said.
“And Jacqueline,” Stumpy said practically sho
uting, his eyes open wide, the expression on his face implying it was all so obvious.
Jacqueline looked to the ground and spoke softly. “Yes, and me, too.”
I could have hugged them all, but I felt too awkward. “Thank you. You all are very kind.”
We walked up the rocky road to the chapel. The black Citroën and two police cars were parked on the side. One belonged to the local police. The other was a French National Police car.
Sister Claudette and Sister Lucia were speaking to the officers.
The two national police officers were serious and official-looking. They wore black SWAT-like jumpsuits and commando boots. They had pistols holstered on the belts around their waists. The older one had award badges pinned to his left breast and gold epaulets on his shoulders.
The national officers spoke to the local gendarmes and looked like they had assumed control. They gave orders to the local officers, who then left.
The award-decorated officer spoke with Sister Claudette and then spoke into his radio. He and the other national officer then left too.
We stood to the side and politely didn’t ask either of the sisters anything about the police, but I presumed everyone wondered what the hell was going on.
Sister Claudette walked over to us. “Does anybody know of anyone who may have borrowed a gold chalice from this chapel?”
My knees felt week. “Borrow? What do you mean, Sister?”
A television news helicopter hovered over us for a minute and then headed in the abbey’s direction.
“I was afraid of that,” Sister Claudette said.
“Afraid of what?”
“A gold chalice is missing from the chapel. I reported it stolen this morning and word is starting to get out.”
“Out of all those relics and cups someone only took one?” I rubbed my chin and couldn’t help but bite a nail. “That’s strange.”
“The thieves were experts. They took the one thing of real value.” Sister Claudette looked away to compose herself. “The Joan of Arc chalice has been stolen.”
Jacqueline and her mother both gasped. “The Joan of Arc chalice. Oh, no!”
Sister Claudette shook her head and looked to the ground. “I know. I feel terrible. Only a few people knew St. Sebastian had it. I figured that if we kept a low profile and didn’t surround it with guards and electronic contraptions it would be less likely to be stolen. And never did I expect someone to steal from a church.”
Saliva was accumulating in my mouth and I found it hard to swallow. “Joan of Arc chalice? Is that a big deal?”
“The Joan of Arc chalice is a national treasure,” Marjette said.
“It’s priceless,” Jacqueline said.
“Priceless,” I said, softly. I looked to Stumpy. He avoided my gaze and looked to the sky.
Stumpy and I were silent as we entered the chapel. We stopped and looked at the relic shelf. Before I had thought one missing cup would be hard to notice, but as we all stared and talked about the Joan of Arc chalice, there now seemed a huge void at the end of the row. An intense pressure weighed on my chest. My stomach turned and I felt sick. I thought I might faint.
Stumpy looked to be having the same symptoms.
“The thief must be a godless, sinful person,” Sister Claudette said.
Jacqueline shook her head. “An enemy of France. I shudder to think this type of person could be in our midst.”
Stumpy wiped his eye. “It’s just terrible.”
“It was obviously the act of a desperate person,” I said. “May God forgive them. But let’s remain positive. Such a high-profile treasure is bound to turn up.”
Damn it. I was counting on nobody noticing one small chalice missing. I was going to replace it, eventually, honest I was, but nobody would believe that. The authorities would be able to track down the eBay transaction. It was only a matter of time before I was found out.
Sister Claudette looked at me proudly, which made me feel terrible. “Jason is right. We must pray for this troubled individual and for the safe return of the chalice.”
“We should eat,” Sister Lucia said. “That will make us feel better.”
Stumpy perked up. “We can eat at the vintner’s house.”
“Wonderful,” Marjette said. “Jacqueline and I would love to cook.”
“The abbey pantry has Cornish hens,” Sister Lucia said. “I’ll bring some over.”
I grabbed Stumpy’s arm and we walked ahead. “Stumpy and I will go to town to buy dessert. Use whatever you want in our kitchen. We will see you soon.”
We said goodbye and quickened our pace. Once far enough ahead and out of the ladies’ sight, we broke into a run. When we arrived at the house, we jumped in the car and headed straight for Aceau’s office.
Stumpy and I stood outside Aceau’s office door. A man and woman came out of another office. They looked at us suspiciously and exited the building. Stumpy had his costume on. He adjusted his beard. “This confirms you’re an idiot,” I said.
“I want to go up against the real Aceau.”
“How can you be more realistic than the person you are portraying?”
“Acting! You be the judge.”
Stumpy knocked on the door and we entered.
Aceau stood up when he saw us. “You, Barnes! We have a serious problem.”
“I know. That cup your client bought—”
“Is the Joan of Arc chalice! You stole it from St. Sebastian.”
I was walking a fine line here with Aceau. I would have to be careful not to risk my inheritance. “Someone allegedly stole it.” I spoke slowly. “Your client has it. That would make him a prime suspect.”
Stumpy assumed his Aceau persona, which I had to admit, was more dignified than Aceau himself. “We propose to reverse the transaction and return the chalice to its rightful owner.” Stumpy stroked his beard. “We, unfortunately, must request a payment plan to return the thirteen thousand one hundred euros.”
“Who are you? I’ve seen you before.”
“I’m Monsieur Barnes’s attorney.”
Aceau snapped his fingers. “The limousine in Bordeaux. That’s where I saw you, but you didn’t have a beard.”
“He’s in disguise,” I said.
Aceau looked back and forth at us like we were nuts.
“You want the Joan of Arc chalice back for thirteen thousand one hundred euros on credit? My client estimates the value at between three and five million euros.”
I sat down on the sofa, dizzy. I slapped my forehead. “Three to five million? Your client is a shark. He knew what that cup really was.”
Aceau looked unconcerned. “You initiated the transaction. There is nothing you can do. My client is not interested in an exchange.”
My eye twitched and I jumped up. I had to fight the urge to strangle him. “We could make this all public. You’d go down, too, Aceau.”
“You’d risk being convicted and forfeit your claim to the vineyard?”
I sat back down.
“I didn’t think so.”
He had me. “Okay. I’ll keep this quiet for now. But I must tell you something. My former stepbrother Eustace has been in town all week and will probably be contacting you to accuse me of passport fraud.”
“I haven’t seen him.”
“Yes you have.” I pointed to Stumpy. “That’s why he’s dressed up. We’ve been fooling Eustace. He’s pretending to be you.”
“Pretending to be me?” Aceau pointed at Stumpy. “He’s me?”
Stumpy looked offended. “Why yes. I am Monsieur Aceau.”
“He’s a horrible me.” Aceau pointed at me. “The car wreck! I thought that was suspicious. You were the monk. That’s why you’re bald.”
I nodded. It didn’t matter if Aceau knew the truth now or not.
“You’re nothing but one deceitful wreck after another. Why would the nuns have anything to do with you?”
It was a good question, and I guess he was right, but I had to push my guilty f
eelings aside. “We will keep quiet on this chalice thing if you’re good on Stumpy impersonating you.”
“What about the passport allegations?”
“I will have a passport in a couple of days and we can notarize the inheritance and all this will be over.”
Aceau rubbed his forehead. “I hope so. Is there anything else you’ve done?”
“No.”
Aceau looked over at Stumpy. “He was me?”
“Better,” Stumpy said.
CHAPTER 26
Stumpy and I walked around the house and onto the patio. The recently buried sun cast warm embers across the western sky. Jacqueline and Marjette sat at the table. Empty dishes and two burning candles were before them.
“Where’s the dessert?” Jacqueline asked.
Stumpy and I looked at each other accusingly. We had left over two hours before on the precept that we were going to buy dessert.
Jacqueline looked at us suspiciously. “You missed supper. Mother and I made Cornish hens. We ate without you and then Sister Claudette and Sister Lucia left. Reporters wanted to talk to them about the missing Joan of Arc chalice.”
My stomach churned. “We got sidetracked. I had to talk to Aceau about the inheritance.” It was the truth, but not all of it. I hated not telling the whole truth to Jacqueline, but would she understand? Would anybody?
“I had a great performance,” Stumpy said. “But I must admit there is only one true Aceau.” He walked inside. “I’m going to change back into Stumpy.”
“What’s he talking about?” Jacqueline asked.
“His acting. I’ve created a monster, though I do say he has talent.”
Stumpy called from inside. “We have to make that phone call about the passport.”
I don’t know why I kept forgetting about it. “I have to make this call,” I said. “We’ll be just a minute.”
Jacqueline closed her eyes. “Mother and I are getting used to waiting.”
“I’ll hurry.” I went inside and made the phone call to Illinois.
“Kankakee County Court—Public Notices and Records. This is Mary.”
“Hello, Mary. This is—”
“I know, Eustace. You’re my daily European call.”
