French Cuisine Can Kill You

by Rebecca Dunsmuir

  "Oh, don't be sarcastic or play the innocent with me. I'm not a fool."

  "You know each other?" asked Louis Lamour.

  "Yes," said Parmentier, "unfortunately we do. She's a sneaky little pest. Be careful Louis, she steals things from people."

  "No, that's not true!" protested Amanda.

  "You're here to annoy and rob old people, I know it,” continued the woman with a hostile tone. “I'm going to report you to management. I’ve had enough of you!"

  Germaine Parmentier walked away with a firm step, followed by her friends who sent looks of disgust at Amanda.

  "You pissed off Parmentier?" asked Louis, amused.

  "It was just a succession of unfortunate misunderstandings," explained Amanda.

  "I like you better now!" said Louis with a grin.

  Amanda blinked. The turnovers hadn’t make her likeable enough?

  Chapter 42

  D 'Artagnan pulled on his leash. No way I'm going outside. Have you seen the weather? You know how much I hate rain!

  "Come on d'Art! This is just a little teeny-weeny rain. It won't hurt you."

  Easy for you to say. You have clothes on! The dog sat on his butt, determined to remain in the room.

  Amanda kneeled in front of him.

  "D'Artagnan, be a good dog. I don't want to go to the castle alone. Please, please, please, come with me. I'll give you a big piece of fresh meat once we're back at the hotel."

  Ah, now you're talking. Let's go! The Great Dane pulled on his leash and walked off, forcing Amanda to move forward. She had to trot behind him to keep up with his pace.

  "Not so fast!" protested Amanda.

  The dog didn’t slow down. Ah, now you complain? This is what you wanted, so keep up!

  It was 10:04 p.m. and pitch-dark when Amanda and d'Artagnan arrived at the Domaine d'Orvilly. The castle had this gloomy veil again, giving Amanda chills. "How come this castle looks so lovely by day, but so terrifying by night?" she said.

  D'Artagnan was on his guard, walking slowly. He mumbled. What the heck are we doing here at this time of night? What an idea. I don't like it.

  They walked around the outside of the castle, Amanda lighting their way with a flashlight, but they didn’t see anybody. Where was this mysterious messenger?

  The dog stopped and growled.

  "What, d'Artagnan? What is it?"

  "Pssst!" said someone.

  D'Artagnan barked. Amanda turned around.

  "Pssst! Just behind you."

  The dog barked again. Amanda turned the other way.

  "In the corner, over here," whispered the same voice.

  Someone was hiding behind the recess of a pillar. Amanda got closer, but d'Artagnan stopped walking and growled.

  "Uh, could you ask your dog to calm down, please? I'm scared of dogs."

  "Sure." Amanda patted d’Artagnan to calm him down. "Shush d'Art, all is fine. Stay quiet now."

  The Great Dane decreased his growling, but didn’t stop entirely.

  "I said quiet."

  D'Artagnan mumbled and went quiet.

  "I'm glad you're here and on time," said the stranger. "I didn't want to wait too long."

  A person with a large hat and a beige trench coat was hiding behind the recess, revealing only half their body. A handkerchief covered their mouth to muffle the voice. Was it a man or a woman?

  "Why did you want to meet at 10:05 p.m. ?" asked Amanda. "Why not 10 p.m.?"

  "Because my favorite show on TV ends at 10 p.m. so I couldn't make it for 10 sharp."

  "Ah. I see."

  "You're alone?"

  "Yes. Well, with my dog, obviously."

  "Good. You must understand that I'm taking a huge risk by meeting you tonight. I need to be sure that all this will stay between us. Capisce?"

  "Uh, yes, capisce. No word to anybody, I swear. So, what did you want to tell me?"

  "I’m not going to tell you anything."

  "Hmm... OK. So why are we here?"

  "I'm going to give you something. But you must be very careful. Once I give it to you, you're responsible for it. I'll always deny that I gave it to you."

  Amanda frowned. "I don't even know who you are."

  "Exactly. You don't know and you'll never know."

  "OK. Good. So, what is it?"

  "Wait a minute, not so fast."

  The stranger lifted the brim of their hat a bit and furtively looked around. "I want to make sure there's nobody else here watching us."

  Amanda chuckled. "I can assure you that there isn't. It's Sunday, past ten at night, it's dark, cold, and rainy. Believe me, nobody wants to be here now."

  So why are we here? wondered d'Artagnan, looking at Amanda with a desperate look meaning 'let's go home.'

  "All right. I'm going to give you something of extreme importance. You'll have to keep it securely because I have no copy of this. Once it's in your hands, it's gone. Capisce?"

  "Yes, yes, capisce... So, what is it?"

  With gloved hands, the person reached for a notebook in a plastic grocery bag and handed it to Amanda. She took it, but the stranger didn’t let it go. "Remember. Not a word to anybody, and you never saw me, capi—"

  "Yes, yes, capisce. Got it. Thanks."

  The person released the book. "That's it. You're on your own now."

  The person ran away... and came back.

  "I forgot to tell you: the monkey is the million."

  "The monkey is the mil—what?" repeated Amanda, puzzled.

  The stranger ran away again... and came back again.

  "What now?" asked Amanda, confused.

  "It's just that my car is parked the other way. Good night."

  Amanda watched the stranger running away in the dark.

  "'The monkey is the million?'" she looked at d'Artagnan. "What the heck does that mean?"

  Don't look at me! How would I know? Are you telling me that we came here at night, in the cold and the rain, so that a crazy stranger gives you a notebook about a monkey!? Seriously?

  The dog raised bewildered eyes at Amanda, wondering how people could be so stupid sometimes...

  Chapter 43

  “T

  he monkey is the million? What the hell does that mean?" asked Kate on the phone.

  Amanda was sitting at the little desk in her hotel room, turning the pages of the notebook the stranger had given her.

  D'Artagnan was enjoying his promised fresh piece of meat, shamelessly making inelegant noise while chewing, mouth wide open.

  Bronx was sitting on a chair in front of him, observing him with disgust. Dogs! No manners. How can she prefer this beggar to me?

  "I have no clue," said Amanda, "this is what I'm trying to figure out. Looking at the pages, it makes me think of a child's notebook, you know, the ones they make in kindergarten where they put their stickers and draw or write down something about the activities they did during the day in class. I wonder if this person made a mistake and gave me their kid's notebook instead of the right one? I wouldn't be surprised. This person didn't sound very bright."

  "Don't jump to conclusions so fast. Is there a name written somewhere on the notebook?"

  Amanda perused the document carefully. "No."

  "Does it look organized and clean or do you have scribbles here and there?"

  "No, it looks organized and clean. No scribbles at all. It's just all these stickers."

  "Then it's not a kid's notebook. Believe me, I’ve got three. If there's not one scribble or a crooked name proudly written on it, it doesn't belong to a kid. Those stickers must be some sort of code. What kind of stickers do you have?"

  Amanda reviewed the pages again. "Hmm... I have several stickers of the same banana, several stickers of the same truck, several stickers of the same pencil, and several stickers of the French flag.”

  "Hmm... What about the monkey then? Do you have a sticker of a monkey somewhere?"

  Amanda quickly flipped the notebook's pages.

  "Good question...
I don't see any. The rest is only blank pages."

  "Well, I'm afraid that I can't help you with this now because we're going to the park and the kids are getting impatient. I'll talk to you later."

  "All right. Bye for now."

  Amanda lay on the bed and kept studying the notebook. She took a notepad and a pen from her nightstand and began to write.

  "All right guys. Let's sum up what we have so far," she said to d’Art and Bronx. "We have a victim, Martin Plouque, who was poisoned with a deadly cocktail of pesticides at a construction site." Amanda was waving her hand holding the pen in the air. The pets' eyes were following the moving pen. "This victim was a bad guy, hated by the whole village, and he had the bad habit of blackmailing people. Then, we have some people running the city their own way—the mayor, Desplanques, and Barbon, the construction guy—you follow me?"

  D'Artagnan wiped his tongue over his nose, and Bronx closed his eyes.

  "OK, let's say you follow. And we have the architect, Montel who hates Barbon because she holds him responsible for the death of her son. And then, we have the casino project. Ah, and I mustn't forget," Amanda whispered, "we have a mysterious guest in this hotel who told me to stay out of this 'I-don't-know-what-yet,' and now I have a notebook with funny stickers. I don't know about you, guys, but it's time that I put all these things together because I'm fed up with living in this room with the two of you. No offense, but we need space."

  Bronx opened one eye. You mean that I'm the one who's fed up living with the two of you. This room is perfect for me. You can leave anytime.

  D'Artagnan looked at Amanda with an optimistic look, mouth opened and tongue out. I have faith in you. By any chance, do you have another piece of this yummy meat?

  Chapter 44

  B eautiful rays of sunshine flooded in Amanda’s bedroom that Monday morning. But what really awakened her was her stuffy nose and repetitive cough. Normandy’s humid weather had finally gotten to her lungs.

  Within a few minutes, Amanda emptied half the tissues box on the nightstand. She sat on the bed, moaning and sneezing. D'Artagnan put an empathetic paw on her thigh. 'Told you not to go out last night. You didn't listen to me...

  Bronx was sound asleep near one of the windows, lying on his back, legs up, basking in the sun like a king.

  Amanda made an effort to stand on her feet, but her head kept spinning. She held onto the door frame.

  Keeping herself warm in her robe, she walked downstairs, hoping Régine would have some hot herbal tea to offer her. She found her at a table in the dining room, scratching off an instant lottery game.

  “Dammit! Another 5 Euros lost,” complained Régine. “Oh my, look at you!” she exclaimed when she saw Amanda. “Sit down, honey. I’ll get you something.” Régine walked to the old Norman cabinet, all excited.

  "Oh nooo..." whispered Amanda.

  Régine opened the creaking door, removed several bottles of Calvados from the cabinet, and displayed them proudly on top of it, as if they were part of a precious collection. She put her hands on her hips, going through a self-debate. Which one would best cure a cold? After a few seconds, she reached a verdict and picked a bottle. "This one! It's going to cure you in no time."

  Régine removed the screw top of the bottle, took a large empty glass and filled it to the top with the copper-brown liquid. She brought the glass to Amanda who was half awake at the table. Régine put the glass down on the table with a firm hand. "Here you go. Drink this. Only the good old remedies work."

  "Régine, I don't think this is a good idea. I'm not used to drink alcohol. I'll be drunk and sick if I swallow this." Amanda sneezed and blew her red nose in a tissue. It felt like she had done this a hundred times since she had woken up.

  "Who cares? You're sick, you talk through your nose, and you already look drunk. Nobody will see the difference."

  Good point, thought Amanda. She took the glass, looked at the liquid with an ounce of doubt, and raised her red-rimmed eyes to Régine. "It really works?"

  "Of course, it works! Go ahead."

  And Amanda swallowed the large glass of Calvados... in one shot. Her face turned red. She slammed down the empty glass on the table, loudly, gasped and yelled.

  "Oh my God! That's awful! It burns!"

  "Of course it burns! Why did you swallow it all in one shot? I never told you to drink it all in one shot! That's crazy."

  "You tell me this now?" complained Amanda, "Oh... now I feel dizzy and my stomach hurts..."

  "That's good. It's gonna kill the bug."

  "It's gonna kill me too."

  "I'll prepare you some toast and coffee. You'd better not have an empty stomach after drinking this."

  As Régine left the room, Titi trotter over, holding something in his mouth. He stopped and looked at Amanda with defiance.

  "Today, I look as ugly as you, Titi. No, wait. Uglier than you... What do you have in your mouth?" She leaned toward the dog. What seemed to be a business card was stuck in Titi's crooked teeth. "Where did you get that? Don't eat it," said Amanda. "Oh, wait..."

  There was a picture of someone on the business card, and Amanda knew this face. She recognized the mysterious client staying in the hotel. She had to get this card, not an easy task.

  "Titi, be nice,” said Amanda with a soft voice, “come here and give me the card, please."

  The tiny dog with the green ‘rooster comb’ frowned and growled. Amanda moved her hand toward him cautiously. "You're a good dog, Titi. Come on, give me the card."

  The dog barked and the card fell on the floor. Amanda seized it quickly. The deceived dog tried to bite her hand.

  "Titi! No biting! You're a bad dog. Go to your pillow, now," Régine put a platter in front of Amanda, and pointed a threatening finger at Titi. "I'm so sorry, Amanda. Titi always has a bad temper with customers. I suspect he has an issue with Paul and me running this hotel. Did he hurt you?"

  Amanda quickly shoved the business card in the pocket of her robe.

  "No worries, Régine, I'm fine."

  "Good. Now try my homemade apple jelly on this salted buttered toast, and have some coffee. You'll feel better soon."

  Régine had spread half an inch of butter and a generous layer of jelly on the toasts. Amanda felt nauseated. After all, Normandy would not be Normandy without its rich salted butter and cream, right? As she didn’t want to be rude to Régine who was so kind to her, Amanda closed her eyes and bit slowly into the first slice, feeling relieved that, for once, food didn’t taste like anything. She chewed and forced a smile. Régine smiled back proudly.

  "Régine, what do you know about this guest staying in the room next to mine. Have you seen him before?"

  "Mister Durant? No, not as far as I can remember."

  "That's his name, Durant?"

  "Yes, Marc Durant. Why do you ask? Is there a problem with him?"

  "Oh no, not at all. He looks familiar and I thought I knew him from somewhere, but I must be wrong."

  The phone at the reception desk rang.

  “Excuse me one minute,” said Régine. She walked away to the desk.

  While masticating her chunky toast, Amanda had a look at Régine’s instant lottery game left on the table. There were five slot machines that had to be scratched off to reveal various hidden symbols of different values. The symbols were fruits, and the strawberry symbol had the highest value. So, the more strawberries uncovered, the bigger the prize. Unfortunately, Régine’s game had apples and grapes only, which had won her nothing.

  Régine came back in the dining-room and pointed at the game with a bitter face. “Yeah, see, I earned peanuts.”

  And although her brain was foggy, when Régine said the word ‘peanuts,’ Amanda finally understood something.

  Chapter 45

  P atrick Leroy

  A. F. I. Department

  French National Lottery

  Wrapped warmly in bed with two additional blankets Régine had given her, Amanda read the business card several times.
No doubt, the picture on the card was the mysterious guest.

  "A.F.I.? What does that mean? So… my mysterious neighbor is lying, registered in the hotel as Marc Durant, but his real name is Patrick Leroy... And, surprise, he works for the French National lottery. Certainly not a coincidence. Why does he need to lie about his identity? What do you think, guys?"

  D'Artagnan's attention was absorbed by a cartoon playing on TV. The dog’s ears perked up as he followed the fast action on the screen.

  Bronx woke up slowly, stretched his legs, and yawned loudly without shame. What time is it?

  "I only see two possibilities," continued Amanda. "Patrick Leroy is either here because he was involved in some bad business related to the casino project—maybe he and Martin Plouque knew each other and had made some deal together?—or, maybe, he needs to hide his identity for another reason. The French National lottery might have sent him here on purpose? Either way, it's related to the casino project for sure."

  D'Artagnan stood up and barked at the television. A character from the cartoon—a cat—was harassing a dog and chasing him away. This re-enactment of his actual life was too disturbing for the dog. Damn cats! They're all the same!

  Bronx smiled. That's called good reality TV.

  "D'Artagnan, shush! Behave please," said Amanda.

  The dog stopped barking and made a weird noise that sounded like a descending growl. He sat down, eyes fixed on the television screen, hoping that justice would prevail.

  Amanda flipped through the pages of the notebook again. There were several rows of stickers on several of the pages. Each row started with one truck sticker, or one flag sticker, or one pen sticker. For the first time, Amanda noticed something else. The same tiny signature at the end of each row. But she couldn't read it. She could only recognize the first letters of the first and last names: J.P.

  "Hmm... J.P. Who's J.P.?"

  Amanda reviewed all the names of the people she knew in Orvilly-Sur-Mer and wrote them down on a paper.

  "Wait a minute..." said Amanda, "this could be the notary's initials, Jean Perrier. Has Jean Perrier anything to do with all this?"