by Alice Quinn
“It’s just the way it is. The guy with the gun gets to be in charge.”
“No,” said Sabrina. “I’m in chawge. I’m in chawge of the whole wowld.”
Sabrina has a thing about authority. No idea where she gets that from.
46
Simon giggled to himself a bit further away. “Punch show very funny.”
“It’s not Punch, it’s Dopey and Dumbo, the two broomsticks.”
“No cur’in! Punch ’ere cur’in?” cried Emma.
It looked like the nippers were having an awesome Sunday. Even Lisa had stopped crying and was looking at us all with a cheeky smile on her face.
“Go ahead, then. Are you going to ask your question?”
He looked at me suspiciously. “Why do you want me to ask it?”
I rolled my eyes again. “Sweet Jesus. We’re not getting anywhere here. You like to make things complicated, don’t you?
“Because we’re idiots, right?”
“OK, let’s just drop it. What’s your question?”
“I know what game you’re playing. You stupid fucking bitch!”
“So, what’s my game, then?”
“You think you’ll get us to hang out for awhile, so that whoever you just called will roll up here and catch us in the act.”
“Nice one, Marco! You sure know what you’re doing!” said Dumbo. You could tell he looked up to Dopey.
“Seems logical to me, that’s all,” replied Marco/Dopey.
“Except that’s not actually my reason,” I said.
“OK,” Dumbo said. “Just to show you we’re not bothered by your antics, we’ll stay here awhile and you’ll answer the question. But first, go ahead and tell us your real reason, if you’re so smart.” He nodded over to Dopey. He was clearly hoping Dopey liked his style.
“I’m curious, that’s all,” I said. “Also, when the cops show up, I’ll be able to tell them why you attacked me.”
“What cops?”
“The ones I called.”
“You didn’t call anybody. You sure didn’t call any cops. You just wanted us to believe you did.”
“Wanna bet?”
There was a long silence, and he asked solemnly, “What did you do with the envelopes you found in the trash can?”
“Envelopes in a trash can or in some trash cans? Because if you’re going to question me, I’d like to make sure the questions are precise. I don’t want to end up being thrown off the Bridge of Death for giving the wrong answer.”
“Thrown off what?”
“The Bridge of Death.”
“What bridge? There’s no bridge.”
I asked, “Have you never heard of Monty Python? You don’t know them?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I felt sorry for the guy.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s a movie, that’s all.”
“What movie? What does this have to do with the envelopes?”
“Just forget it. It’s ridiculous.” A little smile crept across my face as I thought of the absurdity of the situation.
But they were upset. “Hey! Stop fucking around! What’s this about a movie?”
“Look, I told you it doesn’t matter. It’s just a silly thing about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. They have to cross a ravine over the Bridge of Death. There’s this crusty old guy who guards the bridge and asks them questions. If they get the wrong answer or hesitate, they get thrown off the bridge into hell. That’s all.”
“So what happens?”
“Well, the first knight gets asked really simple questions, like what’s your name, or how old are you, or something. He answers right away and gets let across the bridge. Easy.”
They looked at me suspiciously, trying to figure out what I was up to. “Then what happens?”
“The second knight gets asked what his favorite color is. He hesitates between blue and red, and so he gets thrown off the bridge.”
“That story really fucking sucks.”
“Curthing again,” said Sabrina.
“But wait, it’s not finished. It’s the end part that’s really funny.” I almost laughed. “When it comes to King Arthur’s turn, the old man asks him a really hard question about birds, something like, ‘What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?’ And Arthur answers back with a question: ‘What do you mean? An African or European swallow?’ The old guy has no clue and says, ‘Huh? I . . . I don’t know that.’ And whoosh! He flies up into the air and gets thrown off the bridge!”
I doubled over in laughter, and Sabrina and Simon couldn’t help but join in. They rolled around in the grass.
Sabrina loves it when I tell jokes. Especially because I usually forget the endings. But today, I’d managed to tell the whole story for once.
And Simon, as usual, was just copying Sabrina.
47
After a while, Sabrina stopped laughing.
“That’th a wiot, Mom!”
“I don’t think it’s the slightest bit funny,” said Dopey/Marco.
“Yeth it ith! It’th a hoot!” said Sabrina.
“OK. Let me put a stop to all this now. Listen, if I were you guys, I wouldn’t be dallying around like this. The cops won’t be long. It’s been almost a half hour since I called them. I don’t want to rush you, but . . .”
“But you never answered our question.”
“All right, I’ll give you an answer—but first, I have a question for you.”
Dopey rolled his eyes. “What now?”
“How did you know about the envelopes?”
“You sure have a loose connection up top, don’t you? Do you really think we’d just leave a shit-ton of money lying around unattended? We were there! We saw you!”
That stopped me. They knew I’d taken the dough from the trash all this time? So why hadn’t they come after me sooner? Either they weren’t sure I’d taken it . . . but then, they must have checked the trash cans . . . or maybe they thought I’d been sent to collect the envelopes by whoever they were meant for. Maybe they even admired the clever front: a woman with a load of little kids.
He could see I was lost in thought. He had no clue what I planned to do next.
“You’re not going to try to deny you took the envelopes, are you?”
“Fine, you win! I took them! So, the answer to your questions is . . . yes.”
“Yes? How’s that?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes! I found the envelopes! But not in a trash can, several trash cans.”
“Why did you say yes three times like that? What are you scheming now?”
“Nothing! What is your problem? You told me yourself you’d seen me take them! If you or your bosses didn’t strongly suspect I had them, you wouldn’t be here asking me all these questions now, would you? And if I’d answered no, you’d know I was lying. So, boys, there are really no two ways about it, are there? Yes. Now, let me go back to my picnic basket, OK?”
“Is she playing with us or something?” asked Dumbo.
“Just shut your stupid face!” replied Dopey. He thought it over for a second. I could see it all slowly adding up behind his eyes. He realized he was none the wiser: he hadn’t learned anything he didn’t already know.
“Wait up! We already knew that. What we want to know is, what did you do with all the loot? Do you know what was in those envelopes?”
“Cash. A hundred big ones.”
“Not exactly.”
“Yes exactly.”
“Fine. But it wasn’t just cash.”
“That’s all I saw.”
“So that’s the way you’re playing this, is it?”
I was confused, but I carried on anyway. “If you like. So, what are we doing now?”
“We want the money.”
/> “I don’t have it with me.”
Dopey snickered. “You really take us for a couple of idiots, don’t you? So, how do you propose we go about getting back what’s ours?”
“Let me think.”
“Oh? Because that sometimes happens, does it?” he asked sarcastically, getting me back from earlier.
I gave him a fake smile. “Very funny. Fine. This is what I think we should do. You go and tell whoever’s in charge that I can pay him back at fifty a month for the next two hundred and fifty years. I can’t do any more than that. I’m on welfare. I have kids to feed.”
“Why won’t you just give the money back?”
“Because I’ve spent every last coin, lowlife. Otherwise, I’d totally give it back, wouldn’t I? I don’t want the Mafia on my back.”
“What’s this about the Mafia?”
“Everyone who’s anyone knows you’re part of the Mafia and that the Mafia wants to build a casino and that you bribed the mayor. What nobody knows yet is that it was me who found all the cash.”
“I don’t believe you spent it all.”
“You believe what you like.”
“How did you do it so fast?”
“I went to a casino. Thought I could double my money. I figured I’d return the original bundle to whoever it belonged to and keep the same amount for myself.”
“You’re really up shit creek now, you silly bitch! Didn’t you know that nobody ever beats the casino? And that nobody ever beats the Mafia either?”
“Spare me the lecture. It’s too late.”
“And what about the rest of the stuff? What did you do with that?”
What was he talking about? Maybe there was some coke or something in with the cash and I hadn’t noticed. I answered with another question.
“So, seeing as you saw me do it, why didn’t you come work me over before now?”
“You do have a brain, don’t you? Why do you think? We thought you’d take the package to its rightful owner. We were waiting for our orders. Then we lost track of you, so we had to hunt you down, find out who you were. We’ve been looking for you ever since—and it turns out we’re pretty good at it. We also wanted to make sure we found you when you were on your own with the brats. And here we are.”
He was oh-so-pleased with himself.
“Hey, Marco, let’s get out of here.” said Dumbo. “The clock is ticking!”
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said since you got here,” I called over to Dumbo.
“Shut your mouth! Who was talking to you?”
Dopey looked at me suddenly. He seemed confused. “Why do you want us to leave? I thought you were trying to get us to stay until your friends arrived?”
“Because I have other plans. I don’t want to talk about the money with anyone else until Tuesday.”
“Why Tuesday?”
“I have my reasons.”
“I’d advise you not to mess with us!”
“Mommy, I’m hungwy.”
I went ahead and spread out our picnic blanket by the side of the river. Marco and Dumbo looked at me in amazement. They couldn’t believe I was getting on with my life as if they weren’t there.
“Hey, guys, it’s not that I’m getting bored with your company, it’s just that these twins need changing. By the smell of them, something’s happened.”
“Mom, can I get the thandwicheth out?” Sabrina asked.
“Yes, my darling. Look in my purse.”
As I got to changing the babies, I heard the creaking of twigs, and when I turned my head, the two meatheads were out of there.
Good riddance.
48
We were finally able to sit down and enjoy our picnic in peace.
The birds were singing, the river was babbling, and the ants were tickling our legs.
Food, glorious food! What a picnic!
But not quite: we’d hardly started on our sandwiches when the noise of a motorbike assaulted our ears.
I was trying to persuade Simon that there was not too much butter on his bread, that the fat from the ham had been removed, that all his lettuce leaves were now in my sandwich, that the seeds had been painstakingly removed from all three of his measly slices of tomatoes, and that the crust on his bread was not too hard. Basically, I was trying to get him to swallow at least one mouthful—when I saw the head of Jérôme Gallo pop up from behind the ruins.
His motorcycle roared and he almost ran into all four of us. I guess he wasn’t expecting to find us in that particular spot. He was a bit late, but I was glad to see he was worried about me. He was practically my knight in shining armor, right?
“Hey! Hold your horses!” I shouted as I continued to deal with Simon.
“But . . . what are you doing?”
“We’re having a picnic. You?”
“Was it you who left a message with us?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Well, so . . .”
“Well, so what?”
“Where are your attackers?”
“They left.”
“Rosie, come on. You shouldn’t be joking about these things. I can’t keep covering for you. They’re going to ask me what happened.”
“Just tell them then.”
“You’re messing with me. It has to stop.”
“You don’t believe I was attacked? That’s richer than Bill Gates. Do you really think I’m so fu—?” I glanced at Sabrina, who waited to see how I would end that. “That I’m so bored I’d call the cops and make up a story just to pass the time? Do you think I put these marks on my face on purpose too? Or that my clothes are covered in mud because I enjoy rolling around in the stuff?”
“Uh . . .”
“OK. I’m not going to get angry. It hurts that you could think that of me. Sit down and have a sandwich. Let me tell you everything that’s happened.”
Since I’d already blabbed everything to Ismène, I decided I was going to have to be less paranoid, so I went ahead and told Jérôme the whole story too. But if I thought I was onto a winner with that idea, I had another think coming.
Innocent young Jérôme didn’t believe a word of it. He wanted nothing to do with it.
Firstly, he didn’t want to accept that I’d found all that money, even when I showed him how much cash I had in my purse. He said it had to belong to Gaston, who’d given it to me to splash about this weekend.
Secondly, he didn’t want to hear anything about the casino, city hall, or bribery. Just like he’d said a couple of days earlier: he didn’t like getting mixed up in things like that.
And thirdly, he flat out refused to believe that the Mafia’s henchmen had been up that mountain and had attacked us. I suppose if I hadn’t experienced it firsthand, I’d also have trouble getting my head around it all. It really did sound like I’d made that up as I sat there enjoying a picnic with my babies.
“The other day, you asked me where I was getting all my money from. Aren’t you glad you know the truth now?”
He took a sip of his beer and stared at me. Finally, he said, “Listen, enough of this. I’m happy to see you, but my boss will be wondering where I went. I’ll just tell him I couldn’t find you. I don’t need to tell you not to mention any of this the next time you bump into Borelli, do I?”
“Why not?”
“If you don’t understand why not, just think on it a while. It’s best that the cops don’t hear anything about your ludicrous tale. I thought maybe you might have remembered something about Pierre’s case.”
I sulked awhile. I didn’t even tell him about Véro’s phone call. He rode off, his engine backfiring.
After our picnic, we walked as far as the village. We enjoyed an ice cream on the terrace of a lovely little bar. Then I called a taxi and we returned to the hotel. The children played while I took a show
er. Afterward, I had a bit of a nap.
We ate in our suite, earlier than usual because our adventures in the mountains had left us wiped out. The nippers fell asleep without any fuss.
I did the same. But just before going to bed, I managed to make a list of everything I had to buy the next day, before I’d have to give all the dough back.
49
I loved making my list.
I can tell you that making a shopping list with no limits is awesome. I could afford to buy anything. A fairy tale come true. Gaston was right: fairy tales do exist.
First off, I’d take care of my four chickies—but then there was Mimi’s kid, Léo, too. I decided I’d go and see him at child services and take him some gifts.
The idea was to make sure my babies didn’t want for anything. And I wanted them to have a bit extra for the years ahead.
Anticipate everything. Clothes for summer and winter, underwear, outerwear, sports clothes, stuff for school. There was a lot to think about: swimming, dancing, judo, and skiing, both the equipment and membership fees.
I’d also need a whole new wardrobe. For summer and winter too. Plus, I’d always dreamed of having a massage . . .
I also wanted to take this opportunity to book us vacations for Christmas, the February school break, and Easter. We could buy some package deals for all-inclusive ski resorts with transportation and ski lessons for me and the kids. Or why not Club Med? The whole Club Med deal sounded amazing.
I’d have to get a garden shed to put behind my trailer, because there wouldn’t be enough room inside for everything.
Oh, I nearly forgot! I needed a sound system with a really ace microphone, speakers, and a karaoke program so I could practice my singing. And tons of CDs.
The list was endless. I wondered how the hell I could get all this shopping done in one day. It was impossible.
It meant I’d have to keep a little bit more of the cash back, so I could fit in some more shopping while I waited for my next welfare check to come at the end of the month. But wait, after I’d given everything back to the city council on Tuesday, I was going to have journalists and maybe even the cops on my ass. I’d have a hard time buying more stuff inconspicuously, especially if I was going to claim that all the money was accounted for.
