by Alice Quinn
He then sat in front of the computer and stuck in a USB drive to copy everything from the computer. I imagined he’d look at all the data later on back at the station. I felt like a total dummy! Why hadn’t I thought of doing that? I’d have loved to know what was on there.
33
“Can I go now? I’ve got better things I could be doing with my time.”
“Oh Maldonne! No. You and I need to have a quiet conversation. Come with me.”
I was starving! It was nearly two in the afternoon, and I still hadn’t had lunch. Even if it was just a slice of bread, I always had to have something. I liked to relax a little, meditate on life . . . I always took some time out at lunch.
He led me to the dining room and sat me down in a chair next to the table where I’d placed my bag. I threw it to the floor as soon as I sat down. My makeup bag came flying out. That was weird. I was sure I’d closed my bag. I always closed my bag. It had Velcro fasteners. I’m always very careful about things like that. Had I forgotten to do it?
Borelli was looking at all the furniture. I could tell he was making mental notes of everything. He picked up the glass of wine and held it up to the light to examine it. Then he turned to me.
“OK, Maldonne! Sit!”
“I am sitting! And I’m not a dog, you know!”
He smirked.
“Do you think that’s funny, talking to someone like that?” I asked. What a weird sense of humor he had.
“Come on! I’m just kidding around. I thought we could enjoy a little joke together!”
“I think only my jokes are funny.”
“OK, you need to fill me in here. What are you doing in a place like this?”
“What sort of question is that? What do you think I’m doing? I’m working!”
“Well, that’s news to me! And since when have you had a job?”
“Since yesterday.”
“I see. Now I understand. How strange that you should start a new job, and then the very next day your boss went and died. Luck doesn’t follow you around, does it, Maldonne?”
He was having a poke at my name. It literally means being dealt a bad hand in a card game. This clearly tickled him.
He snorted. “Jeeezzz!”
I shrugged to let him know just how childish I thought he was being. I guess I was sulking a little. I’d never liked my name, but I didn’t like people making fun of it either.
“So tell me the whole story. What exactly is your job here?”
“I show up at one o’clock and eat with the old man, then I entertain him and keep him company. I clean anything he messes up. So after we eat, I wash the pots, and when he has a whiskey, I make sure the glass is cleaned afterward . . . All that kind of stuff.”
“I get it. You’re a maid.”
“No! I’m not a maid! I’m more like a helper. It’s not the same thing.”
“I guess you can call it what you want. Come on now. You and I know each other well enough. I’m going to skip all the usual questions and get straight to the point. Did you ever notice anything special or strange going on in this house? I want to know everything you know.”
“Fine. I’ll give you everything I have. But only because it’s you.”
He sighed. “As you wish, Maldonne.”
I continued as if he hadn’t rudely interrupted me. “To be totally honest, everything seems fucked up in this house. All of it is weird. First off, I was hired in, like, five seconds. The son hired me. His name’s Théodore.”
Just saying his name out loud brought color to my cheeks, and I could see Borelli had noticed. I know Borelli can come across as kind of simple and a bit macho, but he’s got a sharp mind and nothing escapes his attention.
I carried on. “He was in a megarush. He had to leave for Switzerland yesterday afternoon. The old man told me he’d been married about six times and had kids with each wife. So Théodore has a whole pile of brothers and sisters all over the place. He’s a twin himself.” I didn’t tell him I’d been all through the family tree. “A kid with every woman! Can you imagine?”
“Well, Maldonne, it seems to me that you’re not all that far behind him,” he commented, laughing.
I ignored him. “He has two girls and five boys. And his wives or ex-wives are all over the world. He has a kid in every country. He’s got a son in New York, an English daughter, a Spanish son, and a Swiss son. I don’t know about the twin. I guess he’s in Switzerland too. Logically, it all gets a bit confusing. How many did I get up to?”
“That’s five. There’s a daughter and a son unaccounted for.”
“Oh yes! There’s one in Venice and a girl in France. I think she’s in Tourcoing, or maybe Douai. The oldest is fifty, and the youngest is only twenty-five. They’ve all got their own businesses, but they called up their old man pretty regularly for miniloans, I think. He wrote out checks to them. Sometimes they dropped by for cash. Apparently, in one of the rooms, he had a pile of cash, which he used to hand out when he was in one of his good moods. But his good moods were pretty rare. He usually refused his kids. He was a hard nut that one. He didn’t really have strong feelings for his kids. I got the impression that the more they begged him, the more fun he had turning them down. I heard him say they were a bunch of parasites and imbeciles. He was a manipulative old screwball and didn’t always play fair.”
“And what does that mean exactly?”
34
“Well, you wouldn’t play poker with him in the jungle. He’s a cheetah!”
It was my turn to laugh like a dope. Borelli got mad.
“That has to be the corniest joke I’ve ever heard. So he cheated a lot, did he?”
“Yeah! I think so. And he was mean. He was drunk a lot too. His kids never knew where they were with him, whether he’d pay up or not. He was a tight-fisted, stingy ass with them. Not all the time, though. He was cold, I think.”
“And how do you know all this?” asked Borelli suspiciously. The cop side of him was in full swing.
“Max told me himself! He let me in on one or two things. Plus, I know how he was with me. He tested me. He was mean. He wasn’t boring at least. He kept me on my toes, that’s for sure.”
“Wow! He told you his goddamn life story! He must have trusted you. I mean, to tell you all about his children like that?”
“Of course, Borelli! That’s how it is with me. I inspire confidence in people. And as you know—or maybe you don’t know—rich people like talking in front of or to the help. They think it’s just like talking to a wall. We don’t really exist for them.”
This is the version I chose to give him rather than admit that I’d rifled around the place, taken the black notebook, and listened in on three conversations Max had with his kids . . . plus the whole sorry tale of him buying Christmas gifts for my babaroonies.
Oh shit! It all came back to me! The gifts! What a ball ache! I tapped myself on the forehead and made a “Doh!” noise like Homer Simpson. Oh, those gifts! Why did Max go through with that order? I was supposed to have deleted them. It was too late! And when I thought I’d had all that time too! I waited what felt like years before Borelli showed up . . . and Schwartzy. I so could have cancelled that order! I’d forgotten all about it.
Borelli was examining my expressions. “What? Are you remembering something important there, Maldonne?”
“No, no, it’s nothing. It’s just that I forgot to feed Pastis this morning.”
“You can go now. Just make sure I can reach you. I may need you later on.”
“You know where I live. You know what? The real mystery—the actual story here—is right under your nose and you simply can’t see it.”
“Go on then, Maldonne. Spill it.”
I made sure I spelled it out for him this time. “Be-fore you a-rri-ved a guy knocked at the door. A whopp-ing big gi-ant man. He showed me what looked like an FBI badge, but it was French because I saw the French flag on it. He told me he was the first member of the police team to arrive, and h
e searched all over the office.”
Borelli shrugged. “Have it your way then. I’ll phone the special branch. It could well be that they sent someone up ahead. Maybe there was already an investigation underway with your old guy here. I think he rubbed shoulders with some of the A-listers around these parts. You know, government people and the like.”
Then he turned his back on me and returned to the office as if I no longer existed. I picked up my bag and made sure I closed it securely this time.
On my way out, I took a little detour via the kitchen. I figured that maybe I could pick up a snack or two for the rug rats. I also needed a little pick-me-up. I was half-starved. I only got as far as the door, though. There were cops everywhere by this point making their way through every room in the house.
I picked up a key at random (I was pretty sure they were both the same) from the Degué bowl and left the joint. I felt a sense of extreme frustration deep in my belly. Not only had I not done my job properly, which meant there was no possible chance of my being paid that day, but I also probably wouldn’t be paid for the time I’d put in the day before. And I hadn’t eaten enough. All the time spent there were hours of my life I’d never get back.
35
I still had a little time on my hands before I had to go fetch the babies. I went over everything that had happened. It didn’t take long, so I went a little further back. Right back to the diamond. I had to get my Big Pink back.
I really needed to have a serious think about things. It wasn’t easy, though. I mean, the only thing really on my mind was poor Max . . . and all the evidence I’d taken from the scene. I didn’t even get why I’d stolen it. There had to be something wrong with me! I knew it would end up like this. I know myself too damn well. I was daring and then got a gut full of guilt at a later stage.
I had to try and get my ass into gear. I looked through my cell for the contact details and address of little Victoria’s mother. I knew she didn’t live too far away from the school. I worked out that maybe it wasn’t too bad an idea to head over to her place and find out if I couldn’t get my Big Pink back. This was how my new future would play out, and my Big Pink was going to have a starring role.
When I arrived at the address, I couldn’t help but notice what an awful apartment block it was. A huge tower block that looked like it had been built in the sixties. Real old school. There was a shabby yard in front and a tiny entrance hall with a skanky lift. This wasn’t the classiest place by any stretch of the imagination.
How odd. I would never have imagined Victoria’s momma living in a place like this. I mean, I’d seen her in some supersmart clothes. She was always right on trend and gorgeous. Why would she be holed up somewhere as gross as this? The front of the building actually looked like bits of it were falling off. There were huge dumpsters in front of the door with garbage bags hanging out. They were full to bursting and the smell made me gag.
I looked at the mailboxes in the hallway and worked out they were on the fifth floor. I hesitated whether or not to go up in the elevator. I couldn’t be sure it was safe given the state of the rest of the building.
I got into it. Christ! It was more like a crane or something. I could hear the engine. It was louder than the speakers at a rock festival. I thought I’d die at any moment. Schrounkkkk . . . schromkkk . . . schraeeemkkk . . .
I lunged out of the elevator when I got to Victoria’s floor. Number 51 was the first door I came to. I rang the bell. Footsteps . . . and open!
It was her. What a total transformation.
She had on an old bathrobe, her hair was a mess, and she hadn’t taken her makeup off for some time (it was all blotched under her eyes). She was wearing rubber gloves. She must have just been cleaning the kitchen. She had a spray bottle of bleach in one hand and a sponge in the other. I held out my hand so we could greet each other. I didn’t know which bit of her hand to touch. Awkward.
It took her a couple of seconds to recognize me. “Yes?”
“You know who I am, right? I’m Sabrina’s mom. Sabrina is friends with Victoria.”
“Yes? Is something wrong? Did something happen at school?”
I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Not at all. I just came by to pick something up. I think Victoria and Sabrina do a fair amount of swapping—you know, with their dolls’ clothes and jewelry and all the rest of it. It’s no big deal. It’s just that Sabrina, without even knowing it, swapped an old necklace of mine that used to belong to my mother. It’s not worth anything. But it has a lot of sentimental value to me. I’d like to have it back.”
Silence followed. She looked at me almost absentmindedly. She didn’t invite me in. She didn’t give me the impression that she was going to head back inside and start searching through Victoria’s belongings either. I actually thought she hadn’t understood what I’d said. So I started saying again, “All I want to do is pick up—”
“Yes, I got it. It’s just that I don’t have it anymore. Well . . . Victoria doesn’t have it anymore.”
“How come?”
I was feeling more and more annoyed by the second. I felt like she was just making crap up to get me to leave. She didn’t even look through her daughter’s toys or anything.
“Aren’t you going to look through your daughter’s things?”
She smiled. “No point. I know what necklace you’re talking about. I sold it yesterday. Well, I exchanged it.”
“What do you mean you went and sold it? Where? It’s not even worth anything! I can’t imagine who would want to buy such a thing off you!”
“I went to D. Mark. It’s a shop that sells secondhand clothes and accessories. They’ll buy stuff off people too. You can exchange your own stuff for vouchers. It was a nice little necklace. I wore it once with my Chacok dress and it didn’t look bad. But in the end, I didn’t think I’d have much use for it. So I went ahead and got myself some vouchers.”
I could see I was getting nowhere here. I glanced over her shoulder and saw that her apartment was nothing more than a small studio. Fab. What a class act she was.
This girl put every last cent into designer gear. She gave it her everything, that much was clear. And for what? She didn’t want people to look down on her? She clearly scrubbed her flat from floor to ceiling in bleach every time she had a spare minute. And that’s about all she had going for her. I don’t think there was much happening in the upstairs department.
Why hang around any longer than I had to?
“And where is this store exactly?”
“In the mall, rue Mozart. You can’t miss the place.”
I spun around on my heels and gave her a wave and a cheesy grin. “OK. Thank you! See you at the school gate sometime!”
She muttered a half-assed good-bye and closed the door.
I worked out that I’d need fifteen minutes to get to the mall. I looked at my watch. It was way too late for me to make it. I had to do my double-whammy school run.
36
After I got the kids, we all scampered as fast as we could to the store. We ran down rue Vivaldi, turned onto rue Chopin, then finally found rue Mozart. I was in good company with all those musicians’ names. I was humming along to some of their tunes as we scurried along.
The little mall was in a real nice area of downtown. Just as I got to Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, I found the store.
D. Mark was trying to make itself look upmarket with its window displays. They’d put a couple of prêt-à-porter couture pieces out, but there was no way it would be the same on the inside. Not with this kind of store. As I got closer to the windows, I spotted something shiny around one of the mannequins’ necks.
It was my Big Pink!
Sabrina recognized it right away too. “Mommy! My printheth necklath! I don’t get it! I sold it to Victoria!”
“I know that, honey. But you know what? Victoria didn’t hold on to it for too long. She decided to sell it just like you did.”
Just as I went to push the door, I notice
d that the security barrier was down and locked. A little sign stated that the store was closed Friday afternoons.
Typical Maldonne luck.
“Don’t worry, my little one. We’ll come and buy it back tomorrow. You’ll be wanting your princess necklace back.”
I saw that there was a price on the necklace. A little tag. But it had flipped around and I couldn’t read it. How annoying could it get? There must have been someone in there, a salesman, a saleswoman, who had taken the time to write that little tag, tie it around the necklace, and put it on display. But then they didn’t take the time to check the darned thing was the right way round? It’s exactly the kind of thing that drives me bats. Mental crazy. Beside myself!
On the way back to the ranch, I remembered Max’s little black notebook. I’d have a good read of it when I had a spare moment. I felt pretty shitty that I hadn’t given it to Borelli. Oh! And the needle . . . and that bottle too! But now that they were in my hands, maybe it would be better for me to find out their contents before handing them to the cops. I took everything out of my pockets and threw it into my bag.
When we were back home, I fed the munchkins the leftovers from the night before and added some bread to bulk it up some. We sang while we ate. I got out the CD they loved so much, and we all had a heck of a time!
After we were done, we continued singing while the twins brushed their teeth (with Sabrina monitoring the situation). The twinnies went to bed first with a book each. Sabrina had helped me put their diapers on. They didn’t wear them during the day, but you could never be too careful at night.
Once Sabrina was also in bed, the three of them needed two stories and three lullabies before I heard their gentle snores filling the trailer. I loved that sound. Pastis, after he’d eaten up what was left of dinner, climbed on top of a shelf near the front door. He was as close to the ceiling as he could get. He loved it.
