by Alice Quinn
I looked through Gaston’s papers hoping to find the number of his hotel in Greenland, his cell number, or . . . anything. I couldn’t find a thing. I’d just have to wait until the next day and call Ismène at her office. She was the only one I’d be able to get hold of through the phone book.
Also, I’d find some way of bumping into Véro in the morning. I’d need her to take Sabrina to school, and we’d have to organize a meetup later for me to pick her up again. I’d keep the twins with me. I couldn’t have them in school right now.
We washed up while we sang songs and told stories. I dressed the kids in some of Gaston’s clothes (tied together with pieces of string) so that I could wash and dry their stuff for the next day. I had enough diapers left for two nights, maybe three, then I’d have to find a solution. Thankfully, Gaston—although he was old-fashioned on the surface, especially in the way he spoke—had a tumble dryer, so all the children’s clothes were clean, dry, and folded up by that evening, my Cinderella act complete.
While the kids were taking their afternoon nap, I also caught some shut-eye on the comfortable armchair in the living room. I went over everything carefully before nodding off. I thought about where we’d been, where we were, and where we’d be going next. I felt safe, as if everything was falling into place.
I was just thinking back to the photos I’d taken of Max’s walls when something jumped out at me. Something I must have processed, but it hadn’t struck me until right then. I must have been too distressed by recent events. I mean, I had stumbled upon a blood-soaked stiff, if you don’t mind!
When I’d gone back with Borelli to see the body, there’d been a painting missing.
I remembered the painting clearly. It’d been the one in the magazine, the one of a stunning stallion with huge brown eyes and a gorgeous young blond officer posing in front of him. It was as old-school as paintings get. The reason I remembered it so well was because the officer looked like a woman dressed as a man. He had rosy-pink skin and a softy-boy look in his eyes, and his hips looked like they were bent to one side. It was a girly stance. And now I remembered it missing and the space on the wall where it had been.
I started burning up. I couldn’t stay here. I really needed to check this out as soon as possible. All the paintings I’d seen were passing in front of my eyes in a never-ending loop, with the gap in the same place every time. Could it be possible that I was simply making all this up?
I made a list of everything I needed to find out. Who’d killed the old man? This led me to wanting to know who’d stolen the painting off the wall! Could it have something to do with the murder? Why was Mademoiselle Kessler so secretive? And the next crucial question: Who was going to inherit Max’s fortune? Whoever it was had the perfect motive.
Max’s children needed questioning. Especially Théodore. Lucky me. Even better than talking to his kids would be if I somehow managed to get access to the old guy’s will.
I sat down at a table with a huge computer and turned it on. Oh! Password protected. I took a wild guess and typed in “Gaston.” First time! Whoop! It crossed my mind that maybe Gaston needed to learn a bit more about online security and shit.
I went on the Web, took a tour of a few sites, and learned the following: “While the bearer of the will remains alive, no person may have access to the database to know whether or not said bearer does indeed have a will. All on-record information communicated to and from a notary is strictly confidential.
However, following the death of the bearer of the will, the file may be accessed and consulted. Consultation is free (from 2011), but payment of seventeen euros is due for administration costs. In order for a search request to be validated, please provide a copy of the death certificate. The database may only be accessed if the requester provides the name of the notary handling the file. The database contains no other elements relating to the death.”
So I couldn’t even find out if Max had left a will or not. But with money like his, there was bound to be one, right? What could I do? I could ask everyone who had anything to do with the family—the staff, the maid . . . Right! I’d start with Lani, seeing as I had her right there. But I couldn’t even explain to her what I was looking for. I wanted the name of Max’s notary, but she didn’t know what I meant.
I continued my online search and came across a brilliant site—publicservice.com. It explained that anyone can get a copy of anyone else’s death certificate. I could even get a copy sent to my e-mail address. But my internal Little Miss Paranoia was all over it in seconds and advised me not to request the certificate on the Web. Maybe I’d just have to listen to her this time. It was fine. I had a mole, anyway, in Ismène.
I bet her ears were burning! I’d been thinking about her a lot. I had so much on my plate for the following day, and I just felt like there wasn’t enough room in my belly for any more. But I’d have to do it.
As I was already online, I decided to send Gaston an e-mail (from his own account). I knew he was in the middle of nowhere, but maybe he’d have access to his messages. I just wanted to make sure he was OK with us staying at his place, especially as there were quite a few of us!
Hi Gaston, 4 reesuns that r difycult 2 explayne rite now, I’m staying in ur cassel 4 the momunt. I’m with the kidZ. I hop its not a problum. I allso hav a gurlfrend with me. You dont now her. This is a emurjuncy, or I wuldnt assk. Pleese let me now if this is a problum. C u soon, Cricri.
The armchair was calling me back, so I snuggled down lazily. The next day was going to be a nightmare. I had to find a way of seeing Véro so she could take Sabrina to school, then head back to the castle to get in touch with Ismène so she could find out who Max’s notary was. Then the investigation would really be underway.
I also wanted to ask Ismène again for a little loan. My Big Pink was still waiting for me at the store. I had to get it back and find someone to buy it. Then I had to work out what had happened to the missing painting.
Monday: A Hide out
49
Everything started moving at breakneck speed on Monday. I’d had an excellent night’s sleep, and it turned out my mother was really on the ball. She sent me a message as clear as day: a Streisand number from Yentl.
First things first: disguise myself as a guy. That was the solution to one of my problems—I didn’t have any fresh clothes to change into. I could have washed and dried my clothes like I’d done for the kids. (Why hadn’t I sorted them out the day before?) But I hadn’t. I would have to put on some of Gaston’s stuff, and if I looked like a man, I’d be able to head out to find Véro and be totally incognito. The cops wouldn’t look at me once, let alone twice. And don’t even get me started on the FBI! Wearing men’s clothes could hopefully keep them at bay too. There would be less risk all round. Thanks, Mom!
I grabbed a pair of Gaston’s pants along with a checked shirt and a large sweater. I had to roll up the cuffs and the hems. My main problem was what to put on my feet. Gaston’s outfit didn’t quite look right when matched with heels . . . but I had no choice.
I had to accept I wouldn’t be able to wear makeup. That was definitely the hardest part for me. I almost accidentally put a bit of lip gloss on. It was just instinct. Luckily, I stopped myself in time. No big deal. What did I look like? Totally unremarkable. Great! That was the result I wanted!
I had to give up my hairstyle too. I tied my hair down as flat as I could and hid it all under a gray woolen hat. There’d be no fancy updo for me that day! I slipped on an old leather jacket. It looked a little grubby and worn. It would have to do. I thought I’d done a good job, and the twins and Sabrina agreed.
“You look jutht like a little oldy man, Mommy.”
We left the house as fast as we could so we could catch up with Véro. Luckily, we bumped into her about two blocks before school. Simon recognized Sabrina but stared at me, intrigued. He didn’t know who I was. Success. Véro was open-mouthed.
“Listen, I need to hide out awhile,” I explained. “I’m sus
pected of doing something really serious.”
“You don’t say! It’s always the same, though. You’re always suspected of something. But you won’t let it beat you. Isn’t that right, my Cricri?”
She was certainly taking it all pretty well. So I carried on, giving her a few more details of my latest horrendous nightmare.
“There was this old guy at the new place I was working. I told you about that, didn’t I? Well, he kicked the bucket and I was the last one to see him alive . . . then I saw him dead. So they think I did it, but it’s not true!”
“Of course not! As if you could do away with someone!”
“Well, if only everyone thought like you! The police are after me big-time. Even the F-B-freaking-I!”
“So all’s swell in the world of Cricri?” she joked, winking.
“Hunky-dory!”
She laughed. I was delighted. It seemed like the medication she was on was really helping her.
I continued, “I’m hiding out right now, but I need you for one or two things. If you’re OK with it, in the mornings, I’ll meet you by the fountain and hand Sabrina over, so you can take her to school. But after school, seeing how you’ll be picking her up, you might be followed, so could you take her back to your place? That way, they’ll just think you’re taking care of her for me. Then later in the evening, you could bring her to my hide out. When you come over tonight, I’ll make us dinner. How does that sound?”
“Where are you?”
“At Gaston’s place. You know it, don’t you?”
“Sure! I came there for Emma’s birthday last month!”
“That’s right!”
“It’s so kind of him to put you up like that.”
“I’m sure he’d be totally fine with it . . . if he knew. But he doesn’t.”
“Oh yeah! He’s at the North Pole, isn’t he?”
“You’ve got such a good memory!”
“So what are you going to do?” she asked.
“That’s just it. We’re going to have to find a way to communicate with each other, because I’ve gone totally paro whacko, and I’m really scared that all my friends’ lines have taps on them. And mine too, of course. I had to dump my cell phone. They can track us now, you know. Everywhere we go, satellites track us through our phones.”
“Oh, it’s no big deal. I can get around that. I’ll borrow my neighbor’s phone. You know the woman who lives downstairs? She prefers my phone, anyway. She’s always using it to take photos.”
“Really? Did you get a new phone?”
“Not at all!”
“I don’t get it. Your phone’s really ancient and crappy. The photos are totally shit. Are you saying her phone’s even worse than yours?”
“Oh no! She’s got the latest iPhone. It takes great photos. But she says that my camera is ‘so bad, it’s good.’ She likes the effects. The photos look like garbage.”
“So why does she like them? Since when do people like photos that look like garbage? What does your friend do?”
“Actually, she’s a photographer.”
“What?”
We both thought it over awhile. There was one thing you could always count on in this world: People are odd. Mental odd.
So life was back to normal: Sabrina was heading off to school, and I was back to being hunted by the police for a murder I didn’t commit.
50
“This is what I’ll do,” whispered Véro. “I’ll head over to your hide out tonight. I’ll bring the little one and do my very best to make sure I’m not followed. I’ll give you my new cell number—that way, at least you’ll be able to get hold of me when you want. Well, when you’re at Gaston’s place, anyway. You’ll be able to use his land line.”
“That’s great!”
And that’s where we left it after Sabrina and I covered each other in kisses. I could hardly stand letting go of her. My heart was pounding like crazy. I was scared I’d never see my gorgeous girl again. Anything could happen if the police managed to get their hands on me. Who knows how long it would be before I’d get back with my kids?
Finally, Sabrina let go of me and stroked my cheek. “Don’t worry, Mommy! It’th not like thith ith the latht time I’ll ever see you!”
I almost felt like screaming! I pulled away from her quickly. It was too much for me. The phone was waiting for me back at the hide out. I needed to call Ismène.
It was a wonderful feeling as I approached Gaston’s gorgeous house. I know it was semiabandoned, but I felt so special as I headed inside. It was like stepping through the magic wardrobe into Narnia and finding yourself in another world. A world in which we were all safe and secure, where nothing bad could ever happen to us.
I hadn’t taken the keys with me, so getting over the front gate was a problem again, but after that, it was smooth sailing into Narnia. All was peaceful inside the castle. Lani had done some major housework while I’d been away. She was another Cinderella. Maybe it was something she felt she had to do? Maybe she was keeping up her skills while she was off the job? Gaston wouldn’t recognize the place when he got back.
I had to wait until nine-thirty to call Ismène at her office. I got through to her right away, but I didn’t tell her where I was. I just asked the question that needed asking: I needed a copy of Max’s death certificate pronto and the file number it was registered under. She wasn’t the type to ask too many questions, so she looked into it all for me without hesitating, and read out the details willingly. A lot more willingly than she should have.
Before she hung up, knowing how fond she was of puzzles and coded messages, I said, “Would you come find me over your lunch break? We need to chat about some things, and I also need you to lend me some dough. At least a hundred. Straight-up. Don’t worry, though. I’m onto a winner. I’ll be able to pay you back a thousand times over.”
“Where are you, Cricri?”
“I’m at Beauty and the Beast’s castle if you must know.” After some silence, I said, “You do understand me, right?”
“Of course! Capiche.”
“Right. So I’ll be waiting for you there. And please go to an ATM on your way over, OK?”
“You got it.” And she hung up abruptly.
I hoped she had understood what I’d meant. But as midday approached, I was getting worried that she hadn’t and that I should have just told her our location in plain old French . . . when I heard the bell ringing outside the main gate.
I stepped outside and discreetly checked who was there. I hid behind a shrub to make sure I wasn’t spotted. But given it was winter, the shrub was a little shabby and didn’t do an amazing job hiding me. Well, you do your best!
It was Ismène. I jogged toward the gate to open it for her.
She looked incredible. She was wearing a floor-length duffel coat with a soft and luxurious white trim and faux-suede riding boots. She looked like a queen. As was always the case with her. She bounded ahead of me toward the house.
“Nice outfit. Does Gaston even know you’re here?”
Pastis jumped up into her arms as soon as he saw her. I don’t know why he is so in love with her. She always treats him so rough. She started spinning around in every direction with him, and tickled his stomach so much it looked like it hurt. Then she took her coat off and put him up onto her shoulder where he stayed perched awhile, lording over the rest of us from his lofty position. The two of them were so dominant.
“No. He doesn’t really know yet.” I had to improvise something here. “Would you prefer to have us stay with you? That would be great! I promise we’ll be on our best behavior. We won’t damage anything.”
“Yeah . . .” she said, her voice trailing. She obviously thought it was a dodgy idea.
“What? You don’t believe me? Honestly, I have a friend here with me and she’s one of those OCD people. I don’t think she’s taken a break since this morning. It’s 24/7 cleaning around here.”
Just as I finished speaking, Lani came out of nowhere wi
th a feather duster in her hand followed by my little Emma, copying everything Lani did and thinking it was the best game ever.
“Where’s Lisa?” I asked upon seeing just one twin.
“Sleep!” she replied with a massive grin.
Still? I thought it was odd. I’d been noticing that Lisa slept twice as long as Emma, and it often made me feel so worried for her. She had always been such a sickly child. She was pale, small for her age, and just slept for so long.
Ismène was staring with her eyes as wide open as they could possibly go.
“Who’s this?” she asked sharply, pointing at Lani.
Lani’s smile disappeared, and the familiar frantic look returned to her eyes. She must have sensed the official tone in Ismène’s voice—the sound of someone who worked for the government.
I gave her a reassuring look. “Don’t worry, Lani. She’s a friend of mine. My buddy.” I smiled, giving Ismène a huge and loud smackeroonie on her cheek. I wanted to reassure Lani with my action and overexaggerated noise.
Ismène was pretty wound up. She didn’t like kisses. But Lani looked relieved. Her smile returned and she planted four noisy pecks on Ismène’s cheeks.
Ismène stepped back and forced a smile. “But who is she? Is this Gaston’s maid? Your new babysitter? Who is she?”
“Listen up. Don’t worry about it. She really does do a good job with the kids, that much is true actually. But of course, the rest of the story has to stay between us, OK? Nobody can know she’s here. I met up with her in my boss’s basement. I’ll tell you all about it sometime.”
Ismène gave me the kind of shrug we French are so known for, nodding moodily.
“Fine. I get it! So, what’s your next move?”
“I’ll explain it all. You’ll soon see! I have more than one string to my bow, you know?”
