“Do you mean to say,” Captain Alex began, “that you’d been planning for us to visit the café since we were that young?”
“No, no, no. Of course not. Zat would be impossible foresight. ’Owever, even zough we can’t tell ze future, we did ’ave enough forezought to establish a strong French connection in your minds wiz one particular place in case we ever needed to get you in a certain location. Genius, was it not? It worked, did it not? Yes, it was and it did. As soon as we saw you two walk zrough the door, I collected the money I’d earned on zis particular bet and approached your table. Luckily, we already ’ad ze plans set out for what we would do next. Your friends, Mae and ’Al, were planted just a little ways down ze road from ze café. As soon as I’d ’ijacked ze limo, I gave zem a call and zey came down ze road to find you two ’uddled in ze middle of ze road like a couple of babies. Zey were more zan ’appy to pick you up, zough. Wiz all ze cash we gave zem, ’oo wouldn’t be ’appy to give a few strangers a ride to ze middle of nowhere to be dropped off?
“We’d given zem specific instructions on where to stop for ze picnic. Our plan ’ad been to come pick you up in ze limo from where zey were, and of course you would accept ze ride, seeing as ’ow just about any ride is preferable to a family trip wiz Mae and ’Al.
“Curiously enough, Larry didn’t mention zat Mademoiselle Finkle would find you and zat you would see ze black bags of cash. We passed a cop car on ze way to the point of rendezvous but zought nozing of it until we spoke to Mae and ’Al shortly afterwards and found zat you’d not only seen ze money, but ’ad been offered a ride by Melono ’erself! Of course we confiscated ze money at ze discovery of zeir failure to up’old zeir part of ze deal, and zen continued to Larry’s ’ouse to pay ’im anozer little visit. I foolishly began to doubt whezer zings were still going to ’appen according to plan.”
“I suppose I complicated your perfect little scheme a bit, now didn’t I?” Melono grinned.
WHOOSH.
The mango flew at her through the air, but missed her face by inches.
WHACK.
The pear, however, hit her square in the nose.
Captain Alex began to jump out of his chair, but caught himself and drew back before he had done much more than twitch.
“Ze swollen nose might not end your unearzly beauty, but it will smart a bit, ma chère. Do be careful about your outbursts. Of course, I understand your indignation, seeing as ’ow you trusted Larry so much and ’ee ’as obviously betrayed you. Wiz ze notebook, I mean. ’Ee mentioned ’ee ’ad a sure-fire plan zat would ’elp keep you zree on ze proper and most direct paz—I can only assume ’ee meant zis notebook you mentioned.”
“So, then he sent us into Lynchton so that we would go to the auction,” Notmie began, trying to follow along.
“And you made it financially possible for Bill to buy the shirts,” Captain Alex finished. “But why did you make us go through Lynchton to begin with?”
“I’m not sure. ’Is mother said it would be a good idea, and one does not argue when a prophetic mother tells you to do somezing.”
“This is true,” Notmie began. “Why, one time I was over at my friend Paco’s house and his mother told us to wash our hands before we ate tacos, but we didn’t listen. I ended up having E. Coli for a week because of it.”
“That’s disgusting, Notmie. Was Paco’s mom prophetic too?” Captain Alex asked.
“No.”
The Captain blinked. “Then what was the point of that story?”
“Huh?”
“Umm… shall I continue, Monsieur Jones?” asked Sinclair.
“Absolutely.”
Notmie couldn’t believe what he’d just done.
Did I just make myself look like an idiot on purpose?
Yes, it seemed he had. Well, this certainly was another first for him. Fortunately, Captain Alex didn’t even seem to suspect anything out of the ordinary from it. Perhaps all the years of not thinking had been building up to his advantage right now. He still had the upper hand, and now he’d bought himself more time to try to figure out why Larry had sent them to Lynchton. What was it about Lynchton that they had needed to experience? The auction? No, certainly nothing about that could have been helpful. In fact, that whole experience was nothing more than a pain in the ass as far as Notmie was concerned.
“Oh!” Sinclair blurted, apparently remembering something he’d almost forgot. “You met my friend Yurway Kupkal; yes, no?”
Notmie’s mind, though still focused on the matter of Lynchton, did indeed remember Yurway Kupkal.
Without thinking it through, Notmie replied, “You mean the Russian eunuch? The one who owned the counter-curse store?”
Suddenly he remembered what had happened to Yurway Kupkal—what he himself had done and attempted to do—and decided acknowledging their acquaintance wasn’t the smartest of the things he’d done here tonight.
“Yes,” said Sinclair appearing delighted, “zat’s ze one.”
“Nope, never met him,” Notmie replied, trying to make up for his slip.
Obviously, it was too late.
Sinclair eyed him silently, trying to figure out what it could mean.
Aha.
“ You bastards! You killed ’im; yes, no?”
Sinclair’s explosion of words caught everyone in the room off guard. Even the armed men in the corners seemed frightened.
“No!” Notmie insisted fiercely. “Not to say we didn’t try… but that’s not the point! We just sort of knocked him out, but not even that! Mostly he lost consciousness on his own… under the force of the bottle I smashed him in the face with.”
“What!” Sinclair’s voice cracked. “I should kill you right now!”
“But you wont,” Notmie replied, “because if you do, Captain Alex will break the curse. It wouldn’t be worth it to you to kill me if you knew the curse would be broken. And you can’t kill Captain Alex either, because we both know that will break the curse.” Notmie smiled.
“Shut up! You’ve lost your talking privileges!” Sinclair had to use both hands to chunk the pineapple at Notmie’s head. Had Notmie not ducked at the last second, it would have proven to be the coup de grâce of the fruit bowl. It flew passed Notmie’s left ear and splattered against the wall, leaving a small dent in the grotesque floral wallpaper where it hit.
“Tell me zis, Monsieur Jones. If you and your idiot friend know ’ow to break ze curse, why ’aven’t you already done it? Why would you sit ’ere, letting ze two ’oo you call ‘friends’ take ze fruiting of zeir lives if you knew ’ow to free zem from it all?”
Captain Alex had no good answer. He knew Notmie was full of it when he said he knew how to break the curse, but there was nothing The Captain could do. He had to carry on with the charade.
“We’re still here because it’s all part of the process of breaking the curse.”
Sinclair chuckled. “You mean zem being tied up to chairs and pelted wiz fruit is necessary in ze breaking of ze curse? Ha! I don’t believe it for a second.”
“You better believe it, Frenchy! The bad décor, the strange fish tank, the nappy carpeting, the fruit—it was all part of the plan.”
Sinclair stared incredulously. “You’re—”
A crack of thunder sounded outside. The room was soundproof as far as the rain was concerned, but the thick walls were not immune to the strength of the thunder, which made everyone in the room jump.
“—lying,” Sinclair finished feebly.
Captain Alex opened his mouth to reply, but before words could come out (he really didn’t have any words to say at this point anyway) a door slammed a floor below them.
Captain Alex heard footsteps pounding up the stairs in a frenzied rhythm. Jacques suddenly appeared at the landing with a crazed look of desperation in his eyes. Upon seeing that he had most likely interrupted a tense moment, he asked, “Oh, did I interrupt?”
“Not at all,” Sinclair replied sarcastically. “Now, tell me, my dear Jacques, wh
at is ze meaning be’ind you storming up ’ere?”
“Zat’s precisely it.”
“What is precisely what?”
“I stormed up ’ere precisely because of zat: ze storm. Ze power… downstairs… it went out! I saw ze lightning strike ze power line outside! I actually saw it strike! You can’t ’ear it from ’ere, but ze storm’s building to somezing terrifying. I was ze only one down stairs, so I zought… er, zat I should come warn you.”
“You mean you were scared of ze dark and ze thunder, so you came to find us? You are a silly man, Jacques, but you may stay.” Sinclair studied his friend, adding, “But you must quit zat blubbering at once. Bon dieu! Ressaisis, homme! ”
Part 27
Things Get Heated
The group upstairs had been unaware of the power outage due to the decorating choice of candles rather than electricity, but that didn’t make the news of it any less ominous, and the frightened grown man sprinting up the stairs didn’t help abate the feeling either. The windowless room allowed them no way of gauging the severity of the weather, other than the cracks of thunder, which shook the floor.
“And is zis storm just anozer part of breaking ze curse?” Sinclair mocked.
“It just might be,” said The Captain, “but you have no way of knowing, do you?” He tried to keep his voice calm despite the increasing frequency of thunder.
“Well zen, Monsieur Jones, why don’t you just show me ’ow you’re planning on breaking ze curse? I promise to you, on my honor, zat if you break zis curse, I shall let you go free. Of course, at zat point none of you will be of any use to me anyway, so zere would be no purpose in ’olding you ’ere, or even dealing wiz ze mess of zree murders. Do we ’ave an understanding?”
Sinclair wasn’t fooling anyone with his talk of having honor. Captain Alex would just have to find something more convincing to make Sinclair swear by.
“Swear by the Eiffel Tower!” he demanded.
But Sinclair just laughed at this. “Zat is ze best you could come up wiz? Ze Eiffel Tower is nozing but an eyesore and a tourist trap. But sure, I will swear by it…”
“Er, no. Never mind about that then. I want you to swear by wine!”
Sinclair scoffed again. “You want me to swear by American wine? Fine, I’ll swear—”
“No!” Captain Alex interrupted. “Not American wine. French wine. From Champagne, France. Yeah, I said it. Straight out of wine country!”
Sinclair looked horrified.
“Do it,” The Captain persisted. “Swear upon all the wine in Champagne that if we break this curse you’ll let us go.”
“I do not see ’ow zis really works in my best interest, but fine! I swear.”
“All right then, it’s a deal.”
Melono’s voice echoed across the room. “Alex! No! It’s a trap! He’s French!”
THUNK.
Sinclair’s niece, Camille, hit Melono in the back of the head with her gun.
Sinclair’s head snapped around to look at his niece. He gave her an approving nod of the head, before turning back to Captain Alex.
As soon as the attention was off of her, Camille leaned in close to Melono, whispering in her ear, “Shhh… just sit quietly and I won’t ’ave to ’urt you. You ’ave everyzing you need to break ze curse right ’ere wiz you, but you ’ave to sit quietly and reflect on it.”
Melono jerked her head around to look at Camille in astonishment. Had she really just been given advice?
But Camille was acting as if she’d said nothing, and stood still as a stone, observing her uncle.
“Did you…” Melono whispered.
“Silence,” Camille mumbled through the corner of her mouth.
Melono turned back to face toward the confrontation, but her mind was now elsewhere. A sudden impulse to inform Notmie of what she’d just been told hit her, though she couldn’t figure out how this would be helpful. It was Notmie, after all. She would end up being forced to listen to another one of his stories about catching E. coli, more likely than not.
Notmie, meanwhile, was still trying to recover from his near-death experience with the pineapple when Melono pretended to swoon. Her head landed conveniently on his shoulder. Sinclair turned to see what the sudden movement was and stared at Melono in bewilderment.
“I zought she of all people would ’ave ze ’eart to maintain consciousness. Apparently, I was wrong. Silly women wiz zeir weak ways.” He turned back to Captain Alex to continue the discussion.
“I’ve just realized,” he began coldly, “zat I’ve told you my ’ ole story, but I’ve ’eard nozing of yours. Why don’t you indulge me and explain ’ow you tried to kill my friend Yurway Kupkal! ”
“Psh,” Captain Alex scoffed. “I hardly think you can get mad at us for trying to kill one of your friends when you’re ready to kill two of my friends, one of Notmie’s friends, and one of Melono’s friends. That’s a total of four friends, and you’re getting on to us about only attempting to kill one?”
Sinclair screwed up his face, and it was clear he was struggling with the math. Then he grunted and waved off the thoughts before ordering the men around him to take aim at Notmie and Melono.
Captain Alex felt desperation hit. He couldn’t stand by as Notmie and Melono were killed, especially when he knew of one sure way he could put an end to the curse forever.
Meanwhile, Melono, without opening her eyes, whispered into Notmie’s ear. “I’m not really unconscious. I have something to tell you, but don’t react.”
Notmie jumped and stared at Melono as if she’s just risen from the dead.
“I said don’t react.”
“My bad.”
“Shh! Listen closely. Camille just told me that we already have everything we need to break the curse. I need you to think, Notmie, and think hard about this. It’s going to take both of us to figure this thing out.”
Notmie nodded subtly.
Okay, he thought, this really doesn’t make sense. Melono just asked me for help? What’s going on here? She never asks me for help. Why does she have confidence in me all of a sudden? Maybe she knows something I don’t. That must be it. She must know that I’m the one who is going to break the curse. She probably read it in that notebook, so it must be true. Now, think, Notmie, think!
His thoughts were immediately interrupted by another crack of thunder, louder than any of the ones before. All conversation ceased as each person in the room absentmindedly turned toward the wall facing outside, as if expecting to see right through it.
But everyone’s attention returned back to the room as soon as they heard Camille’s shocked scream. During the temporary moment of distraction, Captain Alex had seized the opportunity and sprung to his feet, leaping across the room and snatching Camille’s gun from her hand. But he didn’t point it at Sinclair. Instead, he jabbed the barrel into his own temple.
“Alex! What are you doing!” Melono screamed. “You don’t need to do that!”
“You’ve pushed me far enough, you French bastard!” Captain Alex yelled, full of rage and resentment for the lengths to which he’d been driven. “You’ve injured and insulted my friends enough for one lifetime, and I’m not going to sit here while you hold guns to their heads!”
Sinclair laughed, though it was as taut as laughter can be. “What are you going to do, shoot yourself?”
“Yes.”
That didn’t appear to be the answer Sinclair had expected, and he stood, trying to match the aggression.
“Fine, zen, Monsieur Jones, shoot yourself. What do you zink it will accomplish? Sure, ze curse will be lifted, but we will simply kill your friends right away.”
“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t, but one thing I do know for sure is that you would rather see me alive than dead. And who knows what might happen after the curse is gone; maybe you will die along with it. No one can say for sure. You’ve said you like to place bets, well then, I’ve got a question for you: are you willing to take this sort of chance?”
“Yes, Monsieur Jones, I’m more zan willing to take zat chance. Are you willing to take zat chance? Are you willing to lose your life on ze off-chance zat some strange ’appening will occur zat will prevent me from killing your friends?
“You know, I zink I’ve played fair long enough. Ze decision is now yours. Eizer you pull zat trigger and end ze curse, whereupon I will proceed to kill your friends, or you decide not to kill yourself, sparing your own life, and I proceed to kill your friends. It didn’t have to come to zis, but it ’as. I give you ten seconds to make your decision. Better zink fast. Your time starts now.” Sinclair wore the most satisfied expression he’d had all night as he began counting down.
“ Dix … neuf …”
“You know what?” Captain Alex said, still holding the gun firmly to his head. Sinclair temporarily stopped his counting.
“I’ve never liked making hard decisions, so I think I’ll hand this one back over to you, you French girly-boy. I don’t have a lot going in my life, so either I kill myself and you kill my friends, though you won’t continue making profit from any of the family, or else I don’t pull this trigger and you can maintain your power over this curse for the time being, and all three of us walk out of here. And if you kill Notmie or Melono, I’ll simply pull this trigger and spoil the one thing you have that justifies your meager existence. How’s that for a decision? And I’ll do one better, I’ll give you three seconds to decide before I shoot.”
Sinclair had definitely not expected this turn of events. “You intend to ’old yourself ’ostage?” he asked, bewildered.
But Captain Alex was done with talking. Instead, he began his countdown.
“Three… two…”
Notmie and Melono couldn’t watch. Notmie closed his eyes and Melono turned away.
“…one…”
Captain Alex closed his eyes, and submitted to his fate as he pulled the trigger.
It all seemed to happen at once—the clap of thunder; Captain Alex’s body falling limply to the floor; the dying tree, uprooted by the winds, that crashed through the wall from outside; the screaming; the fire that ensued from hundreds of overturned candles, which not even the torrential rain pouring through the wall could extinguish as the flames jumped from carpet to draperies.
The Fraud Page 32
