The Chaplin Conspiracy

by Stewart Ferris

  ‘Or perhaps Winnifred found her? Dragged her away to her doom during the night like a bear.’

  Charlie didn’t respond. He knew this would not be the case, but having failed to disclose his encounter with Winnifred the previous evening, he now felt it was inappropriate to mention the subject. Her threats meant nothing to him: he was sure he could take care of himself if necessary. Besides, if Justina was no longer with them there was probably no need to say anything to Rocco.

  ‘I wonder if she went back to Rennes in the night to take another look inside that crypt?’ said Rocco.

  ‘It’s a long walk across the fields and through the woods. Only a real batshit crazy chick would do that in the dark. Or in the daylight, come to think of it.’

  ‘But she was fascinated by the video footage that I showed her.’

  ‘You think she couldn’t wait to go back in there?’

  ‘Well it was pretty amazing, don’t you think?’ Rocco pulled on a fresh set of Charlie’s voluminous clothes. ‘I want to go back to my rental apartment today and get my suitcase. I feel silly wearing your things.’

  ‘You think it’s safe?’

  ‘It’s not safe to sleep there, no. It’s right across from the chateau, and that’s too close to Winnifred, assuming that’s where she’s hanging out. But I can run in and out of there quickly this morning.’

  Rocco stepped outside to check Justina’s tent. He pulled the door open wide. As expected, it was empty.

  ‘Hey, good morning,’ said a voice behind him. Justina wore a towel around her wet hair and her clothes were patchy with moisture where she had dressed too soon after her shower. ‘Thank you for letting me stay here. I was worried about Winnifred, but it looks like she hasn’t come looking for us.’

  ‘Where do we go from here?’ asked Rocco. ‘We can’t avoid Winnifred for ever.’

  ‘I think we have a bigger problem,’ she replied. ‘That poor family she murdered. Someone’s going to miss them. Sooner or later the police will come to the chateau looking for them. It’s the weekend, so we have a bit of a buffer before teachers notice the kids aren’t in school and bosses wonder why their employees are absent, but in a few days this area is going to be crawling with police. We better make sure we find what we need to find and get the hell out of here before that happens.’

  ‘Hey Charlie!’ called Rocco. ‘Did you hear that?’

  Charlie stepped down from the van, gulping in the cool, fresh air of the campsite.

  ‘I heard you say “Hey Charlie”.’

  ‘I think we have forty-eight hours to crack this mystery and get out of town. Winnifred’s crimes will bring the kind of attention to Rennes that we would prefer not to be part of, if you see what I mean?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘The police, Charlie. Two days from now there will be police everywhere. We will have to be gone by then. So let’s get back there right now and get started. The clock is ticking.’

  Charlie tried not to show his discomfort at the idea of getting back to Rennes so soon. He needed a reason to stall things. His phone rang. The number was unfamiliar, but he answered anyway, hoping not to hear Winnifred’s cold voice at the other end.

  ‘Ruby?’ he asked, in disbelief. ‘Ruby Towers? No way shitsville!’

  Ruby was the archaeologist of his dreams. They had met many times before, and could almost consider themselves friends, but she had never given Charlie her phone number. She was right to withhold it. His obsession with her was as unhealthy as the rest of him. She knew, and he knew, that avoiding contact was the only way to dull his propensity to stalk her. And now, knowing he was also on the hunt for Saunière’s treasure with Rocco, she was calling him directly. Asking for a favour. Needing him badly. He had to sit down to deal with the shock.

  ***

  ‘What did this Charlie bloke say?’ asked Scabies, lighting a fresh roll-up. They were standing outside a quayside café watching the citizens of Cherbourg start their day. Ratty was inside with the Patient, seeking help in his hopeless quest for a cup of tea.

  ‘Hard to say,’ replied Ruby, wafting the smoke from her face. ‘He tends to get overexcited and starts foaming at the mouth when I speak to him.’

  ‘Are all your friends weird?’ asked Scabies.

  Ruby gave him one of her looks before answering, ‘He’s not my friend. He’s more of a fan.’

  ‘You have fans?’

  ‘Don’t sound so incredulous! You’re not the only celebrity here. Anyway, I don’t have fans. I have a fan. Him.’

  ‘How come you knew he was here in France if you’re not friends with this Charlie?’

  ‘Well, he’s friends with Rocco – and yes, Rocco is a bit weird too – and Rocco told me not long ago that he was going to France with Charlie to solve the Rennes mystery.’

  ‘And Charlie’s coming to get us, right?’

  ‘He made some weird noises, but I think so. Said he’ll be here by about midnight.’

  ‘And he’s not the President and he doesn’t have two heads?’ quipped Scabies.

  ‘No,’ said Ruby, ‘although he does have at least two chins.’

  ‘I reckon we’ve broken the curse of Douglas Adams, anyway. The captain didn’t find us, and the police didn’t stop us even though your Lordy mate looked like an extra from ’Allo ’Allo!.’

  ‘I don’t know why you went through with this crazy scheme too,’ said Ruby. ‘You had your passport with you all along. Why bother to smuggle yourself ashore with the chefs?’

  ‘Guess it’s more fun to be an outlaw than an in-law,’ Scabies replied.

  ‘In-law? What are you talking about?’

  ‘Doesn’t really mean anything, does it? Just thought it sounded cool. Might use that in a song, actually.’

  Ratty and the Patient joined them on the pavement. The expression on the aristocrat’s face suggested he had yet to satisfy his craving for a steaming Darjeeling. Ruby decided to take charge.

  ‘OK, everyone. We have until midnight. Charlie will pick us up from this spot, and if we take turns driving through the night we can be in Rennes by tomorrow lunchtime. It’s nine o’clock now, so we have fifteen hours before he arrives. I propose we find somewhere comfortable to spend the day and use those hours to plan what we intend to do when we get to Rennes.’

  ‘This establishment doesn’t even possess a teapot,’ said Ratty. ‘To be honest, I don’t think those waiter chaps even know what an infuser ball is. I tried explaining to them that tea is one of the fundamental elements of the universe, one of the building blocks of life itself. They looked at me blankly, as if I was speaking a foreign language, but I wasn’t. I was speaking pure and unadulterated English. It’s incredible that one only needs to travel a short distance to encounter a land still ensconced in such primitive barbarism.’

  Ruby sighed. Sometimes taking care of Ratty was like looking after a child, though deep down she suspected that his daft proclamations were made with his tongue firmly placed in his cheek.

  ‘Problem solved,’ said Scabies, looking at his phone. ‘I’ve found an English pub round the corner. We’ll wait there.’

  ‘It will be like a corner of a foreign field that is forever serving tea,’ said Ratty. ‘My heartfelt wotsnames, Mr Scabies.’

  ***

  Rocco was not pleased by Charlie’s sudden decision to drive to the other end of France. The camper van gave Rocco shelter, mobility and a base for the equipment he would need. Returning to his rented apartment would expose him to the threat of Winnifred, and although Charlie was slow and generally incompetent he couldn’t afford to let him disappear for most of the short time they had available.

  ‘You have to stay here, Charlie,’ said Rocco, leaning into the camper van.

  ‘You were going to come to Rennes on your own, anyway,’ said Charlie, already preparing the van for the long journey. He stuffed clothes and food into cupboards and secured anything that might roll around. ‘You told me in Guyana, remember? When I saved the world.’
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  ‘I think you will find it was I who saved us, Charlie.’

  ‘Whatever. We all played our part.’

  ‘And now you have to play your part here. We have much to do. I didn’t mind when you told me that you wanted to come on this trip with me. I am not doing this for the material rewards, Charlie, but I know that is your motivation and that is why I don’t mind sharing our finds with you. But if you’re on the other side of France when I find the lost treasure of Jerusalem or whatever it may be, I won’t be able to split it with you. You get that, don’t you?’

  Charlie seemed to hesitate. Rocco had sparked an internal battle between his innate greed and his unhealthy obsession with Ruby Towers, even though the archaeologist he idolised was almost old enough to be his mother. Then there was the issue of Winnifred. This was complicated; he preferred things to be simple.

  ‘I don’t know, Rocco. I promised I’d drive to Cherbourg and bring her here.’

  ‘Why can’t they take the train?’

  ‘I think they want to avoid public transport. They don’t have passports.’

  ‘You shouldn’t need a passport for train travel.’

  ‘But there’s something else,’ he admitted. ‘Something about a body found at Stiperstones Manor. She said they want to keep a low profile until it gets sorted out.’

  ‘But you’ll be bringing them here just as the gendarmes start combing the area,’ said Rocco. ‘Does she realise that?’

  ‘Er, don’t know. No. Give me a few minutes, Winnifred … I mean Rocco. You’re making my head hurt.’

  ‘Why did you say Winnifred?’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘I think you did,’ said Rocco. ‘I understand if you’re scared and you just want to get away from here. That’s fine.’

  ‘No, it’s not me she—’ he stopped himself.

  Rocco leaned closer, puzzled by Charlie’s behaviour.

  ‘It’s not you she what?’

  ‘I meant, I don’t think she wants to hurt me. She’s pissed at you and even more pissed at Justina.’

  ‘How come you know this?’

  ‘I don’t know anything. Leave me alone. I have to get Ruby and her weird friends.’

  ‘Is there something you should be telling me, Charlie?’

  ‘Yes,’ he sighed, incapable of maintaining his defences any longer. He didn’t care. He had intended to confess the night before, anyway. ‘She was waiting when I went to get the sledge hammer. Told me I had to keep you and Justina out of the village for two days. If I did that, she wouldn’t kill me – or you guys. But if she sees you there again in the next two days, she won’t hesitate to slit your throats. That’s all.’

  ‘All? We need to be there for those two days, Charlie. We can’t wait until she’s gone. By then the place will be in lockdown. What were you planning to do?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothing? That’s not a solution.’

  ‘It’s the one I use more than any other,’ Charlie replied. ‘Always served me well in the past.’

  ‘You’d just run away and leave us to get our throats slit?’

  ‘For a start, I’ll be driving. I never run anywhere. And for a finish, you don’t have to go to Rennes. You guys can stay away. You’ll be safe. Maybe start again once the police have finished sniffing around. I know! Why don’t you guys come with me?’

  ‘No, Charlie. Justina’s gone into the town to look for breakfast, so I don’t even know where she is. I have some tunnels I need to break into. It won’t take me long. I can finish my investigations before you get back. And I’ll deal with Winnifred if I have to.’

  Charlie nodded. The van was ready. Rocco stepped back and Charlie got in and drove off.

  Less than a mile along the valley, Charlie pressed the brake pedal and came to a halt next to a stone bridge. Winnifred opened the passenger door and climbed in beside him.

  ‘They buy it?’ she asked.

  ‘I guess,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Let’s go, then.’

  ***

  It took Rocco and Justina two hours to traverse the seven miles of ancient footpath between the Roman spa town of Rennes-les-Bains, where they had been camping, and Rennes-le-Château. Rocco preferred to walk – not that he had any choice in Charlie’s absence – since it gave him the opportunity to examine some sights of interest along the way that were otherwise inaccessible to drivers. The Devil’s Armchair was one such item, a throne carved from a vast boulder, for a purpose that had become lost to antiquity, and which now sat at the crest of a hill adjacent to the footpath. Justina sat briefly on the stone, enjoying the chill in her backside, wondering if the same piece of rock had once cooled the blood of her ancestor when he had trekked this route.

  The final approach to Rennes-le-Château took them through the piles of tumbled stones that once formed mighty defences around the old town and up the smooth cobbles towards the castle. There was an entrance to the village here, but it ran directly in front of the chateau, so they continued along the path to the next entry point. Thus far they had remained isolated from the world, two aching travellers following a path barely touched by history. When they turned a corner they were immediately transported into the complexity and inconvenience of the modern day. Cars and vans were lined up but not moving, engines running, pollution pumping. Rocco moved closer then felt something grab his arm.

  ‘They’re cops,’ whispered Justina, holding him back. He threw himself into the bushes and watched in silence. All the vehicles were police cars. Gendarmes were knocking on doors, examining dustbins, talking into radios and generally dominating the place.

  ‘Shit,’ said Rocco. ‘I thought we had more time. You think this is to do with the missing family?’

  ‘It must be. Their cars are still at the chateau. They’re probably looking all over it.’

  ‘So they will have found the bodies in the crypt,’ said Rocco. ‘We never had the opportunity to seal it up again.’

  ‘That’s bad,’ she said, ‘but if Winnifred was staying in the castle they must have caught her already. She’s probably in custody. Maybe our problems are over.’

  ‘Monsieur, Madame. Vos papiers,’ said a gendarme, standing behind them.

  Rocco turned around slowly. The policeman wore a gun on his belt, and the way his mouth curved downwards, dragging the sides of his thin moustache with it, suggested that he was in a less than jovial mood. Rocco wasn’t surprised. If the policeman had been into the crypt already he would have nothing to smile about. He might even be related to the murdered family – not an unlikely scenario in a small, rural community. But the important question was whether Winnifred had named Justina and himself to her interrogators. There was only one way to see if that was the case. He reached into his pocket and produced his wallet, inside which was his driving licence. Justina followed his actions and showed hers. There was a brief silence while the gendarme found their names and compared them to something written in his notebook.

  Without warning he threw his book to the ground and flicked his pistol from its holster in a fast and fluid move that had clearly been rehearsed many times, his arms straightened and his legs bent at the knee. He sliced the pistol sideways back and forth through the air as he repeatedly set his aim on each prisoner in turn. Now doing the same movement with just his right hand he clicked on his radio with the other and called for backup. The crime was solved and he would be the hero.

  Fellow officers arrived and handcuffed Rocco and Justina, spouting legal clichés at them so fast that even Rocco’s fluent French was inadequate for him to comprehend fully what was happening. Chaotic scenes swirled around them as they were bundled to the nearest police van and thrown in the back, doors slammed securely behind them. There they found an oasis of peace and darkness, safe from the excitement and hysteria that the discovery of a mass murder in a sleepy mountain village had instigated.

  ***

  ‘You did the right thing, Charlie.’

  He grunted, gripping t
he steering wheel tightly and trying to focus on the long drive ahead.

  ‘I don’t know. It wasn’t cool.’

  ‘What was the alternative? Just let me kill you and then kill your friends? You’re looking at this all wrong, kid. Your actions saved their lives.’

  ‘Sure, but I don’t get why you enjoy being so mean.’

  ‘You should try it sometime, Charlie.’

  He let her words sink in as he collected a ticket from the toll booth, waited for the green light and accelerated onto the autoroute towards Toulouse. It was Sunday and the roads were relatively clear. ‘You coming all the way to Cherbourg with me, huh?’

  ‘All the way, kid.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Cherbourg is about as far away from Rennes as I can get without crossing any borders. So it’s probably a good place to lie low until things settle.’

  ‘Then you’ll be back in Rennes?’

  ‘Maybe. I ain’t in no hurry.’

  Charlie paused, gathering his courage before asking, ‘And it doesn’t bother you that two dudes are going to jail for something they didn’t do?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘Hell no. Everyone should try it. I’ve been locked up for stuff I did, and sometimes for stuff I didn’t do. If I don’t like it I tunnel out. So it all averages out in the end. If Justina and Rocco don’t like it, all they have to do is dig. That’s the great thing about a life sentence: it gives you all the time in the world for digging.’

  Charlie opened an energy drink. It felt like it was going to take him an eternity to drive to Cherbourg with this murderess. He needed to stay alert, and not just for the sake of his driving. Winnifred still wore her knife on her belt, albeit tucked beneath her jacket, and the distance between the two front seats was not adequate to guarantee his safety while they journeyed together. The simple act of changing gear brought his hand uncomfortably close to her knee. It was best not to think too much about his passenger.

  ‘If I leave you in Cherbourg,’ asked Charlie, having given the matter some thought, ‘do you mind if I go back to Rennes immediately?’

  ‘You? Hah!’