| General Fiction posted January 13, 2019 | Chapters: |
...32 33 -34- 35... 
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Chapter 34: A parting of the ways.
A chapter in the book The French Letter
The French Letter
by tfawcus
| Background Helen and Charles return to the hospital with the intention of picking up Jeanne and taking refuge from the Mafia by resuming their flight to England. |
the last paragraphs of Chapter 33
The words 'cocaïne' and 'amphétamine', essentially the same in both French and English, leapt from the page. UNE SAISIE DE DROGUE À PARIS. Of course! ...a seizure of drugs in Paris. It appeared that our Monsieur Bellini had been neutralised by the Parisian Drug Squad. I paused to let the news sink in. So where did that leave Madame Durand?
As I lowered the newspaper, I saw Helen approaching, her arm wrapped around the shoulder of my question mark.
"Look, Charles dear, I've found Jeanne! She was in the cafeteria all the time, waiting for us to arrive." Helen looked triumphant. "Now the three of us can leave for England together, just as we planned, can't we?"
Chapter 34
"Yes, but what about Kayla?" I was surprised that Helen still seemed so eager to leave the country, having witnessed her euphoria the night before. "Surely, you must want to stay and spend more time with her now?"
Helen looked at me as though I was crazy. "Perhaps you have forgotten, Charles, but we are being pursued by members of a drug cartel - people who will stop at nothing."
My view had been coloured by what I had read on the front page of the newspaper and I realised that she, of course, wasn't yet aware of the changed situation.
"Not any longer. Come and sit down. I have something to show you."
Helen and Jeanne sat down next to each other and I sat opposite them, where I had a good view of their reactions as I showed them the newspaper headline. "Look! It seems that our troubles are over. Bellini and his men have been arrested."
Helen's expression was one of surprise and relief, but she still turned to Jeanne, as if to seek confirmation.
Jeanne remained impassive. "Bellini and his men are just the tip of the iceberg, my dear. Do you really think, just because they have been arrested, we are now safe? The Mafia does not cease to operate just because one or two of its members are out of circulation."
"Really?" I said. "Is that so? We have rather a different account from Kayla. She seems to think that Bellini is a small-time operator without any connection to the Mafia."
Jeanne did not quite conceal the flicker of anger, or was it perhaps alarm that lit her face? Either way, an unmistakable crack in her taciturn veneer. I wondered if Helen had noticed it, too.
"Kayla? But she's only recently come back from Thailand. What would she know about it?" Jeanne turned to face Helen more directly. "How did you manage to get back in touch? I thought you'd lost contact."
Evidently, Helen had not yet told Jeanne anything of the previous night's events.
I had hoped that Helen might be circumspect about the information she shared concerning Kayla's whereabouts, but she never gave it a second thought. It all came gushing out. "We were at the Moulin Rouge last night. Kayla was right there on stage, dancing in the chorus line and kicking her heels up with the best of them."
Helen's eyes sparkled as her words tumbled over each other. "We caught up with her after the show and she told us all about her adventures in Thailand, being kidnapped by Mr Bukhari, escaping on the train south, arriving in Phuket with some Australian tourists..."
"Yes, yes, I know all that. She murdered Bukhari. She was being hunted by the police. It was all over the front page of the Bangkok newspapers."
"Hardly murder," I cut in. "He kidnapped her, and she killed him in self-defence while making her escape. It's more likely members of the drug cartel were after her than the Thai police. How would they have known anyway, unless someone tipped them off?" I paused for just long enough to make it sound like an accusation. "You were one of Mr Bukhari's associates weren't you, Jeanne?"
Jeanne remained tight-lipped but Helen was aghast. "What are you suggesting, Charles?"
"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just stating the facts."
"No, Mr Brandon. You are reporting what Kayla and Helen told you. That's a very different thing."
Helen bristled. "But you and Mr Bukhari were connected. He was at our first meeting." I could hear the doubt creeping into her voice. "Are you suggesting that Kayla was lying about what happened to her? Why would she do that?"
"Calm down, dear. That's not at all what I'm suggesting. I'm merely pointing out to your friend the difference between fact and hearsay. The newspapers described Mr Bukhari's death as a murder. That is a fact. Kayla suddenly disappeared from Bangkok. That, too, is a fact.
"...and, yes, I did know Mr Bukhari. He was an important Pakistani businessman who was impressed by your singing and dancing. He was prepared to sponsor you and further your career." Jeanne paused, as if to emphasise the point. "He thought you and Kayla had great talent, wasted in the nightclubs of Bangkok. That, also, is a fact - perhaps the most important fact of all. It could have been the opportunity of a lifetime. The real question is why did Kayla suddenly choose to disappear if she was as innocent as Mr Brandon suggests?"
I was quick to respond, "She fled because she knew who Bukhari was, and what he was. She remembered her father talking about him in connection with the opium trade. You seem to forget that these girls were raised in the Hindu Kush, on the border between Pakistan and Afghanistan. She feared for her life."
"Really, Mr Brandon? You surprise me." There was an edge of sarcasm in Jeanne's voice. "Of course I know where the girls came from. What kind of a fool do you take me for?" She turned to Helen. "Did you ever hear your father mention Mr Bukhari in connection with the drug trade?"
"No, I don't think so."
"I thought not. Your sister, a lovely person in all other respects, seems to have a rather over-active imagination." She paused. "What did she tell you about her time in Phuket?"
Helen looked uneasy and swept a strand of hair back behind her ear. "Nothing really. She just said it was a long story and she'd tell us about it later. But it sounded as though, whatever it was, it turned her against you - big time. Do you have any idea why?"
"Yes. There was a misunderstanding. She seemed to think I was interfering with her life, but I was only trying to help her out of a difficult situation. She became angry and irrational and swore she would have nothing to do with me ever again."
"A rather extreme reaction," I said. "What was the misunderstanding about?"
"That, Mr Brandon, is really none of your business."
It was at this point I decided that I, too, would have nothing further to do with Madame Durand if I could help it. I was tired of her abrasiveness, and her evasive answer only reinforced my view that she was a thoroughly nasty piece of work. I still could not figure out what kind of a hold she had over Helen, but one thing seemed clear. She had her in her power. I looked across at them. There seemed to be a spark of electricity there that I had not noticed before. A physical magnetism, if you like.
"If that's the way you feel," I replied coldly, "I don't think there is much point in you coming to England with us. Anyway, according to Kayla, you no longer have anything to fear." I got up from my seat. "Come on, Helen. We have a train to catch."
"No, Charles. You have a train to catch. I'm staying here with Jeanne. She needs me. And you are right, I do want to spend more time with Kayla."
"I see," I said, and I really did see, perhaps more clearly than I had done for quite some time.
The words 'cocaïne' and 'amphétamine', essentially the same in both French and English, leapt from the page. UNE SAISIE DE DROGUE À PARIS. Of course! ...a seizure of drugs in Paris. It appeared that our Monsieur Bellini had been neutralised by the Parisian Drug Squad. I paused to let the news sink in. So where did that leave Madame Durand?
As I lowered the newspaper, I saw Helen approaching, her arm wrapped around the shoulder of my question mark.
"Look, Charles dear, I've found Jeanne! She was in the cafeteria all the time, waiting for us to arrive." Helen looked triumphant. "Now the three of us can leave for England together, just as we planned, can't we?"
Chapter 34
"Yes, but what about Kayla?" I was surprised that Helen still seemed so eager to leave the country, having witnessed her euphoria the night before. "Surely, you must want to stay and spend more time with her now?"
Helen looked at me as though I was crazy. "Perhaps you have forgotten, Charles, but we are being pursued by members of a drug cartel - people who will stop at nothing."
My view had been coloured by what I had read on the front page of the newspaper and I realised that she, of course, wasn't yet aware of the changed situation.
"Not any longer. Come and sit down. I have something to show you."
Helen and Jeanne sat down next to each other and I sat opposite them, where I had a good view of their reactions as I showed them the newspaper headline. "Look! It seems that our troubles are over. Bellini and his men have been arrested."
Helen's expression was one of surprise and relief, but she still turned to Jeanne, as if to seek confirmation.
Jeanne remained impassive. "Bellini and his men are just the tip of the iceberg, my dear. Do you really think, just because they have been arrested, we are now safe? The Mafia does not cease to operate just because one or two of its members are out of circulation."
"Really?" I said. "Is that so? We have rather a different account from Kayla. She seems to think that Bellini is a small-time operator without any connection to the Mafia."
Jeanne did not quite conceal the flicker of anger, or was it perhaps alarm that lit her face? Either way, an unmistakable crack in her taciturn veneer. I wondered if Helen had noticed it, too.
"Kayla? But she's only recently come back from Thailand. What would she know about it?" Jeanne turned to face Helen more directly. "How did you manage to get back in touch? I thought you'd lost contact."
Evidently, Helen had not yet told Jeanne anything of the previous night's events.
I had hoped that Helen might be circumspect about the information she shared concerning Kayla's whereabouts, but she never gave it a second thought. It all came gushing out. "We were at the Moulin Rouge last night. Kayla was right there on stage, dancing in the chorus line and kicking her heels up with the best of them."
Helen's eyes sparkled as her words tumbled over each other. "We caught up with her after the show and she told us all about her adventures in Thailand, being kidnapped by Mr Bukhari, escaping on the train south, arriving in Phuket with some Australian tourists..."
"Yes, yes, I know all that. She murdered Bukhari. She was being hunted by the police. It was all over the front page of the Bangkok newspapers."
"Hardly murder," I cut in. "He kidnapped her, and she killed him in self-defence while making her escape. It's more likely members of the drug cartel were after her than the Thai police. How would they have known anyway, unless someone tipped them off?" I paused for just long enough to make it sound like an accusation. "You were one of Mr Bukhari's associates weren't you, Jeanne?"
Jeanne remained tight-lipped but Helen was aghast. "What are you suggesting, Charles?"
"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just stating the facts."
"No, Mr Brandon. You are reporting what Kayla and Helen told you. That's a very different thing."
Helen bristled. "But you and Mr Bukhari were connected. He was at our first meeting." I could hear the doubt creeping into her voice. "Are you suggesting that Kayla was lying about what happened to her? Why would she do that?"
"Calm down, dear. That's not at all what I'm suggesting. I'm merely pointing out to your friend the difference between fact and hearsay. The newspapers described Mr Bukhari's death as a murder. That is a fact. Kayla suddenly disappeared from Bangkok. That, too, is a fact.
"...and, yes, I did know Mr Bukhari. He was an important Pakistani businessman who was impressed by your singing and dancing. He was prepared to sponsor you and further your career." Jeanne paused, as if to emphasise the point. "He thought you and Kayla had great talent, wasted in the nightclubs of Bangkok. That, also, is a fact - perhaps the most important fact of all. It could have been the opportunity of a lifetime. The real question is why did Kayla suddenly choose to disappear if she was as innocent as Mr Brandon suggests?"
I was quick to respond, "She fled because she knew who Bukhari was, and what he was. She remembered her father talking about him in connection with the opium trade. You seem to forget that these girls were raised in the Hindu Kush, on the border between Pakistan and Afghanistan. She feared for her life."
"Really, Mr Brandon? You surprise me." There was an edge of sarcasm in Jeanne's voice. "Of course I know where the girls came from. What kind of a fool do you take me for?" She turned to Helen. "Did you ever hear your father mention Mr Bukhari in connection with the drug trade?"
"No, I don't think so."
"I thought not. Your sister, a lovely person in all other respects, seems to have a rather over-active imagination." She paused. "What did she tell you about her time in Phuket?"
Helen looked uneasy and swept a strand of hair back behind her ear. "Nothing really. She just said it was a long story and she'd tell us about it later. But it sounded as though, whatever it was, it turned her against you - big time. Do you have any idea why?"
"Yes. There was a misunderstanding. She seemed to think I was interfering with her life, but I was only trying to help her out of a difficult situation. She became angry and irrational and swore she would have nothing to do with me ever again."
"A rather extreme reaction," I said. "What was the misunderstanding about?"
"That, Mr Brandon, is really none of your business."
It was at this point I decided that I, too, would have nothing further to do with Madame Durand if I could help it. I was tired of her abrasiveness, and her evasive answer only reinforced my view that she was a thoroughly nasty piece of work. I still could not figure out what kind of a hold she had over Helen, but one thing seemed clear. She had her in her power. I looked across at them. There seemed to be a spark of electricity there that I had not noticed before. A physical magnetism, if you like.
"If that's the way you feel," I replied coldly, "I don't think there is much point in you coming to England with us. Anyway, according to Kayla, you no longer have anything to fear." I got up from my seat. "Come on, Helen. We have a train to catch."
"No, Charles. You have a train to catch. I'm staying here with Jeanne. She needs me. And you are right, I do want to spend more time with Kayla."
"I see," I said, and I really did see, perhaps more clearly than I had done for quite some time.
 Recognized |
#74 2019 |
List of characters:
Charles Brandon: The narrator, a well-known travel writer.
Helen Culverson: A woman of some mystery, also a travel writer, who develops a liaison with Charles.
Kayla Culverson: Her older sister, who disappeared somewhere in Bangkok, but has now turned up in Paris.
Madame Jeanne Durand: A French magazine editor, who was involved in a serious accident, and seems also to be involved with the Mafia in some way.
Mr Bukhari - a Pakistani businessman, now deceased.
Madame Madeleine Bisset - Helen's landlady in Paris
Henri Carron - a rag-and-bone man, owner of an heroic dog called Bonaparte.
Monsieur Bellini - a denizen of the French Underworld.
Dr. Laurent: A veterinary surgeon in Versailles.
Father Pierre Lacroix, vicar of the Versailles Notre Dame church.
Madame Lefauvre: An old woman living in Versailles - the town gossip.
Francoise Gaudin: An intellectually disabled woman living in Versailles.
Alain Gaudin: brother of Francoise, a gardener at Monet's house in Giverney and part-time stagehand at the Moulin Rouge.
Estelle Gaudin [deceased]: mother of Francoise and Alain, a prostitute
Mademoiselle Suzanne Gaudin [deceased]: Alain's grandmother, to whom the mysterious letter of 1903 was addressed.
Image is of the stamps on the envelope from the Paris Stamp Market that started us out on this wild goose chase. (See Chapter 1)
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Charles Brandon: The narrator, a well-known travel writer.
Helen Culverson: A woman of some mystery, also a travel writer, who develops a liaison with Charles.
Kayla Culverson: Her older sister, who disappeared somewhere in Bangkok, but has now turned up in Paris.
Madame Jeanne Durand: A French magazine editor, who was involved in a serious accident, and seems also to be involved with the Mafia in some way.
Mr Bukhari - a Pakistani businessman, now deceased.
Madame Madeleine Bisset - Helen's landlady in Paris
Henri Carron - a rag-and-bone man, owner of an heroic dog called Bonaparte.
Monsieur Bellini - a denizen of the French Underworld.
Dr. Laurent: A veterinary surgeon in Versailles.
Father Pierre Lacroix, vicar of the Versailles Notre Dame church.
Madame Lefauvre: An old woman living in Versailles - the town gossip.
Francoise Gaudin: An intellectually disabled woman living in Versailles.
Alain Gaudin: brother of Francoise, a gardener at Monet's house in Giverney and part-time stagehand at the Moulin Rouge.
Estelle Gaudin [deceased]: mother of Francoise and Alain, a prostitute
Mademoiselle Suzanne Gaudin [deceased]: Alain's grandmother, to whom the mysterious letter of 1903 was addressed.
Image is of the stamps on the envelope from the Paris Stamp Market that started us out on this wild goose chase. (See Chapter 1)
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