Chapter 26

26

L ouis knocked on his father’s bedroom door and entered when his dad called out. His father, in shirtsleeves, with the elegant suit jacket draped over the chair, was in the process of tying his wide cravat. He lifted his chin and glanced at his son in the mirror. “Very nice. You did a great job on your tie.”

“Paltier,” was the only answer afforded by his son.

“Ah.” Charles smiled. “You’ll learn soon enough.” When he was content with his appearance, he turned around. “What is it, Louis?”

Louis frowned. “I heard the staff talking about how that gardener, André Robin, disappeared?”

“Yes, that’s right. Thierry told me about it as soon as I got back Wednesday.” Charles didn’t add that he was perturbed that history should repeat itself, and that a gardener could disappear right around the time another ball was planned at the chateau. “Don’t worry about it, okay? He probably just took off, and we already have someone to take his place for the fireworks.”

Louis didn’t budge and Charles, sensing that he had more to disclose, waited patiently. “I haven’t told you everything about the drugs, Papa,” Louis said, presently.

Charles’s breath caught and after a split second, said, “Have a seat, mon fils .” He took one of the two hardback armchairs in his bedroom that faced a small round coffee table.

Louis wasn’t even seated before he began in faltering speech. “I told you I had been using pretty heavily, and that I had finally told the dealer I didn’t want to do that anymore. I was going to stop.” His father nodded. “I didn’t tell you that I had gotten into dealing drugs. The man I was meeting with—Jean—it’s the only name I know. Anyway, this guy convinced me to become a seller in the school so I could get my drugs almost free. He said it would make the other kids respect me.” Louis buried his face in his hands. “I know how stupid that sounds now.”

“Tell me everything, Louis.” Charles spoke gently, but inside he was seething.

“I started selling. This kid Max at school, he found most of the clients—the kids—but I was the one dealing with Jean. It started to get stressful for me, so I started using at school to handle it. Then I had a problem.” His father waited in silence, and Louis took a deep breath before rushing forward. “I was robbed twice at parties in the neighborhood. I’m almost sure I was drugged because I didn’t have that much alcohol or pot, and I don’t remember a lot of the evening.”

“Were you harmed in any way?” Charles felt bile rising in his throat.

“No, not that. But—” Louis hesitated. “Both times they stole the money I was supposed to return to Jean. So when I went to meet him, I didn’t have it.”

“What did he do to you?” Charles’s voice hardened.

His son pulled back, his face white. “He threatened me. He told me if I didn’t want him to come and tell you, I needed to do him a favor.” Louis cried out when he saw his father about to protest, “I should have told you.”

“Always, always tell me, Louis,” his father said, agonized. “I can protect you from people like that. So you didn’t do the favor then?”

“No, I did, Papa. That’s what I wanted to tell you. He wanted me to get an old leather pouch of gardening tools from the basement that he said belonged to his uncle. So I went and got it and gave it to him. Then I told him I didn’t want to meet him anymore. I wanted to get on with my life. He let me go.”

Charles stood suddenly. “Show me where you found the tools.” He led the way towards the door and strode down the hallway with his son in train. When they reached the musty corridor in the basement, Louis pointed to where he had retrieved the tools. Though he knew he wouldn’t find anything there, Charles reached up and felt for a clue. In silence, he made a quick tour of the rest of the basement, but it was too large to go over thoroughly, and he didn’t see anything out of place.

As he was walking through one of the rooms, the iron gate caught his eye on his left, and he walked over to it and shook the gate. It was locked and did not budge. “I don’t even know where the key to this thing is, but in any case the old tunnel has been sealed on both sides.” He faced his son. “Did you look at the tools before you handed them over?”

“Yeah. I took each one out, but they were just regular tools. There was nothing there.”

“Regular gardening tools?” Charles exhaled. Turning back towards the stairs, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I don’t understand this, but we don’t have time to worry about it today. There’s too much to do.” He jogged up the steps. “Have you eaten lunch?”

“Oui, Papa.”

“Okay, can you take a look at where they’re setting up the fireworks and see if the new gardener has any questions?” They had reached the top of the stairs, and Charles paused.

“Sure.” Louis shifted, ill at ease. He seemed startled when his father pulled him into a hug.

“This is no longer your problem, it’s ours,” Charles said, holding him tight. Louis remained stiff for just a moment before hugging him back. Then Charles let go and started to walk away. After a few paces, he spun around. “Hey. Do you have a date for tonight?”

“No.” Louis’s expression was still troubled but his lips quivered towards a smile. “But I have a date for the waltz.”

“Smart girl.” Charles smiled broadly and started to walk away again.

“Papa,” Louis called out and he turned back once more. “Are you bringing anyone?”

Now Charles was the one shifting uncomfortably, though the corner of his mouth lifted. “Eh…how well do you like your English teacher, Mademoiselle Whitmore?”

“Miss Whitmore? Uh…I thought it might be her. It’s a little weird, but I’ll try and get used to it.” Louis gave a crooked grin.

“I’m picking her up in two hours if I can manage to get everything done. Now off with you. Go help me with the fireworks, at least.” His son raced off, reminding him of the boy he was not all that long ago. Charles grabbed his phone, and hit one of the contacts.

“Hi, Jef. Aren’t you supposed to be here already?”

“I’m a block away. Be there in a minute.” With that cryptic reply the phone went dead. Charles hurried to the second floor where the Chief of Police had been closeted with Thierry and Paltier. A team of casually-dressed workers were rushing from one room to the next with large vases of fresh flowers, cases of champagne or wine glasses, and small plates for the amuses-bouches .

There would be oysters and lemon, smoked salmon on buttered toasts, leaves of endives with soft cheese and caviar, Russian blinis with creamed tarama, stuffed quail eggs, and toasted baguette slices with fig jam and foie gras. Two burly men were setting up the ice fountain in the middle of the Maréchal Lannes apartment. There was a security guard in every room of the chateau to keep an eye on the workers.

As Charles made his way back towards the gallery, he spotted Paltier and signaled to him. His butler left the police chief with Thierry and hurried over to the viscount’s side, following him down the stairwell.

“Paltier,” Charles said finally, after they had gone down a flight.

“Oui, monsieur.”

“Have I told you I’m giving you a week off after this event is over? You’ve really outdone yourself.”

His faithful retainer gave a prim smile. “That will be most welcome, monsieur.”

As they passed the front gate the door opened, and Jef entered, elegantly attired. Adelaide, Isabelle, and Samuel spilled in behind him. “Now I know why you were late.” Charles shot him a wry look. He kissed his sister and niece and shook hands with Jef and Samuel.

“Why stick to business when you can mix it with pleasure?” Jef replied, with unshakable good humor.

“Adelaide, I was going to call you—” Charles paused, smiling. “I see you finally met my intern.”

“Yes. Isabelle managed to overcome her shame of me and introduce us at last,” his sister replied, in placid good humor.

“Ma man .”

“I’m glad you were able to get back for the weekend, Isabelle. If you and Samuel don’t have anything particular you wanted to do, I’m sure Louis would be glad to see you. He’s outside helping the men who’re setting up the fireworks.”

“Sure. We’ll go. Maman, will you take my dress with you?” Isabelle handed the slippery bag to her mother, and she and Samuel went back outside.

“Addy, do me a favor and keep Maman and Eléonore occupied tonight, all right? I don’t want them to suspect that I’m…staying clear, but…”

“You’re staying clear,” his sister finished for him. “I can’t imagine why,” she teased.

“It’s so my date doesn’t get peppered with questions,” he retorted. “Jef, can you come with me? I want to show you where I want your men.”

“Date? It’s not Manon?” he heard his sister ask as they disappeared down the corridor leading to the basement.

“How many men do you have?”

“Three others besides myself,” Jef answered. “I was planning to cover the area in the ballroom—”

“—so you can dance with my sister. Why am I even paying you?” Charles shook his head, but a smile hovered on his mouth as they jogged down the stairs.

Jef was unperturbed. “For the three excellent security guys I’m providing.” Then, in a serious voice that years of friendship had taught Charles to ignore, he added, “Plus, you’re a socialist at heart, and you want to redistribute your wealth.”

“I don’t know why they let a scrub like you into Saint Thérèse,” his friend said amiably, heading over to the downstairs kitchen.

“It assuaged their guilty consciences for being so privileged.” Jef broke off suddenly. “Why do you want us down here? There’s no entrance.”

“I don’t think anything will happen here, but I just want one security guard to watch this back staircase coming off the kitchen, and I want another man to cover the door leading to the garden. You can put the third one wherever you see fit.”

Jef was examining the room, and he turned to look up the back staircase, now professional and fully focused. “I forgot this was here.” He started walking towards the door leading to the garden.

“No one is to come down here, except family and private staff,” Charles said, following him.

“I’ll take care of it.”