Chapter 9

9

P altier walked down the smooth stone steps that led to the basement. The stairway was lined with dim light fixtures, which flickered next to the large windows at the landing. The stone walls held centuries-old deer heads, mounted on green felt-covered wood. The air was chilly.

His shoes echoed on the stone floor as he made his way towards the old kitchen, with its brick fireplace that took up most of the wall, and the wine room that was just off to the side. Entering the damp room, he selected a bottle without hesitation, dusted it off with the chamois cloth he had brought with him, and tucked it under his arm.

At the landing, Paltier hesitated before taking the stairs to go back up. Following his internal prompting, he continued walking through the corridor into another unlit stone room. This one had small windows placed high where above ground was. He walked over and routinely pulled on the gate to a tunnel that led nowhere. It had been condemned before his time and no one had the key to the iron gate. It was the only alcove the previous viscount hadn’t had filled in. Something about not wanting to ruin the history of the place.

He scrutinized the room to see that everything was in place and opened a closet to make sure nothing had been moved there either. The chateau was set on a hill, and this part of the basement was ground level, decorated simply with worn armchairs, old frames, a chest and bureau, and a few of the inferior artifacts. He swiped his finger on the tabletops and made a mental note to talk to the housekeeping staff about not neglecting the basement.

With one last sweeping glance around the room, he retraced his steps down the corridor. Just as he was about to exit the narrow walkway and enter the landing at the foot of the stairs, Paltier heard the sounds of a heavy door being scraped open. The wood had swollen and was being shoved against the tiles, and he could hear the door opening in short bursts as someone heaved his body against it.

It occurred to Paltier that no one would hear him if he yelled for help, and that he had no weapon on hand with which to defend himself. What never occurred to him was to save his own skin and go hide while the interloper helped himself to whatever treasures the chateau had. He stepped out in plain view in the alcove that held the door. Standing with his back turned as he closed the door, was the gardener—André.

“What are you doing here?” Paltier was indignant, and out of breath from a fear he didn’t realize he was feeling. “Your work is outside.”

André seemed embarrassed at being caught, and his mumbled reply was barely audible in the echoing room. “I left my shears in the lower kitchen.”

“What were you doing in the kitchen?” Paltier glared at him, suspecting the attraction of the wine cellar.

André cleared his throat and spoke louder. “The ivy that was growing along the base of the house grew through the cracks in the kitchen windows, and I couldn’t access it from the outside because the windows were closed.”

Paltier couldn’t think of anything to respond to that, so he dismissed André. “You can go after you shut that door the rest of the way. In the future I want you to tell me first before you enter the house for any reason.”

“Even when I’m to come in and water the houseplants?” André responded with an innocence, Paltier suspected, was false.

“If you enter the house on any day, apart from your set day to care for the houseplants, please let me know.” Paltier was no fool.

André went to the kitchen and came back with the tool in hand. Without looking at Paltier, he tugged the heavy door shut. Paltier closed the deadbolt from inside, thinking that the door needed to be fixed so it closed more smoothly. He couldn’t bear to let any part of the chateau remain unkempt, even if it was just the basement. He then walked into the kitchen to verify André’s story, and when he examined the kitchen windows, noted the pockmarks left behind by ivy recently removed. He nodded at the observation. He was telling the truth.

Suddenly, Paltier’s legs gave way, and he sat on the edge of the stone sink that had been used in centuries past. He exhaled and contemplated the shrubbery out the low windows on his left side. A cat leaped up to the sill and picked its way carefully across, en route to who knew what adventure.

It took him a minute to gather his strength. I’m not getting any younger , he thought.

It was cold enough without the wind, but a freezing gale whipped the leaves into a frenzy, causing Louis to hunker down further into his coat. There was little sun for mid-morning,making the atmosphere bleak. The community service every student was obliged to do was always a pain, but with this wind, it was even less pleasurable to babysit the younger kids on the playground. Louis had hoped to be able to skip the volunteer work now that he was forced to see the counselor (whom he’d already decided he wouldn’t tell a thing). He had had no such luck and was told he’d need to manage both.

He straddledthe end of the cold, stone bench, turning to his left to watch the younger children run and scream on the playground. He was supposed to be interacting with these kids, but he had absolutely nothing to say and was one of the few bigger kids that elicited no cheering squad when he entered the school grounds each morning. From his seat, Louis turned his head furtively to the right to watch the part of the street that wasn’t obscured by evergreens.

A slenderkidwith blond hair walked up to him and sat, whichwas a first. As if he sensed where Louis’s curiosity lay, the kidsat on the part of the bench facing the street. Louis glanced at him, and then, grateful for the excuse to be looking in the direction that concernedhim,turned fully to face the street as well.

“You’re supposed to be talking to us, you know.”

The kid spoke with a clear voice and didn’t seem to be self-conscious carrying on a conversation withan older kid. In some ways, the kidwas more sure of himself than Louis was. Louis shot him another glance, and then looked back at the street, feeling edgy. “I know.”

“So why are you just sitting here?”came the next question.

Louis didn’t know how to answer him, which was stupid since he was just a kid. “I’m tired,” he finally said.

“What’s out there? What are you looking for?”

Louis pinched his eyebrows together in irritation. Why is this kid bugging me? “What makes you think I’m looking for something?”

Suddenly the boy shifted focus. “My name is Thomas.” He held out his hand to shake.

Not knowing what else to do, he gave his own hand in return. “Louis.” Then as an afterthought, he added, “Do you, uh, need help with your homework or something?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Thomas started to swing his legs back and forth on the stone bench, causing his rear end to jump off the seat with each swing. There was some movement on the street beyond the evergreens that caught Louis’s attention. He stood, as if unsure of what he had seen, then reached down to grab his bag.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back.”

Having nothing better to do, Thomas leaped off the seat and walked towards the school building untilLouis had gone out the front gate and was rounding the sidewalk outside the fence. Doubling back under the cover of the evergreens, Thomas walked close to the sidewalk and stood in front of the hedge that blocked the street view. He bent down and pretended to tie his shoe.

“Jean.” He heard Louisfrom the other side of the hedge. Then he heard a muffled sound in reply that he guessed was a handshake or a clap on the back. There was a sound of a lighter flaring up and a sharp intake of breath.

“So why did you need to see me so urgently?” The words came out on an exhale and the voice sounded familiar, though Thomas couldn’t place it.

“Un… Deux… Trois…” One of the kids counted noisily while the others scurried to hide.

“Um. I lost the, uh, the money for the stash you gave me. The whole thing.” The fence rattled as someone—probably Louis—kicked it. “Or, it got stolen by one of my new friends.”

Even at the age of seven, Thomas could hear the irony in his voice.

“Louis…that’s not good news. Not good at all.” There was the slightest pause before the manasked,“So how are you going to pay me back?”

Louis’s voice rose slightly in pitch. “How am I supposed to pay you back? I don’t have that kind of money.”

There was another silencebeforethe guy said, “Your dad does.”

This caused Louis to retort indignantly, “There’s no way I can ask my father for that amount without explaining why. And…I’m not going to steal from him.”

“Look, kid.” The man’s voice was so low it was hard to hear. “You don’t seem to understand a business transaction. In a business transaction, one person supplies the goods and the other person supplies the money.” He spoke with exaggerated patience, as if he were explaining a simple concept to a child. “The minute the goods pass over into the other person’s hands, he’s responsible. If you think there’s a risk you can’t be responsible for the merchandise, you need to get yourself insured. Are you insured Louis?”

“Am I insured for my drug collection?” A flash of spirit—of rebellion—showed in Louis’s voice.

There was another pause, and in a voice so light it made his neck tingle, Thomas heard, “If you can’t find a way to pay me back, I can always introduce you to the gentleman you stole it from. He knows how to get what he’s owed.”

“I didn’t steal it. Someone stole it from me.”

“It’s all the same to him. You took goods without paying for them.”

Louis’s voice sounded defeated. “Just…give me more time. I’ll figure it out somehow.”

Why doesn’t he just tell his dad? Thomas thought. Drugs areillegal, and his dad could throw the guy in prison just like what happened to my dad. He chewed his lip for a minute. He’s probably afraid he’ll get into trouble.

“We’re good then.” The man’s tone was too cheerful for what they had just been discussing. After a moment when neither spoke,he went on. “Listen, if you’re open to a fair exchange—more than fair considering what you owe me—I would be willing to forget the moneyin exchange for a favor at a time when I need it.”

“What favor?” Louis’s mistrust was unmistakable.

“We’ll get to that soon enough,” was the answer. A girl shrieked as someone chased her by Thomas, swallowing up what he said afterwards. When Thomas turned back to listen, he caught the last words as their voices moved away,“—and as a sign of good faith, this should tide you over.”

Thomas tried to follow them on the parallel path that lay on hisside of the hedge, but his teacher was calling the children to order, and he had no choice but to run and get in line. That big kid seemed to be in some kind of trouble.