Safe Haven

by tfawcus

Background
Helen and Madame Durand have been rescued by Charles. The next step is to pick up Helen's journal from her apartment before going into hiding from the Mafia.

From Chapter 23:

"Did it ever occur to you that it might be your friend, Jeanne, who is eager to get her hands on the journal again? Perhaps, when you showed it to her, she saw something that she didn't want made public. Something that might incriminate her. After all, what could a diary of yours possibly contain that would be of interest to the Mafia?"

"I think you may be right, Charles. Perhaps it would be best if you looked after it for the time being."

I nodded thoughtfully, strolled across to the window, and looked out. There was no longer any sign of Madame Durand across the street.

I beckoned to Helen. "Come over here. It looks as though Poison Ivy has done a bunk."

Chapter 24

Helen shook her head. "I very much doubt it. She's not particularly mobile at present and, besides, we've got her case in the back of the car."

"Well, she's not there. Come and see for yourself."

"She's probably just gone to powder her nose - that nose that you did your very best to put out of joint during the journey across here. Why do you have to go out of your way to antagonise people like that?"

"I only do it to people I don't like. Sometimes I have a sixth sense."

"Sometimes I think you have no sense. It was the first time you'd met Jeanne. What makes you so suspicious? You were just the same with me, when we first met. Always suspecting the worst. Honestly, it's not a very attractive side of your personality."

"O.K. Let's not argue about it now - but I wasn't wrong about those two men who collided with us in the boat, was I?"

"No - but what about Father Pierre? You didn't exactly endear yourself to him, did you? And Alain?"

"Alain! That grumpy old bastard! The one who stole my envelope? You must be joking."

"All right. No need to blow a gasket. I know he didn't seem very friendly, but I got much further with him by being nice, didn't I?"

"By flirting, you mean?"

"I'll try to ignore that, Charles, but I may not forget that you said it."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Anyway, changing the subject - where's your journal?"

"Next door. I left it with a neighbour."

"Was that wise? If the contents are as explosive as they are made out to be, how can you trust her? I'm assuming she's a woman, and that you haven't got an on-site boyfriend."

Helen flexed all of her eight limbs and took up an aggressive stance. "Careful, Charles. You're treading on very thin ice today."

I cowered in mock submission and opened the door, bowing with exaggerated deference and waving her through. "Well, we'd better get a skate on, then - hadn't we? Lighten up, darling. I was only joking."

Helen made a feint at me as she went past. "Come on. I'll introduce you to Madame Bisset - my landlady."

She rapped firmly on the door of the adjacent apartment, at the same time calling out, "Hello? Madeleine? Are you home?"

There was no response, so Helen banged a little harder. "I'm afraid she's a bit deaf."

After a few moments, I heard a scuffling from the other side. The door opened a crack, still on its safety chain, and an old lady peered through.

"Qui c'est?"

"It's only me, Madeleine. I've come to pick up the things I left in your safe." Mme Bisset did not respond immediately, so she continued, "You know - my passport and papers."

"Oh, it's you, Helen! Why didn't you say so? Yes, I remember. Just a minute." She fumbled around with the safety chain and opened the door. "Come on in."

An overpowering odour of cats greeted us. I plunged my hand deep into my pocket to find a handkerchief to forestall an inevitable, allergic sneeze. Madeleine looked me up and down with suspicion, her eyes coming to rest on the outline of my buried fist. "Who is that man with you? Is that a gun in his pocket?"

"No, Madeleine. He's just pleased to see you." I drew out my handkerchief, and covered my nose with it to suppress both my laughter and my sneeze.

Madeleine let out a squawk. "Oh, she's a tease, that one! Pleased to see me! I doubt it." She winked at me with an undeniably naughty look, "Mind you, there used to be a time when I had tits like Mae West - but they've slipped a little now." She cupped her hands under her bra and hoisted her ample bosom. "See?"

Shuffling between us in her down-at-heel slippers, she pushed the door shut. "What a cheeky thing you are, Helen. I don't know why I put up with it." Then, with a twinkle in her eye, she added, "And who were those men you were with this morning? I hope you're not running a maison close in my house, young lady."

"Oh, them? Just a couple of hoods who were abducting me."

Madeleine cackled with laughter. "Dear me! You are a one! Abducting you! What will you think of next? I saw them, escorting you into that smart car of theirs. All three of you, arm-in-arm. A right mênage à trois!"

"And what might you have been doing, may I ask? Being your usual busybody self, I suppose?"

"What a thing to say to your landlady! Really! I should give you notice. Snooping? I should say not! There was such a kerfuffle coming through the wall that I thought you must be having a wild party and breaking all the furniture. I was just about to come round and see what was going on, when the door slammed. Next thing I saw, looking out of the window, was you going off with those two handsome friends of yours."

"Not really friends, Madeleine. Quite the opposite, in fact."

"I see! You want this gentleman to think he's the only one in the running, do you? Well, he's got enough sense to know that a pretty young lady like you must have lots of beaux swarming around her, like bears round a honeypot."

Helen looked mildly embarrassed, an expression I'd not seen on her face before. "Could I just pick my things up? We're in a bit of a hurry."

"You young people are always in a bit of a hurry. Rushing around here and there as if there's no tomorrow. I don't know! I suppose the next thing you'll be telling me is that you don't have time to stop for a cup of tea and a chat."

"Well, actually..."

"I know. I'm only teasing. Let's go and get your things. Passport, eh? It sounds as though you two are skipping the country. I'd better check, and make sure that you're up to date with the rent."

"We'll only be gone a couple of weeks," I said. "We're off to Bermuda for a holiday. A sort of trial honeymoon, if you know what I mean."

Madeleine chortled as she handed Helen the passport, the journal and a few other papers.

"You can keep those," Helen said, handing back the papers and a sealed envelope. "They'll be a surety against my return. Now, don't you go leasing my apartment while I'm away."

"I wouldn't dream of it, my dear. You're the loveliest tenant I've ever had."

Helen bent down and gave her a kiss. "I'll be back soon, and we'll be able to watch old-time movies together again, over a nice cup of tea."

"Never mind the movies! I'll be wanting to hear all about this trial honeymoon of yours. It sounds much more interesting."

As we went down the stairs, Helen turned to me and said, "What on earth did you say that for?"

"We can't be too careful. Those hoods, as you call them, are sure to be back, and they're bound to ask where we've gone."

"Good thinking, Batman."

You'd better believe it, I thought, as I secreted Helen's journal in my jacket pocket.

We came out into the sunshine to find Madame Durand sitting at her table, just as she had been when we left her.

"See? What did I tell you?"

As we approached the café, my favourite waiter came rushing out onto the footpath, intent on ushering us to one of his tables, no doubt with euros spinning around in his eyes. I brushed him aside, shaking my head.

Madame Durand half rose from her seat. "What kept you so long? I was worried that you had run into trouble up there. Did you get the journal, Helen? Was it still where you'd hidden it?"

"No, Madame," I said, before Helen had time to answer. "I'm afraid we were too late. Helen's apartment has been ransacked. The journal is gone. We had to spend quite some time calming down her landlady. She was distraught. The police have been called, of course, and should be here any moment. We should leave now. We don't want to get caught up in the enquiry."

Madame Durand looked at me in utter disbelief. I could almost hear the cogs whirring. "They couldn't have got here that quickly," she said. "It's impossible."

"Then it must have been some of their associates, Madame. In any case, whoever it was, we must leave. Helen, take her to the car, while I settle the bill." I raised my arm to summon the waiter. "L'addition, s'il vous plait."

He soon returned with an expectant look on his face. I studied the bill and left the exact amount on the plate. "Here, this is for you," I said, handing him a one-euro coin.

By the time I got back to the car, Helen and Jeanne were seated and waiting for me. I spent a moment opening up Google Maps. "It's getting close to the rush hour, and the lady in the box will know the quickest way through the traffic."

"The lady in the box?"

"Yes, you know... 'In three hundred metres turn left onto Boulevard de Clichy. Turn now. I said left, you idiot...'"

"Oh, that lady! The program would be much more fun if she actually did say things like that." Helen laughed. Madame Durand remained tight-lipped.

"We probably won't need her, but I have to get the car back to the Gare du Nord today. I suggest our next move should be to catch the Eurostar to London. Trains are frequent - so we shouldn't have any trouble getting tickets."

"Why England?" Helen looked puzzled, but, unless I was imagining it, also quite impressed.

"Because that's where trains from the Gare du Nord go. Besides, I know of a place down in the West Country that should be safe enough for a while."

"It seems you have everything worked out, Monsieur Brandon - but you are forgetting one thing. We still don't have the journal." Madame Durand looked much less impressed.

"Damn the journal. I'm more interested in making sure that we still have our lives. Of course, you don't have to come, if you don't want to."

Helen slid her arm around the side of the seat and surreptitiously pinched me on the thigh, rather more painfully than was strictly necessary. "Of course, you will be most welcome to accompany us, Jeanne. We can look after you there, at least until your injuries have healed. You'll be quite safe with us."

Yes, I thought, but will we be quite safe with her? My sixth sense was running overtime. However, what chance has a mere male got against two determined women?

Write A Review

Recognized

A bit longer than previous chapters. Sorry - I got carried away!

Glossary:
to powder her nose: a euphemism for visiting the restroom
to put her nose out of joint: to offend or upset her
maison close: a bordello or brothel
menage a trois: three people live together, especially when one of them is having a sexual relationship with both of the others

List of characters:

Charles Brandon: The narrator, a well-known travel writer.
Helen Culverson: A woman of some mystery, also a travel writer, who seems to have become Charles's girlfriend.
Kayla Culverson: Her older sister, who disappeared somewhere in Bangkok.
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.
Madame Madeleine Bisset - Helen's landlady in Paris
Monsieur Bellini - a Mafia boss.
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.
Estelle Gaudin [deceased]: mother of Francoise and Alain
Mademoiselle Suzanne Gaudin [deceased]: Alain's grandmother, to whom the mysterious letter of 1903 was addressed.
Colonel Neville Arnoux [deceased] - of whom we may hear more later.

Pays one point and 2 member cents.

You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.

tfawcus has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

Chapter 24: The recovery of Helen's journal.

A chapter in the book The French Letter

Safe Haven

by tfawcus

The FanStory Store For Writers