Queen of the Hide Out Read online

  Just before I tackled the dirty pots, I hunted through my bag for my loot, the notebook and needle. There was also the key chain hidden in the depths of my bag that I’d taken almost on autopilot. But I didn’t really feel like giving it back. I put all three objects in the middle of the table (which was a mess with all the dinner bits and pieces).

  I heard a car roll up, the door slam, and footsteps just outside my trailer.

  37

  I looked out the window and saw it was Borelli’s ride. How odd. Why in the hell would he show up so late in the evening? And on his own like that? I could see him slowly approach the door. I opened it just a crack.

  “Hi there! In the neighborhood?”

  “Yeah, how’d you guess? I was just nearby and thought, ‘How about dropping in on Mademoiselle Maldonne for a couple of minutes?’”

  Mademoiselle Maldonne. I didn’t much like the way he said my name. Why wasn’t I just Maldonne? Why had I suddenly become Mademoiselle? It didn’t bode well. You see, when he calls me Maldonne, there’s always an affectionate manner in the way he says it. But this time, there wasn’t even a smidgen of warmth.

  “Do you want to come in? The kiddos are in bed. I haven’t had time to clean up, though, and the place is a bit of a mess.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I don’t really have an interest in knowing the current state of your home to be honest. I just have a few questions.”

  “Oh! So it’s serious business tonight?”

  He took a long hard look at me and stepped forward inside.

  This was the first time he’d ever been inside my trailer. My magnificent luxury Ambassador! He whistled.

  “Wow! Mademoiselle Maldonne! This is some room you have here.”

  “I somehow don’t get the feeling you came by to give me compliments on my trailer.”

  I wasn’t feeling very at ease or on the ball. I didn’t know how I was going to handle his cop questions. Had he found out about the missing clues? It was a murder investigation after all! And I hadn’t even had the time to dump them somewhere.

  “Do you have a purse, Mademoiselle Maldonne?”

  “What sort of fruitcake-ass question is that? Of course I have a purse. I’m a woman, aren’t I?”

  He didn’t laugh. “Can I see it?”

  “What is all this crap? Do you have a warrant, Borelli?”

  Just as I was asking the question, I grabbed my purse/giant-Velcro-bag nightmare and handed it over to him.

  He looked through it methodically, taking one object out after another and examining them closely. He put everything back in the bag just as carefully as he’d taken it out.

  The whole time, right in the middle of the table among all the dirty dishes, CDs, and fairy-tale books, sat Max’s notebook, the key to the Pinsonnière residence, and the needle. As clear as day! It was all there!

  To distract him a little, I whined, “What is it you’re looking for exactly? This search thing is getting you nowhere. The two of us know very well that if I’d taken something from the crime scene, I’d have hidden it somewhere really good by now.”

  “Exactly. That’s one point to you. But you never know! Sometimes criminals make really stupid moves.”

  “Thanks a ton, Borelli. Why would I expect anything different from you? That’s just great. Thanks for calling me a criminal first off. And secondly, thanks for calling me stupid. So? What’s going on here?”

  “I don’t owe you a thing, Maldonne! All I wonder is how in God’s name you always manage to get caught up in whatever’s going down. You know what? Your fingerprints are all over the place back there! You were the only person around when he croaked. The lady who runs the house is on a break, and his kids are spread across the globe.”

  “What about the maid, Amy?”

  “That’s just it. Nobody did the housework in the morning. Mademoiselle Kessler has no idea what’s been happening in that house. Usually, when the maid gets sick, she calls ahead so a replacement can be sent. But no cleaning was done this morning, not from what we can tell. We went over to her place, but there was nobody there.”

  “Listen! I only mentioned her name. I didn’t mean anything by it. When you see her, you’ll see she’s the type who wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Well, for the time being, you’re the only person we can actually question. You have no alibi. Your prints are on just about everything. You were there. You were the one who called the police. It all points to you right now. And I do have a particular question I would like to ask you.”

  His tone took me by surprise. He sounded superserious all of a sudden.

  “Go ahead. I’m listening,” I said, copying his serious voice.

  “Can you explain why this gentleman, on the very first day you start working for him, takes it upon himself to buy your kids a ton of amazing toys?”

  I burned up. The heat in my cheeks was unbearable.

  “What do you mean? How do you know they were for me?” I stammered. Why did I say that? I’d just admitted I knew about them!

  I just knew it! There you go! I said it would wind up coming back to bite me in the butt. My grandmother Ruth was right: You grow what you sow. Or you reap what you plant. Or something. You get what you deserve! I’d planted a goddamn hand grenade, and it had just exploded in my face. I was deranged! I’d temporarily forgotten about the toys! I’d had nightmares about them the night before and then poof! Out of my head it all went! I should never have accepted those gifts! OK, I’ve said that already a ton of times!

  “Umm. They were for me, yes. It’s just that . . . He wanted to show me how good he was at doing stuff on the Internet . . . and how loaded he was. He said he could buy anything he wanted and that he sold all his art online too. He earned millions and millions through websites . . . just a few clicks of the mouse!”

  I could tell that even though I was telling the truth, it was coming out of my big mouth like a big lie.

  “I don’t see the link here at all, Maldonne.”

  “Well, he was showing off. He asked me what would make me happy, and I mentioned toys for my little ones.”

  “Yes? And?”

  “I refused! Of course I did! But he wouldn’t listen. He insisted on buying them for me. He was a supergenerous old man. Well, sometimes . . .”

  “Wrong.”

  “Wrong? What’s wrong?”

  “You know he wasn’t generous, Maldonne. In fact, he was the opposite. You said so yourself. So your story so far isn’t holding up. You’re more than capable of pulling some sort of scheme to get your kids stuff for Christmas, Maldonne. That’s so your style. Some people need to be protected from themselves, and I’m afraid you’re one of them.”

  “OK, Mr. Know-It-All! It’s not my fault if the old man wanted to buy toys for me, is it?”

  “Something smells off to me. There are always too many games with you.”

  “Too many games? He only bought two or three toys. I’d hardly say too many.”

  “You have a motive, right? Maybe it was him who found you playing around on his computer, you got into a fight, you pushed him and the rest is . . . Well, I know you, Maldonne, and I don’t know why, but I’m having a big problem believing you. We still have to check out his children’s alibis and find this Amy woman. The results of the autopsy will be in any minute, and then we’ll have a better picture once we know what he actually died of. I still wanted to see you tonight, though. Just please tell me what on earth gave you the idea you could go rooting around his office after you found the body?”

  “I didn’t! That’s not true!”

  “If you have anything to do with this, I’ll corner you, Maldonne. And you know it.”

  “Don’t look at me like that. Nobody puts Cricri in the corner.”

  I threw my head back, looking upwards (almost like a cry for help to the gods), but all I saw was my Pastis. His fur was standing on end, and he wasn’t taking his eyes off Borelli.

  38

  I told you all alread
y that my cat’s the reincarnation of Einstein, right? Well, it’s true. He’s got the fastest brain in France.

  He could tell that Borelli had barged into our home, treated the place like his own private battlefield, arms at the ready, and had turned the whole ambiance electric.

  I stood up and opened the front door. The cold air came flooding into my cozy little living room.

  “It’s freezing out there!” I exclaimed, trying to get the conversation back to something normal.

  Borelli got off his backside slowly and ambled past me. He looked worried, but also as if he knew something I didn’t. He stepped out of the trailer, giving Pastis a dirty look as he passed. Pastis hissed in return. I closed the door behind him. I didn’t even bother watching him get back into his stupid car. I did hear the engine as he drove away, though.

  I cleared the table and put Max’s belongings back in my purse. Then it was off to bed. As I slipped between the sheets, Pastis came to join me. He always knew when I was upset. He wasn’t his normal self. He didn’t laugh. He was attempting to purr and pushed his little paws onto my face, trying to console me.

  As he tried to help me in his own little way, I began to understand that my levels of anxiety were skyrocketing. By the light of my little bedside lamp, I got Max’s notebook out of my purse and flipped through it. Maybe the name of the killer would jump out at me when I saw it.

  No. There were no names in there. Just numbers. Lots of numbers and letters. No names of people as far as I could tell, just strange codes. And the names of towns and cities. Rome. Villiers. Peder Severin Krøyer . . . Peder Severin Krøyer? What was that? Was it a code?

  I tried to make sense of what I was reading, but there was no way. I looked over the first letters of each line. Maybe I’d make out a coherent sentence. Nope. What about if I looked at all the capital letters to see if they spelled out something? Nope. I remembered a magic code that my grandmother Ruth taught me. If you wrote something in lemon juice, then held it up to a flame, you could read what it said. So I lit a match and held it near the notebook to see if I could find an invisible message. Nada. I blew it out, disappointed.

  I was certainly no Benjamin Gates from National Treasure, that was for sure. I tried to settle back down, but I couldn’t get to sleep. Shit. If I’d known all this was going to happen, I’d have never called the cops. I’d have taken the bambinos and got as far away from the place as our little legs would carry us. I was getting the blame for all this crap! What about his stash of money? I hadn’t even taken a single bill! And I had never wanted those fucking toys! I’d prove to the whole lot of them that I was more than capable of paying for my own toys, thank you very much. I mean, I just couldn’t believe this shit was going down!

  Just as I was finally drifting off, I wondered whether or not it would be easier if I just did their job for them. It’s the only way I’d ever get any peace. I’d find the murderer. I’d sort it all out.

  But it was easier said than done. After all, I wasn’t a cop, even though I obviously had the instincts of one when it came to picking out evidence at a crime scene. If Borelli had been a little nicer to me, I might have given it to him. But he hadn’t. His tough luck. He was such a dick!

  And there was me on top of all this bull. I still had to work out how I was going to pay the school lunch bills and buy my babies the gifts they wanted. I wouldn’t be getting my hands on Max’s gifts now. I mean, they’d be delivered to his place, right? I couldn’t imagine the cops dropping them off here on Christmas morning.

  So it was back to the same old grind for me and my money problems. A 24/7 job. When would I even find the time to work out who’d done away with my old Max?

  Saturday: Campfire

  39

  On Saturday mornings, I like to go slow. There’s no school for the kids. This particular Saturday I woke up really early. What was playing in my brain’s jukebox? “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?” by Peter, Paul and Mary.

  The song was sweet and I loved the tune. Who doesn’t like singing about flowers? Morning, Momma, you’re not mad at me, are you? I didn’t do anything wrong, and I really need your help right now.

  I suddenly had an idea and it wouldn’t budge: Find a new job!

  I called Ismène.

  As soon as she heard my voice, she started blabbering, “OMG, Cricri! What in the hell have you done now? The cops stopped by, and you’re in a total heap of stinking shit. They questioned me. They seem to think there’s a link between the two of us. Listen up, babes, they asked me all sorts of shit about you.”

  “Oh! I can’t believe this! Was Borelli there?”

  “No, it wasn’t Borelli. There were two lieutenants. Apparently they’re the two in charge of the whole investigation. Tell me the truth now, Cricri: Did you actually do away with that guy?”

  “Ismène! Have you lost your mind? What do you take me for? You know I’d never do something like that! I’m as soft as they come! I’m very respectful of life. Now, you need to apologize to me. I respect all life, especially human life. And cat life. I can’t believe you’d think that of me, Ismène. I’m like a Buddhist. You know those guys who won’t even build a house because of the little bugs they might squash? That’s me. I saw a documentary about them one time.”

  “You have to listen to me, Cricri. There’s no need to have one of your big dramatic episodes now. Either you killed him or you didn’t. A simple yes or no would have sufficed. Whatever you say, the cops think you did it. All I can tell you is you’re in deep this time. They told me you’re the main witness. And you know what usually happens when there’s a crime like this? The main witness is the main suspect, and the main suspect is usually the one who did it. Bad luck, Cricri! Wrong place, wrong time!”

  “I can’t believe you’re talking to me like this! You’re scaring me senseless, Ismène! They haven’t got a single thing on me. There’s not a chance I’m going to take this lying down, let me tell you that for free! My only problem is they know exactly where to find me. I need to find a hide out. Do you think we could all stay with you for a while? Your place would be a great hide out for the time being.”

  “Cricri, you know when I told you the cops came by? Where do you think they went? My place was their first stop!”

  “Maybe not the first. I guess they went to Mimi’s or Véro’s first.”

  “Could be. Anyway, I’m in a sticky spot here. If you need somewhere to hide, I don’t think my joint is the best place. And I wouldn’t even consider Véro’s or Mimi’s. If you do find a hide out, don’t tell me where it is. The less I know about it, the better for everyone involved. There’s no way I can withstand torture. I just know I’d break.”

  “There you go again with your wild fantasies.”

  “Fine. Why are you calling me?” she asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. Drop it. You wouldn’t be interested, anyway.” And I hung up on her.

  She is unbelievable! Did I really just have that conversation with her? In five minutes, Ismène had turned me from the nice girl who was looking for work into the ape bitch who was being hunted down by the cops. A fugitive. Brrr! It gave me the shivers.

  One thing was certain: It had been an absolutely awful start to the day.

  After mulling it over, I came up with the idea that maybe Ismène was simply in panic mode. All I needed to do was breathe and start putting it all in perspective. I dressed the kids in lighter clothing since the weather had improved some. The rain had stopped, and pale yellow sunshine was creeping slowly through the clouds. My job prospects weren’t all that hot, leaving me with only one obvious solution: the diamond. So off we all trekked back to D. Mark.

  My Big Pink was still in the window. Sabrina clapped with delight when she saw it. God, I love that kid.

  We stepped inside, and I pointed to the necklace and asked the sales assistant how much it was. The girl was about as friendly as a kick in the nuts. This wasn’t a great sign. She leaned over into the window, turned the little tag arou
nd, and told me the price as if it were no more than a baguette. So matter-of-fact.

  “A hundred.”

  “What?”

  “A hundred euro. That’s the price. It’s a pretty necklace. It would look great with evening wear.”

  And that’s when she gave me the once-over. Head to toe. She smiled sweetly, turned back toward the counter, and started typing away at her laptop. She’d written me off completely. It was as simple as that. I was a nobody. I didn’t even register with her. She’d taken one good look at me and made up her mind that I wasn’t the type of girl who had a whole lot of evening dresses. These salespeople really knew what they were doing. They weren’t always nice people, but they had their ways when it came to summing folks up.

  As you’d probably guessed, I didn’t have a hundred on me. I told her I’d be back later and we left.

  40

  I wanted to go and see Véro. Our usual route meant having to pass near Max’s place. We’d just have to find another way. I was too worried that the cops would spot us. They’d be on every corner. So we took a back route, a steep little alleyway with steps instead of a sidewalk. This would take us safely down to Véro’s place, I hoped. That’s where I saw him. The Schwarzenegger look-alike. He was loitering on a corner and looking in the direction of Max’s mansion.

  “Hey! You there! FBI guy!” I shouted.

  He spun around like he’d been bitten by a snake. His face turned purple as he recognized me. “You!”

  “That’s right! Me! Why did you disappear on me yesterday? Who in the hell are you exactly?”

  He freaked out and quickly looked left, then right.

  Sabrina screamed, “Watch out, Mommy, he hath a pithtol! A pithtol, Mommy!”