Read Online The Art of Murder by Louis Shalako - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Louis Shalako
Ads: Link
across to Gilles.
“ They’ve delegated me to go
with you. I’ve been press-ganged into it, and you know I wouldn’t
lie to you.” Andre leveled a grin and a look. “We took up a
collection. I know a place, a really good place, where we can get a
tomb-stone.”
Gilles nodded glumly.
“ Yes, yes, I know.” He
sighed deeply.
They would take a hand in it sooner or
later, and this was better than simple badgering.
“ It’s been what, about four
or five months? The ground has settled, and, spring is here, and
honestly, Gilles, there’s a bit of a waiting list. It’s the
practical thing. He has to make the monument, and then it gets put
in the queue for delivery. You can expect some kind of delays. They
try to stay out of the way of all the funerals, so he can only put
them in on certain days. He does it in the mornings if he can. He
does beautiful work, and I know. My father and mother are in the
same cemetery, and he did the marker.”
“ Well, this certainly
explains the liquid lunch, or puts it into its proper perspective.”
Gilles scowled mildly at his drink.
He looked up.
“ Thank you very much,
incidentally.” Andre had twisted his arm, and didn’t offer to buy
lunch all that often.
Gilles had fallen for the trap. The
soup was good, and the bread excellent. Soaked in the bowl, the
bread made a surprisingly hearty meal. Of course his standards had
fallen deplorably in terms of what made a meal these days. The
lunch special meant a lot to men like Gilles. The place didn’t seem
to matter very much. It could be anywhere. It wasn’t exactly bliss,
nor was there a sense of fulfillment. But he felt half-human, and
that was really something lately.
“ Hah! That’s the spirit,
Inspector. That’s the spirit. Anyways, you’ll like him. He’s
married to one of my cousins, and he’ll take care of everything.
All you have to do is pick out a stone and give him the essential
details.”
“ That’s very thoughtful,
Andre. Thank you.” A terribly dark mood settled over Gilles, but
then he shrugged it off as best he could and reached for the pill
bottle.
Gilles sloshed a couple down and
slugged back the last third of a cold dark lager. Levain watched
the performance wordlessly, not judging him.
“ Another drink, sirs?” The
waiter hovered at Levain’s side.
“ Yes, and quickly.” Levain
regretted putting Gilles through any more grief, but his wife had
been gone for a while now, and quite frankly his old friend would
be a lot healthier and probably a lot happier if he took care of
one or two simple little things.
He needed to confront some issues,
rather than beat himself down. The procrastination he’d been
displaying lately was out of Maintenon’s character, and it showed
the boss’s state of mind or rather emotions.
He’d heard the couple’s bedroom hadn’t
even been gone through and cleaned out yet—the boss went home at
the end of the day, and crawled into a bed that would be a constant
reminder that she was gone. At this point, even her smell might
still linger. It probably did. The old man smell would come sooner
rather than later. Loneliness was almost a kind of an illness, in
that it couldn’t go on for too long without proper treatment. If
Gilles didn’t get some help, from somebody, almost anybody, serious
consequences would ensue. Levain was sure of it. Among other
things, Gilles needed to redecorate, and a couple of new shirts
wouldn’t exactly hurt his chances of advancement. The poor fellow
was looking distinctly seedy as of late.
***
They were in a straggling neighbourhood
of trades establishments behind a major thoroughfare. Gilles
realized he was completely lost, not just in symbolic fashion but
for real. He hadn’t been paying too much attention. He had other
thoughts, most of them not good.
The taxi sputtered off up the road,
trailing dust from the wheels and throwing up a cloud that hung in
the air, yellowing the sunshine and desiccating the
“ They’ve delegated me to go
with you. I’ve been press-ganged into it, and you know I wouldn’t
lie to you.” Andre leveled a grin and a look. “We took up a
collection. I know a place, a really good place, where we can get a
tomb-stone.”
Gilles nodded glumly.
“ Yes, yes, I know.” He
sighed deeply.
They would take a hand in it sooner or
later, and this was better than simple badgering.
“ It’s been what, about four
or five months? The ground has settled, and, spring is here, and
honestly, Gilles, there’s a bit of a waiting list. It’s the
practical thing. He has to make the monument, and then it gets put
in the queue for delivery. You can expect some kind of delays. They
try to stay out of the way of all the funerals, so he can only put
them in on certain days. He does it in the mornings if he can. He
does beautiful work, and I know. My father and mother are in the
same cemetery, and he did the marker.”
“ Well, this certainly
explains the liquid lunch, or puts it into its proper perspective.”
Gilles scowled mildly at his drink.
He looked up.
“ Thank you very much,
incidentally.” Andre had twisted his arm, and didn’t offer to buy
lunch all that often.
Gilles had fallen for the trap. The
soup was good, and the bread excellent. Soaked in the bowl, the
bread made a surprisingly hearty meal. Of course his standards had
fallen deplorably in terms of what made a meal these days. The
lunch special meant a lot to men like Gilles. The place didn’t seem
to matter very much. It could be anywhere. It wasn’t exactly bliss,
nor was there a sense of fulfillment. But he felt half-human, and
that was really something lately.
“ Hah! That’s the spirit,
Inspector. That’s the spirit. Anyways, you’ll like him. He’s
married to one of my cousins, and he’ll take care of everything.
All you have to do is pick out a stone and give him the essential
details.”
“ That’s very thoughtful,
Andre. Thank you.” A terribly dark mood settled over Gilles, but
then he shrugged it off as best he could and reached for the pill
bottle.
Gilles sloshed a couple down and
slugged back the last third of a cold dark lager. Levain watched
the performance wordlessly, not judging him.
“ Another drink, sirs?” The
waiter hovered at Levain’s side.
“ Yes, and quickly.” Levain
regretted putting Gilles through any more grief, but his wife had
been gone for a while now, and quite frankly his old friend would
be a lot healthier and probably a lot happier if he took care of
one or two simple little things.
He needed to confront some issues,
rather than beat himself down. The procrastination he’d been
displaying lately was out of Maintenon’s character, and it showed
the boss’s state of mind or rather emotions.
He’d heard the couple’s bedroom hadn’t
even been gone through and cleaned out yet—the boss went home at
the end of the day, and crawled into a bed that would be a constant
reminder that she was gone. At this point, even her smell might
still linger. It probably did. The old man smell would come sooner
rather than later. Loneliness was almost a kind of an illness, in
that it couldn’t go on for too long without proper treatment. If
Gilles didn’t get some help, from somebody, almost anybody, serious
consequences would ensue. Levain was sure of it. Among other
things, Gilles needed to redecorate, and a couple of new shirts
wouldn’t exactly hurt his chances of advancement. The poor fellow
was looking distinctly seedy as of late.
***
They were in a straggling neighbourhood
of trades establishments behind a major thoroughfare. Gilles
realized he was completely lost, not just in symbolic fashion but
for real. He hadn’t been paying too much attention. He had other
thoughts, most of them not good.
The taxi sputtered off up the road,
trailing dust from the wheels and throwing up a cloud that hung in
the air, yellowing the sunshine and desiccating the
Similar Books
