Becwethan (The Leopold Dix Thrillers Book 1) Page 17

  I stood outside the door, eventually the laughing subsided, Dom’s calming voice gently rising and falling. After a short time she joined me; “that was just what he needed Leo, I think you’ve really lifted his spirits.” The colour had returned to her face, her youth and natural beauty shining through. “But only in small doses, otherwise you’ll kill him”.

  “I’m back for more facial work next week; I’ll pop in and see him then, give him the full low down.” I could see Dom’s spirits were high so I asked about Mattieau; “where’s your grandfather Dom?” My experience told me to go silent. I could see she was thinking, waiting, deciding.

  “I know I let you down Leo, that I should have been more forthcoming about Klaus, but I don’t know where grandfather is. My aunt will know, she won’t tell the police, but I think she’ll tell you.”

  “Thank you Dom”.

  Pascal had returned, his shirt creased, tie sitting lower.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “They’ve said he’ll make a full recovery, should be out in a couple of weeks, and he’s certainly not lost his humour; my face was a source of endless fun.

  We set up camp on one of the remote tables and ran through the events of the previous 24 hours.

  “Ah whilst I remember, the cyclist, Simone called me, she was up at Rothorn with Rufus and they were anxious that you’d not shown. I let her know you were fine. She said she’d run up and tell Rufus straight away. Oh, and she’s going over there again tonight.” He paused and looked at his moleskin pocket book. “I’m starting to feel like your social secretary.”He smiled a yellow toothy smile.

  “I’d never employ you, your image is all wrong.” Pascal straightened his low slung tie and nodded.

  “So to the loose ends” Pascal began. “Marc’s at large, Mattieau missing, and we have three headless bodies of unknown people. We’ve located Raphy’s head and the one you marked with a cross; but we’re still looking for the two that were dropped together. I’ve no doubt we’ll find them and Jurgen will ID all three.” His chest rattled as he drew in his next deep breath. “But, can we now assume that Marc was responsible for the deaths of your father, Klaus, and the abduction of Gustav. We know he killed the other four men, albeit a deranged sacrifice.” Again he paused and coughed, the cigarette damage evident; “I’m going to put pressure on Remy and Catherine to see if they know where Mattieau is, perhaps he’s the only one left who can tell it how it was.”

  “Can you let me try first? Dom and Catherine seem to trust me now. I’ve met Remy a couple of times.”

  “Yes, it could be the best approach. Are you good to go today?”

  “I’m ready now, I just need to find some liquidised food, my stomach’s going mad.”

  The restaurant didn’t even blink, they liquidised my spaghetti bolognaise and I carefully spooned it in whilst Pascal headed off to arrange transport.

  He’d been able to divert a police helicopter to the hospital, so 20 minutes after finishing my lunch I was standing outside Catherine’s workplace, the commune buildings of Grimentz. It was two in the afternoon, ‘good they’ll be back from lunch’.

  I pushed the two sets of doors open and stood in front of a small wooden counter. A cardboard dispenser offered me a schedule of events; ‘weekly activities in Grimentz, prepared by the tourist office’ it said. A one way mirror covered the wall to my left; they knew I was here.

  “Hello again” a young male clerk cornered the wall. “Catherine will be with you in a second, if you go back out and come through that door” he pointed to the door marked staff only, “then I’ll show you the meeting room.” He disappeared behind the mirrored wall and opened the other door; “this way”.

  I’d had a couple of meetings here before, the planning applications seemed a life time ago.

  “Catherine” I put out my hand, “no kisses today please.”

  “Or for the next month or so I’d say.” She drew her face into an expression of pain. “Sit down, please; I’d offer you a coffee but you wouldn’t be able to drink it. I’ve just spoken to Dom, she said you made Gustav’s day, week, year, life.”

  “Yes, he’s much better. You know why I’m here?”

  “You need to find my father.”

  “He’s probably the only one who really knows what’s been happening.” I said.

  “He wouldn’t kill anyone Leo; it’s not in his nature”.

  “But that’s not enough; if he knew what was happening it’s ..... enough” I stressed the final word.

  “But he was terrified of Marc” I could see her eyes starting to water. “We all were”.

  “It’s how a defence would be built, mitigating circumstances, and having seen what he was capable of…. Well; look Catherine, Marc’s gone and Mattieau’s case is valid. The threat has gone. He’s got to break cover now and tell Pascal everything he knows.”

  “I need to make a call. Can you wait here?” She held up a hand, shaking ever so slightly.

  “No problem” I replied.

  I sat back in the comfortable office chair and promptly fell asleep.

  “Leo”, Catherine shook me gently by the shoulder.

  “Just nodded off there for a second” I stretched my aching body, the chair wasn’t built for sleeping.

  “I’ve spoken to my brother and we agree, it’s time for dad to face the music. He’ll fetch him,” she checked her watch, “it’s three now, Remy’ll have him back home for no later than 6.00pm.”

  “Thanks Catherine, I’ll tell Pascal to meet him at the chalet.”

  I stumbled out of the commune buildings; I really didn’t need another fall. Pascal was loitering outside the tourist office opposite.

  “He’s coming home at 6.00 tonight and he’s expecting you.”

  “What does the girl really think?” He asked.

  “That he knew what was happening, but was powerless to stop it. Marc’s some sort of patriarchal figure; they’re all terrified of him; Marc’s clearly our man; I can’t see any more lines of enquiry, can you?”

  Pascal rubbed his hand on his yellowing bristly chin, “no, but you think on it overnight and I’ll see what Mattieau has to say. Oh and Leo, I’ve asked the chopper to drop you as close as possible to Rothorn; he’s waiting in the car park.”

  “Fantastic,” now it was my turn to raise my fist and pump the air; the hike up had lost its appeal.

  “After what you’ve done, it’s the least we can do.”

  I turned and walked.

  Once airborne it was five minutes to the Chalet. The pilot took us in close and Rufus appeared at the door; big grin and thumbs up. I lowered myself out and waved the chopper up, the thumping rotors blowing freshly cut grass up and away.

  “Dad, great to see you, kettle’s on.” Rufus shouted his greeting.

  “I see you’ve been keeping busy” I scooped up a handful of grass, my voice not strong but able to carry the distance as the chopper disappeared from sight. There was a professionalism to his hobbling as Rufus approached and hugged me, three resounding pats on the back.

  “Jesus dad I was worried this time. I didn’t think you’d pass up lightly on Simone’s visit.” He looked closely at my face. “Second black eye and broken nose, what the fuck happened this time?”

  “We’ve cracked it, Marc’s bolted, and the rest are dead.” I pulled a straw out of my pocket and drank a luke warm tea, Rufus listened carefully as the story was recounted.

  “I’m going to rest up for an hour, what time did she get here yesterday?”

  “Just before 7.00, that gives you ten minutes rest and an hour and a half to put your face on” he chuckled.

  “I don’t know what you and Gustav are going to laugh at when this gets better.” I withdrew up stairs, put the phone on charge, ‘there’ll be some interesting messages on here’ I thought, and collapsed onto the bed. Rufus looked in through the door as The Eurhythmics hung in the ether; “you’ve got music!”

  “Simmy left us her IPod and speaker kit,
she asked what your music was the time before last, she’s down loaded some great stuff, not sure about ‘Haircut 100’ though.”

  “Love plus one, fantastic day or favourite shirts?” I was showing off.

  “Now you’re showing off” he confirmed.

  “How did you manage with the strimmer, aren’t you supposed to rest the tendons?”

  “Simmy did it; quite terrifying; she sharpened great granddad’s old scythe, then set to for an hour between nine and ten. She was probably working off her frustrations; after all she was expecting to see you.”

  “Leave me alone”, I moaned, “and wake me up in an hour”.

  He chuckled as he closed the door, “great to have you back dad, see you in a couple”.

  I was asleep before the door had fully closed; lying in state, feet together, arms by my side, motionless, steady deep breathing.

  “Hey dad” Rufus shook my arm, “shower’s running, you better get a move on.” I fell back to sleep “dad” louder this time, “dad you smell like shit and Simone’s coming”, that had pressed enough buttons to draw me up into a sitting position, but still my body refused to move. “dad, there’s no way she’ll let you touch her if you don’t wash.” That was the trigger, and Rufus knew it, I was up and moving. “The clothes have had it” Rufus continued, “it’s a bin job I’m afraid.”

  “More hole than sole man” I’d been waiting a long time to say that, and now the perfect opportunity had presented itself. Rufus held up the offending items, “na, this time they’ve really had it” he said, shaking his head deliberately.

  “No worries mate”, I threw in my best Australian accent.

  “No worries” he joined in.

  The shower was sublime and the clean clothes made me feel normal again. I looked in the mirror. “Not normal” I said in a deranged voice. China Crisis finished and Blancmange began the Abba cover track ‘the day before you came’; it was a straight cover, Neil Arthur keeping his voice flat and droll, the only change to the lyric when he substituted Marilyn French for Barbara Cartland. I cleaned my teeth gingerly, and spat the toothpaste into the sink; no blood, ‘a good sign’ I thought.

  “Much better” Rufus applauded as I walked into the sitting room, “beer?”

  “Oh just one” I replied, sure that it wasn’t the perfect mix with the pain killers. “

  “Have you spoken to Mum yet?” I enquired.

  “Ah, a continuing technical problem, I’ve not been able to get up there yet.”

  “Unless you want her on the doorstep Rufus, we’ll have to get up there tomorrow.”

  “No worries, you can help me on the tricky bits” he said; “the tricky bits of conversation that is,” he smiled.

  “You’re on your own there mate”.

  “How’s Gustav fairing;” his tone more serious.

  “I think I liked him better when he was in a coma, the bastard spent five minutes pointing and laughing. He’s good; any luck and he’ll be home in a week or so.”

  Our domestic bliss continued for the next twenty minutes, I had five seconds to guess each new track and artist, Rufus cracked more beers and concocted several amusing explanations for his mother.

  The evening was unusually warm, close, perhaps a storm was coming. We sat outside looking at the darkening sky, the crown of mountains and waiting for Simone, Simmy as Rufus called her, to arrive.

  After five minutes I could see a waving arm, a smiling face, and a huge rucksack.

  “She’s like a pack animal” Rufus said, “check that load”.

  “Not how I’d describe her” I said. It seemed an age since I’d seen her; her skin looked darker; perhaps it was the light, her teeth whiter; her face so full of energy and enthusiasm, passion and excitement; perspiration and heavy breathing. The twist was that she wore a simple, fitted, white dress with a subtle floral print; the rucksack heavy with provisions.

  “Ahoy there invalids” she shouted, as I scampered across the open space to help.

  “I’ve made it this far Leo; let me take it to the table”. She backed up to the table where Rufus was sitting and undid the clips, lowering it gently to the surface.

  “Now you can give this sweaty girl a hug.” She clung on to me, buried her face in my shoulder, and gently rubbed my back.

  “If I can find your lips through all those stitches I’ll give you a kiss” she joked.

  “Unless the plastic surgeon moved them somewhere else I think they are here;” I pointed. She promptly stood on her tip toes and kissed me.

  “I’ve brought a feast, let’s eat inside”.

  I cracked a bottle of Pinot and we all drank thirstily. Simone carefully unpacked the food and took the pudding to warm in the oven.

  The evening was fabulous, Simone, tight waist, smooth legged and witty, buzzed around the room fully charged and dangerous; Rufus, relaxed, easy going and politically incorrect, roaring with contagious laughter.

  “You know he called you a pack animal earlier” I pointed at Rufus.

  “Thanks dad, but I think that’s a little out of context”.

  “I’ve never seen anyone who looks less like a pack animal, you look stunning Simone.”

  “Thanks Leopold, don’t you think you should start calling me Simmy?”

  “Ah, I thought that might be a generational kind of thing you’d got going with Rufus. Simmy, Simmy,” I tried it out for size, “yes I like that Simmy.”

  The rain started and a rumble of thunder rolled down the valley.

  “I think we’re in for a firework display tonight” Simone said.

  Rufus couldn’t suppress his laughter, the double entendre too obvious. “Look I’m off to bed, with the IPod for company, night Simmy, night dad” he withdrew as speedily as his leg would allow, the music permeating his bedroom walls.

  We both fell about laughing.

  “He’s missed the pudding, should I take it up?” She scrunched her face and answered her own question “naa, we’ll leave him with the music”. The storm was really starting to build, strong wind and regular cracks of thunder and lightning. We sat together in an arm chair as I recounted the story uninterrupted.

  “But it’s all over now” she asked hopefully.

  “You know what; I think it is. Marc can’t run forever, they’ll catch him; the only sad part is that I won’t see Pascal anymore, I’ve enjoyed his company. Come on, I shuffled in the chair, let’s get you upstairs, see if we can’t light this firework display.” She punched me in the chest and shot off up the stairs.

  TWENTY THREE

  I woke at nine, Simmy long gone and stretched my aching limbs. A scribbled note lay on the floor; ‘best night ever, will bring supper Friday, training session tonight unfortunately XX call if you need anything’. Negotiating the stairs I arrived in the living room with a thump, still half asleep. The dishes had been washed and stacked; the table wiped clean. A bowl of plum crumble sat in one of the places; ‘Rufus’ on a folded sheet of paper alongside. She didn’t need to do all this, but it was seriously appreciated. I set the kettle to work and sat by the open door. The storm had passed, washing the dust of late summer from the trees; their bark now dark and rich in colour; the smell of rain still clung to the air. A stone’s throw ahead a mountain hare moved through the damp grass, large, mottled, and unthreatened; the whistle of the kettle providing the motivation for me to stand and the hare to run.

  “Great clear up job” Rufus was behind me.

  “All credit to Simmy. She’s left you some breakfast as well.”

  He turned and saw the pudding; “I could smell it all night, I’ve been dreaming about it, at one point I woke up and could have sworn I could taste it, superb.” Rufus fell silent as he demolished the huge slice of pudding, not rushing, just savouring. The last mouthful finished he began; “I’ve worked up some exercise regimes, principally upper body, and core for me. I’ll take you through them if you like this afternoon?”

  “I’m on a full week of R & R; surgeon doesn’t wan
t too much raised blood pressure.” It sounded convincing, the reality was I needed to do nothing.

  “The one thing we need to do today is to get you on the phone with your mother.”

  “Deal” Rufus said.

  “It’s nine now, let’s head up at 10.30, get messages etc and be back for lunch. I fancy a game of chess this afternoon and cards and beer tonight; what d’ ya reckon?”

  “Sound plan; Simmy around tonight?” Rufus looked hopeful.

  “Tomorrow” I paused, “with another supper, we’ll owe her big time when we’re fit.”

  The trek up wasn’t hard. There was no rush; with the crutches and Rufus’s strength we were able to keep the pressure off his leg. I remained close only needing to rebalance him on one occasion.

  “Shit I’ve forgotten the phone” Rufus said pulling the phone out of his pocket.

  “You were sent onto this planet to wind me up Rufus Dix, now phone your mother, I’m going over there to get my messages.” I withdrew a suitable distance to make sure that Rufus didn’t try to drag me into his conversation. I had twelve messages, a healthy mix of text and voice.

  ‘Where the fuck are you Leo? We’re at Bendola and there’s no sign of you’.

  ‘Come on Leo, where are you?’

  ‘Now you’ve turned the fucking phone off’.

  ‘I’m booking a flight to come and see Rufus, I know something’s wrong, we have newspapers here as well.’ ‘Shit I hope Rufus gets to her first’ I thought.

  Simmy had texted me three times, worried for my safety, a voice mail from Jack asking me to call, ‘fucking papers have got hold of your story out here ‘Graves of Grimentz they call it’; the remaining messages a cocktail of expletives from Pascal, beseeching me to make contact.

  I glanced over to Rufus; his arms were rising and falling as he hobbled in circles explaining the chain of events to his mother. She kept him on the phone for forty minutes, ringing him back after five to obviate the cost excuse. He looked exhausted.

  “She got her pound of flesh then” I said.

  “And some; she wants me to come back to London; Jesus, she’s even found me a job.” He shook his head. “I know it’s been crazy here Dad; but I feel it’s only just settling down; Rothorn’s sorted, you know I hate it in the big smoke. I’m always looking for an excuse to go to a place, well a place just like this;” he opened his palms upwards and looked around.