"What…what about him?" CJ asked in a shaky voice; it was rare to hear CJ sound upset and I glared at Dumas; what was he thinking? Mentioning that man to her?
"It is not the Richard Cromwell you are thinking of, CJ, it's his son, Richard Cromwell Jr. his father had been in a wheel chair since a carriage hit him a year ago; paralyzed him from the waste down,"
CJ tipped her head down into her hand to hide the fact that she was crying. She quickly wiped her eyes and looked back up as Dumas,
"So what about his son?" She asked,
"Unfortunately he is just as bad as dear old dad; I don't know if he is exactly the same way, but I do know he is involved in some very shifty dealings," Dumas pulled a folder out of his desk and handed it to me,
"Normally a scheme like this would go without us stopping it, but Fillips is tired of rich people getting a free pass every time they break the law, so he wanted me to try and crack this,"
I looked through the papers in the folder Dumas had handed me; there were financial records and notes which looked like they would take hours to go through,
"The short of it is this," Dumas began, "Out of all the aristocrats in Paris you would be surprised how many actually have very little money left, and are willing to do anything short of working to get more of it,"
I handed the folder to CJ and focused on Dumas,
"That is where Cromwell came in; he came up with an idea which is actually quite clever. He hired a small crew of lowlifes and got them a boat. They go out and attack the merchant vessels, they steal the cargo, then sell it themselves for a greater profit; they don't have to pay all the expenses of a long voyage so they can sell at lower prices,"
I stared at Dumas, "That's not so strange, is it?"
"No," CJ answered for me, "People have been doing it for years,"
"Yes I know," Dumas growled, "Here is where it gets tricky; he doesn't have just one boat anymore, we think he had seven, and he has branched out; he has the ports of Paris covered as well as several in England and Spain, and he is not just going after ships carrying foods and silks; they have gone after boats carrying weapons to take back onto theirs, he is building an underground empire,"
"How is he doing it all?" CJ asked, bewildered,
"His financial backing comes from all those aristocrats who are afraid of losing their social status but don't want to start a business of their own. They give payments to Cromwell, then he gives them back profits. They make money and nobody needs to know how,"
"How do you know all of this?" I asked,
"It was not easy. A police chief on the cost in the port of Bordeaux got the first tip from an angry merchant ship captain who was a victim of Cromwell's scheme. From there it has taken almost a year to figure out exactly what is going on and to link Cromwell to the dealings. Our big break was capturing one of the sailors from one of the Cromwell ships and questioning him to death; literally; and then Cromwell was tracked back here, to Paris. And obviously, since most of the information we have about this is from less than reputable casts and we are going up against the most influential citizens of Paris, we can't use any of it against him, we need something solid. We are not sure exactly where he is, but he is somewhere in this city, and now it is in our hands," Dumas finished,
"So what do we have to do?" CJ asked,
"Find him, and find his contacts. Once we do the ships he has set up should fall out of order; cut off the head of the beast…"
"And the rest will die," I finished
"Exactly," Dumas paused, "I want you two to know that Fillips requested specially that you two be on this case, he could have put that folder you two are looking at in anyone's hands; but he chose me, because he chose you two,"
"So no pressure?" CJ said sarcastically,
"You are under so much pressure it could break a brick bridge, so don't bungle it," Dumas said sternly,
"It's hard to take someone seriously after they use so many B's," I said wryly,
"Go to work," Dumas shook his head, "Now!"
"You know how big this city is?" I said as we sat back down at our one desk; there had been talk of bringing another one up from storage, but no one ever acted on it, "The chances of us finding Richard Cromwell Jr. with in the month are very slim,"
"I think I know where we should start," CJ said heavily, "We know where his father is,"
"What are you suggesting?" I asked her slowly,
"I remember where his father lives; we should start by asking him about his son,"
"CJ," I looked at her gently, "You don't have to see him again, you never have to,"
"Yes, I do," she said shakily, "It is the best way to find his son, and you heard Dumas, we need to find him,"
"I don't care about what Dumas said; your safety is in jeopardy; that is what I care about,"
CJ stared at me with determined eyes, "I want him Erik," she said slowly, "I want to bring him down, him and his son, I want to be there when all this is revealed and watch him get dragged off to prison and know that I did it,"
I nodded; by the look in her eyes she was not going to change her mind. It was true; starting with the father would be a good idea, but if he should recognize CJ…I made up my mind in a moment that should Cromwell do anything to upset her he would be a dead man.
The house of Richard Cromwell was located in one of the more posh areas of Paris. CJ stoically directed me there; she was gripping my leg harder and harder as we got closer. When we pulled up the driveway of the large, brown house and I stopped the cab I turned to her,
"You are sure about this?"
"Yes Erik,"
I sighed and we walked toward the house. I knocked forcefully on the door and a maid answered,
"Good afternoon, Paris police," I said and I showed her the silver shield we had been given from Dumas proving we were detectives, "We need to speak to Richard Cromwell,"
The maid shook her head, "Monsieur Cromwell does not like to have visitors at this time of day,"
"We are not here to visit," CJ said authoritatively, "We are the police and we need to speak to Monsieur Cromwell,"
The maid hesitated a moment more, then she backed up and let us inside, "Wait here a moment," she said, "I will go tell Monsieur Cromwell you are here,"
CJ and I stood in the foyer, looking around the house, "It is just how it was back then," she whispered to me, and I admired her for her bravery in facing her past,
The maid returned, "Monsieur is in the study, follow me please," she led us to a handsome study in which an older man was seated in a wheel chair. He looked quite formidable, he had mostly gray hair and small, blue eyes which looked as cold as ice.
I stared back at him and I suddenly felt a wave of anger toward him; he had hurt my wife; this man had raped the mother of my child! I wanted to strangle him; I wanted to choke the life out of him with my lasso.
However, if I did that then it would only make things worse, and if CJ could control herself than so could I.
"You two are the police?" He asked roughly, and he surveyed us both with a disapproving eye,
"Detectives, actually," I said coldly,
"Well I don't think you look much like detectives either," he snapped, "You look like a sideshow act and a woman,"
"Which one is supposed to be which?" CJ asked wryly, and I was amazed at how calm she was,
"Is that supposed to be humorous, woman?" he asked,
"No, I am not here to entertain you," CJ said, "We need to ask you about your son,"
"What about him?" the ageing man barked,
"We think he may have been the victim of bank fraud and we need to talk to him," I said quickly; I had realized that saying 'we suspect your son is a dirty rotten crook' was not the best way to get him to tell us where his son was so I lied,
"A bank?" he growled, "Didn't the bank have his address?"
"Just the address of his accountant,"
"And his accountant did not have his address?"
"He is on vacation, now are you going to help out your son or not?" I asked and I hoped Cromwell was finished poking around my lie,
He considered for a moment, "Yes, yes of course, you, woman," and he pointed at CJ, "fetch me that pen and paper over there," CJ glared at him and slowly stood and retrieved the paper and pen, along with a book for him to write on,
"There," he scribbled an address on the paper, "I hope they send more competent detectives to finish up this investigation, I am going to complain to the Chief of Police about you two, I don't like you,"
"Good day Monsieur," I said standing and taking the paper from him; CJ and I were walking out of the room when Cromwell called;
"You, woman," I froze and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight; beside me CJ was trying to keep from shaking too much; she turned to face him slowly,
"Do I know you from somewhere?" he barked, "You look familiar,"
"No, Monsieur," she said with forced calm, "You don't know me at all,"
He stared back at her with cold blue eyes, "I suppose I don't, you would have remembered meeting someone like me,"
CJ just nodded, "We must be going," I said shortly and I quickly put my arm around CJ and walked her to the front door.
When we were back in the cab, CJ gasped for breath and shook furiously, and I drove until we were far away from the house and then I stopped. I took her shaking form in my arms and held her for awhile. It was a chilly April day and I directed CJ out of the cab and into a warm café.
Moments later we were seated at a table; CJ was sipping warm coffee,
"I hate him," she said sadly, "I hate him so much I want to kill him,"
"So do I, but he did give us the address of his son; you were strong enough to face him and get what we needed from him," I was amazed at how well she had handled the situation,
"I still hate him," she said, whipping a single tear away from her eye, "Where does his son live?"
We did not go to the address of Richard Cromwell Jr. that day. We did not have a plan for seeing him yet, and I was not even certain if we had been given the true address.
We read the papers in the folder Dumas had given us; they were all handwritten copies of payment lists; unfortunately there were no names; just initials; AD, JC, BF, LH, RC, GL; there were pages of these, none of which were any help.
All in all we were glad to leave work that day and return to our home;
"Mother! Father!" Bernadette came running toward us as soon as we walked through the door; her long, black hair was tied back in a ribbon and she dark green eyes were shining; she was an absolutely gorgeous child and I often said I could see nothing of myself in her. However, sometimes when she got a particularly mischievous look on her face, I thought she looked somewhat like me.
"Come here!" Bernadette grabbed us both by our hands; "Look what I have been doing!" she pulled us to the music room and climbed artfully up onto the bench. It was frightening how she would climb and sneak around the house, always doing her best to surprise whoever was in the house; it was not anything CJ or I had taught her to do, she just did it. Marie said she acted exactly like the two of us and if we were not careful she would wind up just as we had.
However, now she was not interested in creeping around; she placed her fingers on the piano keys and carefully hit a random succession of notes, then looked up at us triumphantly, "I wrote it," she was grinning madly,
I put my hand on her back; my palm was almost the size of her whole back, "That was wonderful, when did you write it?"
"Today while Marie was cleaning," She smiled at me and climbed up so she was standing on the bench and turned to face me, wrapping her little arms around me and I picked her up off the bench,
CJ laughed and I knew why; Bernadette always called Marie Marie despite us trying to get her to call her Madame Giry. She had heard CJ call her Marie once and that was all she would ever call her.
I carried Bernadette into the kitchen and CJ followed; Marie was cooking,
"Ah good, I thought I heard you two come in," Marie said,
"We were ambushed by someone at the door," CJ said playfully and she put her face close to Bernadette's; who I was still holding,
"What does 'ambush' mean?" she asked, laughing back at her mother,
"It's when you and a lot of other people hide, and then when someone else comes along you all jump out at them!" CJ said, rubbing her nose against Bernadette's,
"Would you stop telling her things like that!" Marie scolded, "Don't give her any ideas!"
After dinner we would always go up to Bernadette's room. The crib was gone; she was too big for it and we had gotten her a 'grown up bed,' which CJ and I would sit on with her and read with her before she went to sleep.
It was a bit silly, but all the books we had were the one's CJ had taken ages ago on our first assassin job and they were all advanced, so our daughter was slowly learning the classics. She was extremely bright and I was very proud when I heard her read her first sentence aloud.
Bernadette insisted that we sing to her before she went to sleep; CJ now sung a bit as well; I had taught her and her voice was tolerable. Bernadette smiled and closed her young eyes. We kissed her softly and quietly left the room.
Later, after we had gone over everything we knew about the case Dumas had just given us, we finally lay down ourselves. I had a hard time falling asleep and I knew CJ did as well. I could not imagine what she must have been going through; to have to see the man who had hurt her so badly must have been awful. This whole investigation gave me a bad feeling. I had finally fallen asleep when CJ jerked beside me; I immediately woke up,
"No, stop," CJ whimpered beside me, and I knew she was dreaming, and by the way she was moving I knew what she was dreaming about. She suddenly sat up straight and screamed; when she realized where she was she started to cry,
I put my arms around her and drew her to me, gently whispering in her ear and stroking her hair,
"It all seemed so real," she whispered, "he got me again, he's got me again!"
"No, he doesn't have you, I do," I held her tighter, "I have you and you are safe,"
We lay back down in the bed and CJ nestled against me, "Don't let go of me," she whispered, "please don't let go of me,"
"I won't," I said to her gently, "I won't,"
