Chapter Thirteen: Rabbits
His deft fingers tickled the keys, Mozart's music felt frivolous and carefree. The last of the traffic in the street in front of his study was thinning out, the repetitive clop of the horses' hooves and the sounds of the carriage wheels rumbling along the cobblestones starting to fade in the distance. After dusk set he would make his way to the river.
The lamps were lit inside the Erebus, reflecting off the water. The sound of his footsteps reverberated on the dock as he stepped over onto the boat's deck. Erik entered the cabin and nodded a greeting to his assistant.
"Not taking anything with you" Javier asked, noting his lack of a bag.
"I'm not going, you are. I have a little more spice to add to the dish. Phillipe will be here to check on Madame Griggs and the others; you will go on to Paris." He handed him several large Franc notes "spend some time at the bars, with the police, whatever you think will generate a little more talk. Take at least two days, and then return to me." He went outside, pulling off the mooring ropes for the boat, "Take me to the dock near Rue de Lessard, and drop me off."
"All right, what are you planning to do?"
"You don't use a bear trap to catch a rabbit. Since we don't know the nature of our prey; I'm going to try to find a few rabbits."
He made his way quietly up the alleys until he reached the street where Denis Chalin's Legal Office was. From his pocket he took out a basic key and a pick. He knelt by the key hole, inserting the key. Taking a slow breath, he turned the key slowly several times. At a quarter turn is where this lock actually moved the pins to open the latch. Using the pick he began to feel which of the pins were set in the lock, he adjusted the pressure on the key and moved the pick inside along the top of the locking pins, back and forth until he could leave all the pins set and the pressure from the blank key would open the latch. With a click, it released and the door swung open.
Striking a lamp, he walked through the outer office where the legal assistants did their work. There were presently four desks, all at least four feet high, with the tops tilted for ease of the writer. Each one had a stool for the assistant. None of the desks had anything left on them but did have ink wells, the Remington itself sat on a larger desk that had been added to the room.
Along two of the walls were the case files all stored in the old ledger style books, and at the end of one shelf were the pigeon holed arrangement where the days incoming mail and papers were sorted for Chalin and his two partners.
He carefully removed the stacks from each cubby, turning them upside down so that as he read them over he could put them one on the other so the stack was in the same order. Glancing quickly over the various papers, he found none that had any reference to the typewriters or any notations in other languages. When he was done with them, he moved over to the old desk that held the Remington.
Going through the drawers, he extracted a sheet of paper to be his sample; he would go through all the inkwells in the offices and write a separate line on the paper for a sample of the inks. He turned surveying the room. Human beings were creatures of habit. They tended to put things they used in fairly obvious places. Although the desk was quit old the large bottom drawers were locked, he would find the key.
He walked around the room lifting objects and feeling along sills and ledges under the desks until he found the key for the old desk. Opening the drawer he found a stack of very dusty papers, including two architectural drawings folded up that must have been for older cases. There were also papers with several different names on them which appeared to be legal assistants. He closed and relocked the drawer and put the key back where he had found it.
He continued into the front hall from the main door and looked through coat pockets that were left on the hall tree. There was also a pair of umbrellas in a stand next to the door. Continuing on he found a small area at the back of the hall that had a cabinet with a coffee pot sitting on it and a number of cups. He looked under the cabinet, and walked on until he found what they used for a sink to get water.
So far, only the inks might be a clue, he went through all the desks, writing a line in the paper he took from the old desk. Taking it back to the sink and wetting a finger, he smeared a little of each ink, checking it by the lamp to see if any of them changed color. None left a tell tale smear of purple from Elderberry. As he had suspected the note was not written here.
Going to Chalin's office he started reading down the spines of the ledgers from the bookcase near the desk. Finding the labels that indicated his business and the dates earlier in the year, he found the papers for the contracts for the typewriters. He found a copy of the customs forms for the United States and England. Annotations were made on the documents in a language other than French, along with the initials "GC". He replaced the documents and closed the bookcase.
He crumpled the paper with the ink samples and put it in his pocket. He sat the lamp back in its place, and exited the office, locking the door. The initials "GC" matched the name Giles Charbonneau from papers in the old desk. He now had a name to put to the writer of Emily's note, a writer who was well aware of the scheduled arrival of the typewriters.
Emily kept busy and dutifully stuck to her promise to take cabs at night. She received a letter from the Remington representative in London, and was making arrangements to meet in the Belgian city of Brussels to pitch the import of the typewriter. She wasn't strictly employed by De La Shaumette, but felt it was better if he knew that she would be out of the country for at least a week.
Arriving at the house, she stuck her head into the kitchen and chatted with Agnes for a few minutes until Etienne came to fetch her to the study. Entering, she found the Monsieur was sitting at his desk with Phillipe standing by. He gave her no greeting, but indicated the chair opposite him at the desk.
Finally dismissing Phillipe, Erik sat back and waited for him to leave the study. "Madame, how have you been?"
"I have been doing well." It was a formality of sorts, but she asked "and you?"
"I am kept busy. What is it you needed to see me about?"
"I have the signatures for two additional imports" she said dropping the papers on his desk. "I also have another person interested as well."
"Very good, that brings us up to an even ten machines. We can be making plans to have them shipped soon."
She gave him a direct look "If I get you two additional people interested, can we up the number to fifteen?"
Erik pursed his lips in thought. The signed contracts meant that the people had already paid for their machines. "Only if you get them to sign now, that would leave me to carry the cost of the three remaining machines."
They sat in silence for a moment. She noticed his eyes held that impersonal distant look he could adopt, as if his body was before you, but his thoughts were far away. She remembered Javier mentioning him 'having bad days' and wondered if this was one of them. He spoke abruptly, "Anything else you wish to discuss?"
"I am going to meet with the Remington representative from England. He has been asked to pitch the importation of the machines there, and I will act as his interpreter. We will be going to Brussels in August. We plan to take trains and meet there, and will be in meetings for the better part of a week."
"I see, you have dealt with this representative before?"
"Yes, he preceded me across the Atlantic by two months. I stopped during the trip over and spent a few days with him."
Erik felt his jaw tighten. Emily always seemed to have friends everywhere. For a woman who was 'not available' she had just told him of another male acquaintance. With the human race composed of male and female he should expect his luck to travel in the direct of a male friend. "Why not use one of the canal boats, we run up the river to Belgium quite frequently." If nothing else, he could assure that she was safe up to that point of her trip.
"No, that's alright. Remington is going to pay for the travel and the house."
"So you have arranged accommodations" he asked.
"We are staying in a house in the city" she replied. "We are hoping to at least have two afternoons to ourselves" she went on her face becoming more animated "we want to see the Museum and a couple of famous landmarks while we are there. Peter is checking into theater tickets as well."
Erik fancied he could hear his teeth grinding. Stop it you idiot man, she doesn't belong to you. "A play" he asked.
"Yes. We want to find something suitable for the children. It will give them something to look forward to since we will be in meetings so frequently." When he said nothing, she though she was not explaining herself very well, "ah, his two children and his wife?"
The picture of a family group sitting companionably in a theater box replaced the previous one of an adoring young man on bended knee, begging for Emily's attention. "I hope that you find something suitable for your entertainment." He had to ask, "Do you ever take in an Opera Madame?"
"I am from a very small town, Monsieur. I had started to go to plays while in New York. I have been to a musical show, but not an Opera."
"What a pity. An Opera combines the best of many arts. I could recommend several that you might enjoy."
She smiled, "Do you go to the Opera?" That meant that he had to leave his home as De La Shaumette.
As her quaint American saying went 'the cat was out of the bag'. How was he going to explain how he knew about Opera? He recovered quickly "I have had access to the music" he gestured toward the piano.
"Ah, I see" she though about her own piano lessons and added, "I had to play some classical, but mostly hymns or the Schottisches or Reels."
"For dancing" he asked," the waltzes also?"
"My teacher had us do a few, but most of our dances were in barns and it is hard to waltz on a dirt floor. We'd mostly stick to the Square Dance, like the Quadrille here in France."
Erik though of the times he had watched dances in the villages along the Seine. "I would suppose that if it is like France, there must be drinking involved?"
Emily smiled "Oh, there was also a jug being passed around. That is where most of us got our first taste of corn liquor. It was home brewed and was pretty vile." She added making a face in remembrance of the taste. "Between the dancing and the liquor, it was also where most of us got our first kiss." She didn't know why she added that in, but sitting here in the quiet of the study and thinking of her youth she believed that the French were no different.
With the ticking of the mantel clock the only other sound in the room, Erik felt the weight of the years he had sat in solitude coming back to him. It seemed to evaporate like a morning mist when Emily was here. After she would leave, the emptiness would surely close in around him again. It took a lot of strength to keep from sinking into the darkness again.
It took even more strength to ask. "Emily, do you ever hopeā¦." And then there was a sharp wrap at the door. "Enter" he spat.
Javier breezed in, grinning at Emily, "Ah, what a pleasant surprise. How is our Madame?"
"Fine Javier, and how are you?"
Javier turned to Erik, taking in the smoldering look on the man's face. He really shouldn't take pleasure in the man's discomfort, but it was such a new thing to realize that the ever so capable Monsieur had a softer side. "Not interrupting anything am I?" At the tight line formed by Erik's lips, he thought perhaps he did.
Erik glanced at the clock; "Aren't you a little early today" he asked.
"I got it taken care of early." He sat down in one of the chairs "Emily, are you going to dinner with us on Thursday? We want to meet at Sophie's and go on to that place with the dessert you like so much, the baklava."
Since meeting up with Sophie, Javier had increasingly found ways to invite her and Phillipe out for the evening. Emily doubted it had anything to do with Phillipe. "Certainly, what time do I have to be at Sophie's?"
"We are planning on leaving from the Robillards' around eight." Javier paused to take a piece of paper out of his vest pocket. "I got the bill that you wanted" he handed it to Erik.
It was the Doctor's bill for the crewman who had had to be stitched after the attack in Paris. At the bottom the signature read; 'GC for J. Gaultier' written on it, indicating that 'GC' had paid the bill for Jules Gaultier. It was a common enough practice, Dugast and Chalin were both allowed to put their initials on forms in his stead. Not only was Charbonneau privy to the schedule for the canal boat, but took care of the bill as well. The question is who would have intercepted the bill in Paris, bringing it to Charbonneau and circumventing Gaultier's office?
