A/N: Happy Year of the Horse! And thankee sai to all who continue to read and/or review :) This is a table-setting chapter, but hopefully you enjoy it anyway…
Chapter 11: Lost In Translation
"Of all the gin joints in all the cities in all the world…"
Charlotte Charles beamed as a serveur set down three glasses. Across the little table sat Gwen and Gene, familiar but altered without their uniforms. In his black jacket and her white dress, the Formerly Lonely Tourist thought they looked like a debonair pair of wedding cake toppers…
"Are you staying here?" she asked.
"Yeppers!" Gwen answered. "We have a three-day layover."
"Okay, that warrants my most heartfelt yay! Why this place, though? I mean it seems a little…economical."
Eugene grinned, catching her attempted tact. "Aether Airlines is facing cutbacks, so we had to settle for a hotel with fewer stars."
"Quel dommage. I would be sad for you if I wasn't so glad to see you."
He laughed aloud at that and she found herself noting his teeth. They were bright white, imperfect, reminding her of disproportionate Chiclets. She thought it a boyish sort of smile, the kind that caught on and inclined its recipients to return it in full…
"So how are you finding Paris?"
Chuck blinked, taking a moment to consider what she had seen thus far… "Spectacular. And strange. I feel like I landed on a different planet, except I read and heard enough about it to create this misplaced sense of déjà vu."
Gwen nodded knowingly. "Are you gonna see the sights soon?"
"As soon as possible. After being cooped up in one room we'll need all the space we can…" She trailed off as the pair frowned at each other. Something seemed to be bothering them. "Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?"
"…the three of you are sharing a room?"
Chuck blushed, silently cursing the wine that had loosened her tongue. She did not want these confident and accomplished confrères to pity or patronize them for being a tad thrifty at the moment. "Oh, it's no biggie. We haven't spent much time together and-"
Gwen waved away her assurance. "This is your first time here! It should be the best. Family vacays are cool and all but distance makes the heart grow fonder."
Gene nodded, adding: "We have two rooms. You could switch with us?"
"Aw, we couldn't…"
"Yeah you could!" said the flight attendant. "Really, we're barely there anyway."
"And if you want," said the pilot, "we'll show you a side of Paris you won't find with any tour guide."
At that he smiled wide, eyes offering some unknown promise. Chuck could not help but smile in kind. For a moment her mind was clouded by thoughts of rain-soaked streets glowing under lamplight, of hazy dance halls filled with music and laughter, of the city spread out before her bedroom window…
"Oy," she exhaled. Then, in the face of their expectant looks, she added: "I mean oui!"
Gwen and Gene cheered lightly, taking up their drinks at once.
"A toast," she demanded.
"To new adventures," he offered.
And with gusto, the trio raised their glasses… "To new adventures!"
XXX
Ned had never given much thought to the bedroom of Olive Snook. It was not a space he planned to inhabit and imagining anything in it seemed inappropriate, intrusive even. More so since his treacherous dream…
Thus, it was with great discomfort that the Pie Maker knocked on her boudoir door. Once, twice, thrice…each time so ridiculously quiet he was sure she could not–
"Gosh darn it!" Ned stumbled back, shoving his hands in his pockets as Olive emerged. "I overslept!"
"Must be the late nights," he quipped. "Sorry, I would've left you alone, but I kind of need my one and only employee."
"Gimme ten minutes! I'll be right down…"
She retreated into her room and he inadvertently noticed how very toile it was. Walls, curtains and beddings were all outfitted in the same swirling shade of green. It was not quite what he expected and he wondered why she chose it, before realizing that he was standing and staring instead of opening his shop…
Downstairs, several regulars waited at the doors, one tapping her watch to indicate that she did not appreciate such delays on her way to work, thank you very much.
Among them was a walking sack of macaroni. Or rather, a man holding said sack, his hands flanking the Lil' Ivey's logo as his head appeared around it…
"Ned."
"Randy!"
But what the Pie Maker really wanted to say was "sorry". For monopolizing the heart of one Olive Snook, for hoping she would never leave, for wishing away this threat to their rapport, which tended to strain at the slightest hint of anything amorous…
Alas, there were customers to attend to, so he set about pacifying them with free caffeine.
Soon enough the waitress came down, wearing a yellowy pink dress that defied the weather outside.
"Never fear, your Pie Ho is nea-!"
Olive skidded to a halt at the sight of Randy, who approached the counter with shoulders hunched sheepishly. Ned could not resist the urge to ogle, as if they were a car crash occurring in slow-motion…
"STOP!"
He jumped, splattering even more coffee into the flooded cup of a patron.
"Oh! God – I am – so sorry…" Ned mopped up the mess and silently reminded himself to mind his own business. When he returned to the counter Randy had disappeared and Olive stood waiting.
"Whoa, what happened there?"
He set down the cup and struggled to meet her eye. "I got distracted. What happened here?"
She looked askance, twirling a dishtowel with false indifference. "How d'ya mean?"
"I mean your former suitor just showed up bearing nonperishable gifts."
"Oh. That. Heh…" she exhaled humorlessly. "He's leaving. Gonna try life in the Mini Apple. He didn't want his foodstuffs to go to waste so…"
Ned nodded and stared down at his sneakers, hardly daring to feel relieved. She was withholding something, but he had already decided to not be nosy. Especially since his nose was nearly broken the last time he stuck it in unfinished business…
"Anywho! I better get Crankypants over there a fresh coffee. Stick to your day job, pie guy."
The Pie Maker tried to smile and set about organizing his worktop. At its base he noticed the pasta leaning against a corner. And at the back of the bag, sticking out ever so slightly, was a Post-it note…
Ned looked to Olive, who was buttering up customers with an ease and confidence he rarely ever felt. He hesitated for a moment, as his curiosity beat his better judgment into submission, before ducking out of sight to sneak a peek…
If you ever need a change of scenery, come find me in Eden Prairie.
The Pie Maker rose, his heart sinking at the thought of what this note offered. Olive could leave. She would leave, as Emerson once warned, unless he gave her a reason to stay…
That day, Ned applied rolling pin to pastry with more force than was strictly necessary. By the time his first pecan pie alighted in the oven he had a plan. He was going to give Olive the incentive she needed. Even if that meant giving up part of the Pie Hole…
XXX
Emerson Cod was none too pleased with the Papen County police. They had a most unfortunate habit of arresting good guys and letting loose bad ones, as evidenced by the grave-robbing Schatz Brothers. Then there were the inadvertent kidnappers of Itty Bitty, and even the innocuous Ned, who once wound up in prison thanks to their ineptitude…
Therefore it came as no surprise when the officer on desk duty proved to be…uncooperative.
"The hell you mean 'no'?"
"I mean private investigators are not allowed to access the National Criminal Information database."
"And why the hell not?"
"Hell if I know. They don't pay me to care."
Emerson glared hard and received a cold stare in return. "You Keystone Cops are gettin' on my last nerve," he grumbled, reaching into his coat for the Blue Berets snapshot. "See these three? They probably got about thirty years' worth of felonies between them. But the prosecutor barely had enough evidence to pin 'em down for ten. And as of last week they're all out on parole." The PI paused for dramatic effect, knowing full well that he was stretching the truth like a rubber band…
"So what do you want us to do about it?"
"Lemme take a gander at their records. If I know what they did in the past, I can figure out what they're lookin' to do in future."
At this the officer scoffed, ostensibly unimpressed. Emerson fixed him with a look that made it clear he would not willingly leave without something useful…
"Try the library."
"I beg your pardon?"
"They have computers, old newspapers. If these guys are as bad as you say, there has to be some word of them archived somewhere."
In the terse silence that followed, Emerson began to realize that he would not be getting what he needed. Not easily at least. The PI sighed and rolled his eyes, grunting something that sounded like thanks as he went…
The facts, so far, were these: someone somewhere had seen fit to clue him into the ties between Dwight Dixon, Charles Charles and Papa Pie Maker. Before departing for Paris, Vivian told him of the twenty-two years her former paramour spent in prison. Their dalliance did not last long enough for her to ask about the crime; a piece of information the PI considered vital to this puzzle. If he found out what Dwight did, it could lead to further revelations about the others. Or to a dead end. Either way, this was another day not spent thinking helplessly of Penny…
At the library, he sat hunched in front of a creaky computer, poring over obscure search results. There was no news of Dwight in Papen Country or Coeur d'Coeurs, so he turned to archives from different states, finding dozens of 'Dwight's along the way.
As the sun began to set and the library sank deeper into silence, his weary eyes came upon a Dwight Dixon of New York, sentenced to twenty-two years for second-degree murder.
The PI straightened in his seat and opened the page posthaste. Later on, he would remember how his heart heaved up at what he saw there, beating so frantically it might have been trying to escape…
FORMER PEACEKEEPER FOUND GUILTY OF DOCTOR'S DEATH
The victim pictured was 'Clancy Treadwell', but that could not be right. For the PI met him mere days before. This man had stood in his office, beady-eyed and broad-shouldered, with a white streak running through his hair…
The victim pictured was Godfrey Gillard.
A/N: Dun dun duuuuun!
Updates coming sooner than later x