Chapter Six
Despite the long drive, they made it to the bank with an hour to spare before closing. Count Olaf had explained that his friend in the bank would be looking for his car outside and would be waiting for her at the entrance. This dashed most hopes Violet held that she would be able to alert Mr. Poe of trouble, but she wondered if she might be able to slip him a note or something once inside.
Count Olaf sat in the car, barely disguising his glee. Violet felt a tremor of nerves as she approached the bank, knowing she was giving him everything she had. If it worked, though, and she was able to deliver him both her cut of the Baudelaire fortune and the Quagmire sapphires, then Klaus and Sunny would be able to live peacefully. Part of her doubted this, however. Count Olaf was a greedy man and Violet knew he would still probably plot for Klaus and Sunny's fortunes after he had her own and the sapphires. All she was doing was stalling, hoping to buy enough time to alert her siblings. Even if he did keep his word, they'd never spoken about what would come of her once he had the sapphires. Violet didn't doubt for moment that she would be found dead somewhere shortly after.
Inside the doors to the bank, leaning against a marble pillar, was a short, flabby man with a long scar down his cheek. He looked both silly and uncomfortable in the suit and tie he wore. Once he saw Violet he smiled, revealing several golden teeth, and stuck out his hand. Violet, trying her best not to curl away in disgust, reached out and gave his hand a small shake before recoiling.
"I am Franz," he said, turning and leading her through a second set of doors and into the main lobby. In there it was quiet and his words echoed around the large room. "I'm told you would like to withdraw and close your account. As Mr. Poe is the overseer of the Baudelaire accounts, I'll be escorting you to his office."
Violet had expected as much. There was no way Count Olaf would have allowed her to go in to talk with Mr. Poe without a chaperone. In fact, she found herself more surprised that Franz was able to find a job in the banking district with all those golden teeth. But, that was neither here nor there. Franz led her up the marble staircase to the second floor, then wound around a few corners before landing in front of a thick door. He knocked twice and the two waited through a spout of coughing, then heard Mr. Poe call, "Yes, yes, come in!"
Franz opened the door and led her inside. Upon seeing Violet, Mr. Poe erupted into another fit of coughing, his red face vibrant against his white handkerchief. "Where have you been?" he demanded, then hacked a few more times.
Violet let him cough and took the chair Franz motioned her toward. The stocky man then stood against the open door, crossing his arms over his chest. "She wishes to withdraw her fortune and close her account," Franz said, eying Violet carefully to make sure she didn't do anything funny.
Mr. Poe's face grew even redder and he managed to say, without coughing even once, "Violet Baudelaire, I have managed your family's money for over thirty years!"
Violet knew she'd have to play along with Franz standing watch. She offered Mr. Poe a sad smile and ducked her eyesight away from him. "I've been having such a hard time since Quigley and Beatrice were taken from me, Mr. Poe. I'm afraid I haven't been myself. I've decided it would be best to travel abroad for a year or so and I would feel much more comfortable having my money with me, should something drastic happen." Violet looked back up at him and didn't have to fake the sorrow in her eyes at mentioning her lost loved ones. "Once I return, I'll immediately open another account with you. You've been so good to my family over the years, Mr. Poe, I wouldn't dare go to another bank."
Mr. Poe seemed rather taken aback by all this, then leaned forward with a creased brow. "Have you made contact with Klaus and Sunny?" he asked. "They've been worried sick since you disappeared. They just called yesterday asking if you'd been in – they call every Friday."
Violet's mouth tightened slightly. Under no circumstances did she want Franz in the room while they discussed her siblings. If Mr. Poe knew where they were and let it slip, things could be all over. For all she knew, Count Olaf still planned on searching for them and killing them off for their money.
"I have," she lied, trying to force a smile on her face. "They were ecstatic to hear from me. I'll be returning to Uncle Monty's soon to visit with them for a few days before I take my leave."
Mr. Poe's eyes searched her face, looking for anything out of place. When he found nothing, he sat back with a sigh and lifted the receiver on his phone. "How would you like your money?" he asked, typing a few numbers into the dial pad.
"Cash," she said, as instructed. "Small bills, preferably."
At this Mr. Poe nodded and spoke into the receiver, asking for the paperwork on Violet's account to be drawn up and the amount in the account withdrawn in small bills. "This may take a while," he said with a small smile, "And I do have much to do. Perhaps Franz could take you to the bakery next door for a pastry while we wait?"
Franz shifted uncomfortably, this not being in the plan, but Mr. Poe shot him a look. Violet suspected it was a look which said Violet was an important patron of Mulctuary Money Management and that Franz had better take her for a pastry or he might be out of a job.
"Sure," Franz said with unease, giving Violet a forced smile. Mr. Poe reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. After a moment of shuffling through the contents and a brief break for coughing, he handed Franz several small bills.
"Bring me back a blueberry scone," Mr. Poe said, then dismissed them with a nod.
Out in the corridor, Franz gave a growl of frustration. "No funny business," he said lowly. "We'll go to the bakery, get the pastries, then you'll go right back to the car until the money is ready."
Violet nodded, wondering how she might slip a note to Mr. Poe. She followed Franz back through the twisting hallways and down the marble staircase. Once outside, Franz steered her left and she saw a few doors down the bakery Mr. Poe spoke of.
"Hey!" called a voice from the street. Franz turned to see who it was, but Violet didn't have to. Count Olaf was creating the distraction she needed. "Where do you think you're going?" he hissed from the parked car.
Franz twisted his head from side to side, looking at Count Olaf leering lividly from the car and Violet's quickly retreating back, headed for the bakery. Out of the two, his boss was much scarier and he ran across the empty street, ducking his head to look in the window.
"Mr. Poe told us to go get pastries while we wait," he said, looking back over his shoulder and watching Violet step inside the bakery. "They're drawing up the papers now."
Count Olaf eyed the bakery. "Any problems out of her?" he asked, a feeling of unease in his stomach.
Franz shook his head. "No, sir. She lied like a pro, she's quite an actress. Said she was going abroad." Again, he looked over his shoulder. "Poe said her siblings have been calling every Friday to ask if she'd been in. Next week I'll try to listen in, see if I can get a location."
At the mention of the younger Baudelaire siblings, Olaf stiffened. "What did she have to say about her siblings looking for her?" he snarled, eyes gleaming brightly for a moment. If Violet got any funny ideas, he might just have to hurt her.
Franz grinned. "She lied. Said she already spoke with them and not to worry."
Count Olaf huffed a breath, feeling a bit deflated. He'd expected an escape attempt out of her. With narrowed eyes, he wondered what she might be doing alone in the bakery. "Go after her," he ordered. "Make sure she isn't try to pull a fast one on us."
Franz nodded and crossed the street, eyes darting inside to see Violet looking over the case of pastries. When he entered, she turned and gave him a small smile over her shoulder. Had he been better trained in the art of deduction, he would have seen the discarded pen on the counter, the smudge of ink on her fingers, and the napkin folded neatly in her hand. But, he wasn't well-trained in the art of deduction and saw none of these things.
"What would you like?" she asked politely, turning her attention back to the case. Inside there were scones, muffins, doughnuts, and several varieties of cookies. Franz stepped up and gazed at the sweets with her, smiling that golden smile to the woman behind the counter.
"I'll take a glazed doughnut," he said, then looked at Violet. "Get something for the boss, too."
She was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Alright," she told the woman, "We'll take a glazed doughnut, a blueberry scone, a cinnamon muffin and…" she paused, looking over the case. "And a raspberry scone."
It never hurt to be thoughtful, she supposed. If they were getting Count Olaf a pastry, they might as well get him one he liked.
Franz paid the woman and she took a few moments to pack the things into a white box, which she handed over to Violet with a smile. While Franz was stuffing the change in his pocket, Violet took the moment to open the box and wrap a napkin around each pastry. Around Mr. Poe's she wrapped the napkin in her hand, on which was scrawled a message pleading for help and explaining her situation. Franz, not the most alert man, did not notice and looked up well after Violet had the lid back on the box.
"Ready?" she asked and he nodded, the two exiting the shop and crossing the brick road to Count Olaf's car.
"How much longer?" Olaf hissed through the window. Violet ignored him and popped open the door behind him, sliding into the backseat. Franz took the front seat.
"They should be done by the time we eat," Franz assured him and Violet dug out the doughnut, handing it up front toward than henchman.
"Here," she said, handing the raspberry scone up next. "For you, Count Olaf."
Violet watched as he turned his head and eyed it with suspicion. "You take a bite first," he said darkly, coming to the ridiculous idea that she somehow had time between the bakery and his car to poison his food. Violet took a bite, though, meeting his suspicious eyes in the rearview mirror and letting him clearly see she didn't start foaming at the mouth.
"Fine," he said, then snatched the scone out of her hand. "It's not strawberry, is it? I hate strawberries," he added.
"Raspberry," she muttered, trying to conceal her irritation at his childishness. "I know you're quite fond of them."
Franz was far too busy scarfing down his doughnut to catch the look Count Olaf gave her in the mirror, but she looked up just in time to catch it. The glance wasn't threatening, but still held some darkness and she quickly looked away.
The three ate without conversation, Violet merely nibbling at her muffin, anxious to get back inside the bank and give Mr. Poe his scone, complete with note. Franz was sucking on his fingers, earning disgusted looks from both Violet and Olaf. When he was finished, he looked back at her and said, "They're probably done now. You ready?"
Violet nodded, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. While Franz left the car and made his way over to open her door, Count Olaf eyed her in the rearview mirror and she carefully avoided his gaze. Once the door was popped, she took two steps toward the bank before Count Olaf called for her to stop.
Dread lodged in her stomach as she turned back to face him, attempting a quizzical look. "Let me see the box," he said, eyes shining. Despite knowing he would be angry if he found the note, Violet did as she was told and stepped near the window, lifting the lid on the box. When she'd wrapped the napkin around the scone, she suspected Count Olaf may do something like that and so she wrapped it with the message inside facing the scone. At a single glance, nothing looked out of place.
Count Olaf seemed satisfied and he nodded, but as she pulled away he saw a smudge of ink on the corner of the napkin. His hand snapped through the window at lightning speed, snatching her wrist in his grasp. With a knowing look, he leaned through the window and tugged the napkin away from the scone with his free hand.
Violet's face faltered, fear building in her chest. Olaf's grip on her hand tightened to the point that she felt her fingers going numb.
"Don't let her hand anything to Poe," he hissed to Franz, eyes alight in fury. "Then bring her straight out to me. Do not take your eyes off her for a second."
At that, he shoved her arm with such force that she stumbled back into the arms of Franz, who laid two hands on her shoulders and steered her toward the bank. "You must have a death wish," he muttered as they entered the quiet building, then grew silent.
Mr. Poe was awaiting them in the lobby. He never noticed Violet's hands shaking as she handed over the box and mistook her pleading eyes as nerves from her upcoming trip. After patting her on the shoulder to reassure her that her voyage would be perfectly safe, Mr. Poe wheeled out a large cart with several canvas bags, which she was sure contained the money. With the tip of his hat, he excused himself for a business meeting, leaving her in the hands of Franz.
Count Olaf's henchman pushed the cart outside and the two once again crossed the brick street to the idling car. The look of greed on Olaf's face was unmistakable as he popped the trunk with some lever inside and left the car for the first time that morning in order to help Franz load it.
When it was all loaded, except one lone bag which was thrown in the front, Franz shut the trunk while Count Olaf guided Violet back into the backseat. Before Franz even started back across the road, Olaf was in the car and driving off without so much as a wave.
The tension in the car was undeniable. So much so that it made Violet feel suffocated, avoiding his pointed stare in the mirror.
"You can't have expected me not to at least try," she finally said, staring with intensity out through the window.
"Franz tells me your precious Klaus and Sunny call into the bank each week inquiring about you," Olaf said evenly – too evenly – and then added in a sharp tone, "Look at me when I'm speaking to you."
Violet did as she was told and was met with a look of pure wrath.
"He will be monitoring further calls-," he continued, "- until we have a location. I only keep my word as long as you keep yours. If you cause any more problems, I will find them and I will slaughter them without a second thought. Do you understand?"
A violent shudder ran through her and she nodded, wanting nothing more than to look away from his glare.
"Tell me you understand," he ordered, taking the opportunity to glance down and make a left turn.
"I understand," she said, feeling defeat wash over her. Again, Count Olaf's eyes raised to meet hers.
"And no more little stunts," he added, giving her an expectant look.
"No more stunts," she agreed.
"Good," he replied. "Now we're going to meet my banker."
When they finally arrived at Count Olaf's bank, located on the opposite side of the banking district, Violet's heart nearly stopped. Olaf dragged her from the car inside to inquire about a cart similar to the one they'd used at Mulctuary Money Management and they were greeted by Olaf's banker. At first all she could see were the black curls and warm brown eyes. The resemblance to Quigley nearly shattered her heart to pieces.
"And who is this?" the young man inquired, nodding in Violet's direction. Count Olaf gave her a dismissive wave and introduced her as Veronica, his hired help.
Both Olaf and Violet noticed the quick dart his eyes gave to her empty ring finger.
The young man, who had offered Violet a warm hand and introduced himself as Oswald Langdon, left and returned with a cart. Together the three went out and loaded the bags from the trunk, then once again entered the bank.
"My Aunt Geraldine recently died," Count Olaf was telling him at the counter, "She left everything to me."
Oswald, though, was hardly listening and kept eying Violet at every chance he got. "She was a wealthy woman," he said in a distracted tone.
Count Olaf had about enough of the boy's looks toward Violet, his grimace growing when she offered Oswald a shy smile in reply. The good thing, however, is that Violet unexpectedly became a distraction and there were no questions asked about the large sum of money being deposited into his account.
When it was all said and done, Count Olaf had become a wealthy man and he was steering her toward the door to go buy a celebratory bottle of wine.
"Wait!" said Oswald, making his way back around the counter. Both Violet and Count Olaf turned to see what he wanted, but it might have been as if Olaf wasn't even standing there. Oswald only had eyes for Violet. The boy was smiling from ear to ear and stood too near Violet for Count Olaf's comfort. "Would you like to go to dinner sometime?" he asked her, pushing his black hair away from his eyes.
Violet blushed furiously, but gave him a sad smile. "I am delighted you asked," she said carefully. "However, I work for Count Olaf in the evenings."
"Lunch, then?" he asked, hope still standing in his eyes. Violet was about to deny him again when Olaf's eyes caught a portrait hanging nearby. It was of a stout man he'd met before, with the same black hair as the boy. Around his neck was painted a thick gold chain and on his fingers were several large rings encrusted with precious gems. Near the bottom of the frame, there was a bronze placard which read: HAMSLEY P. LANGDON.
"My dear boy," Olaf said, clapping the boy on his back and offering him a wide smile. Violet watched, confusion etched on her brow. "Veronica is dreadfully shy! Of course I would let her have an evening off to dine with you!"
Oswald beamed and turned back to Violet, who quickly morphed her face from one of confusion to one of shy anticipation. "As long as Count Olaf will allow me the time off," she said, unsure eyes darting toward Olaf, "I would be happy to have dinner with you sometime."
Count Olaf reached into his breast pocket and shuffled within it for a moment, finally pulling forth a thick card. Violet glimpsed three words printed in navy lettering: AL FUNCOOT PRODUCTIONS.
"My card," he told the boy, handing it over to his eager hands. "The number is for my home. Call anytime and we'll arrange an evening off for dear Veronica."
After that, the three bid goodbye and Violet could feel Oswald's eyes on her until she was tucked into the car. Olaf, also aware of this, put her in the front seat so questions wouldn't arise. Once he was in the car and the two were down the road, he turned to Violet with a wicked smirk and said, "His father, Hamsley Langdon, owns the bank. I recall meeting Hamsley once at a dinner party and being annoyed at how much he gushed over his only child." As if to prove his point, Count Olaf gave a great shudder.
"Then Oswald is his heir," Violet said slowly, looking out the window to avoid the sick feeling in her stomach.
"Clever girl," Olaf replied, that same strange pride in his voice that he had when he told her the Quagmire sapphire card was well played.
Violet sighed, then turned and gave him a sad look. "What do you want me to do?" she asked, mouth twisting down at the corners.
Olaf drove for a moment, thinking. What did he want her to do? The thought of her out enjoying the boy's attention wasn't something that made him happy, but his greed had won out over jealousy.
"Woo him," he finally said. "Find out what you can about his fortune. We'll figure it out from there."
This, of course, brought a great feeling of despair to Violet, as well as a rise of anger. "I'm not going to help you steal from someone else," she said, throwing him a look which rivaled his own, "I'm not like you."
Count Olaf was not happy with this answer, as you can imagine, but gave a horrible laugh that sent a chill down her spine. "If you weren't like me, you wouldn't have started those fires," he spat, eyes aflame.
Violet set her jaw, caution flying out the window. "I am not like you," she said again. "I would never do something to someone noble!"
Again Olaf laughed, his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel until they turned white. "Are you aware that you killed people, Violet Baudelaire? Three of my troupe and two others. Yancy had betrayed me and sworn allegiance to what remnants are left of that V.F.D." For a moment he was quiet, pulling over into a parking spot on the side of the road. Violet could see they were in the grocer district. "His brother was trapped in the fire, too, and he was the one who convinced Yancy to give up his life of crime."
Violet remembered that the paper mentioned a brother being killed, though she pushed the guilt she'd felt far away. Now it resurfaced, showing in the tuck of her brow. "He shouldn't have committed the crimes in the first place," she argued, though her argument sounded weak even to her own ears.
"You killed Katalin," he said. "You almost claimed my life, too. I was visiting to cast her in my upcoming play and she sent me out to buy a bottle of brandy. Of course I was furious, but when I returned to the house up in flames I didn't feel so bad. They said you could hear her screaming from the street. Her sister was there, cleaning to make a little extra money. She was eight-months pregnant and struggling to buy things she needed."
Violet's lip quivered, eyes beginning to burn. "You're lying," she spat, knowing how well he was skilled in deception.
"I'm not," he said, crooking one of those slender fingers and reaching over to brush away a lone tear that escaped her. "You're an arsonist, a murderess, and a liar, Violet Baudelaire."
"I am not a liar!" she exclaimed, another tear sliding down her cheek. She didn't have it in her to deny the other two accusations.
"You are, though," he said, pulling away and turning off the car. "You are just as villainous as I am and you continue to lie to yourself about it."