Chapter 33: Hello Goodbye
Undeterred by the ungodly hour, Chuck tapped away at the service bell with a steady determined rhythm that reminded her of playing the triangle for her school band. Soon enough a bleary-eyed youngster emerged and in her haste she made the mistake of admitting that they needed to make an international call. At that, he fixed her with a skeptical look-
"Please, it's a family emergency!"
-and then burst out laughing.
"Family emergency?" he parroted, before switching to French and noting that he would have an emergency of his own trying to explain their phone bill to the owner. Charles Charles started to puff up, ready to say or do something that would get him kicked out…
"Dad."
Chuck took his arm and tugged him out of earshot, Eugene close behind.
"Dad, why don't I call from my room?" She phrased it as a suggestion rather than an obvious solution, hoping to appease him. "It has its own phone."
"Must be nice," he grumbled.
She gave his wrist a sympathetic squeeze. "Now that I'm working, how about tomorrow I find you some place in a neighborhood that smells less like a urinal?"
Charles Charles gave her a sharp look and shook his head. "Button, I chose this dump because it's a dump. Fewer prying eyes. Besides, after your little spring clean it's basically the presidential suite."
He turned to Eugene. "Make sure she gets home safe. And don't give away too much over the phone. I want you both back here for a 10am debrief."
This implicit agreement to include Eugene seemed to hearten him. The Alive Again Avenger made her way out the door with him in tow, and – though she hardly needed a bodyguard – she could not deny it was comforting to have someone his size by her side. He was nowhere near as towering as the Pie Maker (she had never met anyone who was), but he looked to be almost six feet…
"For the record, I'm more Inspector Clouseau than James Bond," he said, startling a laugh out of her. "If anything happens all I have to fall back on is standard issue self-defense training."
"That's more than I have," she admitted with a rueful shrug. "Maybe you could teach me something?"
His eyebrows shot up in something like surprise. "I uh…I think your soldier father might be more qualified."
"…oh!" she uttered, blushing. "Yeah. Duh." It was so obvious she felt embarrassed that she even asked. "Well…thank you anyway…for helping with…everything else."
Eugene spotted a sleek back cab – its TAXI PARISIEN sign glowing in the dark – and stepped off the curb to hail it.
"Don't thank me yet…"
They reached the inn and hurried out of the cold, into the lobby, where they were spotted by the night shift receptionist. She waved them over with a smile that belied the time.
"Good evening, mademoiselle! Monsieur." She gave a knowing nod, the implications of which Chuck did not like. "Before you go up, I have a message for you from a Mr. Emerson Cod."
Chuck skidded to a halt, her heart beating staccato, and backtracked to the desk. "What? What did he say?"
"He said there was a family emergency. Everyone is fine, no need to worry, but you won't be able to reach them at the Pie Hole for a while." She glanced down at her notepad. "And they will call you as soon as they can."
The message was maddeningly vague, and for a moment Chuck could only gape. Eugene started to usher her away before she could ask if that was really all…
"Remember what Charles said about not giving away too much over the phone?" he murmured. "I think they had the same idea."
Eddie had the same idea, she thought, but did not say. And now Ned was further away from her than ever…
XXX
It had been some 59 minutes and 38 seconds since Dwight Dixon departed with two pocket watches. While Eddie paced, muttering obscenities under his breath, Ned sat with his head in his hands – eyes fixed on the gun belonging to one Olive Snook. He had placed it on the coffee table, feeling very touch averse to the cold hard metal all of a sudden. 22 seconds later, the phone finally rang and Eddie pounced on it…
"Where are they?"
The Pie Maker sprang up to join him, leaning in to listen, as Dwight cackled on the other end of the line and – after an agonizing amount of taunting – finally gave them an address…this address.
"They're…" Ned was too scared and confused to be angry anymore. "They're here?"
"And you didn't even think to look! But don't feel too bad. This sleight of hand stuff isn't hard. And people are so easily misled when they're scared."
Eddie stood frozen for a moment, seemingly speechless.
"You said they weren't home," Ned uttered in his stead.
"Well…I cheated a little bit," Dwight conceded. "But they're not exactly in the house. Maybe your deadbeat dad has been gone so long he forgot they have a basement."
And without another word, he hung up, leaving Ned and Eddie to lock incredulous eyes…
"Oh you have got to be kidding me!" the Pie Maker snapped, already making his way towards the kitchen. There was a dark green door off to the side of the room; he had never given it much thought before… "Is this it?"
Eddie nodded, mute, as Ned unlocked and opened it. Light from the kitchen illuminated a set of wooden steps leading down into a musty abyss, from which the smell of cardboard and mothballs wafted up…
"Maurice?" he called out. In response he heard a scuffling sound, like that of scattering rats. "Ralston!"
Ned glanced back; Eddie had not moved an inch. So he descended alone, feeling a dizzying rush of relief when he reached the bottom of the stairs and his eyes adjusted to find the boys sitting on the floor, bound and gagged against some kind of pipe.
"Hey!" He dropped to his knees beside them, tugged the fabric off of their mouths. Spluttering, they spat out whatever else Dwight had stuffed in to muffle their cries. "It's okay, you're okay." He found himself reaching out to touch their sweaty faces; their heaving chests, making sure they were still living breathing things. "I'm so sorry."
"Dude, stop being weird," Maurice grumbled.
"Yeah, just get us out of this," Ralston added.
Ned apologized again, and assessed their reddened wrists…Dwight favored zip ties, like Treadwell did.
"I need a knife!" he yelled, getting to his feet.
"…who else is up there?"
"Olive and Emerson?"
The Pie Maker winced, watching the stairs as they began to creak. He knew exactly why their father was dragging his feet. And the facts were these: Edward Egan had not planned to see his other sons so soon. Perhaps he had never intended to see any of them ever again. Alas, Clancy Treadwell and Dwight Dixon had forced his hand, leaving him no choice but to show himself…
"I guess it goes without saying," Ned murmured, "but I haven't been honest about what's going on." He looked down at them with a commiserating frown. "That ends now."
XXX
Emerson and Olive were greeted at the door, not by her parents, but by a reedy balding man in a tweed jacket. He narrowed his eyes at Digby and Pigby (who were now sniffing around after desecrating the manicured lawn) before he turned his scrutiny to their guardians.
"Miss Snook?" he greeted with a hint of a mid-Atlantic accent. "We weren't expecting you."
"And I wasn't expecting you," she replied. "Mr…?"
"Babineaux."
"Mr. Babin- oooooh." Olive nodded and inclined her heads towards Emerson. "The Estate Manager. It's a pleasure to meet you."
He nodded, hands clasped behind his back. "And…you are...?"
The PI offered his own hand, which Babineaux eyed like it might be covered in anthrax. "Cod," he muttered, pulling back. "Emerson Cod."
"One of my dear friends," Olive explained, looping her arm around his. "He won't be able to spend the holidays with his family so I invited him to spend them with us. And we should be joined soon by our friend Ned."
Babineaux turned his nose up, unable to suppress his indignation. "At such short notice?"
Itty Bitty tightened her grip on the PI. "Last I checked I am still welcome in my childhood home."
That seemed to stump the stuffy manager. "Of course," he conceded. "My apologies, Miss Snook." For a moment his gaze lingered on her bunny costume. "I imagine you brought along some luggage?"
"Oh, don't worry, we can carry it."
"Wonderful. Well…come on in. I will organize the stables for your…furry friends."
"Thank you," she smiled sweetly. "But that won't be necessary either. They're house-trained, they can stay in my room."
If Babineaux wished to snark at that, he held back. "Splendid." He stepped aside and gestured towards the double doors. "Please make yourselves at home. But I'm afraid your parents are away." Emerson exchanged a glance with Olive – she seemed just as relieved about this reprieve. "The Kellermans hosted their annual costume party last night and it normally takes a day or two to recover."
"Sounds like my kinda party," he scoffed, causing Olive to chuckle and Babineaux to make a face like he sucked on a lemon.
The PI cleared his throat and nodded his head towards the house. Itty Bitty lead the way, calling Digby and Pigby in with them...