Chapter 37: Bedtime Stories
Chuck trailed her fingers through the water and found it to be as warm as a cake left to cool on the counter…
"Oooh, heated pool!"
Jimmy Neptune puffed up his chest a bit. "Only the best for our diving divas!"
Lily and Vivian managed to roll their eyes at that, even as they floated past, languidly practicing the next part of their routine. In unison, they ducked under the surface, legs emerging seconds later to perform a series of kicks. Chuck cheered, even though she had no idea how much they could hear down below…
"You sound like a proud parent," Jimmy remarked, amused.
"Well, Lily can be kind of a baby…" Her mother must have heard that loud and clear, for she raised a middle finger in their direction. "Rude too!"
"Aw, she doesn't mean it. You are a great assistant. Where did they find you anyway?"
Chuck took a moment to remember her backstory before responding: "Oh, my dad is an old friend of the Charles'. When they told us about their tour I begged them to bring me along. Said I'd do it for free if it meant I could see Paris."
He nodded, taking off his bowler hat to smooth down wispy curls of hair. "Good thing you did. Sometimes it seems like they need you more than they need me…"
Chuck looked at him, aghast. "Jimmy Neptune, that is not even a little bit true. You deserve your flowers too! We wouldn't even be here without you."
He blushed and bit back a smile as the Darling Mermaid Darlings emerged with a flourish, prompting their audience to applaud. "Don't thank me yet," he murmured. "Tickets go on sale tomorrow; we'll know how well our mini media blitz did then."
With a little shiver of nervousness, Chuck checked her watch. "Speaking of…we should head out; interview is in an hour and fifteen."
Lily and Vivian groaned as Chuck handed them robes and flip flops. "Is there any liquid courage in that Mary Poppins bag of yours?"
Chuck scoffed, taking their damp swimming caps. "This is not your first rodeo. Plus, you just held your breath for like a full minute while pulling off the prettiest kicks ever. I think your nerves can handle ten minutes on the radio…"
Without another word she ushered them off to get showered and changed, while the Aquacade owner looked on in admiration.
"We honestly should be paying you, Emily, even if it's peanuts."
She waved this away, thinking of the tidy little salary she had already earned at the bookshop. "Money comes and goes, Jimmy. But as Humphrey Bogart once said, we'll always have Paris…"
XXX
"Noooon, rien de rien! Noooooon, je ne regrette rien…"
Olive rolled her eyes as the sound of her mother warbling made its way down the hall. She had a lovely voice; so lovely in fact that she once toured Europe with an ABBA cover band. But at that moment they had guests and it seemed quite inconsiderate to disturb them when they were trying to sleep. While the task of shutting down these solo shows normally fell to Mr. Snook, he had refused to go to bed, choosing to smoke cigars downstairs instead.
And so Olive tip-toed out of her room, trying not to wake Pigby as she went…
"Ma?" The door was already ajar but she knocked anyway.
"Ni le mal, tout ça m'est bien égaaaaaaal–"
"Ma!"
There was a startled clattering; a clearing of the throat, then Mrs. Snook turned down the radio.
"Oli? Come in, you silly girl, why are you lurking out in the hall?"
Olive entered, closing the door behind her. "Well, before the lurking I was trying to sleep…but then your siren song woke me from my slumber."
Her mother blushed, turning away to assess herself in the vanity where she sat with perfect posture. Various cosmetics were organized along the table, but for some reason her jewelry was scattered all over, save for the rings and bracelets she had loaded onto her fingers and wrists. A half-empty bottle of wine sat amidst the clutter…
"You okay, Ma?"
Olive came to stand behind her, noticing there was no wine glass. She clasped her mother's shoulders and observed their reflections in the mirror. One face was more lined than the other, but they shared the same prominent cheekbones and pouted lips; buoyant blonde hair and wide eyes bright with expectation…
"Of course I'm okay!" she scoffed, shrugging her off. "Why wouldn't I be? I have fine wine, classic music and a beautiful home filled with family. Are you okay? I can't believe you're still waiting tables for that man. I mean he is gorgeous but you keep saying he has a partner so what's the point-?"
"He promoted me, actually," Olive cut in. "I'm the manager now."
Mrs. Snook clasped her hands together. "Oh, how good of him! Why didn't you say?"
At that, a prickle of irritation crawled along her spine like a centipede. Olive would have loved to say, had they not spent the day hiding away, only showing their faces at dinner to embarrass her in front of her friends. Before she could find a pageant-friendly way to communicate this, the radio crackled and an announcer declared:
"You're listening to the Paris Arts Hour with Genevieve Cotillard. In studio today we have the comeback queens of synchronized swimming, American icons Lily and Vivian Charles. But you might know them best as the Darling Mermaid Darlings…"
Olive squealed and leapt about a foot in the air, lunging for the radio as soon as she touched back down.
"This is coming from France? The actual nation of France right now?!"
Mrs. Snook arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Why, yes, they use this cutting edge technology called radio. It allows you to broadcast anything from anywhere in the world. You just twiddle these little dials here and you can tune right in-"
Olive waved away the snarky commentary and ran to the door, ignoring any objections: "I'll just be a minute!"
Giddy with delight, she hurried over to the room organized for the Pie Maker. Olive hesitated for a moment before she knocked, awkwardly aware that she would be waking him up after asking her mother to keep the noise down. But who knew when or if they would catch this transmission again…
Ned must not have been asleep at all, for the door swung open mere seconds later.
"Hey, are you o…kay?"
His eyes drifted down and she realized too late that walking around in a nightie was fine with her mother. Not so much with the Pie Maker…
To be fair, the silk slip was no shorter than the dresses she wore everyday…although it was a little more exposed…
"Listen!" she yelped, holding the radio up to his face.
Ned did, his eyes widening as Lily and Vivian began to speak. Chuck had to be somewhere nearby, quiet but equally excited…
"Should I…" Olive ventured. "…get Emerson?"
The Pie Maker shook his head, taking the radio and walking back to sit on the four-poster bed. "Not unless we want to die tonight."
Olive forced a chuckle as she moved to hover over Digby, who dozed by the lit fireplace. She glanced at the door, hoping Ned would not notice how she left it so wide open a dozen nuns could have stood there, glaring at her for even thinking of perching on the edge of the bed…
XXX
Emerson awoke from the best sleep he had experienced in weeks. It was perhaps the only thing he enjoyed about the Snook residence (save for the feast he indulged in last night). The PI decided to take a peaceful stroll around the grounds before Ned and Olive came to overwhelm him with their nervous energy. Moreover, he could use the fresh air…and the exercise – something he would never to admit to Itty Bitty, lest she should try and rope him into another tennis match…
Emerson kept his pace brisk as he marched around the perimeter of the house to warm up. That alone took twenty minutes and by the time he reached what seemed to be his own bedroom window, he wondered if it might be wiser to build up his stamina before straying any further…
"G'morning!"
The PI stumbled to a stop as he turned a corner and found the old security guard. His round cheeks were ruddy, but that was more likely from the cold than from any illicit libations.
"You're up early," Hank said with a smile as warm as a space heater.
"Just gettin' my steps in," Emerson huffed, rubbing his gloved hands together. "You on patrol?"
"Yup. I know things usually go bump in the night but I like to walk around anyway. And it's a good thing too!" He looked up at one of the second floor windows. "Mrs. Snook left that open. Between you and me she gets a little forgetful so I'll tell the new guy to make sure she closes it before dark."
The window was in fact open about an inch. It would have been easy to miss for someone going through the motions of patrolling the same area every day. But the old man must have been more alert than he seemed when they first met… "What's in the room?" Emerson inquired.
"Oh, the art studio I think. Mrs. Snook is a real Renaissance woman. She sings, acts, paints…she musta left the window open to let one of her portraits dry..."
Emerson feigned interest in this for a moment, before saying goodbye under the guise of wanting to finish his walk. It was not a lie; just a rather good excuse to get out of having to hear any more about the marvelous Mrs. Snook…
At 9am, in the secondary dining room, Babineaux presented a breakfast spread of eggs, bacon (the turkey variety), sausage and toast, with fruit and cereal on a small table along the back wall. The estate manager ran a tight ship, which Emerson could appreciate as he tucked in, while Olive raved about the Darling Mermaid Darlings interview. She had admitted to almost dragging him out of bed for it, before the Pie Maker advised against it. Wise choice…
"Oh, and then the snooty French lady was like, what exactly is zee appeal of watching people sweem in zee dead of wint-ehhr? But they didn't miss a beat…" Olive sat up straighter and pursed her lips, before evoking the voice of Vivian Charles: "Our routine is evergreen. We can transport our audience from a cold dark night to a sunny summer day in the Mediterranean-"
"For the price of a bus ticket," Ned said, as he walked in with a grim look on his face. Emerson could not tell if that was part of his Lily Charles impression…
He took the seat between Emerson and Olive so they formed a semi-circle at the table.
"Did you get through to Chuck?" she asked, nudging the toast towards him.
He did not seem to notice it. "Uh, yeah…"
She whooped and sang "At laaaast!" in the style of Etta James. "How are they doing?"
"…they're good. All four of them are good."
Emerson picked up a piece of toast since Ned did not seem interested. "The four of them," he remarked with a chuckle. "Trust Chuck to include Jimmy Neptune in the family."
For a moment, the Pie Maker stared across the room at a painting of wild horses… "No, I don't think she meant Jimmy," he said. "I think she was trying to tell me Charles Charles is in Paris."
At that, Olive and Emerson exchanged alarmed glances…
"And I think she met someone else."
"Who?" the PI prodded.
The Pie Maker looked at them with wary eyes before asking: "Did I ever tell you about a kid named Eugene Mulchandani…?"
