Flossed (Alex Harris Mystery Series) (2 page)

We went through customs and got our first stamps in our new passports. Twenty minutes later we had our luggage and emerged into the waiting area. John was the only one who knew our hosts, so he glanced around until he saw Bill standing in the back of a large crowd.

“There he is! Bill!” John dropped his bags and went up to his friend throwing his arms around his old college buddy. “My God, you haven’t changed a bit! How long has it been?”

“Too long. You must be Alex. Welcome to Belgium and congratulations.” Bill took me into his arms and kissed my cheek.

Bill Westlake was a big bear of a man. He had brown hair with a reddish tint and just a hint of gray at the temples. Introductions were made all around and then Bill led us outside to where his wife waited in the van.

“We’re not supposed to be parked here, so why don’t you all pile in and I’ll do the intros later.”

I got in first and introduced myself to Wanda Westlake who was the exact opposite of her husband. Even seated, I could tell Wanda couldn’t be much more than five-foot-three and very slim. If she was the opposite of her husband in physical appearance, she was his twin in exuberance. She grabbed my hand and gave it a big squeeze, welcoming Sam and me, who had just climbed in, to Belgium. Wanda had thick, dark brown hair cut to shoulder length and big round blue eyes. Her teeth protruded just a bit but she had a warm friendly smile.

“I’m afraid we’re going to be caught in morning traffic as it is a weekday. But we’ll have a chance to get caught up.” Bill climbed into the van.

Wanda moved to the back putting John next to Bill. The two men had a lot to catch up on. A few minutes later we pulled into traffic.

“This is the Ring Road. It goes all around the city with various other motorways leading from it,” Bill said. “On your right is part of the
Forêst de Soignes
—Forest of the Swans. Don’t worry too much about the roads.”

“Except for priority to the right,” Wanda said, interrupting her husband.

“What’s priority to the right?” Michael asked.

“One of the most nerve-racking inventions. Anyone coming from your right, such as from a side street or driveway, has the right to just pull out. So every time you come to a street on the right, slow down and see if anything’s coming,” explained Wanda. “But only the first car coming from the right has the priority. If there’s another car coming behind them, then they must stop.”

This sounded pretty dangerous to me. Maybe we would just use public transportation while we were here.

“It’s probably the reason why so many cars have dents on their left side,” Bill laughed.

“Well, this ought to be fun.” Sam sounded excited. I made a mental note not to let my sister drive. She was bad enough in America.

I pointed to a sign above the motorway. “Look! Luxembourg. And two other cities, Namur and Namen.”

Wanda laughed. “Actually, Alex, it’s one city.
Namur
is the name in French and
Namen
is the Flemish. It can be a bit tricky to find where you’re going if you don’t know the names in both languages.”

“So we have to watch out for cars from the right and signs in two languages, neither of which we understand. This is definitely going to be fun,” Sam repeated.

I made the sign of the cross and rolled my eyes at my sister.

“What?” she asked in her most innocent tone.

“It’s my honeymoon, and you’re not driving.” I gave her a stern look.

“Your apartment is on Avenue Franklin Roosevelt. Across from it is the
Bois de la Cambre
. It’s really lovely,” Wanda told us. “It’s a large park with a lake and a few restaurants. There’s also a grocery store not too far from the apartment and the tramline is just around the corner from your front door. It’ll take you right into the center of Brussels. Of course you can walk, too. The Smiths, the people who live in the apartment, left you their car keys for their Escort. It’s not very big, but it does the job.”

The American couple who loaned us the apartment spent summers traveling all over Europe and wanted to have a house sitter. Of course we were all happy to volunteer our services. By the time we pulled up in front of the apartment forty-five minutes later, the sky had cleared and the sun shone brightly through all the trees.

“Well, here we are,” said Wanda. “We’ll come in and help you get settled. You must all be so tired, but I suggest you try and stay awake for a while anyway, or else your body clock will be all goofy. Taking a walk is supposed to be a good thing for jet lag. I can point you in the direction of the grocery store. You’ll probably want to get a few things anyway.”

The apartment building was on one of the most fashionable streets in the city, as Wanda had explained earlier. The avenue was wide with a green belt separating the traffic and large trees stood all along the sidewalk.

“You’ve missed the pink blossoms, I’m afraid,” Wanda said, noticing my interest in the trees. “They bloom in April. Some are pink and some are white. It’s really gorgeous but when all those blossoms fall, the sidewalk can be quite slippery.”

The three men managed all the large suitcases while we women took the smaller ones and carry-on bags.

“You’ve got the top two floors,” Wanda explained, “but don’t worry, there’s an elevator. The bottom floor is occupied by a small law firm, I believe. They’re usually gone by about six, so it will be very private. You also have your own private locked entrance so don’t worry about having a lawyer show up on your doorstep early in the morning.”

A few minutes later we walked into the foyer of a very large apartment.

“This is bigger than my house!” I said, taking it all in.

“I thought you lived in your grandmother’s old house,” Bill said to John. “As I remember, it was quite large.”

“We’ve been living in Alex’s house while I finish the renovations on the old place.”

“You! I can’t believe it,” Bill said in his booming voice. “Since when were you handy with tools?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. He’s done most of the work himself. We’re moving in when we return. I rented my house out to a professor from Yale,” I said with sadness.

I hated to leave my much-loved little house but ever since John moved in formally last November, I realized just how small it was and how little closet space I really had.

“Well,” Bill said, “I can’t wait to see it. Next time we’re back in Connecticut, I’ll have to check it out.”

“There are two large bedrooms upstairs, each with its own bath, and in here,” Wanda gestured, “is the dining area and kitchen.” Sam and I followed her into the kitchen. It wasn’t very big, but had every appliance available.

“What’s this?” Sam pointed to a small white machine about crotch-high.

“
That
is the washing machine. I couldn’t get used to it. Cycle takes over an hour so I finally bought an American model from a family moving back to the States. Terry, she’s the woman who lives here, said she left you a list of how-tos for all the appliances. I saw a map on the dining table and sets of house keys along with the car keys. By the way, the car is parked out in front. The garage is a bit tricky to get into.”

We made our way back into the foyer.

“Well, I hate to do it to you, but I’ve got to get to work,” Bill said. “I’m swamped and I just can’t trust stuff to get done when I’m not there.”

“He’s been working so hard and such long hours,” Wanda added, “I never get to see him anymore. I’m glad we’re having our annual cookout this weekend. It’ll be the first time we’ve eaten together in months. It’s our Fourth of July party and you’re all invited.”

Bill explained. “Belgians don’t celebrate the fourth, of course, and it falling during the week is inconvenient since we all have to work. We’re celebrating it on Saturday instead.”

“We’ll be there,” John said.

“Good. Wanda will be back to take you around tomorrow. How are you set for Euros?”

“Fine. Plus we have credit cards,” Michael said, thanking Bill.

“Okay, well, then, we’re off. I really do need to get to the office.” Bill suddenly sounded very impatient.

“How about if I come by at nine-thirty tomorrow?” Wanda asked.

The four of us exchanged glances. “Sounds good,” we all shouted as the elevator door closed.

Chapter 3

You can only take so much sightseeing over a certain period, not to mention dealing with jet lag at the same time so I really looked forward to an afternoon of sitting in the Westlake’s garden. The weather had turned lovely; not too hot, but good enough to be out of doors all day.

I sat in the dining room of “our” apartment eating a bowl of Rice Krispies and thinking about what we had done so far. Wanda had arrived at the decided time the day after our arrival and we set out for a tour of the city center. We walked the
Grand Place
, which unfortunately was full of bleachers for an annual festival being held that night. But even the addition of the stands and sound system could not diminish the beauty of the square. We explored the surrounding streets, and ducked into cafés when the sunshine turned to rain.

Sam came into the dining room with a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee bringing me out of my daydream. “Where are the guys?”

“They walked down to the paper shop to get a newspaper.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m having a fantastic time. I am tired, though. I’m glad we’re just going to sit all day.”

“Me, too. Though I think I should stop using the elevator and take the stairs from now on. I feel like I’ve eaten a ton since we’ve arrived,” I said, glad my shorts had an elastic waistband.

“You have been eating a ton. Just like the rest of us. Who can help it? The food is great. I haven’t had a bad meal yet.” My sister poured more cereal into the bowl adding a big spoonful of sugar. I wanted to ask Sam if she had
ever
had a bad meal, but thought better of it. “So how are we getting to the Westlake’s? Are they coming to get us?”

“No. John said he’s going to drive.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Really? Are we safe?”

“We’ll be fine. Other than everyone breaking the speed limit, not stopping at crosswalks, the habit of driving up on the sidewalks if the roads are blocked, and ignoring stop signs, these people drive great. Oh yeah, and the constant talking on cell phones is just like in America.”

Sam looked around the room. “This is a nice apartment. How lucky are we to stay here and for free. I think I hear the elevator. It must be the guys. I better go finish my hair.” Sam took her dirty bowl to the kitchen and went to get ready for the cookout.

An hour later we piled into the blue Escort. We planned on buying something really nice for the Smiths. Letting us use their apartment and car had made this trip so affordable we added an extra week to our itinerary. The Smiths also left us a book about living in Belgium and one of the customs dictated bringing flowers to the host of a party.

“What a lovely custom this is,” I said to Sam as we walked around the flower stall a few blocks from our apartment.

“From now on every time you come to my house, I want a bouquet.” Sam smiled, though I had a feeling she was serious.

Along with cheese and bread, Belgium had a lot of flowers. We noticed on every corner in the city center stood a flower stall. And they weren’t selling some day-old roses, either. Some of the flowers I didn’t know, but they were all breathtaking and the colors so vivid. I picked out freesias in an assortment of colors and handed them to the woman in charge.

“
C’est un cadeau
?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“I think she wants to know if it’s a gift,” John whispered in my ear.

“Oh!
Oui, Madam
,” I replied, quite pleased with myself for remembering how to say yes in French.

The young woman took the flowers from me and in a matter of moments turned my meager selection into something worthy of a centerpiece for a White House party. She threw in an assortment of greenery, some smaller flowers and wrapped everything up in beautiful paper and tied it all with a bow. In America this would cost a small fortune, but here it came to less than twenty dollars.

We said our mercies and then hopped back into the Escort and drove into the
Bois de la Cambre
with the hopes of coming out on the other side and the road to Waterloo.

Though there were many towns named Waterloo scattered throughout the world—many being in the United States—this Waterloo was the real thing and we looked forward to being in such a historic place. The town boasted a monument and a museum we hoped to get to next week. In addition to being full of history, the town of Waterloo was full of Americans. Wanda told us for some unknown reason Americans all seemed to gravitate to this town south of Brussels and it was appropriately known as the American ghetto.

“I think we need to go left,” John said, entering the street circling the Bois.

“What does that sign mean?” Michael pointed to a large sign just as we entered the park.

Sam unfolded a large map. “I’m looking.” John had turned left and gingerly made his way around the road. “Here it is. It means ‘Do not enter.’”

“Holy shit!” shouted Michael as a Fiat barreled down on us, blaring its horn. “We’re going the wrong way! Turn around!”

Several more cars rounded the curve and I screamed. John pulled over to the curb as fast as he could and waited for the cars to pass. Each driver passing us blew its horn and made a few gestures; some recognizable by us frightened Americans huddled in the car. As soon as the road cleared, John made a U-turn on the wide street and headed in the correct direction. “Is everyone all right?” he asked, glancing into the rearview mirror. “Sorry about that. I should have studied the map
and
signs better before going.”

“We’re fine. Let’s not panic.” Sam wiped sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Obviously, this is a one-way road. According to the map, it circles around and on the other side we should see a sign for Waterloo.”

Sure enough we found the sign and John followed it. With help from Sam navigating from the back, we arrived at the Westlake home about thirty minutes later.