Queen of the Trailer Park (Rosie Maldonne's World Book 1) (5 page)

11

Gaston Contini put his hand on the waiter’s sleeve and leaned in toward his ear. I couldn’t hear what he was whispering, but I noticed they were shaking hands. It looked as though they were passing something, but I couldn’t be sure.

The exchange ended abruptly, and Gaston Contini stepped back.

A miracle. The waiter just hurried away as if by magic.

Sabrina had sneaked off somewhere, probably bent on revenge. She was nowhere to be seen.

Gaston, my new best friend, apologized for the mix-up. “You’re just so pretty. I was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. So sorry to use such a cliché, but it’s true. Plus, you have a few things in common with the lady I’m supposed to be meeting.”

“How’s that?”

“She told me she’d be wearing a black skirt and a pink blouse. Of course, I was a little surprised by your clothes . . .”

“What do you mean you were surprised by my clothes?”

“Well, they’re somewhat, um . . .”

“Yeah, I know, in this neighborhood I suppose you’re not used to seeing superstylish chicks like me.”

“Yes, that’s right,” he smiled.

“What’s that supposed to mean? ‘That’s right’? Don’t get clever with me, just because I’m not the girl you were looking for.”

“Calm down, Cricri. Why so wound up?”

“Looks like we’re taking turns.”

“Yes, you’re right. I let the journalists get to me. I’m better now.”

“Who are you, anyway?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter who I am! But what about you? How did you end up here?”

“That, my old friend, is a long story. I inherited some big ones from an old uncle. Cash. He kicked the bucket with it all stuffed inside his mattress. So I’m spending it all as quickly as I can.”

“Oh, I see! It appears to be a wise choice.”

Guess who passed right by the door at that very moment?

Jérôme.

Jérôme Gallo.

The cute young cop who I’d vaguely hit on by the school gates the day before. He looked like he was on some kind of mission. He went to talk to the bartender. He was discreet, dressed in civilian clothes, and nobody seemed to know he was a cop. He headed over to the two meatheads. They exchanged a few words. Gaston followed my gaze.

“He’s not bad, a nice-looking kid . . .”

I glowered at him, my cheeks heating.

Jérôme Gallo turned around and saw me.

His face lit up, and he walked over to me at a leisurely pace. The two men in suits watched from the other side of the room.

“Hello, Miss Rose. This isn’t the sort of place I imagined seeing you.”

“Why? Do I look like the type of girl you’d only see in second-class joints? This is my uncle, Gaston. He invited me and the rug rats.”

Gaston grinned at me before standing and shaking Jérôme’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. I don’t often get to visit with my niece, and as I was in the neighborhood—”

“Miss Rose, we’ve been looking all over for you. We wanted to ask you a few questions about your friend, but you don’t live at the address you left with the school. You don’t live at the one you gave to social services either.”

“Just between you and me, I hate leaving tracks. You just never know. My grandmother was Jewish. She picked up these skills during the war. And I’ve already told you I prefer to be called Cricri.”

“But I think Rose suits you more.”

“Nobody asked for your opinion.”

That last remark certainly shut him up—and this guy always had something to say. All three of us stood there looking embarrassed, and I began to regret having been so harsh, but all I could find to say was, “OK, I have to go.” Then I added, “I often hang out down at Sélect. I’m off, so ciao for now!”

I called my babies over and suddenly heard a scream of rage.

Sabrina’s revenge must have been pretty full-on, so I picked up the pace to flee that awful place as quickly as possible. I had no intention of ever coming back—despite the pastries, which were as good as it gets.

It just didn’t feel right for me there. For the kiddos either, obviously.

12

Sabrina has a very peculiar trait. She likes string, yarn, elastic, anything like that. She spends her time tying stuff together. Tables to chairs, ornaments, kitchen utensils, anything.

The trailer was a permanent death trap. It was already too narrow—but then we also spent all our time with our feet caught up in twine of some kind. The psychologist at the preschool told me she was trying to reattach what had gotten away from her, meaning her father, me, her other brothers, and sisters. Maybe the shrink was right. Or maybe Sabrina just thought tying stuff together was fun.

Of course, she had made her way around that swanky restaurant with her string, and there was no lack of stuff to tie. With the help of Simon, who created a diversion, she tied together all the armchairs around the table where the two cell-phone jerks sat. Just as I was calling the children, the jerks stood to leave, and what had to happen happened.

The only thing Simon and Sabrina were sorry for was that they didn’t get the chance to see the massacre and defeat of their enemies: the two bruisers found themselves flat on their backs with their feet entangled in string.

We were still laughing on our way home, and seeing us laugh made the twins laugh too. The tone had changed a heck of a lot in less than twelve hours. I’d gone from gloomy anxiety to lightness and a recklessness I’d never experienced before. It’s crazy how just a few wads of cash can be such a morale booster.

We turned the grocery store upside down. I bought as many minutes as I could to top up my cell phone, and we went back to our place. I left a message on Véro’s answering machine to reassure her that I was taking care of Simon. I also told her the cops were looking for her, and I asked what it was all about.

It turned out I didn’t have to bother, because the cops showed up and answered some of my questions.

When they arrived, all the envelopes of cash were out in the open. I’d decided to count exactly how much there was, assisted by Pastis, the king of mathematics, and the twins, who’d suddenly taken a great shine to accounting too. Fortunately, Simon and Sabrina were busy in their room playing with their Happy Meal figurine and her treasures. When I heard the knock on the door, I shoved the envelopes and bills into the corner of the bench seat, under a pile of unpacked grocery bags, and went to answer the door.

I stepped out of the trailer, closing the door behind me so nobody could step in. Sabrina, who had immediately caught on that something interesting was happening, came and stood next to me so she could watch. Meanwhile, the twins and Simon had also come out to play.

It was them all right. The law.

“Hello. See, it wasn’t all that hard to find me.”

My comment had an immediate effect on Jérôme’s boss. I noticed the increasing rage, hatred, and frustration in his eyes.

“If you’ve got the address, it’s not hard at all. Lucky that my colleague here ran into you at the Hôtel de Provence.”

“Oh, come on, do we really have to make a big deal out of this?”

He almost choked. “Ma’am, you’re going to have to tone it down. We didn’t come down here for our own amusement.”

“Precisely. In fact, that’s just what I wanted to ask you. What
is
it you want with me? And what is it you want with Véro? Do you have nothing better to do than go running after young housewives?”

Jérôme gave me a look to let me know not to go there, not to make fun of his boss, but it just made me want to do it more. I felt strong and invincible now that I had all those euros in my trailer.

The boss rolled his eyes, then threw a look at Jérôme as if to say:
I’ve done as much as I can, but I can’t deal with this
.

Sabrina stared at each of us in turn, excited by the unfolding battle. The boss then said to me in a sinister tone, “You know the little kid, Pierre Lanoux, right?”

I laughed again, but I sensed some sort of drama, and my laugh trailed off, getting stuck in my throat. He continued, “Would you recognize his clothing?”

I suddenly imagined the worst. I had a vision, just like in a film, of the small, lifeless body of Pierre in the middle of a field. I shuddered. “What? Why? What’s going on? Where’s Pierre?”

But my voice was weakening. The boss flashed a sheepish look toward Jérôme and stretched out an arm to support me. I was fainting and I could just make out Sabrina shouting “Mom, Mom!” Then I wasn’t there anymore.

I regained consciousness, embarrassed. I was lying down, my head on the grocery bags covering the money, with Pastis stretched across my belly again. By some miracle—we so need them sometimes—the cops hadn’t thought, or hadn’t dared, to clear off the mess on the bench seat before laying me out on it.

13

As soon as I gathered my thoughts, I yelled, “Get out of here! You have no business being in my home! You don’t have a search warrant!”

Startled, Pastis ran to join the nippers outside.

Jérôme raised his voice. “OK! Please just calm down. This isn’t the movies. We only came in to get you a glass of water and make sure you were lying down. We couldn’t just leave you on the ground, could we?”

“Yes, absolutely, on the ground, that’s what you should have done if you’d been sticking to the law! I’m sick and tired of you cowboys who think you can do any goddamn thing you want just because you have a badge!”

“Told you,” said the boss. “I knew this wouldn’t go down well.”

“It’s no big deal,” said Jérôme. “She’d be pissed no matter what we did.”

“Say, would you mind not talking about me in the third person? I’m alive and kicking here, you know.”

“As if we could forget.”

Then it came back to me, the horrible business I’d been trying to avoid. I put my head down and couldn’t say a word.

I took several deep breaths, then looked up. “Please take a seat. You want some coffee?”

I’d bought myself tons of my favorite robusta. It’s cool to be rich and offer people coffee.

I would rather have done anything than listen to what they had to say. I was sure they were going to tell me Pierre was dead.

I think they understood what I felt, because they both accepted and didn’t say anything while the coffee percolated.

I tidied some of the kids’ belongings and threw some sweaters on top of the grocery bags and cash, making it look like I was freeing up a corner to give them more space. My mind was full of anxieties while the tots continued to play out front.

Selfishly, I thought,
Shit, we were happy as clams for a while back there.

Fffflllrrreeecrssschhh . . .
the coffeemaker indicated its job was done.

I served the coffee and swallowed mine in one gulp. I poured myself another.

The boss said, “It’s nice of you to take care of Simon.”

“Oh, you know, what’s the difference between three crib lizards and four, right?” I paused and then asked in a low voice, “What’s happened to him—to little Pierre?”

“We found a pile of kids’ clothes, all folded up, along with a teddy bear and a pacifier. They were on a bench where his mother said she’d left the stroller, when she came to report his disappearance.”

“Where?”

“In the square near that bakery, the Golden Baguette, just by the cathedral.”

“Oh! Yes, I know the place.”

“We need someone who knows the child well. We need to be sure those are his clothes.”

I held back the tears. I didn’t want them to see me crying. What a shock, having to learn all this officially via the cops.

“Can’t you do some sort of lab analysis to find out whose they are?”

“That’ll be done, but it’s going to take time. If we had someone who knew whether this stuff was his or not, it’d help us get things moving faster. And seeing as we can’t find his mother . . .”

“What about Alexandre?”

“Alexandre who?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never even met him. He’s her new boyfriend. He loves kids, apparently . . .”

The cops exchanged a knowing look.

“Oh, come on! You’re treating me like an idiot. You’d better tell me everything. If you don’t, I won’t talk, got it? Quid pro quo.”

“We’re in the middle of an investigation. We can’t reveal anything. But you’re required to give us any information that may help.”

I stuck my tongue out at them and then hunted around under the sink, where I’d put my cell to charge. I fiddled with some of the buttons and handed it over to them so they could hear my messages from Véro.

They were very interested and asked when I could go down to the station and identify the belongings. I pointed to the nose miners. “They’ll be at school tomorrow, OK? I don’t want to take them to a police station.”

“OK. A squad car will come pick you up at ten. We’ll have to keep you there awhile so we can take a statement. Can we also keep your cell?”

I shrugged, thinking,
I have enough cash under my fanny to buy myself forty million cell phones.

They stood to leave.

Jérôme Gallo shook my hand as he stepped out of the trailer. His boss was already ahead of him, by the car. “Are you going to be OK?”

I nodded, an odd grimace forming on my face. I felt the pressure of his hand on mine, and I withdrew quickly.
Careful, never let your guard down
, I could hear my mother telling me.
They’ll take advantage.

I sat on the cinder-block steps in front of my trailer and finally let the tears flow down my cheeks as I watched them drive away.

I couldn’t handle everyone having just disappeared like this. Véro, Pierre, and even Alexandre. I didn’t want something to have happened to baby Pierre.

The twins were bickering nearby, but I couldn’t see them. Sabrina approached me and stroked my cheek. “Mommy? Ith evewything alwight? Do you want a hug?”

I grabbed hold of her tightly, smiling to reassure her, but I don’t know if it worked.

Fortunately I bought a good bottle of vodka, because as soon as the little ones are in bed, I’m going to get canned.

Sometimes, there’s no other solution to life’s troubles. But before I could pour my first drink, I had to finish counting my cash, then find a great hiding place for it. I also had to make some canja chicken and rice. I’d promised the kids. Nelson, Sabrina’s father, had given me the recipe. He’d gotten it from his mother, who’d gotten it from hers, and so on and so on.

That was the worst thing. A child had vanished without a trace, but life had to go on without him.