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Authors: Anthony Bidulka

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BOOK: Amuse Bouche
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"I have refreshments in here," he said.

I followed him from the main entrance into a big room that looked like an office doubling as 13

Amuse Bouche

a sitting room. From this vantage point I was able to assess Harold Chavell without being caught. He was a man of sharp profiles, each handsome and interesting in a way that came only with certain age and experience. I guessed him to be in his mid-to late-forties—a worn around the edges soap opera star who'd appeared in a few too many episodes. His build was not dissimilar to my own. He was just over six feet tall, wide-shouldered and slim-hipped.

Although it was difficult to be certain with the suit he was wearing, he appeared fit. His outfit was elegant but bland, and expensive. When we shook hands earlier I noticed he wore no jewel-ry except for a pinkie ring, platinum I think, on his right hand.

While he fixed our drinks, coffee for me, San Pellegrino with a twist for him, I sat on an eggplant-coloured, leather couch. I was mesmerized by an oval piece of glass in front of me that seemed to be floating on the backs of two frol-icking, solid bronze dolphins. After serving the drinks he sat in one of the two armchairs on the other side of the fish. I'm not even sure how to describe the colour of the armchairs, kind of peachy-orange maybe? It actually worked well together, the eggplant, the orange, the sea life. A nice package.

" 1 called you, Mr. Quant, based on the rec-Anthony Bidulka ommendation of an acquaintance of mine. He assured me that you could be counted on to recognize the special sensitivity of this matter.

Even so, I will need your personal assurance today that everything we discuss will remain confidential."

I wanted to ask who'd referred me, but thought better of it I'd find out later. "You have that assurance," I told him. "Assuming you are not about to tell me anything of an illegal nature."

The man gave me a restrained smile, one he probably reserved for unpleasant business matters. "No. Not illegal, but definitely personal in nature. What I'm about to share with you is not common knowledge and I do not wish it to be so."

"1 understand."

"Three days ago, on Saturday night, I was to be married."

His tone told me congratulations were not in order. I already knew his ring finger was naked.

I remained silent.

"I was to be married to another man."

Now this I didn't expect. Juicy. His hesitation after this revelation, led me to believe he wanted a response. I decided against "juicy." "I'm sorry it didn't work out for you."

"Not as sorry as I am. Obviously my rela-15

Amuse Bouche

tionship with Tom was...is not well known in the community. We're not completely in the closet, but neither is the door wide open, you understand? Our ceremony was to be a private affair. We had sixty guests here in my home.

Most were friends, family and some close business associates who are included in our personal lives." Chavell paused here and sipped his sparkling water. His presentation was cool, almost impassive, and I wondered about what I was seeing in his face. Hurt? Anger?

Embarrassment? Maybe all of it. Maybe something altogether different. He carefully placed the crystal tumbler back on the coffee table and continued, "Tom and I are deeply in love. We've been together for almost three years. We are dedicated to one another. For him not to show up, to leave me standing there alone, like a fool, at the altar, never mind to not even call, is just...well it's something I can't accept."

"
I hate to be blunt." A lie. "But it did happen.

Don't you
have
to accept it?"

"No. I can accept that the ceremony did not occur, but I cannot accept that he stood me up on purpose. I think something is terribly wrong."

"So he hasn't been home since the evening of the ceremony?"

"I live here alone," Chavell said formally.

"Tom has an apartment in the city."

16

Anthony Bidulka

I gave a little shrug. "Okay. So you haven't heard from Tom since Saturday?"

"I haven't seen or heard from Tom since the rehearsal party the night before the ceremony."

"Oh."

"Yes! Oh! That's just not like Tom. He would never do that."

"What about his friends? Family? Have they heard from him?"

"No,' he answered. "I've contacted a couple of his friends but they tell me he hasn't called and they have no idea what's going on with him."

"What do the police have to say about this?"

"Nothing."

"You haven't reported him as a missing person? He disappeared Friday night; this is Tuesday afternoon. What about his family?

Haven't they gone to the police?"

"Tom isn't missing, Mr. Quant."

Now I was confused. I'm sure the look on my face conveyed that message all too clearly.

"I know where Tom is."

"So you want me to find out why he stood you up?"

"First you have to find him. And then, yes, I want you to find out what happened."

More confusion. "But I thought you just said you know where he is."

Amuse Bouche

"I know roughly where he is, not exactly where he is. He's in France."

"How do you know that?"

"The day after our ceremony Sunday morning, we were to leave for Paris on our honeymoon."

"So you think he went on the honeymoon without you? I don't know if..."

"I thought it was crazy too. But his luggage is gone and then I found his plane ticket was also missing. Both our tickets and copies of the itinerary were right over there on the desk."

I glanced over at the expansive mahogany desk as if doing so would help. "When did you notice the ticket was missing?"

"Not until Monday morning, right before I called you. I was too distraught and busy doing whatever I could to track Tom down. Until then I never imagined he'd left the country."

"What about you? After the embarrassment of being jilted, you never thought of escaping it all by going to France anyway?" Okay, it might seem like a stupid and insensitive question, but sometimes those are the best kind.

"Of course not! Up until Monday I was seriously considering Tom might be dead or have been in an accident. It was the only thing that made sense..."

"Until you found his ticket wasn't where it 18

Anthony Bidulka

should be."

"Yes."

I may have been shaking my head when I said, "He could be anywhere."

"You see, I don't think so. There's more. I studied at IMEDE in Switzerland and have travelled extensively in France. I am quite familiar with that part of Europe, but Tom...well he barely knows how to speak a few words in French. He'd have significant trouble getting by on his own, unless everything was already planned for him."

I was catching on. "So you suspect he will follow the plans you made for your honeymoon?"

"Yes. My travel agent and I pre-arranged almost every step of the trip, what routes we'd take, hotels, dinner reservations, everything. It's all spelled out in a very detailed itinerary. And more than that," Chavell said as if scoring the winning point, "I now have proof that he is following that itinerary. Our first stop was to be in Paris where we were to visit an old friend of mine, Solonge Fontaine. I called her this morning to tell her what's happened. Tom showed up as planned."

"Tom visited your friend in Paris?"

"Yesterday. Monday evening. Or rather, what was Monday evening in Paris. It would Amuse Bouche

have been around noon here in Saskatoon. He had nowhere else to go, he knew she was expecting us, and she speaks English. Imagine the state of mind he must have been in at that point, tired and jet-lagged. Even though she was a virtual stranger to him, he'd be in need of a friendly face."

"Did he tell her what was going on?"

"It doesn't sound like he told her much of anything, but that's where I need your help.

Solonge is a marvellous woman and a tremen-dous friend, but she is also somewhat eccentric and can, at times, be a little vague. She may know something important without knowing she knows it."

"You want me to give her a call?"

"No, Mr. Quant. 1 want you to go to France.

Meet with Solonge. See what you can find out.

And then I want you to find Tom. The easiest thing for him to do is follow our itinerary. You should be able to catch up with him in no time."

"Not if he doesn't want to be found. It's the last thing he would do."

"If he didn't want to be found he wouldn't have gone to France and he wouldn't have visited Solonge."

He had a point. "So you think he wants to be found, maybe even expects you to come running after him?"

20

Anthony Bidulka

Chavell had an odd look on his face. "In a way, yes, that's possible."

"Then.. .why don't you?"

Chavell sat up straight in his seat and gave me a steely look used to strike fear into the hearts of his competitors. I, however, took it much better than that. "Are you not interested in taking this case, Mr. Quant?"

"In a case like this, Mr. Chavell, you have to be prepared to answer some difficult personal questions. If I feel I can't ask them, or that you will not answer them honestly, then the answer is no, I am not interested in this case."

He nodded as if thinking over my words.

"I'm sorry. You're right."

"That's fine." I could see he was upset, but I couldn't afford to let him get me off topic. "So, why are you not jumping on a plane to France?

Why don't you save yourself a bunch of money and go find him yourself?"

A lesser man might have gotten up, walked a few feet away, and spoke the following words with his back to me. I had to give Harold Chavell credit for staying in his seat and facing me with his emotions. "I've been through many tortured hours believing Tom might be hurt, or worse, dead. Grieving for him. Although it was the most gruesome of possibilities, it was the only one I could accept as the reason why he didn't show Amuse Bouche

up for our wedding. When I found he had taken his ticket, flown to Paris without me and turned up on Solonge's doorstep, I. .I just..."

I began to understand. "You became angry."

He was quiet for a moment. Now he did turn away and stared into the grate of an unlit fireplace.

I helped him along. "Even if Tom wants to be chased, you're not in the mood to do the chasing."

"It's petty, I know," he said, turning back to me. "But as much as I can't face him right now, I still have to know why he did this."

"I'm sure you've given this a
lot
of thought.

Do you have any guesses as to his reasons?" If I was going to go ahead with this, I wanted as few surprises as possible. "Had you been fighting? Was there something else that was going on in Tom's life that might have impacted his decision about the marriage? Family? Friends?

Ex-lovers causing problems? A current lover outside the relationship?"

Chavell gave me a nasty look that told me 1

was treading on thin ice as far as asking difficult, personal questions. "No," he said.

"Nothing. This was not some fling, Mr. Quant.

We had a serious relationship. This ceremony wasn't just another excuse to throw a party. We wanted to stand up in front of a room full of 22

Anthony Bidulka

people who cared about us and proclaim our love for one another. We had no doubts. Neither of us." Then he shook his head and grimaced.

"But I guess 1 was wrong about that wasn't I?"

I shouldn't have, but I nodded. I looked in his face and wondered if this man was telling me everything. I felt there was something missing from the story.

"Can you give me Tom's address? I'd like to check out his apartment. And I'll need the names of friends, co-workers and family who were close to him and a list of the wedding guests. I'd like to talk with them myself.

Also..."

" 1 can have the lists sent to your office. But right now there's no time for that," Chavell told me. "I've booked you on a flight tomorrow morning. I hope your passport is in order. I want you there immediately. Although I'm certain he'll stick to the itinerary as planned, I can't guarantee for how long."

I'm not much of a dawdler when it comes to business, so 1 could appreciate Harold Chavell's sense of haste. Sort of Even though my Daytimer was empty, leaving the country with less than twenty-four hours' notice was not my idea of filling it. I was also a little uncomfortable taking the trip without the opportunity to do a little background work first. But Chavell informed
23

Amuse Bouche

me my Air Canada ticket to Paris was paid for and waiting for me at the airport. I told him I charge ninety-five dollars per hour plus out-of-pocket expenses and applicable taxes. Without wincing even once, he signed the contract I'd taken the liberty of preparing that morning. He gave me a healthy retainer, a copy of the itinerary, and a picture of Tom Osborn. Business concluded.

I was going to Paris.

24

Chapter Two

IT WAS CLOSE TO THREE O'CLOCK w h e n I p u l l e d into the gravel lot behind PWC. I hustled up the metal staircase that hugs the rear of the building and takes me directly to the second floor. I think at one time it was meant to be a fire escape, but now the ancient railings are so unstable I'm the only one who dares use them. They're handy when I want to slip into my office without being detected. As I unlocked the second floor door I couldn't decide whether I was excited or appre-hensive. The tightness in my stomach could have been a sign of either. I love to travel but usually I'm thinking about whether 1 can get away with a Speedo rather than bulky trunks, not how to find a missing person in a foreign country. I tiptoed across the hallway and let myself into my office, soundlessly shutting the door behind me. I didn't want Alberta, our resident psychic, to know 1 was in. How impossible is that?

Alberta is as wonderful as she is weird, and she loves to talk. Generally I enjoy our chats, but I didn't have the time right then for the latest gossip from the spirit world.

I sat at my desk and pulled a cola from the fridge beneath it. Desk drawers are overrated and usually end up full of stuff you never look 2 5

BOOK: Amuse Bouche
2.76Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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