Eyes Full of Empty (17 page)

“C'mon, Idir, we're going.”

“What about the X-ray?”

“I'll do it tomorrow near my place.”

I don't have time to insist; she's already walking off.

It's cold now outside. I offer her my jacket. She refuses.

“Can I walk you back?”

“I'd like to go to your place,” she says without looking at me.

I bring her back home. I kiss her wrist, slip her maimed fingertips, which stick out past the splint, into my mouth. We make love, slowly. Afterward, we fall asleep, sadder than when we came in.

The next day, I wake up beside her. “I thought you'd be gone already.”

“I needed to stay this morning.” She kisses my brow.

“Want some coffee?”

She smiles. “I thought you'd never ask.”

I get dressed quick and dash to the kitchen. While the coffeemaker warms up, I send Cherif a text message: “Get ready.”

I don't hear her come into the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. It was Cherif. I have to meet up with him later.”

She comes over to me, puts her head on my shoulder, and whispers in my ear, “Thank you. Thanks for being there.”

We sit down on the sofa when the coffee's done. I still don't
know what to think of her. She takes a gulp in silence and I watch her, as if that might be enough to sort everything out.

“You know, maybe you and I, we should give it a shot.”

I thought I was lost, but suddenly, here's a sign. Not much, just one tiny little sentence. But now I know. I know; I'm sure. A few minutes later, I kiss her on the doorstep. I think she says, “See you tonight,” but I'm not listening anymore.

I go back to my living room and jump on the phone. “You in place?”

“Yeah,” says Cherif.

“She's coming down.”

“We're good. I'll call you back.”

Right or wrong. I don't know which I'd rather be. Or I do. I'd rather be right, to give something back to the kid. Not justice. I'm not up to that. And who am I to judge? Just a friendly helping hand. That'd be good already.

The wait is too long. I hit redial on my phone.

“Yeah? What now? I told you I'd keep you updated!”

“Where is she?”

“Trocadéro.”

“She could be going to see him. Or she could just as easily be going home.”

“That's why I said I'd call you.”

“I need this real-time.”

“Goddammit, you're such a pain in the ass. Fine.”

A few seconds of silence.

“Well?”

“She's headed home.”

“You sure?”

“If you gave me the right address, then yes.”

At that moment, I'm relieved. To be wrong about her.

“The taxi's double-parked, hazards on.”

“I was totally wrong.”

“You sound almost happy about it, like it suits you.”

I don't answer. Now I'm on my own.

“So what do we do now?”

“I don't know, Cherif.”

“You can't bring that kid back to life. It's not your fight. That woman's amazing; don't put her in danger. Think about her”—he pauses—“and you.”

“I have to find—”

“There's nothing to find. And nothing to understand.”

“I thought I'd seen through her.”

“Idir, you can't see for shit. Were you even there the night of my party?”

“You talked with her for two hours. You don't know her.”

“I saw her talking with Momo for half an hour. That guy freaks even me out! You know many babes like that?”

“Cherif, I'm telling you—”

“Your face.”

“You can't talk with—”

“I said shut your face, she's turning around.”

“What?”

“The taxi's making a U-turn. Goddammit! Shit!”

I hear a brief crackling, like the phone's fallen. Then nothing. I call him back, but he doesn't pick up. Once. Twice. Three times—

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, Cherif! Well?”

“She's at his place. Just went up. You were right.”

Oscar looks in better shape than the night before. At least before he spots me and meets my eyes. He gives me a sad little smile and waves me over.

“Sorry to bother you.”

“You're not bothering me at all.”

“I'd've liked to have told you where the body was earlier, but I had to cover my tracks.”

He doesn't reply.

“You thought I was Eric's man, is that it? You were convinced I never learned a thing, after all these years. That I can always be bought.”

“No. I think you're someone who's loyal. You came to find me before he did. You didn't give up looking. I thought he'd threatened you and you were afraid—only natural, given the kind of man he is.”

“I had to make sure he couldn't touch me.”

“And now you're sure?”

I don't answer his question. No one's ever sure of anything; we just hope it'll be enough. “I think I owe you the whole story. Once more, I still won't testify. But I'll tell you everything. Eric came to see me shortly after you did. He'd had a luxury car stolen. He wanted to find it. I found the thieves, two brothers, who did all sorts of nasty stuff to pay their rent. They were the ones who kidnapped your brother. On Eric's orders—he must've used a middleman, to be sure it wouldn't be traced back to him. Those were undoubtedly the same two brothers who killed Thibaut before being mysteriously killed themselves. I found one with a bullet in his head at his own house. There was also a GPS there. I went to one of the addresses on it. That's where I found your brother. They dumped him in a shallow grave out in a field.”

He takes this in, jaw tight.

“I don't know if this'll make you feel better, but the two guys are dead. I think the deal went bad. They got too greedy and got their own ideas, except their own ideas weren't so bright. At any rate, they stole Eric's car and took Thibaut with them. I think Eric hired a killer to take care of it, and that's when it all went off the rails. Thibaut really was just stuck in the middle.”

“That son of a bitch is going to pay. There's nothing holding me back now. I'll reveal it all. But he won't ever stand trial for my brother's death, especially if you refuse to testify.” He watches me, like he's seeing if I'll change my mind.

“I sympathize, but I won't testify. Judge me if you want, but that's not part of my job or our agreement.” I restrain myself from telling him about the other brother, the one I pummeled into oblivion on Thibaut's behalf.

“I understand. It's just—”

Tears spring to his eyes. I try to explain.

“Whether I testify or not won't change a thing. No matter what happens, guys like that will never go to jail. Do your work and bury your brother. That'll be enough already. Got a pen?”

After my meeting with Oscar, I dash out on the Champs-Élysées and call Eric.

“Ah, at last. I thought you'd never make up your mind.”

I contrive a panicked voice. “I'll tell you everything on one condition—don't hurt Nat anymore.”

“You know I didn't enjoy that. I'm listening.”

I give him the address where Thibaut lies peacefully. Suddenly I sort of regret it all. The disruption that's coming for the dead
kid. But it's the best I can do. I figure Eric's men will head over there right away to look for the body, which gives me a little more than an hour. So I decide to walk over—it's one of the few free pleasures left in Paris. Might as well enjoy it.

Eric's secretary starts getting upset at the sight of my face. This time I don't even stop for her, just push the door right open. She starts screaming.

“Sir, you can't do that! I'm calling security!”

I enter the office. Eric is by the window, phone to his ear. He sees me come in, followed by his horrified secretary, and realizes something's up. A fleeting moment of doubt passes over his face. Then he regains control.

“It's all right, Brigitte.”

She tries to make an excuse. “But, sir—”

“Just close the door behind you.”

She obeys, giving me a dark look as she exits.

“I thought we were square.”

I look at him, grinning. “Your men not answering?”

“Excuse me?”

“The big gorilla who brought me here last time. I'm sure he's not answering.” I wait to make sure that's the case. Eric flexes his jaw. Then I plunge in: “Want to know why? Because the cops arrested him. I told Oscar where his brother's body was. I also told him I'd never testify in the case. But that didn't keep me from giving him a little helping hand. I give you the address. You send your man. The police and your man probably had a nice little meet and greet. Now we'll see if he's a good little soldier. If the cops toss life at him, will he still be that loyal?”

Eric shakes his head, like he doesn't understand what I've just told him. Then he pulls himself together. “You'll regret this. You were warned.”

“Oh yeah? More threats about Nat? Let me tell you something. I know she was in on it. I know the attack was bullshit. I followed her after she left my place; she went straight to yours, probably to tell you the plan was working, that I was scared to death for her. The problem, the only problem, is that you took me for an idiot.”

“Why'd you do this? For that kid? You didn't even know him.”

“Because I was paid to find him.”

“You wanted to play the hero, is that it? The righter of wrongs.” He starts laughing, a little nervous laugh that turns into a coughing fit.

“What's the matter?”

“I sure got hoodwinked on this one. Remarkable,” he adds, as if to himself, staring into the distance. Then he straightens up and looks at me. “You still never got it. You were focused on me. You're not used to this kind of fight.”

“You played and lost. That's all.”

“Yes, I lost. But so did you. Oscar screwed you over, just like he screwed me. Think about one thing, Idir: Who profits from this crime? I stood to gain nothing from the kid's death. What counted for me was having him alive. So ask yourself: Why did the two brothers keep him and kill him?”

Too late. It's over. I don't want to hear anymore.

I'm barely out of the building when my phone rings. It's Cherif. “You watching the news?”

“No.”

“It's over. They found the body. They also say they've arrested a suspect.” Cherif chuckles heartily. “I wonder if that asshole
was wearing a ski mask when he showed up.”

Cherif's in a good mood. “We celebrating this with a drink?”

I don't feel like it, but I don't see myself going home and acting like nothing's the matter either. “Sure, but we're getting hammered.”