Queen of the Trailer Park (Rosie Maldonne's World Book 1) (21 page)

60

The mayor stood before me holding the documents he’d just signed.

“You give me your envelope and I’ll give you mine,” he ordered. “And don’t forget . . . the
bonus
.”

I made out like I understood. But I had no idea what the bonus was. Bonus schmonus.

“You first,” I replied confidently.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You have no choice.”

He ruefully handed me the envelope, and I stood up to leave.

“You didn’t give me yours.”

“What do you take me for? Do you really think I’d be walking around with a hundred and fifty grand in my purse?”

Sonia, who had just come back into the room with more paperwork, gawked at me.

“I’ll pick it up and hand it over after you’ve finished your meeting. Discreetly, of course.”

“Sonia. Will you leave, please? I don’t need you in here right now.” As soon as Sonia was out of sight, he said, “No. It’s far too dangerous. I’d rather you came back here at eleven o’clock. After the council meeting.”

“OK.”

And I left, pointing at the window again on my way out. “Nice view. Congratulations.”

As soon as I was back in the hallway, I jumped in the air, pumping my fist.

Round one to me. I was a winner, and the mayor had seen that in me. I hadn’t been a winner for long . . . but all the same.

So the second round began.

Who said I had to keep my end of a deal with a shyster? I dialed the number for the
Aurore
newspaper and then France 3 public TV.

This time, by some miracle, when I called the
Aurore
I managed to get put through to the famous Alain Stilier as soon as I asked for him.

I told both the paper and the TV station that if they wanted a scoop, something that would definitely be putting an end to our mayor’s term of office, they’d have to get their butts down to that morning’s city council meeting.

I made my way down to the meeting chambers, found myself a seat in the middle of the room, visible to all, and made myself comfortable. I was the first to arrive. I waited for a while.

Ismène came in shortly afterward. She acted like she didn’t know who I was but gave me a sly wink as she walked past.

The others showed up soon afterward, and the meeting began. When the mayor took the floor, I raised my hand. He looked nervous when he first saw me—but when I started speaking, he looked furious.

Ismène was talking with a couple of guys in the doorway. One of them had a video camera on his shoulder. Another one held a mic.

I stood up and said loudly, “Mr. d’Escobar, I’m sorry to disturb you in the middle of a meeting, but I met a couple of guys in front of the building earlier who asked me to give you these envelopes.” I giggled nervously. “I didn’t mean to, but I accidentally opened up the package . . .”

The mayor stood quickly, his face burning, and shouted, “Someone shut that girl up! I won’t have people disturbing my meetings like this. She hasn’t been elected. She has no right to interrupt us—”

“Cool it. I’m not here to bother you. Quite the opposite, in fact. I just want to hand this dough over to you. It’s not mine.”

I threw the envelopes at him. One after the other.

This was my destiny, as the song predicted. Spectators of the show, get a look at this!

There was a pregnant silence. One of the envelopes had opened, and hundred-euro bills scattered in all directions. Nobody made a move toward the cash.

I would have thought that in this scenario people would go wild, making a grab for the money, but no one reacted. The only noise was the video camera’s purring sound as it recorded the bills raining down all over the chambers. The mayor sat down, dismayed. Not a single word passed his lips. A couple of men who’d been sitting near him moved in closer and started muttering in low voices.

I pushed back my chair and walked toward the exit, my head held high.

I knew the camera was following my every move.
The winner takes it all.
The reporters broke the heavy silence with a deluge of questions. As I stepped into the hallway to give them their answers, I heard a voice behind me.

“Mr. d’Escobar. That looks like a huge amount of cash. Can you explain what’s happening here?”

I was in midsentence when the cameraman filming me rushed back into the chambers. I explained the situation to the other reporters. Well, my version of it. That I’d been acting as a go-between for these Mafioso types, and that they planned to build a casino. That the money was a bribe. I gave one of the journalists my cell number, in case he wanted any further details from me.

I left city hall with a sense of achievement.

What a total smarty-pants I’d been. I was awesome!

I hopped onto the city bus and made my way to the hospital to see Véro.

61

Véro was in intensive care. It looked like there were hundreds of tubes sticking out of her, and she was white as a sheet.

But she was awake and aware. Her gaze followed me around the room. I took a chair and went and sat as close to her as I could. She wanted to talk.

“Shhh,” I said gently. “You don’t have to say anything right now. The cops will be here soon. Don’t talk. Just watch yourself. They’ll use anything they can against you. They’re mad. They’re not getting anywhere with this investigation.”

“It’s me,” she said in a weak voice.

“It’s you . . . what?”

“I did it.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

She began to cry. “No. I did it . . .”

“Stop messing around, Véro. You could wind up in jail.”

“I should. I left him. But I’ll kill myself before I get to jail.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. What about Simon? Have you thought about Simon?”

“Exactly. That’s why I should just end it. Who would want to live with a mother like me? It would be much better for him if I wasn’t around. I’m just not made for happiness. I’d ruin his life. It all happened right in front of me and I didn’t see a thing. I’m such a moron.”

“Stop! Shit, Véro! I didn’t come here to listen to all this crap. Tell me the truth. If I don’t know what actually happened, how am I supposed to help you?”

“I don’t want you to help me, Cricri. I just want you to take care of Simon. I’ve written a letter for you to take to child services.”

“Stop this bullshit. You’re going to make it. You’re not going to jail. You’re going to go back home, keep on picking up your welfare checks, and take care of your boys. We’ll find Pierre and—”

“Michel is incapable of bringing up babies on his own, Cricri! He’d prefer if you dealt with it.”

“What are we talking about here? This is crazy, Véro!”

I didn’t realize it, but my voice was getting louder by the second. She closed her eyes, exhausted, but I continued.

“Véro, you have to stop. This is just a nightmare. Do you understand? You’re a fighter. You can get out of this mess. You’re depressed, that’s all. First off, where’s that idiot Alexandre, huh? Where is the crazy schmuck?”

“I killed him.”

“Don’t start all that again. What, so for the last few days you’ve just been going around whacking people, is that it? You’re a serial killer now?”

“Cereal?” she murmured. “I’m not hungry. What?”

I gave up. She wasn’t listening to me.

A nurse walked in with a meal tray. “Hello there, young lady! You need to try to eat something, OK? If you get used to not eating, it’ll just get harder and harder. You won’t get back into the habit.”

I helped her eat, and after she’d had enough, I told her about all my adventures with the envelopes, and the mayor, and the Mafia. She was pretty out of it. I don’t even know if she could actually hear me. But when I told her about Mimi’s kid, she stared at me, eyes wide open.

“Unbelievable,” she said. “Who would have thought it?”

“Yes. Same thing goes for you. You have to tell me exactly what happened. Véro, swear to me you’re going to straighten up, OK? Swear you’re not going repeat all this bullshit to the cops?”

My voice cracked. I couldn’t hold it together any longer. I started whimpering like a baby, my face in the bed linen. She stroked my head as best she could. She had a drip in her arm and couldn’t move it much. I could feel the pressure of her fingers in my hair. They felt as light as a feather.

“Cricri. I’ll fight this. For Simon. But I have to tell them the truth. They need to know. It’s all my fault. I killed a man.”

“Really? If you killed a man, where’s the body?”

“The body’s at my place. On the kitchen floor.”

I felt a wave of relief.

“It’s all in your mind, sweetie. I stayed over at your place and there’s nothing in your kitchen.”

She closed her eyes again and retreated back into her world of silence.

I couldn’t handle any more. I left the room in floods of tears. At the end of the hallway, I bumped into Borelli and Jérôme.

“Hey there!” said Borelli. “Where are you off to in such a hurry? You may as well stay with us. We have an appointment in an hour anyway. Lucky we saw you here, isn’t it? We can grab a sandwich together or something.”

I’d forgotten I was supposed to go down to the station.

I wiped my tears away with my hand.

“Hey there, Thomson and Thompson. How’s it going?” I sniffed at them.

Jérôme wanted to comfort me. I could tell it hurt him to see me in such a state.

Instead, Borelli took me by the arm and pulled me back toward Véro’s room. We had to stay outside and wait for a nurse to allow us in.

62

So there I was, stuck between my two favorite cops. Borelli obviously wanted to tell me something, but he looked preoccupied with whatever it was he had to say to Véro.

This guy really was clueless.

“So, about this morning?” he said out of the blue. “I hear you certainly got people talking about you down at city hall.”

“News travels fast.”

“You sure did stir it all up! He won’t last long now, the mayor. But there’s just one thing I don’t quite get. I’m surprised you didn’t keep the money for yourself and stay quiet. You could have bought a new trailer or something.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You know I already have a new trailer—my uncle bought it for me.”

“Well, I still don’t get it. Why didn’t you just keep it all?”

“And have the fucking Mafia on my ass?”

“Tsk, tsk. Now don’t go telling me you’re scared of the Mafia! Not you! And try to watch your language, OK? Did you talk to your friend this morning?”

“No. She can’t speak. Are you going to interrogate me here or down at the precinct?”

“There won’t be an interrogation, Maldonne, it’s just a small chat between buddies.”

I threw an angry glance at Jérôme, who was pretending to look elsewhere. “I’ve never understood how people decide to do what you do for a living. I mean, honestly—why would anyone become a cop?”

“It’s a beautiful job,” said Borelli. “We protect women and children.”

I knew then I had to keep my mouth shut. He was making me so pissed. I knew I’d be in big trouble if I said anything else.

The nurse said we could go in to see Véro. I wanted to stay outside, but Borelli insisted I come in with them. He was afraid I’d run out on him.

They asked Véro a few basic questions, but I interrupted each one. “Be careful what you say, Véro. These guys are cops. You have a right to counsel.”

Borelli screamed, “Damn it! Get the hell out of here! Wait for us outside! And don’t even think about pulling a disappearing act!”

A nurse passing by stepped into the room. “If I hear you shouting like that again, I’ll have to ask you to leave. You won’t be able to see her again, understood?”

“Fine,” muttered Borelli, signaling with a lift of his chin for me to go outside.

“There’s a risk she’ll run, boss,” said Jérôme.

“You go with her,” said Borelli. “That’s exactly what you’ve been wanting all along anyway.”

Jérôme blushed, and we both went out into the hallway. We walked a few steps.

“You don’t need to hold my hand, you know. I’m not going anywhere. I’d already decided I was coming down to see you this afternoon. This has worked out fine. Now you can give me a ride and I won’t have to take the bus.”

“Do you honestly think I believe all your bullshit? I just can’t trust you.”

“Since when? Since I refused to sleep with you?”

“I never even asked.”

His response was like a cold shower. I felt myself shiver.

“That suits me. I’d never sleep with a cop,” I bragged.

“Cops this, cops that. You enjoy bashing us, but we’re OK when you need us, aren’t we?”

“Like when?”

“Like when you were attacked on your little hike in the mountains?”

I was pissed again, so I kept quiet. If I didn’t say anything, we wouldn’t be able to fight. He shut his mouth too. Excellent.

I never found out what Véro told Borelli.

When he came out of her room, he looked deep in thought. I got in their car with them, and they took me down to the cop shop.

Just like last time, I was left waiting in an office. Everyone disappeared. They eventually returned with sandwiches and offered me one.

I didn’t want one. There was no way I was going to sit down and share their food. I thought back to the conversation Jérôme had been having with Ismène and Gaston the night before.

“No, thank you, I only eat organic,” I said.

Borelli laughed. Jérôme looked uncomfortable. Borelli then set off asking me a ton of questions. Jérôme was trying to document everything we said for their records. He was typing on an old keyboard in front of a huge screen. It looked like a TV, but obviously it was an ancient computer. The police were clearly at the cutting edge of technology. What a joke.

I told them how I’d found Véro by chance in the Midi Health Insurance offices. That I’d been on my way to the restroom but had gotten lost.

“You actually think we’re going to buy that?” asked Borelli.

“No idea,” I replied. “What do you want me to say?”

I asked them where they were in the investigation. Borelli hesitated for a long time before speaking.

“I shouldn’t tell you anything, Maldonne,” he replied. “You haven’t exactly been straightforward with us. But I understand your anxiety, so I’ll let you in on a few things. We’ve found some new evidence. No, please calm down. There’s no sign of violence. We’ve maybe found traces of another suspect. We’re looking into it. We’ve found some hair. The DNA doesn’t match the young boy—or our main suspect. Another witness has also come forward. We’re following up on that.”

Following up on what? I didn’t understand what he was getting at, but my heart was pounding.

An image flashed in my mind: Pierre in the arms of his smiling mother, he’d been found, safe and sound. Then a second image took its place: a body, the lifeless body of Pierre.

I didn’t know which image was true. Borelli had said, “I understand your anxiety.” Surely that meant good news, or in any case not a complete lack of hope.

They questioned me for a while longer, then finally let me out at three o’clock. Just in time for me to do what I needed to do and pick up the tots.