Side street mystery; Post haste

It is at the post office where Pierre Reaux bumps into Faun

He looks almost comically awkward when all his papers go flying, so, taking pity, Faun runs to help him and when she gathers his papers he begrudgingly smiles. He wears a black hat. Somewhat fedora you might say, but on him it becomes another article entirely. 

Awkwardly he says,

“we might ‘ave got off to a bad start, Mam—mad—rrr—Mizzz—“

“Just Faun is fine,” she coolly asserts the papers under his coat covered armpit like a friendly jab, “there you are, all sorted.”

She starts to step away but he follows her,

“excuse me—Mzz—Faun, madamme— I just wondered if I may talk to you for just one moment of your time?”

Faun pauses just a step to look at him but then continues to the yellow Volvo anyway, 

“Is there something you want, Monsieur Reaux?”

“Well….as you know my jurisdiction is only as far as the Canadian border—“

“Yet we find you here so frequently,” Faun stopped to smile now 

“Yes well…. You ‘ave the Sam’s Club and the Walmart….” he scratches his jaw thoughtfully as he tries to seem casual 

“You come here to shop at Walmart?” she looks at how he is dressed. Three piece suit and that trench coat was far from Columbo 

He is inspecting his nails as he smiles looking back up at her,

“not me, Mz Faun—but most of ze characters I must investigate do tend to frequent such places.”

He says all this with his heavy French Canadian accent whilst twisting his mustache absently 

“So how can I help you today?” she asks now 

“You are still running ze bookshop for ze Bishops?”

She waits a moment to reply. She looks at his expression to read him. 

“I am. The chief of police over there could have told you whatever you’d like to know,” she watches his face.

“Have you remained in contact wiz Monsieur Grant?”

Faun had sensed this must be about him somehow 

“Why do you ask?”

“Because it seems he may need your help.”

in bed with a wolf

It was somewhere after passing out and waking to get up in search of the toilet to vomit in and feeling miserable after when she noted the unfamiliar surroundings. Then remembered ….Greg….what was he said about the morning ….? 

But her head was just pounding too hard to contemplate anything in any great depth and it’s funny how the mind goes to familiar things when in a moment of abject misery ….Imogene always kept sodium bicarbonate in the bathroom medicine cabinet next to a handy glass. 

“Aha!” Diandra found it 

Then it was ….two —what do they call them here? In the drawer next to the first aid kit.

After that she got into the shower and sat on the floor of it and let the water beat down on her until the danger red finally went away. 

It must have been after that when she dropped back onto the bed Greg had hours before dumped her in, her hair spilled out in twisted, mad, wet, ringlets and her skin scrubbed to a flush, she fell naked back asleep. 

But as the sunlight later came spilling in with the morning when she opened her eyes 

….there was Greg at the foot of the bed 

1001 Shades of Violet/Greg&Diandra;After the reception;the Coffee Place revisited

 

It is later, long after the bride and groom were off on their exciting holiday 

Greg and Diandra were back at the “coffee” place drinking what was starting to feel like their usual, only tonight switched to Tia Maria (with a spot of coffee)

with Diandra sunk low in the seat— tonight Greg found them a table further back against the corner wall, in a burgundy upholstered booth that insulated them from the noise going on. The noise was mostly at the bar and over an argument concerning bets on a game and every once in a lapse of arguing several at once called out angrily,

“Morty!!!” 

and after twenty minutes of this, Diandra started to wonder about Morty herself 

“Another?” someone seemed to say from the corner reaches of Diandra’s visage 

and in volley, reply in the opposite reaches came,

“she’ll have another—make it two doubles this time. Save a trip,” she heard Greg say but what he meant was fuzzy. Except she liked knowing there was something much too sweet possibly coming soon that kept her forgetting to care about all her troubles 

What were they again?

Uhhh…. 

where she should live —but where was she again —now?

So in her Tia Maria state (with spots of coffee) her thoughts went like this:

when ???? was she indeed…. what year exactly?….it was because —it felt—he was —he felt ….soooo familiar. And it was so easy to not care. And be lulled into the sense that yes…. she was safe ….here with him

who—?Greg…. Greg ? Greg Wilson ….which made no sense because she had lived in so many places since then. How could she be…. here —as if she never left?

 And then ….she did realize she knew this place. From ….years ago

She looked up at Greg now feeling like a loser for only just making the connection ….this was where it first happened—that night….they were here and somebody vomited on her—

That was why she had to borrow his sister’s uniform. The coffee place was just around the corner from —his old house 

Diandra’s heart started to pound. In her inebriated state it seemed to recall those deep hidden memories in the crevices of her thoughts

 ….she remembered the night sharply and now she stared up at Greg. He was watching her. And he saw her face as she realized this. He watched her look at the places in the room where ….each thing occurred ….how she arrived with Imogene and they both were with dates but Diandra was upset with the one she was with when Greg stepped into the pub and saw them. Was it coincidence he happened to go in there? She never asked. 

But in the end, after Imogene left with her date, Diandra’s date began to cause a scene when she said she was calling a cab to go home. That was when—to Diandra, Greg appeared from thin air. Not knowing he had been following them most of the night. And she still never knew. And somehow there were some punches and some blood and then the vomit all over Diandra’s black and white houndstooth dress; soaking it through and ruining it with—what was determined instantly: permanent stains; the garment reeked and was sufficiently considered then rendered a piece of trash.

That was why the proximity of his sister’s uniform proved valuable. Why the uniform? It was the only article of clothes at his house that would fit her that wouldn’t be immediately missed as his sister at the time had chicken pox and would not be back at school for awhile. 

And the disguise 

  allowed for a few anonymous clandestine meetings until his sister was fully recovered 

The Tia Maria arrived just as this memory mushroomed in her thoughts. 

Greg watched her expression. 

And as she started to fill in more and more of that evening …. that night ….it was really what he had said that made what happen 

happen 

He had said,

“he doesn’t have the right to touch you like that,” and when he said it he was holding back a kind of rage.

 But then soon after laughed saying, “at least he’s not like —what was that other one’s name who went to your university —he was that economics tosser who came to see you—I knew you hardly cared for that one. Too nice, too proper, would be too malleable for you, you’d be bored in a month.”

 She was unaware he even paid attention that closely until that night. 

 But then what he said next was what got through.

She suddenly remembered it clearly now. It had started to rain on the way back and outside his house they found a spot she could remove the clothes covered in vomit within the shelter of his jacket. And it was after when he put the clothes in the bin and was leading her inside as the rain was coming down

She had asked him what he meant and Diandra remembered ….

She remembered what he said as if it were yesterday. 

His reply stunned her with his accurate perception,

“a man like that would call you ‘dear’ and say ‘I love you my little squirrel—will you be my Mrs Squirrel?’ or some other stupid whatever name and simper all over you and you know what you’d do?—what you did do, and you know why?”

She had just looked up and waited before he said,

“because you can’t handle it, it just makes you run.”

He said it with such clarity. It held her in that moment to stare at him in the strange daze she had found herself in.

 

Once all the drama had ended with the bad date. He had that time too draped his jacket around her and walked her back to his house. They sneaked in unnoticed through the kitchen door. 

But it was something else he had said….

They were outside a little room where Greg was searching through the cleaned laundry when he found his sister’s uniform. 

He pointed down the hall to the bathroom.

Stood outside the frame of the bathroom doorway he put his right hand above her within the door frame. Even at his age, he was much taller than Diandra; she was always mistaken for a student because of her size. He then put his left hand on the other side of the door and trapped her 

“you don’t want the man to ask, you want him to just take —and not ask permission….” 

he didn’t do anything. He just stood there looking down at her 

They both knew she could have slipped past him. 

But it was his words that imprisoned her. His words. His ability to see what all the others never could even still ….and those words were only just the tip of the iceberg

but she knew he knew. and he knew she knew he knew. but she also knew why he knew. which was what made her want him so much even before this moment ….she always knew 

Because she didn’t run 

he did

****

She sat there now in the coffe place remembering ….as he saw her expression change ….to that first night 

who do you want next to you when your world falls apart

side street baskerville a party for tea

 

But by the end of the day, Faun did not want to reflect upon the meeting with the two authorities which, mostly was tedious and all about the fact that Monsieur Pierre Reaux was not kept abreast of the ongoing details of the case. It was a wasted hour of listening to and watching him exclaim and strut over the documents and the paper trail of how Sullivan and she and third party had left him in the dust. 

It just buried Faun under more stupid nonsense. 

Sheila did not see Faun again until after closing time when she handed Faun the cash till,

“What did Inspector Clouseau have to say?—sheeze —you look like you’ve not see daylight in a year! Did you even eat anything all day?”

Faun took the till and quietly started counting the drawer down 

Sheila cleared her throat,

“hello?”

Faun looked up in mid count,

“thirty-seven….” her eyes focused on Sheila and for a second or two it seemed she seemed to go blank. Then she said, “I’m sorry …. yeah—Clouseau needs a clue—I don’t want to get into it, he’s an idiot —but, it’s just more stuff they need—paperwork—total waste of my time….sorry…. I can’t believe it’s so late—I never even saw the sun today….sorry I left you out there on the floor all day.”

“It was your day off, and I wasn’t alone, the girls took a shift today —so, the change might be off—“

Faun dropped the pennies back in the coin slot and looked at Sheila—six foot two black trans beauty wearing one of her usual imaginative ensembles, this one involving a red tartan kilt with a matching hat 

“Oh…. I didn’t realize ….” Faun again looked blank 

“Ill do the till— sweetie, why don’t you go home?”

After about a minute of considering and nervously rearranging the objects of the desk in front of her Faun sighed in defeat,

“yeah….” and stood up and reached without looking for her hand bag and coat but paused by the office door. She looked into the office and back at Sheila, “King Leopold?”

“Oh! We have him—I meant to tell you, can we drop him off tomorrow? Gary and he seemed to have hit it off—“

“So, who dropped him off? Who was the guy?”

“Guy,” Sheila said, “his name —that’s his name—“

“But—“ and yet as Faun wished to press for more info on this little mystery her phone alerted with the dismal tone of Pierre Reaux —asking her to fetch yet one more piece of paperwork —this one from Arthur’s office.

It was awhile before Faun finally arrived back at her place in the freezing cold, fumbling for her key hardly noticing any of her surroundings except for the cold and all the snow and so it was with a start that she looked up from removing her boots inside the entrance via her kitchen, by the door that she noticed ….Grant standing there looking at her —still inside the partition between her place and the other side that lead out to ….the other kitchen and —to salmon sofas

“What….” the words seemed not to come to Faun as she stared up at him 

He looked ….terrible ….it was clear he had been traveling but it was not just a look of travel weary, it was something deeper. 

He stared at her. His dark hair and face were groomed as usual but something was obviously wrong; he appeared slightly crumpled in his woolen pullover and gray trousers 

“Something’s —wrong….” Faun said it looking at him as she carefully approached him in her stocking feet 

Slowly his eyes met hers; red veined and tired but it made the green of one of them almost brilliant 

“Don’t ask me,” he said and just stared at her. His eyes took a deadly serious look. “Don’t ask,” he said again 

Faun took a step back and started to turn away,

“all ri—“ but he reached for her as she started to move away. Faun stumbled and let him steady her as she looked again up at him. She stared into his eyes and said again, “all right ….” as she took a deep breath, “would you like tea?”

a royal Reaux side street mystery

Faun arrived on foot before the sun and found her way to the cash office without having to flip any lights. She focused on the neat list in her head of all the tasks of the day…. but what about King Leopold? 

It had not crossed Faun’s mind once to believe the king could be anywhere but with Grant 

and since Grant was nowhere to be found, it seemed a moot topic until she found Sheila’s handwritten yellow post-it note laying stuck to—right on top of the shop’s electric bill: “almost forgot to tell you—Guy called saying he is dropping off King Leopold”

which threw a wrench in her plot to stay focused on her to-do list and not get distracted 

Nevermind the donation boxes of books cluttering up the path to the public bathrooms that needed to be inventoried and shelved or tossed, not a safety hazard but —by early mid- morning even this was to be evaded by a surprise policeman visit 

Sullivan and Pierre Reaux both arriving through the shop’s front doors and one glaring her down as Faun dealt with a line of people whose only literary interest was reading the price out of their expected lattes

Out of nowhere, Sheila arrived too, appearing from the stacks and saying,

“I’ll take care of the line, why don’t you take Mr and Mrs Smith over there?”

“You have great timing,” Faun looked up and without argument stepped away from the counter and headed out to the floor over to the ‘Smiths’

“Can I help you with something?” Faun glanced first at officer Sullivan and then at the French Canadian 

“Perhapz ve can ‘av a word in a more private eh—rroom, nes pas?”

Faun glanced at Sheila who waved with a wink and then looked over at Sullivan whose eyes looked serious 

“Great,” Faun said

An alley way called Dawn off the side street

She felt differently she realized, staring out over the street in front of her, watching the coats of snow melt under the pummel of the constant rain which replaced the days of snow storms 

She had felt differently for awhile.

The tone of life had cast a new altered scheme of shades ….and it was so gradual, this change …. it was not possible to pin point any exact moment of the shift 

but there was a shift …. 

Faun looked down at her chapped hands— now softened ….but they still slightly stung, if she noticed ….

why had she come here….? and why had Grant been able to distract her from ….distract her from what is reality. But the change began when it was still present 

   and the events —a few shocking deaths between other

events …. smeared what remained of the dreams 

What world did those dreams belong in?

Sheila had no other message from Grant— so, it seems ….he forgot her, and now having shut up this part of the house Faun turned away from the window. She kept her eyes away from the salmon colored couches and focused on the door through which would close out these recent memories ….

and once through that door….Shut….with a click….she leaned against it and stared ahead at the interior of her little kitchen ….her bald reality glared back as she wondered how it was possible that he had achieved this ability to distract her from reality —that reality ….

And now with everything back in order at the shop and the bills sorted out and replied to whatever it was that Pierre Reaux needed (copies of the mud print photos) now done 

Faun faced the empty place ignoring the mockery of cheap fixes that existed for dates and fake friends —how did he distract her from that? she slid down the door and sat on the floor ….not a flashy red carpet promise, it was just—the ease that existed when he was around; a calm in which to think and breathe— was it illusion ….?something she had conjured up and blindly had believed in—her fault—so….it should be easy to conjure again, right? for herself ….

Faun reminded herself that he would have to contact her eventually about the book shop 

wouldn’t he? 

It suddenly occurred to her why Grant was able to distract her from the brutalities of life