Under the Cajun Moon (15 page)

Well. I was speechless for a moment, trying to decide if I was offended by his exaggerations or flattered at how fully he had me pegged.

“Glad to know that as my life hangs in the balance you’re willing to risk a hat,” I said finally, causing him to throw his head back and laugh.

“Touché,
cher.
”

“Look, I haven’t seen or spoken to Sam since last night, right about when I realized that someone had put a drug in my coffee.” I didn’t add the latest bit of news I had received from my lawyer, that for some reason Sam told the other employees that Kevin and I left and he had cleaned up the room. Those were both lies, but I knew Sam and Sam didn’t lie.

I didn’t know what to think.

“Where’s your grandfather, Travis? Somehow, I have a feeling he could explain a number of things.”

Travis shrugged.

“I don’t know. He does this a lot, goes off on a fishing or hunting trip and disappears for days on end. My
grandmere
said he left home two days ago, saying, ‘
Je vous vois quand je vous vois.
’ That’s their code for ‘I’m going off to fish and think, so don’t rush me, don’t bother me, and don’t expect me. I’ll see you when I see you.’”

“‘Don’t rush me, don’t bother me’? That must be some marriage.”

“Sixty-three years this month, so I guess they’re doing all right, then.”

I looked out of the side window and ran a hand through my hair, my filthy hair that hadn’t been shampooed since yesterday morning. I was tired and snarky and ready to be done with this whole mess. Most of all I wanted to see my father. I also desperately needed to talk with Sam myself.

“My car’s parked near Ledet’s,” I said. “If you’ll get me back there, I’ll go with you to Sam’s apartment first before I leave for the hospital, and
we can go inside and take a look around to see if we can figure out where he might’ve gone or what’s happened to him.”

“Breaking and entering? You sure that doesn’t violate your parole?” Travis teased, reaching for the ignition.

“It’s not parole, it’s bail, and for your information I have a key.”

“
C’est convenue.
I mean, that’s convenient. At this point, I’m ready to do whatever it takes, even if that means consorting with a felon.”

“You’re one to talk. Just because you’re helping me now doesn’t mean I should trust you. I barely remember you at all.”

“Yeah, well, I remember you a little too well. Come on,
cher
. Let’s go.”

F
RANCE, 1719
J
ACQUES

The noise and bustle in the town of Charenton assaulted Jacques’ senses from every side, a likely consequence of living in near isolation for an entire month. It didn’t help that he was in a place he did not know well, dealing with people he had never met. And everywhere he went, it seemed he was jostled or bumped or shouted around. He had passed the famous Home of Charenton on the outskirts of town, where all of France sent their insane, but in Jacques’ opinion things in the center of the village seemed insane as well.

Jacques finally located a courier service, one that listed on its delivery roster “Isle de la Cite, Paris.” Papa’s letter was addressed to the Palais-Royal, so that would work. Stepping inside, Jacques thought a whole crowd was waiting in line, but as his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized it was simply a husband and wife and their five rowdy children. Jacques stood near the door for a moment, listening to the children fight with each other as their parents conducted their business with the man at the counter. Unable to handle the din, Jacques finally decided he would prefer to wait outside.

At least there was a sidewalk there where he could stand and lean against the wall as he waited, sidewalks being a luxury that Paris proper didn’t have room for. From this spot Jacques was able to ignore the loud arguing
of the children inside while he observed the busyness of the street, the noisy mix of people and buggies and commerce. Was normal life always like this and he had just never noticed before? How immune one must become to busyness when living directly with it.

“In just an hour!” a man shouted to someone else as he ran past Jacques and nearly crashed into him. “Is it to be outside their offices?”

“No, it’s at Les Halles, not Rue Quinquempoix!”

Jacques couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He didn’t know what they were talking about specifically, but Rue Quinquempoix, or what Papa called “the street lately gone mad,” was the center of financial speculation in Paris, the likes of which France had not seen in quite a while. The excitement had begun several years ago, when a Scottish financial wizard named John Law had aligned with the regent and created La Banque General. Since then Paris, and indeed all of France, had been going mad for speculation. The way Jacque understood it, John Law’s bank was based on credit and paper money, two things Papa was very wary of.

Of course, there was no denying that many people were becoming quite rich these days, trading stock and buying shares in Law’s Compagnie des Indes, whose offices were located at the heart of the speculation district on Rue Quinquempoix. Despite the frenzy, Papa continued to be cautious of speculation on principal, saying that paper lacked the integrity of gold, that sooner or later values would be unrealistically inflated, and that what was going up surely had to come crashing down. Jacques trusted his father’s judgment, but sometimes he wondered if Papa was wrong and there really was something to it after all. From what he understood, shares first bought at five hundred were already trading for fifteen hundred!

Either way, at least the upward shift in income was good for the goldsmithing business. The nouveau riche almost always began their elevated lifestyles by procuring the latest fashions for themselves and their homes, and often that meant the shinier the better. The gold and silver boutique in the Place Dauphin that Jacques ran for his father had made more money in the past year than it had in the previous five combined. Sales were up all over town, and energy pulsed from Rue Quinquempoix as if speculating involved the very creation of life itself.

Jacques’ thoughts were interrupted by more loud arguing from inside the courier’s office.

“I think he’s going to give one to every good little girl in the city,” one of the children’s voices cried.

“Don’t be stupid. There’s only two hundred in all,” a boy replied. “I think they’re for future soldiers, like me.”

It sounded as though the noisy family was about finished with their business, so Jacques moved closer to the door, waiting as they tumbled out.

“Mommy, if you get a gold statuette from M. Law, can I have it?” one of the girls asked, tugging on her mother’s skirt.

The mother’s face looked weary as she glanced at Jacques, scolded all of the children, and kept ushering them out of the door.

“You’re all being silly,” she said to her children. “If we got one, it would belong to our entire family, not any single one of you, so that’s enough of that. What could children possibly want with a fleur-de-lis statuette anyway, even if it is pure gold?”

“I’d use it as my dowry someday!” one of the daughters said.

“I’d put it on the mantle and declare myself king!” one of the sons cried.

“Well, stop this endless quarreling because it doesn’t matter. We’re not going to Les Halles and that’s that. We don’t even know what the statuettes are for or if our family would get one, and we cannot afford to travel all that way just to find out. Now move along!”

En masse, the family headed down the street and away from Jacques. Trying to process in his mind the conversation he had just heard, he stood frozen in place, heart pounding in his throat.

“May I help you, sir?”

Jacques glanced numbly at the store clerk, who stood waiting at the counter inside.

“Sir? May I help you?”

“Uh…excuse me. I’ll be back,” Jacques said. Then he wove his way through the crowded street as quickly as possible, catching up with the noisy family at the corner.

“Pardon!” he said, repeating the word until the family realized he was talking to them and stopped.

“Yes, what it is?” the man asked. Standing there beside him, concern came over the woman’s face as she seemed to recognize Jacques from the courier’s office moments before. She glanced back up the street and then down around her, as if she feared she had forgotten one of her children.

“I’m sorry to bother you, and this is terribly rude, but I couldn’t help but overhear your children’s conversation. May I ask what you are all talking about regarding solid gold fleur-de-lis statuettes?”

At this point, the children had stopped fighting to cluster around their parents and look up at Jacques curiously.

“Where have you been, monsier? On the moon?” the oldest boy asked, earning a quick reprimand from his father for his rudeness.

Jacques explained that he had, indeed, been out of town for nearly a month and had just returned.

“Everyone’s talking about it,” the man answered. “It’s a special giveaway, a tremendous sort of contest. No one knows yet what it’s all about, but rumors have been flying for two weeks that the palace goldsmiths in Paris have been casting little statuettes from pure gold, each one of them to be given away for
free
. It was just rumors, understand you, but then yesterday posters went up all over town.” He gestured toward a sign that had been affixed to a stake and set in place across the street. “The signs confirm it, that two hundred solid gold fleur-de-lis statues will be given away today at two bells at Les Halles to any and all citizens of France who meet one very specific qualification. I daresay the whole city will be there just to see what that qualification is and if they happen to be one of the ones who meets it.”

“Two o’clock?” Jacques asked, his heart racing even faster.

“Yes,” the man replied, squinting up at the clock on the church bell tower. “Half an hour from now.”

Jacques thanked them for their help, and as they turned to go he darted across the street to read the sign for himself, crossing directly in front of a fast-moving team of horses.

“Be careful, monsieur!” the driver scolded from his perch atop the sedan as he brushed past without incident.

Giving the man an apologetic wave, Jacques focused his attention on the sign. It said:

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,
M. JOHN LAW AND THE NEWLY FORMED
COMPAGNIE DES INDES
ARE PROUD TO ANNOUNCE THE GIFTING OF
TWO HUNDRED SOLID GOLD FLEUR-DE-LIS STATUETTES
TO ANY AND ALL GOOD CITIZENS OF EUROPE
WHO MEET ONE VERY SPECIFIC QUALIFICATION.
COULD THIS MEAN YOU?
PRESENTATION TO TAKE PLACE
TWO P.M., AUGUST 18, 1719,
AT LES HALLES IN PARIS.
ALL ARE WELCOME TO ATTEND AND ELIGIBLE TO WIN.