The Seven Turns of the Snail's Shell: A Novel (19 page)

“
Grand-père
?”

“No. He never mentioned your grandfather. He told me about a man named Diamanté.”

C-C slowed the car and pulled over to the curb near the Seine. The light of the streetlamps shone into the car. He stared at her. “What do you know about Diamanté?”

“Your grandfather said that your father knows him. Do you know Diamanté, too?”

“Diamanté occasionally visited my parents when I was a child. I remember him only vaguely. I knew he was a friend of my grandfather’s. Why would you be interested in Diamanté?”

“Because…you see, he is apparently my grandfather, my Corsican grandfather.”

“And your father would be?”

“His son, Diamanté
fils
.”

“Where is he?”

“He died.”

C-C blew air through his lips, indicating disbelief.

“Look, I need to show you something.” She dug the two precious photos out of her purse, the one of her mother and the young man believed to be Diamanté
fils
and the other of the aged Diamanté that C-C’s grandfather had given her. She showed the latter to C-C. “Your grandfather gave me this. It’s a fairly recent photo of him.”

C-C put on the car’s overhead light and studied the photo. It was unmistakably the man who had come to get him at the hospital in August. “He looks like the man I remember being Diamanté…a little older.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Not much. Whenever they were together, he and my father always spoke in a Corsican dialect. All short, choppy sentences. I couldn’t understand a thing. I remember his hands were rough, gnarled, and he was physically very strong, like my father. The most amazing eyes, too—dark…vulpine.”

She showed him the other photo. “This is my mother and the young man who I believe is Diamanté
fils
. I found it in an old album of photos of my mother that belonged to my grandparents. It was taken in California in front of my grandparents’ home. There were no notes to identify the young man who was with my mother, but the face matches a face on one I saw at your grandfather’s…that one was of Diamanté and his son together. Your grandfather said that photo was taken in Corsica after Diamanté’s son had returned from California…before he went to the war in Algeria…where he was killed.”

C-C studied the second photo. “Your mother was pretty, like you. What happened to her?”

“She died when I was young. My grandfather never told me who my father was, until the end. Neither Diamanté knew anything about me, as far as I know.”

“You bear a strong resemblance to both your parents. Anna, did
Grand-père
tell you where Diamanté is now?”

“He doesn’t know. He said the last person who may have talked to him, as far as he knows, is your father. Diamanté called in August to get your father’s number in Rouen. He was apparently headed to Paris for some reason.”

Yes, for good reason
. C-C wished now, as he had many times since, that he had not been at La Pitié-Salpêtrière that fateful night. He would never be able to live his life again without looking behind him. Even now, on this drive, there could be a tail on him. He could never be sure.

Outside, the air was brisk and raw, causing the windows in the car to steam. C-C turned up the heater, put the car in gear, and headed for the entrance ramp to the A13. “So, you never told
Grandpère
that you and I knew each other.”

“It was all such an overwhelming coincidence.”

He again seemed preoccupied as he drove, keeping one eye on the rearview mirror.

“Why do you seem to be looking as if someone were following us?” Anna finally blurted out. “You did that last night also.”

“I did?” He looked over at her. “I must have developed a bad habit or two since we last saw each other. You look very nice today.”

Monique had lent Anna a beautiful, soft, cashmere sweater in a wine-red color. She had coiled her long hair into a simple, classic, sleek, low chignon and put on large, gold hoop earrings. She knew she looked good.

“You changed the subject on me,” she said with a grin. “Oh, well, we probably both have…developed bad habits, that is. Mine is that I’m not as patient as I used to be.”

He chuckled. “It’s the Corsican blood. When you found out you had it, you became impatient.”

“Do you think it would make a difference with your father? I mean, if he learned that I have Corsican blood in my veins?”

C-C pursed his lips. He thought about how his father had treated him when he had taken her to Rouen to meet his parents the first time. He had cut short the visit.

“I think he would be very surprised,” he said.

A police car came from behind and sped past them. Following it was a SAMU ambulance. Both vehicles’ two-tone sirens drowned out any further conversation for the moment.

CHAPTER 33

W
hen Anna and C-C reached the outskirts of Rouen, the sky was blue and the day was crisp and clear. The winter sunshine coming through the car windows warmed Anna’s shoulders.

To C-C, the route was familiar. He followed the quay along the Seine until they reached rue Jeanne-d’Arc. Turning right, he drove north until he was just short of the rue du Gros-Horloge, then made a sharp turn into a back alley. It was the same route the small, disguised ambulance had taken in August. As he pulled up behind the restaurant and turned off the engine, C-C looked at Anna as if to inquire, “Are you prepared for this?”

She read his look. “He is your father, C-C.”

Lucie La Forêt was organizing her kitchen staff for the Sunday crowd when she noticed the green Renault that had driven up to the back door of Le Canard à la Rouennaise. She wiped her hands on her large, white apron, patted her curly head of white hair into place, and motioned to her sous-chef to carry on. As she approached the door, she saw the driver get out of the car and go around to the passenger side to open the door for a young lady.

“
Oh, oh, oh, oh là là
.” She cupped her two hands to her cheeks. “
Monsieur
Charlie!” She scurried into the alley, her large hips weaving sideways and the strings of her apron flying behind her. “Oh,
Monsieur
Charlie!” She grabbed C-C, threw her arms around him, and kissed him three times in succession on his, now somewhat flushed, cheeks.

“
Salut
, Lucie.”

“
Beh
, what are you doing here?” she said in her thick Norman accent as she held his face close to hers. “We haven’t seen you in so long. We didn’t know what happened. You didn’t come back.”

C-C motioned to her to not say anymore. He wagged his index finger at her and put it next to his lips.

“
Oh
,
oui
,
oui
,
oui
.” She said
oui
three times in succession from the side of her mouth, bouncing her large head up and down in agreement. It sounded to Anna more like “oy, oy, oy.”

C-C took Anna’s elbow and drew her beside him.

“Anna, this is Lucie La Forêt. She is the sous-chef of my father’s restaurant.”

Anna shook Lucie’s large hand.

Lucie was the picture of a chef: rotund and rosy-cheeked. Her apron, though it was probably clean to begin with this morning, was already speckled with food stains from the specialties of the day.

“Oh, she is so beautiful, Charlie,” she said.

C-C blushed again.

“
N’est-ce pas
,” he replied with a quick smile. Then it was Anna’s turn to blush.

“Come in, come in, it’s cold out here.” Lucie ushered them into the restaurant’s warm kitchen where the staff was busily preparing dishes and chopping vegetables. The aroma of the combination of duck, chicken, apples, herbs, garlic, and spices cooking made Anna’s mouth water. She realized she was hungry.

“Please, take off your coats,” Lucie said as she led them into the back dining room of the restaurant.

“This is the family dining room,” C-C explained to Anna. “We always ate here so my father could keep an eye on the sous-chef,” he said with a chuckle.

“
Monsieur
Charlie, what can we prepare for you for Sunday dinner?” Lucie asked cheerfully as she beamed at them. One strand of white hair had sprung loose and was sticking out from over her temple.

“What’s the
spécialité
?”

“The duck will be good today. It is still hunting season.”

“Lucie, we are here to see my father. Is he upstairs?”

Lucie’s eyes widened. She put her hand to her mouth. “
Oh là là
, Charlie, you didn’t know? He left here. After you didn’t come back again…” She hesitated, looking at Anna. “I am running the
resto
now, since he left.”

C-C looked concerned. “But where did he go?”

Lucie’s eyes darted toward Anna again.

Sensing Lucie’s dilemma, C-C said, “Anna, would you excuse us, please?”

Anna was confused also.
What was all this about
? She had understood enough of the conversation and the body language to catch on to the obvious—that C-C was not allowing Lucie to ask him any questions. She also saw a look of worry and concern on C-C’s face.

“Of course. Point me to the
cabinet
.” They pointed down the hallway, and Anna left the room. As she headed to the restroom, the door to the dining room closed softly behind her.

“
Monsieur
Charlie, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to say. We were so worried about you. Your father thought you had been murdered. Diamanté didn’t know what happened to you, either. He said he thought that your nurse was killed. Your father was beside himself. He wanted to talk with you that day. He had something for you.
Oh là là là là là là
…” She trailed off in a string of
oh là là là là
’ing and cupped her hands to her cheeks again, tears glistening in her eyes.

“It’s all right, Lucie. Sit down.” C-C motioned for her to have a seat at the dining room table and took a chair next to her. “I am all right.”

“But the funeral…we saw it all on the television. She died? After all that?”

“Lucie, I can’t tell you anything. It is the oath I took. You know that.”

“Oh, Charlie,
merci Dieu
you are back safely.” She traced a large sign of the cross quickly in the air above her forehead. “Were you in danger? Are you still in danger?”

C-C shrugged his shoulders and scratched his head. “I admit I don’t know. Tell me, is my father all right? Nothing has happened to him?”

“He is sad,
Monsieur
Charlie, and the heart attack, it was bad for him, but now he is healthy as an old Norman cow again.”

“The heart attack?”

“
Oui.
After you didn’t come back, he began to have severe pains in his chest. One day, in late October, he just collapsed. We rushed him to the hospital. They said it was a mild attack and that he would recover quickly. It turned out that he was working too hard. That, combined with the stress of not knowing what happened to you.”

“I…I didn’t know.”

“He decided that he couldn’t stay in Rouen any longer. I agreed to take over the
resto
for him. I had been doing more and more of the management anyway. I hired the new staff myself.” She straightened up with pride as she said that. “And I transformed the menu. Updated it.”

“That is good, Lucie. But where did my father go? You must realize that I need to find him?
Oui
?”

“
Oui, oui, oui
. He left for the south. Provence. He is managing Diamanté’s restaurant in Castagniers for him.”

“Where is Diamanté then? Do you know?” C-C knew he wasn’t the only one searching for Diamanté.

“Your father thought that Diamanté probably went to Corsica. We didn’t know about Narbon…where he went anyway. We never heard from him. You know, there was always that bad blood between those two.”

“No, actually I didn’t know that. Between Narbon and Diamanté?”

“Yes. It was a long time ago, over Elise. They never forgave each other. At least, I don’t think Narbon ever got over it. It’s a long story. In the end, both of them lost to Diamanté’s brother, Ferdinand.”

“Did Diamanté ask my father to manage his
resto
?”

“Is possible. I don’t know. One day your father may have decided that Diamanté’s restaurant needed him, since it is a Corsican restaurant, you know, so he left. He calls once in a while to check up on us. I always tell him the same thing. We are doing a better job than he did.” She chuckled. “I will give you his phone number.” She thought for a minute and lowered her head, shaking it. “You would have laughed at the scene that day in the alley, Charlie. We all stood like soldiers, arm in arm. We didn’t let those paparazzi get away until they had had too much to eat and drink. By that time, they had forgotten who they were chasing.”

C-C smiled at her kindly. “That’s good to know.” He got up and walked over to the door. “Maybe we had better let Anna back in now.” He opened it. Anna was standing in the hallway. “She’s an old friend who is not so patient as she used to be.”