Hôtel Dernier
JPYoung
Frisco Reverie
The Victorian-era cable car ringing its bell of dreams simultaneously hummed, roared and scraped through the San Francisco hills on the brilliant blue day. He’d seen his journey in countless films, television shows and Rice-a-Roni commercials but it still impressed him. Yet with all the views and attractions, one thing caught his eye most of all…
She stood out from the excited tourists and jaded locals like a glowing fireball. Jet-black hair and red lipstick set off her white trenchcoat evoking images of danger, mystery and forbidden romance. The quality of her clothing was matched by her poise.
Their brown eyes met, she gave him a smile…Giving him one last glance, she left their cable car at the old homes on Nob Hill…She beckoned…then she was gone…he never forgot her…
Drake awoke to the announcement for the airliner passengers to prepare for landing.
Initial arrival
Though he was booked into a luxury overseas hotel with a picture postcard view, he had no idea of his primary destination.
Drake was an agency courier; his client unknown to him. His assignment was one where he not only didn’t know what he would be picking up and delivering, but he’d only be informed of where he’d meet his contact sometime after his arrival.
His reputation was such that his clients asked for him by name. He served those who desired confidentiality above all. Specifically, to prevent the client’s competition discovering their scheme and underbidding them as well as other cutthroat business practices and industrial espionage.
Enjoying his breakfast, an attractive woman approached him carrying the right bouquet of red dahlias and the right code phrase. She presented him with an envelope and gave him a friendly, but not intimate kiss goodbye.
Inside the envelope was a more than suitable amount of the nation’s currency, an itinerary, a return ticket for a seaplane departing from a bay outside the city and a beguiling brochure of a boutique hotel in a place he’d never heard of.
Photographs looked cold and sterile; he was suspicious they were modified in a variety of ways. Instead, his brochure featured reproductions of paintings that didn’t increase his qualms but doubled his desires as it took his mind back to holidays from long ago.
Drake was fascinated by its name: Le Hôtel Dernier.
He would comfortably wait there indefinitely at his clandestine client’s expense for his contact and the item he would transport to the USA.
Final Destination
Le Hôtel Dernier lived up to its brochure.
After unpacking and changing from his charcoal suit and tie into a black polo shirt, grey slacks and casual black shoes, he sat with a glass of sparkling water on his room’s balcony. Below was a small swimming pool on wooden decking surrounded by palms, banana trees, a frangipani with its blossoms at their best, ferns and fronds including monsteras that gave a Dr. Seuss appearance. Like old movies set in exotic locales, Le Hôtel Dernier was not only a place you wanted to stay, but you desired to remain…
Beyond the back garden and the neighbouring old homes was blue water leisurely traversed by a silent white sailboat. In the blue sky was the sight and sound of the seaplane that had brought him; above it at a higher altitude was a transnational airliner.
His watch approached four o’clock; time to go downstairs and take tea with his hosts.
Tea and Premonition
Alexandre De Puységur was a jovial Jerseyman.
‘Our clients are time-poor, but cash-rich double income couples living several weeks in one long weekend. We haven’t all that many visitors during the week, but those that do, like you, are from overseas…’
‘The Randoms…they make life interesting’, Cassandra De Puységur intensely stared at Drake, ‘How did you hear of our little hideaway?’
‘My reservations were made and paid for me; so, I won’t know until my friend arrives…I confess your name intrigued me…’
‘We thought the name would attract attention; the holiday to end all holidays.’
‘…but your brochure really drew me in.’
His hosts proudly smiled,
‘Alex painted it.’
‘What wonderful artwork!’
‘Thank you, Drake.’
‘What’s your superpower, Madame De Puységur, other than presiding over a lovely home away from home?’
‘This keeps me quite busy, though our daughter Emily helping us makes it manageable.’
‘I can well imagine…have we met before?’
‘Why do you say that, Drake?’
‘The way you’ve been looking at me.’
When she didn’t answer, her husband stepped in.
‘Cassie’s superpower is…
‘I’m psychic.’
‘I’m psych-O!’
‘You don’t believe in psychics.’
‘”I see a tall dark stranger…” I believe a psychic is someone who elevates a hunch into clairvoyance. Everyone has a sense of intuition, whether they know it or not. So, we’re all Cassandras, but you’ve the name for it…There’s always something in a name…’
‘I sense something bad will happen on your visit.’
‘Cassie!’
‘Bad luck or evil?’
‘Evil.’
‘To me or to somebody else?’
‘I don’t know…I’ve a premonition something bad will happen, but I don’t know what or to who, but it involves you.’
‘Then you can’t be wrong. Something bad always happens to someone sometime. I gave my parents and schoolteachers a feeling of dread as well.’
Inspector Claringbold
She removed her sunglasses with her left hand. Her ice-blue eyes drew his attention more than her police inspector’s dress blue uniform and the two human gorillas wearing police working uniforms a short distance behind her. Her eyes were curious but had strength behind them.
Her dark blue uniform was obviously tailor-made and fit her like a glove; it displayed her physical fitness that made her age difficult to pick. It was the uniform police wore a generation ago but now was reserved for formal occasions. Once commonplace, it seemed so unusual now that he thought of her as an ultra-expensive strippergramme who would handcuff the recipient to a chair, then sensuously strip down to her expensive lingerie singing Happy Birthday to You.
‘I’m Chief Inspector Claringbold.’
‘Hi, Chief; I’m Drake.’
Her eyes showed surprise when he shook her hand; her constables tensed but stood fast. They reminded Drake of Dobermans their mistress trained to remain motionless with a doggie-treat balanced on their nose until a finger snap, whereupon the treat vanished in their vicious jaws…
‘Pardon my glove’, she smiled.
She removed them, placing them in her matching black handbag and shook his hand again…with both her hands.
His hands were hard, not from manual labour; no doubt his callouses came from martial arts proficiency. His eyes and physique exuded capabilities…
‘Drake as in Danger Man?’
‘Drake as in sitting duck of the male species. Who’s your two pals, or will they save their introduction for the Smack-O-Rama?’
The Constables laughed.
‘Now, the four words all men fear…”We have to talk”…Would here do? It’s very attractive and conducive to intelligent conversation.’
‘Like you.’
Emily brought in a tea service with biscuits, then drew the curtains. She and the Constables left the parlour and shut the door. Both sat down,
‘I’ve never had any police officer make me feel so much at home. You’re what a police officer should be but never is.’
He recorded mental notes,
Vintage fashion, voice and intellect.
Strict attention to detail.
She didn’t need the gorillas; they’d merely clean up the mess and act as friendly witnesses.
She meant business.
Though she loved games, she wasn’t to be trifled with.
She catches more flies with honey than…
I’d feel better if she laughed.
‘How do you take your tea, Mr. Drake?’
‘Just plain Drake; just plain tea. Black, no sugar, please…thanks, Chief.’
Chief Inspector Claringbold gracefully poured.
‘You’re a former sailor, “Just Plain Drake”?’
He gave a mock glare and used his fingers to make an evil-repelling cross.
‘Marine…What’s the sound of fit hitting the shan? Marrrinnnne.’
‘Semper Fidelis…always faithful…I hope you’ll “keep your honour clean.”’
‘It’s always the honour of the Corps, never our own…Semper Fi has a different meaning in the Corps.’
She gave him a questioning expression; he translated,
‘I’ve got mine; you’ll get yours…’
‘You’re probably wondering why I’m here.’
‘For someone like me it would be a reward…for someone like you it would be a punishment…or to keep you away from the corrupt powers that be…you look like you know where the bodies are buried.’
Though they were at cross-purposes, her eyes told him he was right.
‘”M. Claringbold…”’, A nametag seemed out of place on her bespoke traditional police uniform, ‘“M” for Madame?’
‘Margaux…with an “X”.’
‘X for excitement? I had you pegged as Miss Terry N. Danger…but Claringbold suits you to a T…’
‘Mum wanted Margot with a “got”, Dad thought that looked like “maggot”…A “T” for “trouble”?’
‘James Wright’s 1693 The Humours and Conversations of the Town: “All the under villages and townsmen come to him for redress; which he does to a T.” I’m sure you’re an expert in etymology as well, and you love detecting whether people really know what they’re talking about.’
He’d done it again.
‘A “T” that’s likely to be ‘tittle’; a small stroke or point in writing.’
He stopped himself from making a risqué quip.
‘Please tell me about yourself, Drake…’
Inspector’s Introspection
Being in command of ‘nowhere’ had its advantages…Margaux’s evening ritual was physical exercise and stretching, then relaxing in a hot bubble bath with a cold glass of champagne and a dish of strawberries.
Cassie came to her home the previous night to talk about her guest that she had a bad feeling about. Margaux knew her friend’s penchant for having accurate intuitive feelings. Though she didn’t have reasonable suspicion to make official enquiries, she decided there was nothing wrong with welcoming an overseas visitor and making small talk…whilst watching Drake’s reactions.
It was a pleasant chat, but Drake was too smooth.
He didn’t question the police coming to his accommodation; he correctly joked there probably wasn’t too much else to do on the Island. He felt comfortable being with the police…her subordinates neither fazed nor frightened him.
Margaux sensed he was using reverse interrogation techniques to discover what she knew about him and why he was there.
Drake described her as accurately as if he had access to her dossier…had he?
Like so many eager police cadets she wanted to bring justice, safety and clean up the rotten elements. As she rose in rank, she discovered the highest authorities had the lowest morals; they were as putrid as they were powerful.
She was promoted to Station Commander of an obscure tourist location…and there she would stay. Her senior enemies openly laughed that she was being buried alive, as the Island was as quiet as a tomb, but this was where Chief Inspector Claringbold came alive and became the policewoman she always wanted to be.
They sent me to a wealthy international tourist resort because I look good and left me in the force to make THEM look good when they need me.
If her police career ended, her social life began. Her community featured retired professionals who embraced her as one of their own. They shared their varied expertise with her in exchange for her friendship and her offering advice and critique of the detective novels some of them wrote. They were her version of the Baker Street Irregulars; it was the only time in her varied police career that she had the entire community behind her. All of them were happy with each other; and they would do favours for her merely for the asking.
They were more than Neighbourhood Watch; they were Neighbourhood Do.
She placed on her white terrycloth bathrobe as she left her tub and would finish her night by reading in bed.
Her telephone rang; it was a call from the top.
Inspector Clandestine
A Very Important Person was coming to stay on the Island, national intelligence agencies informed police intelligence that he was suspected of being an assassination target. She was to use every power at her disposal for investigation and protection.
Drake was one of the few visitors at present, but the weekend was when the visitors poured in, including the V.I.P. and his administrative assistant.
Margaux asked one of her girlfriends if she would be willing to help her by arranging to pair up with Drake for sightseeing, swimming and lunch to keep him away from his room. Kath ecstatically helped the police playing a secret seductress with the confidence that with Margaux-in-Charge, things would never get out of hand.
Laws weren’t meant to be broken, only stretched…
In a similar manner she requested the De Puységurs if she could assist Emily in cleaning some of the rooms? They gladly obliged, as well as providing Margaux with Drake’s drinking glass to get fingerprints off.
Casually dressed Margaux identified subtle ways Drake could detect whether his room’s drawers or doors had been opened. She opened them and replaced his safeguards as she’d found them.
His clothes were neatly folded, synonymous with obsessive compulsive disorder; or being a former American Marine. His quality wardrobe was conservative, not new but neat.
There were no weapons, no clues of why he was there, but there was one unusual thing; a hard cover notebook full of sketches of a striking dark-haired woman in a trenchcoat, her sole outfit, as if they had only met once. Margaux was surprised and flattered to see herself also sketched in the notebook.
On return to her office, she was informed Drake had a military background, had been an American policeman and was a current licensed private detective and bonded courier with no criminal record. His honour was clean, yet why was he there? Merely meeting a friend at Le Hôtel Dernier?
Isolated and unusual elements met and clashed; no doubt his friend was the VIP.
Kath came by for late tea to Margaux’s home. She explained Drake was wonderful company but subtly redirected all questions about himself.
‘What did you talk about?’
Kath was ashamed,
‘He got me talking about you. You know how much we love to boast about you, I wasn’t thinking…do you think he’s a bad man?’
Margaux pondered before answering,
‘I believe he’s a good man capable of doing bad things well...’
Inspector’s Companion
The weekend was upon them, the couples began arriving. Wearing his blue blazer, Drake was surprised one of the couples was Margaux-in-mufti with a friend,
‘Today’s Anything Can Happen Day!’
‘Darling!’
Her embrace patted him down.
‘We’re frisky, Dear.’
‘I thought it time for a holiday, and why not holiday close to home?’
‘Home’s where the heart is.’
‘Gentlemen are discreet, you won’t tell your fellow guests of my occupation.’
‘You trust me?’
‘With my life.’
She wants me to back her play, and I don’t know what it is…
Margaux introduced Carla.
‘What’s your specialty?’
‘That’s a surprise, Drake. Has your friend arrived yet?’
‘Godot’s no-go.’
‘We can double date’, Margaux smirked.
Drake thought Margaux and Carla were like chalk and cheese, the latter large and bespectacled. Both wore smiles and nonsense-intolerant glares.
Carla did subtle interviewing over tea; she was as bright if not brighter than Margaux; Drake couldn’t figure her angle.
Margaux doesn’t know all the answers, but she knows where to find them...
The doorbell rang again, all stood up.
Margaux recognised her V.I.P..…escorted by the woman drawn in Drake’s notebook…
Inspector’s Clairvoyance
‘San Francisco…’, droned a twitching Drake.
Carla nodded to Margaux.
The V.I.P.’s paramour smiled,
‘At the end of our streets is sunset…’
With his eyes fluttering, Drake tensed into a karate stance…
‘At the end of our streets the stars...’
Margaux’s blow knocked Drake unconscious.
Wakey-Wakey
There was a knock at the door…
Drake awoke in his bed as if he had had a dream.
A cheerful voice asked,
‘Are you decent? I’ve brought your coffee.’
‘Decent but confused. Please come in Madame De Puységur.’
The chimes sounded eight, she placed the tray on his lap, then opened the curtains to reveal it was 8 a.m.!
‘You’ve had a very restful sleep.’
‘That’s unusual.’
‘Margaux’s invited you for tea at her station at ten. You may wish to save your enquiries until then.’
Inspector’s Clarification
Chief Inspector Claringbold gracefully poured the tea again.
‘I hope you’ll do the explanations, Chief. I honestly don’t know what happened.’
‘You had a bad fall last night…’
‘Did someone help? I was dropped like a bad habit.’
‘Everyone agreed you were a good person but felt you were going to do something bad. Carla is an expert on hypnotism who performs on stage. Her expertise confirmed my theory that you had been hypnotised.’
‘I can’t recall…’
‘Your trigger friend from San Francisco revealed to her…persistent quizmasters…that she met you when her organisation engaged you to do a delivery in San Francisco. She drugged you, then her team conditioned you to deal a fatal blow to what we recognised as your target upon your seeing her and your target together…when she recited George Sterling’s The City by the Sea. Your trigger confessed…confided…that her organisation requested you as a courier and paid your bill. Her organisation’s target was her…’
‘Sugar daddy?’
‘I don’t understand that term.’
‘An old fossil with a small tossle who thinks he’s colossal.’
‘Well put…Her organisation arranged for you to come here, she brought her now much wiser…sugar daddy…I like that term!...Somebody would give sugar daddy an impulsive fatal blow and not know why he did it.’
‘What tipped you off?’
‘Female intuition…’
‘”Taro…Caro…Solomon”!’
Margaux raised her eyebrow.
‘I’m a Ghost and Mr. Chicken tragic…It’s a 1966 film-’
‘The woman who cleaned your room dropped your notebook and told me about the drawings inside.’
‘You recognised the drawings…how?’
‘The cleaner and I are very close.’
‘I wish I could’ve seen you in a French maid’s outfit.’
‘Many people on the Island “moonlight”…
‘Am I facing any charges?’
‘For what? You had a fall. Your friend gave our quizmasters everything they wanted.’
‘How did I sleep so long?’
‘Carla’s a Registered Nurse as well. We thought you could do with a good night’s sleep, and she had the material and expertise to guarantee it. No aftereffects?’
‘None. Everyone here’s pretty interesting, aren’t they?’
‘You fit right in.’
‘That’s the most wonderful thing anyone ever told me. Who put me to bed?
‘Oh, the look in your eyes!’
‘I’ve no secrets from you…’
‘Alex did; I had other things to do, Drake.’
‘Like I told you, “sitting duck of the male species”; my name suits me too.’
‘Daffy Drake had a lovely Island holiday and met people who grew fond of him.’
‘Kath was very nice.’
‘She said you made her laugh…for all the right reasons.’
’I liked her too, Unfortunately, we didn’t have much in common, so I don’t think she’s all that fond of me.’
‘I wasn’t speaking about her.’
Drake sprang to his feet, she did as well. They embraced.
‘”Atta boy, Luther!”’, she whispered in his ear.
FIN
Author Notes: Eat your heart out, Alfred Hitchcock!
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Australia • 68 years old