Suspects(50)
Martine, her assistant, had already removed Theo’s jewelry from the safe a year before. She had nothing of value there, just memories, the important paintings, and the chateau itself. Matthieu would have been pleased by how much the man from Houston had paid for it, since he was a businessman above all else, but family was important to him too.
Theo had the bodyguard empty Matthieu’s closets into the wardrobe boxes, so she didn’t have to do it herself. She took a handful of boxes and walked upstairs to the top floor, to the servants’ rooms, and where Axel’s nursery had been when he was a baby, when she didn’t keep him in her room with her, while she was nursing him. Two of the rooms were still occupied, and the new owner was taking over their staff, and bringing some of his own. It took an army to run the chateau efficiently.
The nursery still had some of Axel’s baby things in it, favorite blankets and some baby toys, which she carefully put into the boxes to take downstairs, and she left the rest, the contents of the linen closets, which were part of the sale, and she walked down a floor to the room she had been avoiding and dreaded most, Axel’s room. She opened the door, the shades were drawn, and she could almost sense him fly into her arms when she walked in. She stood there, frozen to the spot, and then went to lie on his bed, and looked up at the ceiling, at the stars that she had glued onto it herself one year as a Christmas present. She could sense him lying next to her, his young slim body pressed against her, his hand holding hers, his face next to hers.
“Oh God, I miss you, Axie,” she said out loud in the silent room. He had spoken English with her, and French with his father and everyone else. He had been perfectly bilingual. There were photographs of all his favorite soccer players on the walls, and a few Yankees stars. He loved baseball too. She had taken him to a Yankees game in New York and he loved it. They ate hot dogs and he jumped up and down and yelled every time they hit a home run.
She got up and walked over to his desk and saw a photograph of her and Matthieu there. He had been a good student, but most of all he had been a wonderful boy, the light of her life. She still couldn’t believe that that light had gone out, and she would never see him again.
After looking at and touching everything, she called her bodyguard again, told him where she was, and asked him to bring her boxes. He appeared respectfully in the doorway, with the boxes, not wanting to intrude.
“Would you like me to pack up the room for you, ma’am?” he asked gently, and she shook her head.
“Just leave the boxes, thank you, Franck. I’ll do it myself.” He was German but spoke perfect English.
“Call if you need anything. I’ll tape them up when you’re finished,” he said and went discreetly back down the stairs.
The movers had been instructed to bring all the boxes to the apartment in the city. She was going to dispose of Matthieu’s clothes, but she was planning to put all of Axel’s things in his room in Paris. Even if she never unpacked them, at least she would know they were there.
It took her over an hour to pack up his room, all the mementos and silly things he loved, his old favorite teddy bear, which he still slept with at thirteen but pretended he didn’t. He was just a boy, a little kid, and they had killed him. The police had said he hadn’t suffered and she hoped it was true. He had been shot in his father’s arms, with Matthieu trying to protect him, and then they had shot Matthieu. The cruelty of it was beyond belief, and being in Axel’s room now brought every moment of it back to her again. It was why she never could have kept the chateau, not with memories like this like a stake in her heart.
The room looked barren and empty when she had packed everything. She stood glancing around for a last time, wanting to be sure she hadn’t missed anything. She had even packed his toothbrush and toothpaste. The bed had been stripped a year before, or she would have taken the sheets too, hoping to get some lingering scent of him on the pillow, but it was gone by then.
She walked slowly down the stairs with a heavy heart, her memories trailing along behind her, and she went back to her own room, feeling exhausted, as she had last time, but this time she wasn’t confused. Every memory was etched in exquisite agony, his voice, his smile, his laughter when they played together. She had taught him how to ride a bike, how to throw a baseball and a football, and Matthieu had taught him how to swim. A whole little life ready to launch into the world one day, and now he was a bright, shining star up in Heaven somewhere. She liked to believe that he was watching her and always near, since he had been only a child when he died. She hoped that there was a special place in Heaven for him.
She saw that her own dressing room was empty, as well as Matthieu’s, the boxes waiting to be taken downstairs and loaded onto the truck. And then she went down to the main floor to see how the movers were doing with the art. They were handling the paintings less gently than she would have liked. They had forgotten their gloves again, and the shoe coverings they were supposed to wear to protect the antique rugs from their rough, muddy boots. There were six of them, moving slowly, and not speaking to each other. She could see that there were five paintings already in wooden crates, and fourteen left to pack, some of them already off the walls and propped up around the living room.
She could hear her bodyguard and driver in the kitchen, talking while they replaced old kitchen items with the new things she had bought. They were speaking in low voices, they were trying to give her space so as not to intrude on her, although normally they would have been at her side to help, but they knew that it was an emotional day for her and wanted to respect it, so they let her move around the house alone and waited until she asked for their help. She approached the foreman of the movers to remind him about their wearing gloves and shoe covers again. As she walked toward him, she saw him look at one of the others and nod, and suddenly powerful arms grabbed her from behind and lifted her off her feet. Someone slapped a wide piece of strong tape over her mouth before she could scream, and she tried to struggle against them. All six closed around her, and the two who held her rushed her toward one of the long windows. She knew at that moment that this was exactly what had happened to Matthieu and Axel. She tried to kick them behind her, but nothing she did slowed them down. They carried her like a doll toward the windows, ready to run to the moving truck with her. She wondered if they were going to kill her, and for an instant she didn’t care. With Axel gone forever, it didn’t matter.