Free Amuse Bouche by Anthony Bidulka Page B

later.
    By 9:30 1 was beginning to worry. No one even close to Tom's description had come out of the hotel. This was not good. I waited another half an hour, emptied my third cup of coffee and decided to pay the front desk a little visit.
    This time it was an older lady. Brigitte, who greeted me. I smiled and jumped into my best French. "I'm waiting for my friend," I told her.
    "Mr. Chavell in room twelve. Have you seen him this morning? He hasn't checked out has 94
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    he?" I crossed my fingers.
    She looked down into the book. "No, no, he is still here." She looked over my shoulder and eyed a girl who was arranging a massive heap of dried flowers on a shelf near the entrance to the restaurant. French people are so lovely. She would never have considered screaming out, "Hey, whatsyourname, come over here for a sec!" Subtle eye contact was enough.
    The young woman, the same one from last night, came over and smiled at me. Again with those killer split shifts. I learned her name was Sylvie. "Yes, monsieur?"
    The older lady described what I was asking in hurried French she probably reserved for fellow countrymen. Who knows what she really said? I kept on smiling. I didn't want to make a big deal out of this. I just hoped Sylvie didn't wonder how I now knew what room my
    "friend" was in. I explained I had been waiting for him in front of the hotel all morning but never saw him come out. Certainly he wouldn't still be asleep?
    "Yes., your friend," she said, flashing those blues at me. "1 don't know, but he may have gone out the back door. It leads to the parking lot. Perhaps he drove to Loriol for breakfast.
    Some people prefer a big breakfast. We don't have big breakfast here. Only cafe and bread 95
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    with chocolate. Some toast, marmalade..."
    Back door! What back door? "Do you know what car he was driving? Are you sure he hasn't checked out?" I tried to keep the desperation out of my voice.
    She cocked her head and looked at me quizzically. "Why would your friend check out without telling you?" Smart girl. I'd have to be more careful around her.
    I laughed light-heartedly, or I hoped it sounded that way. I gave the women a jaunty, carefree wave and headed to the rear of the hotel. Indeed, off die tiny sitting room I'd seen the night before was an even tinier outdoor patio with a gate that led directly into the parking lot. There were now several cars, all much smaller than mine, in the lot. It was like a collection of sardines and one big old tuna.
    I had no way of knowing which car, if any, belonged to Tom or whether it was missing or not.
    Back to room twelve.
    The ear against the door trick still told me nothing. Okay, I thought, enough of this.
    Chavell never said I should sneak up on Tom, just that I should find him and ask him a few questions. And maybe bring him home? Time for the direct approach. I knocked on the door.
    Nothing.
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    Again.
    Nothing.
    I figured a wee bit of sneaking around might be useful at this juncture. I pulled my precious lock picks out of my jacket pocket. If nothing else, maybe I could find something in his room that would tell me where he was headed next, just in case we should happen to miss each other again. Not that I wasn't confident I was going to nail him right here in Cliousclat, but it's always advisable to have a Plan B. 1 might even luck out and find a diary or journal that would explain his actions (it's important for Pis to have active imaginations).
    As I expected, the lock on the hotel room door was fairly simple and I heard the satisfying click in record time. Possibly a personal best.
    Glancing about to ensure I was alone I slowly turned the doorknob and pushed forward.
    Thud!
    I stepped back, speechless.
    The chain was on the door.
    Someone was inside the room!
    My cheeks began to burn. This had never happened to me before. I blurted out the first stupid thing that came to mind.
    "Housekeeping!"
    Not only was it a stupid thing to do, but