03-04-2019, 04:40 PM
As Day Follows Night Pt. 05
"I went to a garden party to reminisce with my old friends.
A chance to share old memories and play our songs again.
When I got to the garden party, they all knew my name.
No one recognized me, I didn't look the same."
-Ricky Nelson, "Garden Party"
The Sun shone through the open balcony doors into the bedroom of the castle. It cast its beam across the marbled floor, onto the Persian rug, across the king-sized bed, and onto the face of Contessa Helena de San Finzione. She opened one eye slightly and the light entered it as well.
Helena grumbled and turned over, burying her face in the chest of one of the castle guards. When Maria came back to the castle and gave her report about her visit to Troy & Julie's hotel room the next afternoon, her recounting of the night spent with the two of them and their friends got Helena so hot that she grabbed a guard who'd finished his shift and took him to the room so she could use him while Maria remembered every detail of her time with them. The maid was snuggled up on the other side of the guard; Helena decided to let them sleep and grabbed her nightgown from its usual spot on the bedpost.
She rang to the kitchen to tell them not to disturb Maria and have someone leave American coffee and two croissants outside the study; then made her way to the room via one of the secret passages throughout the castle. She needed to think on what Maria had told her, and it wouldn't do for anyone but Maria to see La Contessa unprepared on the morning of a grand ball.
Julie had revealed a big piece of the puzzle when she stopped Maria just as she was heading back to the castle and showed her the trunk that the security officer had been talking about but unable to find. Why the trunk hadn't been in the room whenever the security officer searched, Helena had figured out as soon as she found out Claire and Brenda had been staying in the hotel as well: The two women had arrived the day before Troy & Julie and rented separate rooms and the trunk was being shuffled amongst the three.
"I can show you this because it's too late for her to do anything about it now, and you're still not gonna figure it all out, Helen, you bitch," Julie had told Maria. Maria responded the way Helena had told her to and then saw what was in the trunk. And yes, a big piece of it made sense now, but not the whole picture.
Helena took the tray from outside the study door and drank her coffee while her computer loaded. She opened the folder with the surveillance pictures the security officer had been sending her and looked them over closely.
The trunk contained two big, white, floppy sun hats and two gaudy red pairs of sunglasses. Three wigs: two blonde with long, dark brown roots; and a long black one were also in the trunk. The other item had been a large box with a few plastic Zorro-type masks scattered at the bottom of it. If the box had been full when they packed it into the trunk, there must have been over a hundred of them to begin with. They'd either cleared out every costume shop in the city before they'd left or ordered them from the manufacturer.
The pictures confirmed what Helena had expected: In one, Julie was a couple of inches too short. In another, she was a couple of inches too tall. Or her breasts were the wrong size, or...THERE! Several pictures scattered throughout their visit of the two of them crossing a street without holding hands; something she knew they both reflexively did when crossing.
"A shell game," Helena said to herself as she lit a cigarette and looked the photos over. Just like with the trunk. Presumably, Julie would periodically slip into a bathroom, trade outfits with one of the two women, give them the wig and put on the black one, and then Claire or Brenda would take Julie's place on Troy's arm while Julie ducked out and did...what? Julie had been loose in her city, able to do what they do freely, while Troy and the other women kept the security officer, and by extension, Helen; distracted.
She'd gotten the news too late to order the security officer or Customs to find a reason to detain Claire and Brenda. By Maria's report, Troy and Julie had put their friends and the trunk back on a plane for America the next morning, indicating that their role in the game had been fulfilled.
Helena tried Googling "San Finzione" and "Zorro mask," but found nothing. She pondered the puzzle further. If the box had been full when they arrived, and none of the security officer reports involved them handing out masks, Julie must have given them to people in conjunction with whatever she'd told them to do when she was alone. If whatever they'd done at the taverna involved them, the security officer left it out of the reports; something Troy could easily make them forget.
So, some mass protest, perhaps? Not at the ball, certainly. She'd thrown them a curve they weren't expecting with that move. Further internet searches mentioned the ball, but no talk of a protest; and ordinary people couldn't hide something that big from The Internet, but they would. There was nothing to protest anyway. Her publicist had found a historic preservation society that wanted to restore a few old landmarks; birthplace of a poet, some other stuff. Nothing controversial: a novelty giant check and a couple of handshake photos and they could get on with the party. At least it wasn't one of those charities that insisted on bringing depressing slideshows.
"I went to a garden party to reminisce with my old friends.
A chance to share old memories and play our songs again.
When I got to the garden party, they all knew my name.
No one recognized me, I didn't look the same."
-Ricky Nelson, "Garden Party"
The Sun shone through the open balcony doors into the bedroom of the castle. It cast its beam across the marbled floor, onto the Persian rug, across the king-sized bed, and onto the face of Contessa Helena de San Finzione. She opened one eye slightly and the light entered it as well.
Helena grumbled and turned over, burying her face in the chest of one of the castle guards. When Maria came back to the castle and gave her report about her visit to Troy & Julie's hotel room the next afternoon, her recounting of the night spent with the two of them and their friends got Helena so hot that she grabbed a guard who'd finished his shift and took him to the room so she could use him while Maria remembered every detail of her time with them. The maid was snuggled up on the other side of the guard; Helena decided to let them sleep and grabbed her nightgown from its usual spot on the bedpost.
She rang to the kitchen to tell them not to disturb Maria and have someone leave American coffee and two croissants outside the study; then made her way to the room via one of the secret passages throughout the castle. She needed to think on what Maria had told her, and it wouldn't do for anyone but Maria to see La Contessa unprepared on the morning of a grand ball.
Julie had revealed a big piece of the puzzle when she stopped Maria just as she was heading back to the castle and showed her the trunk that the security officer had been talking about but unable to find. Why the trunk hadn't been in the room whenever the security officer searched, Helena had figured out as soon as she found out Claire and Brenda had been staying in the hotel as well: The two women had arrived the day before Troy & Julie and rented separate rooms and the trunk was being shuffled amongst the three.
"I can show you this because it's too late for her to do anything about it now, and you're still not gonna figure it all out, Helen, you bitch," Julie had told Maria. Maria responded the way Helena had told her to and then saw what was in the trunk. And yes, a big piece of it made sense now, but not the whole picture.
Helena took the tray from outside the study door and drank her coffee while her computer loaded. She opened the folder with the surveillance pictures the security officer had been sending her and looked them over closely.
The trunk contained two big, white, floppy sun hats and two gaudy red pairs of sunglasses. Three wigs: two blonde with long, dark brown roots; and a long black one were also in the trunk. The other item had been a large box with a few plastic Zorro-type masks scattered at the bottom of it. If the box had been full when they packed it into the trunk, there must have been over a hundred of them to begin with. They'd either cleared out every costume shop in the city before they'd left or ordered them from the manufacturer.
The pictures confirmed what Helena had expected: In one, Julie was a couple of inches too short. In another, she was a couple of inches too tall. Or her breasts were the wrong size, or...THERE! Several pictures scattered throughout their visit of the two of them crossing a street without holding hands; something she knew they both reflexively did when crossing.
"A shell game," Helena said to herself as she lit a cigarette and looked the photos over. Just like with the trunk. Presumably, Julie would periodically slip into a bathroom, trade outfits with one of the two women, give them the wig and put on the black one, and then Claire or Brenda would take Julie's place on Troy's arm while Julie ducked out and did...what? Julie had been loose in her city, able to do what they do freely, while Troy and the other women kept the security officer, and by extension, Helen; distracted.
She'd gotten the news too late to order the security officer or Customs to find a reason to detain Claire and Brenda. By Maria's report, Troy and Julie had put their friends and the trunk back on a plane for America the next morning, indicating that their role in the game had been fulfilled.
Helena tried Googling "San Finzione" and "Zorro mask," but found nothing. She pondered the puzzle further. If the box had been full when they arrived, and none of the security officer reports involved them handing out masks, Julie must have given them to people in conjunction with whatever she'd told them to do when she was alone. If whatever they'd done at the taverna involved them, the security officer left it out of the reports; something Troy could easily make them forget.
So, some mass protest, perhaps? Not at the ball, certainly. She'd thrown them a curve they weren't expecting with that move. Further internet searches mentioned the ball, but no talk of a protest; and ordinary people couldn't hide something that big from The Internet, but they would. There was nothing to protest anyway. Her publicist had found a historic preservation society that wanted to restore a few old landmarks; birthplace of a poet, some other stuff. Nothing controversial: a novelty giant check and a couple of handshake photos and they could get on with the party. At least it wasn't one of those charities that insisted on bringing depressing slideshows.
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