Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 130, No. 1. Whole No. 791, July 2007
- Автор: Хох Эдвард Д., Кобб Джеймс
- Год: 2007
- Язык: английский
- Год: Dell Magazines
- ISBN: 0013-6328
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 130, No. 1. Whole No. 791, July 2007». Краткое содержание книги:
Tuesday, September 25
Yasmine gripped the bed frame, then let herself fall back onto the pillows. The clock on the wall of her hospital room read 4:00 P.M. Antoine would be there soon. She picked up a literary magazine she knew she couldn’t possibly read. A persistent migraine hammered in her head.
On the other side of town, Antoine was seated on the cushions of his living-room couch preparing himself psychologically to announce his decision. From time to time he cast furtive glances at Gabrielle. She was unusually calm today. He noticed that she had hurt her right hand. How could he not notice such an elaborate bandage? It was clear to Antoine that Gabrielle was trying to attract his attention. Either that or she had injured herself again as a result of her alcohol-soaked brain.
Their eyes met. Mustering his courage, Antoine broke the silence. “I’m asking for a divorce.” His face had become serious.
“Who is it?” she began. “Yasmine?”
“Stop it, Gabrielle. I’m tired of telling you, my relations with Yasmine are strictly professional.”
“Liar, liar, liar! You’re nothing but a liar.”
“That’s enough, Gabrielle!” The anger in Antoine’s voice was rising.
“I’m no idiot. I’ve seen how you undress her with your eyes. You couldn’t care less about her book,” she retorted.
Antoine stood up. “Think whatever you like. I have no intention of trying to convince you.”
“Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!” she screamed in fury.
“I’m suffocating, Gabrielle. You’re suffocating me. Our marriage is suffocating me. I feel trapped... I want a divorce!”
“I’ll keep you away from Maeva. She’ll come with me. You can forget her... Just remember, a father who’s always broke never gets custody of his child.”
Antoine was about to fire back, “Because a mother who’s an alcoholic is better!” when he noticed Maeva. He passed his tongue over his dry lips and remained silent.
Now totally enraged, Gabrielle wiped away the tears that were welling in her eyes with a furious gesture and turned toward the side table, her attention irresistibly drawn by a vase. She grabbed it. Antoine was holding the doorknob. The vase flew through the air as he slammed the door shut behind him.
From the corner where she had hidden, Maeva could see that her mother was beside herself.
Riding down in the elevator, Antoine mulled over Gabrielle’s threats. She had crossed a new line by bringing Maeva into their problems. If she thought she was going to use their little girl to hold on to him, she had another thing coming. He couldn’t stand living with her anymore. Gabrielle was jealous by nature. They’d met at university, and even back then she used to repeat, “I trust you, but, as a rule, I don’t trust women. They find you far too attractive.” Her remarks became more unpleasant after Maeva’s birth. Her trim body, which had thickened during pregnancy, refused to slim down. Unable to come to terms with her new appearance, she’d slipped into a state of chronic paranoia. He couldn’t speak to anyone of the opposite sex, let alone look at them, without being accused of lustful intentions. When she had had too much to drink, a scathing tone crept into her remarks: “Dirty hypocrite, if you chose your authors for the quality of their work, you wouldn’t be broke all the time.”
But what could she know about literature? She was the director of a laboratory.
It was 5:30 P.M. by the time Antoine got to the hospital. He followed the nurse’s directions and went down the corridor to room 212, carrying a potted amaryllis.
“A plant to brighten the place up a bit!” he announced pleasantly, before greeting Yasmine’s mother, Madame Azoul, then Mathieu and Hinda.
Yasmine answered gently, “How lovely, the scent of fresh flowers...” She slipped her arms around Antoine’s neck and pulled him against her.
Antoine took off his glasses and started chewing absent-mindedly on the plastic arm of the frame, as he always did when facing a problem. “I’ve brought two pieces of news. One good. And one bad. Which do you want to hear first, Yasmine?”
“Keep the good news for last and start with the bad.”
Antoine handed her a brown paper envelope. “We received this letter yesterday. It was postmarked in Paris,” he explained reluctantly.
Madame Azoul’s eyes darkened, searching her daughter’s tense face as Yasmine read the letter.
“A bunch of insults and threats,” Yasmine summed up, a note of anxiety in her voice.
“Threats?!” repeated Madame Azoul, clearly alarmed by the news.
Antoine quickly interrupted Yasmine and her mother. “Wait, wait, wait, wait. This is no time to waste energy on fear and speculation. Let’s not forget that the police are investigating. Two witnesses noticed a suspicious-looking guy smoking a cigarette near the bookshop just before the explosion. Their description of him matches the thug who harassed Yasmine on Friday. Tall, thin, a cap on his head, probably of Middle Eastern origin. The Criminal Records Office collected some cigarette stubs from the sidewalk to take fingerprints. I’m sure they’ll find the guilty party. If things take a bad turn, Yasmine will receive all the protection she needs.”
“What’s the good news?” ventured Madame Azoul, still worried. She was looking straight at Antoine.
“Next week we’ve been asked for... a radio interview!” Antoine announced. “Go on, see if you can guess which program?”
Yasmine raised her eyebrows, indicating her impatience.
He cleared his throat and articulated grandly, “Both Sides!”
The expression on Yasmine’s face brightened only slightly, but her eyes were sparkling with excitement when she exclaimed, “To what do we owe this honor?”
With a look of triumph, Mathieu unfolded his newspaper and read out loud the headline across the top of the page:
For a split second, a shadow veiled Yasmine’s eyes. Hinda interrupted Mathieu. “Are you all right, Yasmine?”
“I’ve had a close brush with the worst that can happen... I admit I’m afraid. If I simply ignore this piece of hate mail, I don’t dare imagine what may be in store for me.”
“You know, even if I haven’t done as much as you to promote our book—and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for respecting my choice not to—I understand your fear, Yasmine,” Hinda said. “And I share it with you. All the same, I do think this invitation to go on the air is a great opportunity.”
Antoine nodded in agreement as he rolled up his shirt sleeves. “Hinda is right. Promoting a book involves knowing how to take advantage of unforeseen events to push it into the spotlight.”
Madame Azoul turned toward Antoine and said courteously, but in her sternest voice, “In such a delicate climate, why throw oil on the fire? Is this radio program really essential?” An anxious note had crept into her final words. Antoine pulled up his chair and took Madame Azoul’s hands in his as he tried to give her a reassuring account of the situation.
Hinda also slipped in a word. “Madame Azoul, with all due respect, I believe the best way to promote tolerance is by practicing what you preach.”
“And that’s not all,” Mathieu pursued, clicking his tongue. “Our position as an independent publisher is precarious. These days, a book’s fate depends a lot on the media. We’ve seen a decline in sales of all our literary works recently. If this trend were to continue...” Mathieu left his sentence hanging.
Thursday, October 4
Gabrielle was putting away groceries in the kitchen cupboards. She had left her husband, taking Maeva with her, and had settled in her parents’ place while they were away on holiday. She had decided to erect a wall between Maeva and her father. Gabrielle glanced at her watch: 11:45 A.M. This was Antoine and Yasmine’s big day. “Let them make the most of it. It won’t last,” she muttered as she switched on the radio. She turned the dial and tuned in to the station broadcasting Both Sides.