Whilst a rather important place for the French, for us visitors, it has a convenient hotel located just behind the square, and an underground, or Metro station, underneath.
Added to that was equally convenient cafes, one of which, The Cafe Republique, we had dinner every night. The service and food were excellent, and we had no problems with the language barriers.
At the top of the monument is a bronze statue of Marianne, said to be the personification of France.
Surrounding Marianne is three more statues, representing liberty, equality, and fraternity.
At the base is a lion guarding what is said to be a ballot box.
Her name was Isabella Agostini, but I suspect that was not her real name. I had stood to one side after we entered the solicitor’s rooms, and let her state why she was there.
I could have been wrong about her, but I had to admit if I wasn’t, she was quick on her feet. There was no doubt she knew who I was, not why I was there, and I had to state my business, which gave away information I preferred not to.
Now she knew why I was there, and that I was working with the countess, though I had to believe she already knew that too. The question was, were they using me to find the countess.
There were a half dozen chairs in that waiting room, and I chose to sit next to her. It surprised her, or I hope it did.
“You here for any particular reason,” I asked.
I did so only because I had to maintain that I-don’t-know-Italian thing. If I did, I’d know it was for a matter of making a will. I accompanied the question with a look of sincere interest.
“Legal stuff,” she said. It sounded quaint with her Italian accent which suddenly crept in.
Had I caught her off guard?
“You?” she asked, trying to make it sound like an offhand comment.
“Legal stuff, boring really. I’d rather be touring the Vatican, maybe I’ll get there later. Seen it?”
‘What?”
OK. She was losing interest in the small talk and had started looking at her cell phone.
“The Vatican?”
‘Yes. Big.” And went back to her phone, a sign the small talk was over.
Perhaps it was a sign. The solicitor, Benito, came out and called my name, gave the girl a dismissive look and motioned me to follow him.
Benito was one of those old, tired, family retainers, who had been doing the job for a hundred years, and looking forward to the next.
He obviously had a set of clients who paid well, because the rooms, not to mention the building, reeked money.
He was dressed in an expensive, but tired suit, and was slightly unkempt, part of an act, I thought, to keep people guessing as to his competence. The other lawyers, not his clients.
“The girl belong to you?”
“No. She followed me in. She says she’s here to see you about making a will.”
“Odd. She works for a private detective agency, and knowing the Burkehardt’s as I do, she’s probably working for them.
“How could they know I’m here?”
He shrugged. “They seem to know everything.
“Except where the countess is, so it stands to reason they would follow her associates and see if they lead them to her. Why the interest in the countess?”
“The damage she could do to their business.”
“You mean she’s not a good businesswoman?”
“Oh, I’m sure she could do that. It’s the other business.
“You mean the Burkehardt’s are criminals?”
“Not in so many words, and it would be a brave man to accuse them. But some of the business they do, on the side, is illegal. I’ve tried to tell the countess that it would be unwise to try and fulfil her late husband’s wishes, but she says it was his fervent wish she did.”
“What would she get if she walked away?”
“They offered her a house and an income. I believe it is a fair offer, but she seems reticent. It’s better than the alternative. They have judges who will deliver verdicts they want, and they will give her nothing.”
“Is she entitled to it?”
“According to the law, but there can be exceptions. They will use one of those exceptions. I can fight it, but even if we prove his intent she should inherit, it might not go our way. What is your interest in this matter? The countess has not mentioned you before today.”
“A friend of a friend. Mrs Rodby asked me if I could help her persuade the Burkehardt’s to honour their son’s will.”
“I’m not surprised Mrs Rodby is concerned. You do know she is the countess’s stepsister, don’t you.”
This was one of the more interesting experiences for the grandchildren as they were, as all young girls are, interested in ballet.
We thoroughly enjoyed our visit which included some time watching ballet practice.
I could not convince anyone to take the elevator back down to the ground floor as it was suspected we might be ‘attacked’ by the ‘phantom’. Certainly, the elevator was very old and I think at the time it was being repaired.
Part of the Grand Staircase in Palais Garnier Opera de Paris
The ceiling above the main staircase. The ceiling above the staircase was painted by Isidore Pils to depict The Triumph of Apollo, The Enchantment of Music Deploying its Charms, Minerva Fighting Brutality Watched by the Gods of Olympus, and The City of Paris Receiving the Plan of the New Opéra.
The ceiling of Chagall at the Palais Garnier
On 23 September 1964, the new ceiling of the Opéra Garnier was inaugurated with great pomp. It was painted by Marc Chagall at the request of André Malraux
Amphitheatre and Orchestra Pit entrance
Interior, and doorways to boxes
Box seats in the auditorium
Ornate ceilings and columns
Seating inside the auditorium
The day we were leaving Paris, was the first night of the Bolshoi Ballet. My two granddaughters were greatly disappointed at missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime, to see the Bolshoi Ballet at the Paris Opera House.
It was a cold but far from a miserable day. We were taking our grandchildren on a tour of the most interesting sites in Paris, the first of which was the Eiffel Tower.
We took the overground train, which had double-decker carriages, a first for the girls, to get to the tower.
We took the underground, or Metro, back, and they were fascinated with the fact the train carriages ran on road tires.
Because it was so cold, and windy, the tower was only open to the second level. It was a disappointment to us, but the girls were content to stay on the second level.
There they had the French version of chips.
It was a dull day, but the views were magnificent.
How many of us have skeletons in the closet that we know nothing about? The skeletons we know about generally stay there, but those we do not, well, they have a habit of coming out of left field when we least expect it.
In this case, when you see your photo on a TV screen with the accompanying text that says you are wanted by every law enforcement agency in Europe, you’re in a state of shock, only to be compounded by those same police, armed and menacing, kicking the door down.
I’d been thinking about this premise for a while after I discovered my mother had a boyfriend before she married my father, a boyfriend who was, by all accounts, the man who was the love of her life.
Then, in terms of coming up with an idea for a story, what if she had a child by him that we didn’t know about, which might mean I had a half brother or sister I knew nothing about. It’s not an uncommon occurrence from what I’ve been researching.
There are many ways of putting a spin on this story.
Then, in the back of my mind, I remembered a story an acquaintance at work was once telling us over morning tea, that a friend of a friend had a mother who had a twin sister and that each of the sisters had a son by the same father, without each knowing of the father’s actions, both growing up without the other having any knowledge of their half brother, only to meet by accident on the other side of the world.
It was an encounter that in the scheme of things might never have happened, and each would have remained oblivious of the other.
For one sister, the relationship was over before she discovered she was pregnant, and therefore had not told the man he was a father. It was no surprise the relationship foundered when she discovered he was also having a relationship with her sister, a discovery that caused her to cut all ties with both of them and never speak to either from that day.
It’s a story with more twists and turns than a country lane!
I was beginning to believe that it wasn’t half the story I knew, but about a quarter. How did that little tidbit of information get left out of the official briefing, and accompanying documents.
I knew there was something he was not telling me. And, worse, I realized now that this was a totally off-the-books operation, and the reason why it was both Cecelia and I, we were expendable if anything went wrong.
Surely Rodby hadn’t thought I wouldn’t find out. It certainly explained why he was trying to keep it at arm’s length. And left it to Martha to ask me if I would talk to the countess about her problem.
Perhaps I should have told her back in London that the countess did not want me to intervene. No, she probably wouldn’t listen. She had to be the older sister, and that made sense the way the countess deferred to her in London.
And why hadn’t the countess told me of this connection?
Stepsisters.
Did Rodby know, or was he, like me, working under the assumption they were simply old friends. Would she lie to her husband, knowing who he is? It was another can of worms.
I heard a thump on the table and switched my attention back to Benito. He was looking at me, with one hand on a rather large handgun. What looked like a relic from the last world war.
It looked like it could do some serious damage and he knew how to use it.
“Now, whoever you are, tell me where you’re from and who you work for.”
“Or you’ll shoot me?”
“It won’t be the first time this gun has gone off accidentally.”
I believed him. I took a moment to assess my chances of making the distance from my chair to the gun and wrest it away from him. They were not good. There was a reason why I was sitting so far from his table. This man had had to deal with unsavoury characters before.
“I am not your enemy. As far as I am aware, I was asked to look for the countess, but a man named Rodby, a man I used to work for, and I last met him and his wife yesterday. The day before that I met a woman who told me she was the countess, and who travelled here yesterday with my partner and two other women. Vittoria and her daughter Juliet. Again, as far as I am aware, Juliet is the illegitimate daughter of the count and another possible heir to the Burkehardt estate.”
“You said, ‘a woman who told you she was the countess’. What did you mean by that?”
“You, that gun, and a boss who doesn’t make sense. I think you’re about to tell me the woman I met, and currently protecting, is not the countess?”
He had to make a decision whether to trust me or not. And even if he did one wrong word and I would regret it.
“When we first met a month ago, the countess and I created a code that was to preface every communication. It worked well for two weeks then the code disappeared. I suspected she had been taken, and when a woman purporting to be the countess turned up in my office, I knew. She has been kidnapped. She had no idea of our previous conversations and took the documents I needed her to sign away with her.”
As good a sign that she knew where the real countess was. Ui didn’t really know who the countess was, so anyone could have been presented to me and I’d believe them.
“If you are working for the kidnappers, I have nothing to tell you. If you are not, I cannot tell you who has taken her or where she is, and quite frankly I don’t want to. There is no ransom note, no communication at all. If that girl out there is looking for the countess, then she must be working for the Burkehardt’s because it is in their best interests to meet with her before the due date to get her final decision. Once again, are you a friend or foe?”
“Friend. The first time I met the countess was in London a few days ago when I went to the opera with her. After that, I was asked if I would help her with a problem, but before I could find out what it was, she disappeared. Perhaps her pretence had been discovered. Nothing is ever straightforward, not when it comes to Rodby.”
And if the Mrs Rodby I saw at the opera yesterday was not her, why did they get me to meet her? I’d be the last person Rodby would want to put on her case because he’d know I wouldn’t accept what I’d been told. The murky water just got more muddied. Who would want to kidnap the countess and what did they want from her? All I could think of was that someone knew she was inheriting, kidnapped her, and had inserted a fake countess to turn up to the ratifying of the will. Would she become expendable, would they both become expendable after the transaction was complete?
Where did Vittoria and Juliet come in? Did whoever had taken the countess even know about their interest in the estate?
“I suspect that Mrs Rodby isn’t Mrs Rodby either,” I said, “Which just adds another layer of mud.” I shook my head. “When I see Rodby again I’m going to strangle him with my bare hands. Are you still going to Burkehardt’s solicitors to oversee the signing? I think we =can assume the fake countess will be there. I’m supposed to make sure she gets there. That was one of my mission parameters.”
“I will be, with police officers, and will be exposing that woman as a fake. Unless you find the real one, or the Burkehardt’s do, though I think it preferable if you or someone else did. I have consistently advised her that it was not a good idea to marry into the family. Either of the sisters. When the Tolliver’s adopted Heidi, she was a troubled girl who had been flirting with the aristocracy and had settled on marrying one of them. Of course, her parents had a title but not wealth and encouraged her to find such a man so they could all live off his family. The count was a man who never wanted to be tied to one woman and had an infamous reputation with women, especially the servants, and when you mentioned Vittoria, there was a case in point. But, the girl she says is her daughter, is not. I know she has a birth certificate, but it is a very good forgery. The count was going to marry Martha, there had been an arrangement between the Tolliver’s and the Burkehardt’s, which would have resolved the issues were having now, but Heidi professed that the count had made her pregnant, and the Tolliver’s were not people you just shrugged off, so Martha’s wedding was stopped, and Heidi took her place. If you want another scenario, just as plausible as all the others, then look no further than Martha. Everything would have been hers had her sister not interfered with a phantom pregnancy. Knowing her as I do, and have done for many years, she is very capable of doing something like this.”
Why couldn’t this be just a simple kidnapping by some avaricious monster who wanted everything for him or herself, like a crazy business rival, or make just the mafia looking for a one hundred per cent share? That would make sense.
“I should just go home and let them all kill each other and that would be an end to it.”
‘If only life was that simple. I wish you all the luck in the world. You’re going to need it.”
It was a cold but far from a miserable day. We were taking our grandchildren on a tour of the most interesting sites in Paris, the first of which was the Eiffel Tower.
We took the overground train, which had double-decker carriages, a first for the girls, to get to the tower.
We took the underground, or Metro, back, and they were fascinated with the fact the train carriages ran on road tires.
Because it was so cold, and windy, the tower was only open to the second level. It was a disappointment to us, but the girls were content to stay on the second level.
There they had the French version of chips.
It was a dull day, but the views were magnificent.
We have been to Paris a number of times over the years.
The last time we visited Paris we brought the two eldest grandchildren. We took the Eurostar train from St Pancras station direct to Disneyland, then took the free bus from the station to the hotel. The train station was directly outside Disneyland.
We stayed at the Dream Castle Hotel, rather than Disneyland itself as it was a cheaper option and we had a family room that was quite large and breakfast was included every morning. Then it was a matter of getting the free bus to Disneyland.
We spent three days, time which seem to pass far too quickly, and we didn’t get to see everything. They did, however, find the time to buy two princess dresses, and then spent the rest of the time playing dress-ups whenever they could.
In Paris, we stayed at the Crown Plaza at Republique Square.
We took the children to the Eiffel Tower where the fries, and the carousel at the bottom of the tower, seemed to be more memorable than the tower itself. The day we visited, the third level was closed. The day was cold and windy so that probably accounted for the less than memorable visit. To give you some idea of conditions, it was the shortest queue to get in I’ve ever seen.
We traveled on the Metro where it was pointed out to me that the trains actually ran on rubber tires, something I had not noticed before. It was a first for both children to travel on a double-decker train.
The same day, we went to the Louvre.
Here, it was cold, wet and windy while we waited, Once inside we took the girls to the Mona Lisa, and after a walk up and down a considerable numkber of stairs, one said, “and we walked all this way to see this small painting”.
It quickly became obvious their idea of paintings were the much larger ones hanging in other galleries.
We also took them to the Arc de Triomphe.
We passed, and for some reason had to go into, the Disney shop, which I’m still wondering why after spending a small fortune at Disneyland itself.
Next on the tour list was the Opera House.
where one of the children thought she saw the ghost and refused to travel in one of the elevators. At least it was quite amazing inside with the marble, staircases, and paintings on the roof.
Sadly, I don’t think they were all that interested in architecture, but at the Opera House, they did actually get to see some ballet stars from the Russian Bolshoi ballet company practicing. As we were leaving the next day we could not go and see a performance.
Last but not least was Notre Dame with its gargoyles and imp[osing architecture.
All in all, traveling with children and experiencing Paris through their eyes made it a more memorable experience.
The first we visited Paris was at the end of a whirlwind bus tour, seven countries in seven days or something like that. It was a relief to get to Paris and stay two nights if only to catch our breath.
I remember three events from that tour, the visit to the Eiffel Tower, the tour of the night lights, not that we were able to take much in from the inside of the bus, and the farewell dinner in one of the tour guides specially selected restaurants. The food and atmosphere were incredible. It was also notable for introducing us to a crepe restaurant in Montmartre, another of the tour guide’s favorite places.
On that trip to Paris, we also spent an afternoon exploring the Palace of Versailles.
The next time we visited Paris we flew in from London. OK, it was a short flight, but it took all day. From the hotel to the airport, the wait at the airport, departure, flying through time zones, arrival at Charles De Gaulle airport, now there’s an experience, and waiting for a transfer that never arrived, but that’s another story.
I can’t remember where we stayed the first time, it was somewhere out in the suburbs, but the second time we stayed at the Hilton near both the Eiffel Tower and the Australian Embassy, notable only because the concierge was dating an Australian girl working in the Embassy. That was our ticket for special treatment, which at times you need to get around in Paris.
It was the year before 2000 and the Eiffel Tower was covered in lights, and every hour or so it looked like a bubbling bottle of champagne. It was the first time we went to Level 3 of the Tower, and it was well worth it. The previous tour only included Level 2. This time we were acquainted with the fries available on the second level, and down below under the tower.
This time we acquainted ourselves with the Metro, the underground railway system, to navigate our way around to the various tourist spots, such as Notre Dame de Paris, The Louvre, Sacre-Coeur Basilica, and Les Invalides, and, of course, the trip to the crepe restaurant.
We also went to the Louvre for the express purpose of seeing the Mona Lisa, and I came away slightly disappointed. I had thought it to be a much larger painting. We then went to see the statue of Venus de Milo and spent some time trying to get a photo of it without stray visitors walking in front of us. Aside from that, we spent the rest of the day looking at the vast number of paintings, and Egyptian artifacts in the Museum.
We also visited the Opera House which was architecturally magnificent.
The third time we visited Paris we took our daughter, who was on her first international holiday. This time we stayed in a quaint Parisian hotel called Hotel Claude Bernard Saint Germain, (43 Rue Des Ecoles, Paris, 75005, France), recommended to us by a relation who’d stayed there the year before. It was small, and the elevator could only fit two people or one person and a suitcase. Our rooms were on the 4th floor, so climbing the stairs with luggage was out of the question.
It included breakfast and wifi, and it was quite reasonable for the four days we stayed there.
It was close to everything you could want, down the hill to the railway station, and a square where on some days there was a market, and for those days when we were hungry after a day’s exploring, a baguette shop where rolls and salad were very inexpensive and very delicious.
To our daughter we appeared to be experienced travelers, going on the Metro, visiting the Louvre, going, yes once again, to the crepe restaurant and the Basilica at Montmartre, Notre Dame, and this time by boat to the Eiffel Tower. We were going to do a boat rode on the Seine the last time but ran out of time.
We have some magnificent photos of the Tower from the boat.
Lunch on one of the days was at a restaurant not far from the Arc de Triomphe, where our daughter had a bucket of mussels. I was not as daring and had a hamburger and fries. Then we went to the center of the Arch and watched the traffic.
Our first time in Paris the bus driver got into the roundabout just to show us the dangers of driving in an unpredictable situation where drivers seem to take huge risks to get out at their exit. Needless to say, we survived that experience, though we did make a number of circuits.
Before I went to Italy I called in on Anthony and his assistant Alessia and got them to give me a briefing on the mother of the man who had become and died the countess’s husband.
Along with a warning that the mother was not in the brief, and he was reluctant to share what information they had. I left thinking something had happened or changed, and Anthony had been told to respond only to specific questions; Rodby was trying to keep my attention on his orders.
The question burning at the back of my mind: what was Rodby hiding?
I also asked for a copy of the coroner’s report on the death of the count, and even before I got through the first paragraph, there was enough evidence to prove he had been murdered.
Did the countess get a copy of the report, or was that left in the hands of the family? I suspect the latter, because of one statement she made, the Count’s family handled all the ‘detail’s’. I was beginning to think that she was about to become a detail herself and be handled accordingly.
It was also clear that the Count’s mother, a countess herself, was the one who ruled with an iron fist, even before the count was dead. She had run the business. And now he had died, their cosy arrangement was about to be signed away into the hands of a woman who was not going to let the older countess run it.
That was probably for a reason, the old countess was doing stuff that she didn’t want anyone to know about. Had her son discovered the truth and she had him killed. At least I could discount Alessandro and Fabio. They were both the most unlikely assassins and if they had tried, they would have botched it. And I doubt either would have anything to do with killing their brother.
The briefing had a slim folder that contained several sheets of paper that outlined the nature of the Burkehardt businesses. It seemed the companies never made profits, which made it odd as to how the family members could live such extravagant lifestyles.
The old countess’s name was Anna, rather plain, I thought, and had been the daughter of a poor wine grower. His was not a large vineyard, but they were very good grapes and sought after by the bigger winemakers. She had grandiose ideas and had virtually blackmailed the man she married.
Of course, it wasn’t hard to see that the family were also making a few other distilled products. Without telling the government. But if you read between the lines, Anna wasn’t exactly a law-abiding citizen., and she had some very rough-and-tumble acquaintances, not the least of which had ties to the mafia.
I was going to create a splash, on both sides of the channel, when I landed in her drawing room.
My first stop when I arrived in Italy was to go and visit the countess’s private legal representative in Rome. I had asked Cecelia to get the name and address from the countess, and she texted the details as I got off the plane at the airport.
Cecelia also sent me a photo of Anna, at the house in Sorrento, along with both Alessandro and Fabio, who must have taken a flight the previous day. It seems their concern the countess was missing was not a priority.
I hated driving in Rome, so I left the car in a parking garage on the way to Sorrento on the outskirts of the city and took public transport. I had one of those back-of-neck sensations when I collected my bag off the carousel, and it was as I suspected, a man trying very hard to look like a fellow passenger watching me.
He passed me off to someone else after I collected the rental car, and drove to bus terminus out in the suburbs on the way to Sorrento. Whoever was tailing me in the car was very good, and I only saw them twice.
Rodby checking up, or someone else. I didn’t see Alfie, and after the last debacle, he may have been replaced, but whoever that was, they would be less conspicuous than my current minder.
I took the bus but wasn’t joined by anyone, but that didn’t mean they had lost sight of me. I checked and thought I’d made the car following the bus. These people were relentless. And there were a few of them, and whoever their boss was, he had deep pockets. Not Rodby then.
From the bus terminus, it was a short walk to the building that housed many lawyers. In England, they were called chambers. In Italy, they were called camere degli avvocati, or something like that.
I could speak almost fluent Italian because of Violetta, though she used to tease me over some of the word translations, and many a day was spent teaching me the language. Even so, I still didn’t always get it right, but these days I liked pretending I had only schoolboy Italian and see if people helped.
This was going to be one of those occasions, not because I had the time, but I had picked up another tail and they were very good. It added some interest to my day where otherwise it might have been boring. This time it was a woman, not much older than me, but not conspicuous and had I not been looking, would have missed her. She hadn’t entered the building yet, and if I wanted to draw her in, I might have to force her hand.
So I stood there, in front of the board, trying to make head or tail of the names, and descriptions on the board that listed the tenants of the building, and I pretended I was having difficulty. Perhaps looking confused was more of a help than a hindrance because it gave the girl that I assumed was following me the perfect excuse to stop and ask, in almost perfect English, “You are lost perhaps?”
“I am, and not perhaps.” I gave her the piece of paper with the avvocati’s name on it, and after a quick perusal of the board, she pointed him out.
“Fourth floor, I’m going there myself.”
We crossed to the elevator and waited with several other people who definitely looked like lawyers, barristers, or wealthy clients. My impression of the building with ornate marble on the floor and walls, was that only the rich could afford to work her and afford the services of them.
It was a cold but far from a miserable day. We were taking our grandchildren on a tour of the most interesting sites in Paris, the first of which was the Eiffel Tower.
We took the overground train, which had double-decker carriages, a first for the girls, to get to the tower.
We took the underground, or Metro, back, and they were fascinated with the fact the train carriages ran on road tires.
Because it was so cold, and windy, the tower was only open to the second level. It was a disappointment to us, but the girls were content to stay on the second level.
There they had the French version of chips.
It was a dull day, but the views were magnificent.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 