Evette stood at the foot of the stairs leading into the château, waiting for the Monsieur to arrive. The sun was beginning to break over the horizon, filling the desecrated château with nothing but the purest of light. She gave a small and brief smile as she saw the Bentley roll slowly pass the gates. She still had the dried blood on her coat and pants, and she was still shaking, not as bad however. The silver car drove around the fountain rotunda, and came to a halt. The Monsieur opened his door, and put his cane down first.
“Evette, I am so sorry.” The Monsieur said, limping towards Evette.
“Monsieur, I thank you. However, there is something that is a bit off.” Evette said, helping the Monsieur into the château.
Evette walked the Monsieur into the kitchen where her parents laid. Evette, while waiting for the Monsieur had however covered their bodies with a large blanket, so she wouldn’t have to look at their faces. Evette grabbed the bloodstained letter and handed it to the Monsieur. He read the short message carefully, observing the handwriting.
“Evette, didn’t you say that the Prime Minister killed himself?” The Monsieur asked, sounding extremely concerned.
“Oui, Monsieur. I tried to stop him, but he just wouldn’t listen.” Evette said, watching the Monsieur’s face intently.
“Evette, this is the Prime Minister’s handwriting. Was anything else strange when you arrived home, and also, how long after Garcetti’s death did you finally return home?” The Monsieur asked, looking around.
“Well, the door was slightly ajar and unlocked, and I got home shortly before I called you, so I’d say about three and half hours.” Evette said calmly.
“Evette, I need you to get into my car, and we are going to leave. Don’t worry, I called the police on the way here, I told them where you’ll be for questioning if need be.” The Monsieur said, scuffling quickly to the door with Evette.
Evette held the Monsieur tightly, helping him out of the château and back into the car. The Mulsanne sat idly in the morning sun, a glare came off from the top. Evette opened the driver door for the Monsieur, and he objected, stating that she should drive. Evette, no matter what the circumstance, still somehow had time to light a cigarette and put on sunglasses.
“So, how do you think all of this happened?” Evette said, quickly looking over at the Monsieur.
“Quite frankly, in all of my years, for the first time, I don’t know. Something tells me that somewhere along the line, we were set up.” The Monsieur said, rolling down his window.
“Set up? How?” Evette asked, switching over into the other lane.
“Well, the more I think about, the client that contacted me came across rather peculiar.” The Monsieur said, tapping his finger on the dashboard.
“More peculiar than Mr. Rodanthe?” Evette asked, flicking the cigarette out the window.
“Yes, more peculiar than our dear Mr. Rodanthe.” The Monsieur said, sighing after.
Evette pondered on what the Monsieur had told her, and she was rather concerned. If they had been set up, that meant that neither of them were safe. She didn’t say much for the remainder of the drive, instead, she just payed attention to the road in front of her. The two didn’t talk again until she pulled the Bentley into the garage.
“So, what do we do now?” Evette asked, shutting the car door.
“I’ll get in touch with some people I know, and we’ll remove Andreas Garcetti once and for all. For now, go upstairs and make yourself at home. You probably need some sleep.” The Monsieur said, retreating to his black leather chair.
Evette went upstairs into one of the guest bedrooms and laid down. She started to fall asleep, until she realized that she was still covered in some dry blood. Quickly, she went into the guest bathroom and turned on the shower. She slipped out of her bloody clothes and stepped into the warm shower. Steam rose off her cold skin as the water hit it. Evette then broke down, letting a multitude of tears stream down her face. She curled up into a ball on the shower floor and just cried for nearly half an hour. Finally, Evette picked herself up and got out of the shower, and wrapped herself in a towel. It was then, she realized that she didn’t have any other clothes.
“Monsieur, I just realized I don’t have any other clothes.” Evette shouted down the stairs.
“I will have someone bring you some, there should be a robe or something up there.” The Monsieur shouted back, laughing after.
Evette walked back into the bedroom, searching for some sort of robe. After ten minutes of searching, she gave up and just kept herself wrapped in the towel. She grabbed her phone out of her purse and unlocked it. She looked through her missed messages, and frowned when she saw that she had none from Christian. It had been four days since she had left Los Angeles, and yet, she was still infatuated.
“Christian, I need you. -E”
“So, you decide to text? -C”
“Fuck off. -E”
“So eloquent. -C”
“Come to Paris immediately. -E”
“Long story. Round three? -E”
“I’ll see. -C”