Chapter Twenty-Six – Outsider
As much as he enjoyed spending time in Bastien's company, duty called. Ali could very well be in his room by now, ransacking the place like a little rodent. Even if his partner stumbled over the first paragraph from Lukas's diary, he wouldn't know its meaning.
Unless – Lawrence slowed his step – those words were enough to echo a concern Lukas could have expressed out loud at one point. It only crossed his mind now that he hadn't yet properly interrogated his trusty partner about his relationship with Lukas. Whether it was his quirky personality or he had a secret agenda, Ali had a genuine talent for slipping through his fingers like an eel when something hit too close to home.
On his way back to his monk cell, he noticed Esperanza. She was standing with her back to him, close to an imposing old fountain that lent the inner courtyard the redolent air of distant times, when beauty such as that must have been considered the pinnacle of civil engineering.
He had no intention of drawing her attention since he was in a hurry, but then she moved slightly away, revealing the person she was talking to. Earnest saw Lawrence and waved happily, like a child. It all lasted a moment, because he appeared to recall that such manifestations from the help were frowned upon.
But it was enough for Esperanza to turn and wave at him, as well. Her luscious black hair fell in waves on her shoulders, and she was wearing a riding outfit that gave her a fetching, Amazon-like quality. The weather had cleared, and a sharp sun rose over Veridien, making the patches of snow still hanging from the bushes glint cheerfully. As cheerful as the duo now gesturing at him to come closer.
Ignoring them was no longer an option. Lawrence smiled and walked toward them.
"And where might have you been wandering, knight-errant?" she asked, her toothy smile teasing him the same as her eyes.
"Here, there," he said. "Hi, Earnest, how's it going?"
"I am well," Earnest said. His smile was sheepish, child-like. "How are you doing, Lawrence?" He enunciated every word carefully.
"Fine, thank you." Lawrence felt a bit like a first-grader, learning the basics of conversation.
"Walk with us for a bit?" Esperanza asked, ceremoniously taking Lawrence's arm.
He made a belated gesture to offer it, making her laugh and throw her head back. There was coquetry in her moves when she wasn't working, and Lawrence couldn't not notice that she was beautiful. In a world as austere as Veridien, her beauty was like a sudden, unexpected drop of color that made the surroundings a little less dull.
Earnest followed, but he remained slightly behind, making Lawrence turn to wait for him. "Aren't you joining us, Earnest?" he asked, struggling to make his voice sound as kind as possible.
The simple smile on that simple face was the only reward he needed. Earnest hurried to fall in step with them.
"Where am I walking with you, good people?" he asked.
"To the stables," Esperanza said promptly. "Earnest loves horses. He loves being around them, and he's quite the capable stable hand. Now, Lawrence, since you are new here, how well do you know how to ride a horse?"
"Your question is, unfortunately, off the mark. I don't know to ride a horse at all."
"Ah, but we must correct that," Esperanza offered. "Should we teach Lawrence a few tricks, Earnest?"
The young man smiled. "We should. But Espe, what if he falls?"
"We'll take things slowly. Mina is available, right? She's no longer indisposed, I hoped."
"She is better now," Earnest confirmed. "Lawrence must know that she's a lady."
"I will treat her right," Lawrence said. "I mean, I will most likely sit frozen in the saddle without doing anything, so I hope my behavior will not offend her much."
Mina the mare had nothing to worry about on his account. Learning the basics with Esperanza and Earnest wouldn't be so bad, seeing how excellence in all things was expected, even if not rewarded, at Veridien.
"I hope your planned horse riding session won't take long. Ali has self-proclaimed himself my best friend."
"Alistair is a good friend," Earnest recited.
"One of the best," Esperanza confirmed. "We won't keep you long. But you are overdue for some lessons. Don't think that you can skip the tournament, only because you're new."
"Tournament? Sometimes I wonder if there is such a thing as free time for the students here at this fine institution."
"Hardly," Esperanza said. "You must make do with what you're given. It's the Veridien spirit, knight-errant."
***
Esperanza and Earnest proved to be better teachers than Lawrence had first pegged them to be. And learning how to sit in a saddle wasn't very difficult after all. However, since he knew that Ali might very well start looking for him desperately, he needed to cut this short.
"I will rely on you another time for sure," he said, once he was back on solid ground, and Mina, a beautiful white mare in her prime, appeared not to have been too annoyed with him and his clumsy attempts to ride her. "In other words, the two of you have brought this on yourselves."
"We don't mind," Esperanza said. She pushed herself up and placed a light kiss on his cheek. "Take good care of Bastien for me," she whispered. "Right, Earnest?" she asked out loud.
"We don't mind," Earnest repeated. He did look happy around horses, and Mina snorted appreciatively as he produced a red apple from his pocket.
Lawrence waved the duo goodbye and hurried toward the cloistered garden. A couple of stable hands were coming from that direction, though he couldn't imagine what business they would have had in that part of the grounds. It was his understanding from perusing the overall layout that the personnel had their housing and other amenities this side of the academy. As well as strict working places.
The stable hands were hard men, with deep wrinkles and dark faces. They threw him an indifferent look as they passed by, but one of them brushed by Lawrence, a bit too forcibly to be an accident.
"Apologies," Lawrence said, stepping sideways.
The man tsked and ignored him. But he and his buddy were barely a couple of feet away that a single word exchanged between them traveled to Lawrence as a warning.
"Fremder." (1)
"I beg your pardon," he said loud enough, turning to see if the two assholes didn't mind saying that to his face.
They ignored him completely. Not quite completely. They quickened their steps, which at least indicated that they weren't looking for a direct confrontation.
If even some of the help was looking down on him, had he any doubts about the stiff gatekeeper Herr Becker or other members of the faculty? With the exception of his Latin professor, they all had a chip on their shoulders.
Lawrence shook his head and shrugged. Whatever it was, he couldn't waste precious time with it. Open hostility didn't scare him. It was the hidden kind, concealed and presented as friendship or at least indifference that was the most dangerous.
***
Ali, as expected, must have been getting bored out of his mind, so when Lawrence walked in, he was lying in bed, his headphones over his ears, his eyes closed, most likely lost in the world of his music. That was in the off chance that he wasn't asleep.
Lawrence walked on his tip toes to the bed and then shouted. "Inspection!"
Ali scrambled to his feet, confused and disheveled, struggling to find his footing until his eyes fell on the intruder.
"Larry!" he exclaimed, yanking his headphones down. "Is that how boys at the police academy entertain themselves?"
"One of the ways," Lawrence confirmed. "The best time to do it is when they're all with their hands shoved down their underwear."
Ali grimaced and squinted. "Really? Is masturbation a common practice in such institutions of law and order?"
"Isn't it here?"
"Here," Ali said, squaring his shoulders, "sublimation of desire is the ultimate goal."
"Interesting. Not everyone appears to be a staunch supporter of such views, however."
"I am quite the staunch supporter," Ali cared to emphasize.
"Except when truth is involved. We don't mind bending it a little, right?" Lawrence teased him.
"What do you mean?" Ali narrowed his eyes.
"Bastien enlightened me on how he came about his Rose Bud nickname. It appears to me that you fraudulently claimed ownership."
Ali moaned and dropped on the bed. "My interpretation is far sillier and more amusing."
"That may be. However, seeing that you're my partner now, a little more honesty wouldn't hurt. What do you say?"
Ali nodded primly. "You're right, Larry. That little tidbit slipped my mind, I swear. I mean, we barely knew each other."
"And still you wanted to make me aware of Bastien's rosebud being available right away. One cannot help but wonder."
A roll of the eyes convinced him that the topic was as good as closed. Lawrence picked The Geometry of Power from his desk and turned toward his partner with a questioning look.
"Since you had the time to go through it, how about you give me the abridged version?"
Ali linked his hands together in front, his legs akimbo. "It is a terribly dry read. With a title such as that, you'd expect at least a decent amount of occultism, but no. I can confirm that this book must have been written by the driest prunes that have ever set foot in a university. It's all about architecture, really. Sines, cosines, boring, boring, boring. From the pyramids to the Eiffel Tower, it is all a string of useless information."
"But it says right here that it is about symbolism--" Lawrence began patting the worn cover.
"Symbolism as in mathematical perfection," Ali replied. "Truly, some people would be able to find a direct relation between the proportions of a phone booth and Pharaoh Khufu's resting place."
"Is there such a relation explained herein?" Lawrence asked, staring at the book in his hand with different eyes.
Ali shrugged. "Who cares? It's only a string of coincidences, nothing more."
"That is quite disappointing," Lawrence said, placing the book aside. Sines, cosines, and strange relations between buildings could very well be right up Lukas's alley if the elaborate rendition of the white oak on the first page of his diary was any indication. Even without Ali's help, he'd have to peruse it later. There was always a slight possibility that the mysterious delivery man intended to help him and that the whole destroyed statue debacle to have been an accident and nothing more.
"Aren't you going to read it?" Ali asked. "I mean, you don't have to take my opinion so seriously."
"Don't I? I thought you'd rejoice that I'm taking your opinion at face value."
"Yes, but I'm easily distracted."
Right. Ali's bad eyes. Lawrence berated himself briefly and inwardly. He shouldn't put his partner up to tasks that involved too much eye strain.
"I'll read it," he said. "And I'll ask your opinion on the more difficult phrases."
Ali's face lit up. "Right. Because it's in French. I was so hell bent on finding clues that I didn't realize that you insisted on me having a close look at it because of that. What should I do while you read that boring book?"
Lawrence had a plan in place for his partner. He sat at the desk and opened the tome. "During my year at the police academy, they taught us that in the vast majority of homicides, the killer is someone close to the victim."
"So you believe that someone close to Lukas pushed him to his death?" Ali asked.
"It is a working hypothesis. What I want from you is to write down a list of names for all the people that were, in one way or another, in a relationship with Lukas."
"Just that?" Ali didn't hide his disappointment.
"No, not just that. I am interested in your commentary on the side. Who were his true friends? What about his fake ones? Was there anyone who ever threatened him? Academic jealousies, romantic complications, anything that crosses your mind, write it down. A murder case is basically motive meeting opportunity. If we can identify a list of motives and people related to them, we might be getting closer to the truth."
Ali caught the notebook and pen Lawrence threw at him.
"You can use only initials. Also, use a plus sign for real friends, a dash for neutral acquaintances, and an X for those who disliked Lukas and possibly wished him harm."
"So we'll be using a code." Ali could barely conceal his excitement.
Lawrence stared at the open pages of his book. "One more thing. Start with yourself."
"What? How am I a suspect?" Ali complained right away.
"You aren't," Lawrence assured him. "Lukas was tall and strong. Even if you were to take him by surprise, I doubt you could have so easily toppled him over. You're just a squirt, Shorty. Live with it. And then, there's also your eyesight. Lukas died at night, in a place without any artificial lights close by."
"I could have used a flashlight!" Ali exclaimed.
"Are you trying to convince me to include you on the list of suspects? We can do that."
"No, no, definitely not," his partner denied right away. "So whoever pushed Lukas had to be big and strong? Like you?"
"Are you trying to make me a suspect now?" Lawrence asked.
"Shouldn't we cover all our angles?" Ali teased.
"All our angles, hopefully, will not include the Pope and the US President, too. Since, like me, they weren't anywhere close to this place at the time Lukas died."
"Fine, I get it." Ali opened the notebook and bent over it. "How will you know I'm telling the truth about myself?"
"I'm counting on the excellent education you receive here at Veridien. I know you'll be telling me the truth, not only about yourself, but about the others, too. Don't even think of protecting Bastien. He himself admitted and he and Lukas got into fights sometimes."
"He did?" Ali looked confused. "Well, they were quite passionate about each other. A love like in the movies." He sighed reverently.
"What movies? Hopefully, not Divorzio all'italiana." (2) Lawrence grimaced, realizing his mistake too late.
Ali snorted. "No, definitely not. A comedy that won a prize at Cannes and an Oscar, involving a murder. Hmm, your sense for the comedic potential of tragedy staggers me, Larry."
"There is nothing comedic whatsoever in what we're investigating," Lawrence said in a far drier tone than he intended.
"Since you're personally involved," Ali cared to mention.
"As are you," Lawrence shot back.
Ali sighed. "Yes, I believe we are both very much involved. But I still want to get to the bottom of this. If anything matters in this world, it should be the truth."
"Agreed," Lawrence said, military-style. "Let's get to work. By the way, what is the absurd Veridien tradition should I get ready to face tonight? Bastien might enjoy seeing me surprised, because he never discloses details about your regular program here at the academy."
"He indeed enjoys having quirks a tad too much. But you must forgive him. With so much pressure on his handsome perfect shoulders, you'd enjoy teasing people more than the accepted norm, too."
"All right, I'm prepared to be forgiving in his case. Not in yours. Spill," Lawrence ordered as he turned the first page.
"Ah, it's nothing too complicated."
"Is it a ritual?" Lawrence asked.
"A rite of passage more like," Ali replied. "That happens over and over because it's fun. It's wrestling, Larry. Naked wrestling."
Lawrence stared at the ceiling and murmured something unintelligible only to tease Ali some more.
"There are loincloths involved," Ali added. "Don't make a fuss."
"How could I not? I'm not exactly looking forward to getting groped."
"You can simply assume the witness role. No one will judge you."
"That is where you are wrong, my dear Shorty. I think that this rite of passage will most certainly concern me. And I will be judged by the entire ensemble, whether I like it or not."
"Be honest. You only care how Bastien sees you, right?"
"Did I say anything?" Lawrence pretended to be absorbed by his lecture. "Don't dally, partner."
Ali mumbled something that could be taken as agreement and began scribbling, bending over his notebook.
"Come sit at the desk," Lawrence said, pushing his chair away. "And take breaks if it gets too hard for you."
Ali grunted but accepted the invitation. "I shouldn't have told you about my little problem. You're going to shower me in kindness, and I won't have it."
"First, you didn't tell me. I noticed you had issues with your eyesight on my own. And second, what kindness? I plan on working you to the bone. If you want us to find the truth about Lukas, that is."
"Of course, I do. Count on me, Detective Garth."
Lawrence suppressed a jolt. Supposedly, no one at Veridien knew about who his uncle was. Ali's playful jab had to be just that, and the way he pronounced each word, with an American accent, should be enough to put his mind at ease. After all, Ali only wanted to live his fantasy of being a character in a detective movie.
***
Unlike Ali, Lawrence found the book that had been in Lukas's hands last not as much of a dry read. Exciting was definitely not the word for it, but interesting might describe what reading The Geometry of Power offered him as slight, gradual revelations.
Ali's remark regarding the search for strange coincidences between seemingly unrelated buildings wasn't too far off the mark. For anyone with a passion for mathematics and architecture, the book read like a detective story. At one point, he returned to the first pages to see if he could glean details that might have escaped him at first.
Dr. Maximilien Goddard
avec le concours de
Louise Arnaud (3)
The name of the authors told him nothing, since he had no idea if Dr. Goddard was any sort of authority in the field of architectural designs for European institutions. But the citing of the assistant's name gave him an important hint; Louise Arnaud must have done all the legwork, while Dr. Goddard had been too happy to slap his name on an oeuvre he didn't work to create. Louise Arnaud, however, must have dug her heels in to have her name on the spine, as well. Not an obedient underling, that one.
"Ali," he said, holding the book so his partner could see the names of the authors, "do you happen to know who Louise Arnaud is?" It was a shot in the dark.
Ali smacked his lips together. "I have no idea. But most of the books we study here have been written by Veridien's most dedicated disciples. Well, when they're not works by Plato and Seneca, of course."
"You mean that Louise Arnaud might have studied at Veridien? Not possible, though. Veridien has always been an all-boys school, right?"
"Yes, but a few of our alumni are women," Ali said.
Lawrence's thoughts flickered briefly over his earlier meeting with Esperanza. "What about your childhood friend? She is also studying here, right?"
Ali gave him a cross look. "We were talking about Louise, I believe."
"Very well," Lawrence went along with Ali's protection of his friend. "This was written in 1968. She could be very much alive and well."
"Why are you interested in her? She was only the assistant," Ali pointed out.
"My educated guess is that she wrote most of this book. If there's a key to understanding it properly, she must have it."
"But she could be anywhere now. Married, hence a different last name. Even dead."
"I know. I assume Veridien keeps all its alumni in archived files."
"A place like this? There are catacombs filled with such files," Ali confirmed his supposition. "Wait, do you think we should sneak out at night and run this errand?"
"I thought we could just ask the librarian about it. She must know the archivist well, and I believe she likes me."
Ali's non-committal grunt could mean anything, but mainly that he didn't believe such a thing to be likely at all.
"How's your progress?" Lawrence asked.
"I feel like it's a work that I will not finish soon. I keep remembering all sorts of things. Suspicious things."
"That's all right. We can take a break. When is the Sunday mandatory naked wrestling scheduled?"
Ali jumped to his feet and stretched. "I'll come fetch you. But I need a proper nap, which I'll take in my room. My brother demands that at least a fifth of my day is spent in his presence."
"He's the wiser one."
"Oh, Larry, playing the snake doesn't suit you. You like me more, anyway. Get some rest, too. Things will get physical."
Lawrence had no doubt about it. He saw Ali to the door and secured it before returning to his reading task.
But first, he needed to find a good place for Lukas's key, the photograph he'd taken with Bastien.
He stopped dead in his tracks once he reached inside the pocket of his jacket. His fingers felt around slowly. The inner material was bunched in the middle, as if someone had hurriedly pulled its contents out.
The photograph was gone. And Lawrence was pretty damn sure he hadn't lost it by accident.
TBC
(1) Fremder (German) – outsider, stranger.
(2) Divorzio all'italiana – a satirical comedy from 1961 starring Marcello Mastroianni. The plot follows Mastroianni's character, a bored aristocrat who falls madly in love with a younger woman. Since he is married and divorce is illegal in the Italy of that time, he sets his otherwise devoted wife up for cheating, and then commits a so-called crime of passion once he catches her in the act, hence becoming free to marry the one he wants (since the punishment for his crime is extremely lenient). The plot's brilliance stems from its ability to expose the hypocrisy of a legal system that forbid divorce but allowed uxoricide (wife-killing). The movie won Best Comedy at the Cannes in 1962 and the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay.
(3) Dr. Maximilien Goddard avec le concours de Louise Arnaud (French) – Dr. Maximilien Goddard with the assistance of Louise Arnaud.