Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1) - Page 80

Rafael nodded. “I explained.”

She gave me a weak smile and then turned to Rafael. “But. . .you’ll be here?”

“I’ll be right outside the door.” Rafael landed a kiss on her cheek and left.

When the door shut, I gestured at the bed. “You can sit.”

“I would rather not.”

“That’s fine.” Nodding, I walked over to my desk, grabbed the file, and brought it to her. “You’re an interesting woman, Shalimar.”

She grabbed the file and opened it. A baby picture stared back at her.

I continued, “Born in China. Your sister and you were adopted by a nice American family.”

Shalimar shut the file. “I know my life.”

“Your adopted father died from a work accident. Your adopted mother went into depression and drug addiction.” I took the file from her, set it on the bed, and opened it. “She later married your step-father.”

“What is this about?”

I lowered and flipped the next sheet. “Why did you run away at such a young age, Shalimar?”

She studied the picture on the bed. Her bottom lip quivered.

A family portrait stared back. Her mother and sister stood on the left. Her step father remained in the middle with his arm around a scowling, young Shalimar.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but we’re done.” She rose and walked to the door.

“I think Ella was dealing with the same problem you were.”

She turned around and scowled at me. “You don’t know anything about—”

“Sit down, Shalimar. We’re friends.”

“No disrespect, Le Boucher, but—”

“Sit.”

She trembled as she walked back to the bed and sat down.

“Flip the picture.”

She did.

A recent family portrait stared back. Now her stepfather stood in the middle of her mother and sister Ella. Now Ella wore the scowl and look of discomfort as his arm wrapped around her shoulder and not her mother’s.

Shalimar’s fingers shook. “Mom said that he’s not doing. . .that. . .anymore. that it was me. That. . .that he’s. . .better.”

“Flip the picture.”

Fear filled her gaze. She placed her hands in her lap. “No. I don’t want to. Just tell me.”

I went over and turned it over. “He doesn’t give Ella your letters or checks.”

Shalimar looked down at the new image. “Piece of shit.”

Her step father stood by the mail box, tearing through an envelope. Shalimar turned to the next photo. It showed him stuffing money in his back pocket. The next picture displayed her envelope crumbled and laying at the edge of the sewer near the mail box.

“Has Ella ever written you back?” I asked.

“No.” A tear left her eye. She wiped it away. “I thought maybe. . .she just was embarrassed by me or. . .”

I took the silk handkerchief from my inner jacket pocket and handed it to her. “You’re in desperate need of a friend.”

She didn’t take the handkerchief from me. “Jean-Pierre, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I don’t want to be involved. Especially if it has anything to do with Celina. I’m loyal to her. She’s been there for me when no one else was—”

“You’ll find that my level of loyalty cannot be matched by anyone. Right now, I want to present you with the facts, and then give you time to consider a new friendship with me.”

She turned away from me. “I can’t do that to Celina.”

I flipped to the next picture. “Your step father would visit Ella at night—”

“Fuck you.” She jumped up and paced. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you saying this shit to me?”

I pointed to the picture. “Look at it.”

She fisted her hands at her side. “Why?! I don’t want to see him do anything to her!”

“I want to teach you a lesson about friendship and loyalty.”

“Showing me something that. . .that I can’t. . .”

“What?” I tilted my head to the side. “You can’t what? Help Ella?”

I shook my head. “Ella needs no help. If I were you, I would send those letters again. She’ll get them this time. Now look at the damn picture.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, stomped over to the bed, and looked at the news clipping. “What the hell?”

Shaking her head, she picked it up. “Is this real?”

“Yes. Evian City News reported your step-father’s tragic accident this morning. It appears he somehow stumbled and fell on a chain saw. Your mother believes there could be foul play involved. Apparently, he was cut a lot to suggest he didn’t trip on it. And there’s also the fact that he never owned a chainsaw. It doesn’t matter. The Evian City Police have personally assured me that the case is cut and clear. It was an accident. His life insurance will be going to your mother.”

She parted her lips and then sat down on the bed. “He’s dead.”

“This is my loyalty. While I’m sure Celina has been there for you in your darker times, I present a different level.” I placed my hands in my pockets. “And no one harms my friends or the ones that they love. I have no tolerance for my friend’s enemies.”

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