The Black Lotus by Peter McKenna

Author:Peter McKenna [McKenna, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-25T22:00:00+00:00

Of course, Matthieu wasn’t calling Phillipe because he was trying to hire him as a defense attorney. The real reason that he was calling him was because he felt an obligation to report Pierre’s critical condition to his next of kin. The problem was that Matthieu was without a doubt the last person that Phillipe would have wanted to hear from.

The phone began ringing as Matthieu paced back and forth anxiously in what little room he could maneuver while handcuffed to the pipe. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Phillipe answered on the other line.

“Hello?” Phillipe called groggily into the phone.

“Yes, Phillipe Pelletier?” Matthieu called back.

“Speaking,” Phillipe replied.

“Yes, Monsieur Pelletier, this is Detective Martin Matthieu with the Toulouse Police Department, please don’t hang up,” he spat out his name, title, and desperate plea in one breath. The words bunched together so it almost sounded like a jumble of nonsense.

“Detective Matthieu,” Phillipe interrupted. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Matthieu pulled the phone away from his face and checked the clock.

“It’s just past 8 in the morning,” he replied.

Phillipe sighed.

“Maybe in whatever delusional fantasy land you’re living in it’s 8 in the morning,” he said. “But here in the real world, it’s 1 a.m.”

Matthieu had forgotten all about the time difference between Hong Kong and Paris. If he wanted to get back into Phillipe’s good graces, he wasn’t off to a good start.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Matthieu began again. “But the reason I’m calling is very important. You see—”

“This is bordering on harassment, Detective,” Phillipe interrupted bluntly. “I’ve got half a mind to call your Chief and demand your badge!”

“A little late for that,” Matthieu mumbled as he stared down at the handcuffs around his wrist.

“What did you say?” Phillipe asked.

“It’s your brother,” Matthieu stuttered.

“Of course it’s my brother,” Phillipe continued. “It’s always my brother! For the last time, I haven’t seen him in 13 years! Leave my family and I alone!”

This, of course, was a lie. Phillipe had harbored Pierre only a week ago while Pierre was on the run from the Toulouse Police. Matthieu knew it and Phillipe knew it. However, Matthieu couldn’t prove it. Regardless, it didn’t much matter, because that wasn’t the reason why he was calling.

“He’s been shot,” Matthieu said.

Phillipe fell gravely silent. The words plowed into his ears like he had been hit by a train. He struggled to gather his own words to form a response.

“Is he okay?” he finally asked.

Next to him in bed, Phillipe’s wife, Penelope, turned over and let out a groan. Phillipe quieted his voice to a whisper and rose from the bed and left the room so as not to disturb her.

“I mean, is he dead?” Phillipe asked flatly. The words left a dry taste in his mouth.

“He’s in critical condition,” Matthieu informed him.

“What does that mean?” Phillipe asked. “That’s a real non-answer.”

“It means that they’re not sure whether or not he’s going to make it,” Matthieu said. “Certain arrangements need to be made in the case that his condition worsens.

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