IC - Day 3 - Monday Morning Blues

[Mephistophilis]

'Monsieur Lazaire? I am not sure, we can go and look for him if you would like?' He looks to Driscoll who gives him a nod of permission.

[Mr. Handy]

"D'accord, let's see if we can find him," says Laurent.

[Mephistophilis]

Mendoza takes Laurent through the winding corridors of the hotel, through to the rather plainer decorated service areas, eventually arriving at the kitchen. There are a couple of local men working away, Mendoza asks them where Lazaire is and they rather sheepishly admit that he hasn't been in yet today.

Raising his voice and looking more agitated, Mendoza starts prowling through the corridors, arriving at Henninger's office and knocking loudly. Laurent trails behind him looking embarrassed. There's no answer and Mendoza pushes the door open to reveal an empty office. He turns on his heels and strides off again, growling and calling out for Henninger and Lazaire.

Laurent hurries to keep up with the big man who sweeps into what seems to be a corridor of bedrooms. He hammers on the first door he comes to, shouting out 'Henninger, you fat oaf, are you in there?' and almost immediately turning the knob and pushing open the door explosively. Inside, the room looks like an earthquake has rocked it. It's a big room by Laurent's standards, but the bed is unmade, sheets lie crumpled on the floor. A stack of books has fallen onto a chair cluttered with clothing, like its been knocked off the bureau.

Mendoza slowly walks inside and looks around. Laurent follows at a distance and feels something gritty under his shoes. Some sort of powder has been spilled in the doorway. He picks some up on a wetted finger. It's crystaline like salt, touching it to his tongue it does taste salty.

'Where is that useless Belgian?', Mendoza curses.

[Mr. Handy]

"There's salt in the doorway," says Laurent. "I wonder if he put it here for protection." He has the sinking feeling that it didn't work. "Could he be in the bathroom?"

[Mephistophilis]

The rooms in the Azagon are not ensuite and Mendoza stomps back into the corridor. He starts pulling open other doors. The one opposite is less chaotic that the first, but the bed is unmade and there's a stub of candle on the desk, a stalagmite of black wax overflowing a holder, next to a framed colour print that shows Paul Henninger standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the Azagon with Lawton Lindo. The window beside the bureau is closed and across the lower sash something is loosely stretched, some kind of dressmaker's tape measure.

After crashing ineffectually around this room, Mendoza tries another door, which is locked, and then the next room which is in a better order, the bed made, and sitting on the chair beside the desk a startled looking woman, forty or so years old, very round but deceptively so. Laurent recognises Circée Orelle, well known in Dame Marie and working as a housekeeper at the Azagon, her plumpness deceptive because she's composed mainly of muscle as any Dame Marie boy knows if he has the misfortune to earn himself a beating from her.

Mendoza looks equally surprised, 'Pardon commère, is...' he looks around. 'Monsieur Morrison is not in m’sié. I was just resting my feet for a moment... she gabbles. 'Oui, oui, we were looking for Monsieur Henninger and Ti-Jean Lazaire, have you seen them?'

At the name of Ti-Jean her face darkens, 'Non, non, but if you see Ti-Jean you can ask him what he was doing messing about in Monsieur Morrison's room!' She snatches a something from a shelf and thrusts it into Mendoza's hands. It's a jointed wooden rule, a carpenter's rule. Then she opens a bag of rubbish and pulls out a nub of black candle wax. 'Gate san, it makes my blood boil, how am I to do my job with him creeping around messing up the guests' rooms?'

[Mr. Handy]

"I think the houngan should see these things," says Laurent. "He may know why he was placing them."

[Mephistophilis]

'Of course, I'm sure that would be fine,' says Mendoza. But Circée hisses through her teeth. 'Don't need no houngan to tell you what these are for,' she says. 'This is Vodou for sure.'

[Mr. Handy]

Laurent nods. "What sort of Vodou is it?" he asks.

[Mephistophilis]

She gives a bitter laugh, 'Well I'm no mambo, but, it's either for protection, or the opposite.' She traces her finger along some shapes seemingly burned into the wood. Three letters, A.V.R.

[Mr. Handy]

"Well, it doesn't look like it offered much protection," says Laurent. "A.V.R. A votre..."

[Mephistophilis]

'Monsieur Morrison, he is unwell?' asks Circée in surprise.

[Mr. Handy]

"Je ne sais pas," says Laurent, "but he does appear to be missing."

[Mephistophilis]

'Non, non, I do not think he is missing,' says Circée. 'I saw Monsieur Morrison earlier today. He was, well, he was not any more sick than he was yesterday is all I can say.'

[Mr. Handy]

"Where did you see him?" asks Laurent.

[Mephistophilis]

'Oh, I'm not sure,' says Circée. 'Perhaps in the day room. Yes, yes, I think it was there. He was sitting in a chair looking out at the sea.'

[Mr. Handy]

"Thank you," says Laurent. "Let's go see if he's still there," he says to Mendoza.

[Mephistophilis]

A bit calmer, but grumbling to himself, Mendoza leads Laurent to the day room. It has a set of large windows overlooking the beach and the blue sea beyond. There's a number of sofas, chairs with small side tables. And sitting by the window in a high backed wooden chair, writing at a desk, is the only inhabitant of the room. A man in his late thirties. The unhealthy blue-grey tinge of a white man. But strange orange-red hair, receding at the temples. Thin, jutting nose, small ears, small mouth and weak chin. His large hands and thick, stubby fingers hold a pen, and he's writing on some loose leaves of paper. There's an unpleasant odour of body odour mixed with garlic.

Mendoza introduces him, 'Monsieur Robert Morrison.'

[Mr. Handy]

"Bonjour, Monsieur Morrison," says Laurent. "I'm Laurent Toussaint."

[Mephistophilis]

Morrison turns and looks Laurent up and down in surprise. 'Bonjour petit garçon, how can I help you both?'

[Mr. Handy]

"We found your room in quite a state," says Laurent. "Do you know what happened there?"