Inspector Pascal Mysteries 1000 #23 Faux ami

Can one be too French for this test of wits, words and women?
Inspector Pascal Mysteries 1000 # 23 Faux ami

 INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000
#23 Faux ami by T.K. Naliaka ©2016

    Waiters collected their champagne glasses as they passed into the dining room.  As they peered at the place cards to locate their seats, the tuxedoed man on his right offered his hand. “I’m Inspector Sampson.”
    He shook his hand, “Inspector Pascal.”
    Beside Sampson, a raven-haired, grey-eyed woman in a formal black jacket and long skirt smiled and reached out. “I’m Inspector Beryl.”
    He grasped her hand, then kissed her lightly on each cheek. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
    She flushed slightly. “You didn’t kiss Inspector Sampson.”
    Pascal shrugged.  “Is he a doting adored grandmother, a cooing baby or a beautiful woman?”
    Sampson laughed. “No, I definitely don’t qualify.”
    Beryl conceded with a wry smile. “What can I say?”
    A slim attractive brunette woman in a red satin gown approached with her hand outstretched, “Inspector Pascal!”
    She smiled as he kissed her, “Inspector Draw!* How are you?”
    Draw widened her eyes, “Busy! I have a couple of intense cases right now.  Look!  We’re neighbors tonight!”  She glanced over towards their host, senior Inspector Oswald taking his seat at the head of the table.  After they all sat down, Draw leaned over to Pascal. “I adore your accent.”
    “I’m completely charmed!” Pascal reached over for the white wine. “Permit me to pour?”
    She smiled and held out her glass.
    After they’d dined and their plates had been cleared, Inspector Oswald set a large magnum of champagne on the table, tapped it with his spoon to interrupt the conversations and announced. “A challenge – whoever can solve the crime, wins this bottle!”
    Pascal suppressed a disappointed sigh as the genial ambiance was suddenly replaced by a competitive tension as everyone fell silent to listen intently to Oswald’s story.
    Draw turned to Pascal. “Aren’t you interested?”
    Sampson and Beryl glanced at her, then at him.
    Pascal demurred. “It’s clever.”
    Draw persisted. “Come on!”
    Pressed, he finally replied. “Perhaps the key to the solution is a faux ami – a ‘false friend’ as it is called.”
    Draw leaned closer and lowered her voice. “What do you mean?”
    “The coroner’s report stated intoxication as the cause of death, but the victim was a teetotaler and the coroner who wrote the death certificate hails from Lille, in France.”
    She shook her head, unenlightened.
    Pascal continued. “The English meaning - to be intoxicated - is always associated with alcohol. In French, intoxication is not employed in quite the same manner.  It’s toxin.”
    Draw’s eyes widened. “He was poisoned?”
    “Well… all the coroner wrote was intoxication.  In French, particularly if there are no other qualifiers, this can mean food poisoning.  The victim’s last meal was at a local seafood restaurant.  Possibly it’s a case for the public health authorities, not for homicide.”
    Draw’s mouth curved cryptically.  To Pascale’s surprise she suddenly stood up.  “If I may, Inspector Oswald; was it really murder or a case of accidental food poisoning?’
    Inspector Oswald raised his hands and clapped. “Indeed!  Bravo Inspector Draw!”
    There were several perplexed voices. “How is that?”
    Pascal looked up at Draw to watch her smoothly offer his explanation as if it was her own. “The cause of death should have been translated as food poisoning… not intoxication as in drunkenness, hence the confusion.”
    The gathered investigators nodded appreciatively, “Very interesting!”
    She walked over, shook Oswald’s hand and accepted the big bottle.  Oswald then announced. “Congratulations for earning a place on our team for the Alexander Park investigation!”
    Draw beamed and shook his hand again. “It’s an honor, sir!”
    After a stunned pause, the other investigators rose to politely applaud.  Pascal carefully set his napkin on the table and slowly stood up.  As they all filed past Oswald and Draw to the terrace for cordials, Draw coyly held her hand out for him. “I’ve so enjoyed your company tonight!”
    Pascal clasped her offered hand, “Surely not as much as I enjoyed discovering your zeal for French champagne.” He turned, “Inspector Oswald…”
    “Yes?”
    Draw froze.
    Pascal exclaimed, “… such a unique method you employed!”
    Pleased, Oswald replied. “We needed someone who speaks French.”
    “Ah!” Pascal smiled at Draw. “She has an adorable accent.”
    Draw’s eyes narrowed. “I-I’m… charmed.”
    Pascal raised an eyebrow, “… until we meet again?”
    She coolly retracted her hand from his grip, “… of course.”
 
    Pascal took in a deep draw off his cigarette, then let it out into the cool night air.  He stood for a moment, then he chuckled, tossed the fag to the pavement and crushed the glowing red ember out with his heel.  He walked thoughtfully down the curving brick path to the car park.
    Sergeant Braque, chatting with three other sergeants keeping warm by an outdoor heater, set his cup of coffee down. “Sir, is it over already?”
    “Dinner’s finished… everyone is mingling over cordials.”
    Braque watched Pascal, “Sir? How did it go?”
    Pascal shrugged, “Interesting.”
    Braque frowned.
    Pascal admitted. “Well, it wasn’t what I had expected.”
    “Inspector Pascal!”
     A hotel waiter was trotting down the walkway.  He pulled up in front of Pascal, “For you, sir!” He handed Pascal a note card.
    Pascal opened it and read:
 You deserve something better than a jug of inferior champagne
presented to that opportunist.
Some advice – the Alexander Park case is a mess; avoid it.
     Pascal muttered. “I can believe that by the way they’re recruiting.”
    The waiter handed him a small bottle of Port, a restricted mark twice the price of the champagne.  Pascal looked up. “Who sent this?”
    The waiter shrugged and shook his head.
    Pascal started back, but the waiter neatly blocked him. “I won’t get the hefty tip I was promised if I allow you to pass.”
    Pascal acquiesced, “All right.” He pulled out his wallet, “Please convey my appreciations… to… to…”
    The waiter chuckled as he took the bill, “She prefers to remain anonymous.”
    Pascal watched the waiter leave.  He considered the bottle of Port in his hand and re-read the note, smiled, turned around and bumped into Braque right behind him.
    Braque grinned, “Ah- ha! I’d thought so… she!”
 
*#22 Garbled