And… yet another chapter

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Gankutsuou and Pokemon…

Chapter 20 – Investigations

 

            By the time Villefort left the couch, the others were taking coffee in the garden. He froze as he overheard the Count’s words.

            “Yes, at that very spot, I discovered the skeleton of a baby in an iron box…”

            “How horrible!” Todd exclaimed.

            “How odd.” Wallace Debray added. “It seems that this garden was not used as a cemetery before… as there are no graves…”

            “Perhaps it was a crime?” Todd asked eagerly. Scandal always helped papers sell. The journalist in him could practically smell the story!

            “Perhaps.” Monte Cristo agreed.

            Villefort nearly had another attack at that. No! They couldn’t know about his illegitimate child! Oh horror!

            That definitely cinched it. What was the Count playing at? He had to know.

 

            Delia and her husband had already left the party, along with Ash. Yellow was silently observing everything. His eyes flared with anger when they lightened upon Villefort, but softened as he met the still pale Madame Danglars.

            Poor woman…

            Ah well, he ought to be leaving as well… he bade the Count farewell and called his coach, before speeding off into the night.

           

            “So, give me details.” Todd pressed.

            The Count closed his eyes. “The box was of this size…” He made a motion… “There were only iron bars left, so I conclude it must have been a box bound with iron… inside, the baby’s skeleton… well, no bones were broken…”

            “Stillborn then, probably.” Todd said, busy scribbling. “How did you find it?”

            “They were digging up the garden to plant some of the new trees…”

            “Yes, of course.” Todd grinned. “Well, thanks! This’ll be interesting! Now what did you do with this evidence?”

            Monte Cristo looked rather offended. “Why I buried it, of course.”

            “Pity. I would have liked to investigate scientifically…”

            “Now, now,” Villefort said hastily. “Perhaps this is all a misunderstanding.”

            “You’re a judge, you ought to be leaping with joy over a new case.” Todd snapped. Wallace shushed him.

 

            Villefort chose not to comment and returned to the house, as he quickly made a motion to Madame Danglars.

            “I shall find out who this Count is, rest assured, my love.”

            Daisy nodded mutely.

            Violet, seeing her husband return, asked him if it was time they left, and Villefort nodded, wanting to escape this accursed house.

            If only…

            If only this were only a dark dream…

 

            The next day he wrote to Monsieur Blanche, formerly an inspector of the prisons, for details on the Count of Monte Cristo. A week later his reply was given.

            “The Count of Monte Cristo is intimately connected to the Italian priest, Abbé Busoni, of high repute in the East where he has done much good, and who resides in Paris and is currently there now.  He is also known to a traveling English tourist, Lord Wilmore.”

            Villefort sighed. Finally! Some information. With that in mind, he immediately wrote to both men, desiring interviews. At the Abbe’s residence, he found a note from the valet setting an interview at five ‘o clock, and at Lord Wilmore’s, an interview at seven.

           

            At five to five, he rapped on the door of the Abbe’s residence and was admitted. The servant said that his master was upstairs in the library, but he was expecting him.

            Villefort entered, perceiving a man dressed in simple monk’s robes, a few wisps of black hair visible underneath a cowl. Large spectacles covered the man’s face, and the light in the room was dim, save for one large lamp. Several rolls of parchment were scattered over the desk.

            “Now, you are the Abbé Busoni, correct?”

            “That I am sir, and I trust that you are the envoy the prefect of the police and inspector of prisons M. de Blanche sends me?”

            “You are correct.”

            “You do realize that there are some incidents that, regarding the public safety of Paris, must be disclosed, despite ties of friendship?”

            “Yes, sir. However, I am a priest, and I will not reveal what was told in confession.”

            “Do not worry, your conscience is safe. I will come to the point at once. Do you know the Count of Monte Cristo?”

            “I presume you mean Monsieur Zaccone.”

            “Zaccone?! Is not his name Monte Cristo?”

            “Monte Cristo is the name of an island, or rather, of a rock, and not a family name.”

            “So, now that we are clear that the Count and M. Zaccone are the same-.”

            “Precisely the same.”

            “Tell me about him.”

            “He is the son of a rich shipbuilder in Malta.”

            “That is common speculation.”

            “When truth and speculation are one and the same, the police must content themselves with that information.”

            “But whence does he derive the title of Count?”

            “You are aware that such titles may be purchased?”

            “In Italy?”

            “Precisely.”

 

            “I have heard of the island of Monte Cristo. Is it a delightful place?” This was getting absolutely nowhere…

            “It is a rock.”

            “And why has the Count bought a rock?”

            “For the sake of being a Count. In Italy one must have land to become a count.”

            This was getting nowhere…

            “And his immense riches? From whence do they come?”

            “Ah, that I cannot tell. He has not divulged the information.”

            “Very well. What of his later life can you disclose?”

            “He entered the service as a youth, fought in the Navy I believe, and was later awarded several titles from the Pope in Rome.”

 

            “And has the Count been to Paris before?”

            “I can honestly answer, no, to your question, for he was inquiring of me the best places in which to dine, the opera, whence to lodge, five months past.”

           

            “Very well, then. One final question I present. Do you know why the Count purchased a house in Auteuil?”

            “For the sake of making it a mental institution.”

            “I am sorry for troubling you,” The envoy of the police spoke, before leaving the house.

            Dark eyes snapped in a smile before the door closed behind him.

 

End Chapter

Completed 3/8/05

Yep, boring chapter, this one…