SINS of the FATHER Read online

  He checked his billfold and found everything in place. All his credit cards and even his money was all there. Amazing. This time he put the wallet in his front pocket. He needed to find a hotel and devise a plan of action. Not knowing exactly where he was he just started walking. A few blocks later he found a small street named Rue Lecluse and saw a hotel sign. While the outside wasn’t fancy, when he stepped inside he was pleasantly surprised to find how nice it was. The lobby was small but the young man behind the desk immediately determined he was an American and began speaking English.

  “Welcome to the Hotel Beausejour Montmartre, how may I help you?”

  “You speak English.”

  “A little,” the light skinned man with a thin mustache replied.

  A little, Alan thought. He speaks it better than half the people in America.

  “Is it possible to get a room?”

  The man quickly went about checking and said, “We have a couple checking out today so. How many nights?”

  “I don’t really know. I haven’t made any real plans yet. This was just a spur of the moment trip,” Alan informed him.

  “Spur of the moment? I’m not sure what that is.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t make any plans in advance.”

  “I see,” was all he said with a slight smile.

  Okay. Another person that had officially joined the Alan is ‘Dumber than a Box of Rocks Club ‘.”

  “Passport and credit card please.”

  Alan gave him his Passport and his American Express Card, holding his breath.

  The man made a photocopy of his passport and handed him a room key.

  “You are in room 24, it overlooks the pleasant garden area. I have left your departure day open at this point,” the young man said.

  “Thank you. You have been very helpful,” Alan replied.

  “My pleasure.”

  Wow, Alan thought, now there is a person who understands what customer service is all about. His room was on the second floor and when he opened the window he could look right down on a lovely garden area with tables and chairs. Couples sat drinking wine and nibbling on cheese and bread. The receptionist had been right, it was pleasant to say the least.

  He flopped down on the bed and closed his eyes. He needed to decide what the hell he was really doing here. Chasing ghosts? Hoping to uncover what had happened almost 70 years ago?

  When he woke he was startled. He had not intended to drift off. His body clock just decided for him. He went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He went down to the lobby and saw a small restaurant off to the side. He really wanted to walk around Paris some but a young waitress asked if he would like something to eat or drink. Why not, he decided.

  “Would you like in or out.”

  “Outside, would be nice.”

  She led him to a table in the garden and gave him a menu. Of course it was in French so he had no real idea what it was saying except for a few words that sort of made sense to him.

  “You order now?” she said after a few minutes.

  “What is this?” Alan said pointing.

  “Bread, cheese, ham and tomatoes”

  “A sandwich?”

  “Oui.”

  “Great. I’ll have that.”

  “You drink?”

  “Uh, Diet Coke if you have it,”

  “Coke Light?”

  “Sure.”

  That seemed to do the trick because she disappeared back inside. Alan sat and looked around. There were two or three other couples sitting at tables and talking softly. It made him realize doing everything on your own wasn’t particularly appealing. The young woman brought his Coke Light and sandwich a few minutes later and he ate, thinking again about what he was really doing here.

  The sandwich was excellent. Something about the ham was different than in the US. It was a lot more flavorful and the cheese and bread were delicious. The Coke Light however, wasn’t much to brag about. It tasted more like Pepsi, which he didn't care for.

  After paying he went out and walked down the street, just looking in shops. It seemed like every other place was a restaurant and they all seemed to be full of people. He did stumble on a place that sold papers and after looking found a detailed map of Paris. He also picked up one for all of France.

  A plan of sorts was forming but he still didn’t know exactly what he was going to do. He went back to the hotel and got out his grandfather’s diary and unfolded the French map. What was hidden in this thing he wondered as he read the last few pages again. It was someplace in these pages, but where?

  The next morning he went out to a sidewalk café and had a breakfast of eggs, bacon, cheese, and bread. Of course jam and butter was automatically included. When he was done he decided to do what everyone else seemed to be doing, just walking along and window shopping. When he came to a Magsin d’Électronique store he saw a display of portable GPS devices. He decided that it could come in handy at some point even if he just used it to get back to the hotel. After thirty minutes of high school French and the limited English the shopkeeper knew, he settled on one that he could put in both the French names and the GPS coordinates.

  It was while the shopkeeper was showing him how to put in not only names and streets but the longitude and latitude that it dawned on him that this could be what the numbers he had found in the diary represented. He didn’t have the paper with him but he was excited at the possibility. He had the shopkeeper program where his hotel was so he could get back and check out his theory. It was a good thing he did, because he was sure his hotel was in the other direction when he exited the store.

  **

  He had put in the two sets of numbers at least a dozen times and nothing made sense. He should be getting a specific location but instead he essentially got nothing that was comprehensible. The manual was of no value either, even the part in English. He was onto something, but what? He dug through the diary and realized that Calais was underlined. So what? Using the GPS he typed in Calais, France and in a few seconds it gave him the route and directions. That’s when he noticed the longitude and latitude 50-57’ 01.68” by 1-51’36.29”. It wasn’t exactly the same but it was darned close. What he really needed was a laptop computer that he could put Google Earth in so he could pinpoint the location.

  He made a quick trip back to the electronics store and bought a laptop that was running Windows 8. He stopped at a small café and ordered a beer and a plate of cheese, meat and bread and played with the computer until he felt he was competent with the new Windows OS. He couldn’t go online so after finishing he went back to the hotel where they had WiFi. He got the password from the desk attendant and logged on. He downloaded Google, Google Earth, Map of France and several other items. He logged on to American Express and told them he was in France and would need his card. He did the same with MasterCard and Visa.

  Once he finished, he arranged to pick up a car the next day at the Gare du Nord. He could take the train to Calais but he would still need a way to get around. He packed and climbed into bed. He wanted to get an early start in the morning.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The next morning when he checked out the sky was overcast and spitting rain. The man at the desk assured him that by noon it would be warm and sunny. Lugging his suitcase he took the Metro back to the train station and got directions to the car rental agency. Twenty minutes later he was putting his suitcase in the back of a Volkswagen Polo Diesel.

  He plugged in the GPS and headed for Calais. It was partly freeway and partly toll road. Why the difference never made sense to him but then he imagined they didn’t particularly care what he thought. He finally arrived in Calais at 1:15 p.m. Okay, now what he thought. Hotel. Another base of operations. He called up hotels on the GPS and found a ton of them. Without much thought, he selected Le Cercle De Malines, at 12 Rue De Malines.

  A quaint, nicely preserved bed and breakfast is what it turned out to be. The owners were there and greeted him as if he had been a lo
ng time customer. They spoke very good English and showed him around the place. It was spotlessly clean and well maintained. They showed him to his room and he settled in. Connecting to the WiFi he called up Google Earth. His goal was to locate the coordinates he had found tucked inside the diary.

  It took him some time to find the place but at last he located it. The longitude and latitude were located at a place 5.5 kilometers outside Calais in a small town called Nielles-lès-Calais. It took him a great deal of effort but he finally located the position. By zooming in he found that it was a small cemetery just on the edge of the village. The significance certainly eluded him. He plugged in the village information and drove out to Nielles-lès-Calais.

  He drove right through it until he realized that it was even smaller than he had anticipated. He turned around and headed back, slowly, looking for the grave site. Just at the last second he saw a metal archway with Cimetière. He assumed that meant cemetery. He pulled over to the side of the road and walked back a few yards and through the gate. There were just a handfull of crypts and a few crosses. It certainly was an fancy place. He looked at the first vault and the dates were 1801-1857.

  This place was really old. He walked up and down the rows. Okay, he thought, I’m here. Am I missing something? Why were these coordinates hidden if they didn’t mean anything? He was missing some piece of the puzzle.

  Finally the light bulb went off and he started looking closer. One cross had: 49-1622-66 and the one next to it had: 04-258-39. Certainly not dates but another set of coordinates. Where was all this leading to? He wrote the numbers down and walked back to his car. He was suddenly startled.

  “Can I help you,” a man about his age asked suddenly stepping out from behind a house.

  “Uh. Well, Not really. I just saw this old cemetery and wondered how far back some of the people buried here went,” Alan replied.

  “I see. You are an American.”

  “That would be true. You speak English very well. I can’t really place the accent, not French exactly.”

  “Very good. No I am not French. I’m from Austria.”

  “Ah. Well, Like I said I was just looking around,” Alan said starting to walk on.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Looking for?” Alan asked, turning.

  Alan realized the man was well built. He had a long scar on his right cheek that ran from his ear to his chin. His clothes were of good quality but not expensive. He was just about the same height as Alan at six-one. What the hell is this all about Alan thought.

  “Yes. I noticed you were studying two of the crosses and made some notes.”

  “Really? And why does that interest you?” Alan asked, starting to sense a threat.

  “I was simply wondering if I could be of help. My parents are buried here.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss but no, I was just making some notes for a book I might write.”

  “Ah,” was all he said.

  “Well, I’m off. What is it you say?” Alan asked.

  “Bonjour.”

  “Right. Bonjour.”

  Alan walked to his car feeling very tense but nothing happened. As he drove off he looked back and saw the man walking back towards the two crosses. Maybe those were his parents but he didn’t think so.

  He was starved by the time he got back to the small bed and breakfast. They had a restaurant on site so he decided to eat right there. The food was wonderful and the bread was unbelievable.

  “You like the bread,” the owner’s wife asked after he had polished off the entire basket full.

  “It’s fantastic. The flavor is wonderful.”

  “I am glad you like it. My husband owns the bakery that makes the bread.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. I owned the house, he owned the bakery. Now we are married and this works very well for us.”

  “Boy, I’ll say. Great food and a beautiful place. You have really done well.”

  “Thank you. You are very kind,” she said and went to get more rolls.

  He was full but couldn’t resist eating just a few more. He put a couple in his pocket to take up to the room and munch on while he was making his next day’s plans. That night he worked on finding the coordinate location. Again it took a lot more time than he thought it would. If it hadn’t been for his military training he would have been totally lost.

  **

  When he came down for breakfast the next morning his mouth fell open. The woman that he had seen at the airport at JFK was sitting at one of the tables outside on the patio. It was surreal. He kept looking at her through the window but she was busy drinking tea from the looks of it and reading a paper.

  “Ah, good morning. Did you sleep well?” the wife asked.

  “Excellent.”

  “You are ready for breakfast, oui?”

  “Yes, uh..oui.”

  “How would you like your eggs? You can help yourself to the other food,” she told him.

  “Can I get an omelet?” Alan asked.

  “Omelette? Certainly,” she said and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Alan wasn’t sure what to do. He decided to act casual, get his plate and fill it and then go sit outside. She never looked up when he sat down a few tables away. He fixed his tea and started in on the rolls and jam. They were absolutely delicious. A few minutes later the wife brought out his omelet and another basket of rolls. He was a little embarrassed for being such a glutton.

  He ate his omelet which had been made from the fresh eggs they gathered right there on the property. Everything tasted fresh, he thought. Even the cheese was better. He finished and made a second cup of tea. He watched the woman out of his peripheral vision but she was reading the entire time. Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer. He stood up and walked over to her table.

  “Excuse me,” Alan said.

  She lowered the paper and looked up at him. She put her hand up to shade her eyes.

  “Yes?”

  “Weren’t you at the JKF airport on the flight to Paris?”

  “Well, I’m here. I must have taken a flight. So I guess, yes I left for Paris from JFK, why?” she asked.

  “It is just so strange. We were on the same flight. You told me to check my bags outside at JFK to get through the lines faster.”

  “Oh. Yes, I remember now. You were in the wrong line.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Now I see why you are taken aback. I guess now that you mention it, I’m fairly shocked as well. How did you end up here at this bed and breakfast,” she asked.

  “Pure chance. I was coming to Calais and just pretty much picked one at random.”

  “Really? What an interesting way to travel.”

  “If you don’t mind how did you end up at this place?” Alan asked.

  “Internet. I always check out places before I stay. I like small, quaint out of the way places. Big hotels are all the same. But this,” she said, sweeping her hand around, “You don’t find every day. The food is wonderful, the owners are gracious, and the scenery is beautiful,” she replied.

  “I can’t argue with that. I just didn’t go about it quite as scientifically,” he told her, “Oh, by the way, I’m Alan Lang,” he said extending his hand.

  “Alan, I’m Katharine Gerber. I go by Kate actually,” she told him and gave him a firm hand shake in return.

  “So are you just visiting or what?”

  “Actually I am just exploring. I have no set agenda. I did this in Ireland and really liked having no itinerary,” Kate told him.

  “Wow. And you are doing this alone?”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I just assumed you would be with someone,” Alan stammered.

  Oh smooth Alan. A real debonair guy, he thought.

  “Do you think it odd that a woman would travel alone? Is there some rule I don’t know about?” she asked.

  “No. No. Nothing like that. I just meant...well, you are so…�
�

  “Go on, I won’t bite.”

  “So beautiful,” he finally got out.

  “Oh. Well, that’s not what I thought you were going to say but that is very nice of you. No, my sister is beautiful. I am pretty ordinary.”

  “Sorry, but I have to totally disagree on that point,” Alan said.

  “That is very sweet of you Alan.”

  “Just telling it like it is,” Alan replied feeling his face flushed.

  “I do believe you’re blushing?” she said smiling.

  “Maybe a little.”

  “Are you with your wife?”

  “No. I’m not married. No significant other as they say.”

  “And not gay.”

  “And definitely not gay.”

  “And yet you are alone as well,” Kate said.

  “So it would seem.”

  They talked for another hour before she finally said she needed to pack.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Kate was in the parking lot when Alan wheeled his suitcase out. She had on jeans and a colorful top and looked absolutely stunning.

  “Taking off?” he asked as he opened the trunk of his Volkswagen.

  “I am. Where are you headed today?” she asked, closing her car trunk.

  “Bayeux,” Alan answered.

  “No way.”

  “Why? Don’t tell me you are going there,” he said stopping in his tracks.

  “My brother lives in Bayeux. I promised I would stop in and see him for a few minutes. He will try to get me to stay and there is no way I am going to do that. His kids are total brats and run out of control. I don’t think much of his wife either. She has never liked me, truth be told.”

  “This is unreal. Like it was some sort of plan,” Alan said.

  “If it is, I wasn’t informed of it, how about you?”

  “Nope. I didn’t decide to go until last night after I did some research.”

  “Research? On Bayeux?” Kate asked.

  “Yes. They have an American Cemetery there from World War Two.”

  “Ah, yes. I’ve been to it. My brother took me there on my last visit.”