Rendezvous In Chambery

By Paul V. Ward

How can a discovery meant to bring about good and sanctity to society bring about destruction, evil, and death? Patrick West is a very diverse individual who is bicultural, American and European. He leaves his native London for higher education in the heartland of America, the Midwest. Patrick worked very hard to become a microbiologist and is ranked third in his class at Northwestern Law School in Chicago. His experiences have led him to a discovery that could possibly have an effect on many lives, and it may cost him his own.
Three of Patrick’s closest friends have been mysteriously killed. In a race against time, authorities are baffled in explaining the trail of dead bodies stretching from the “Show Me State” of Missouri to Chicago and abroad. And the only clues available to the FBI are the victim’s relationship to Patrick and a memo that each received via e-mail.
In the fall of 1994, six of nine individuals who have crossed paths with Patrick are bound on separate flights to Chambéry, France. Among the nine individuals are Caressa Morris, his former beautiful girlfriend who’s esurient to feast on compassionate love; Paul, a Midwestern farm boy from Iowa, escaping his rural roots; Kevin, an NFL prospect; Tracy, a lioness in adversity; Dr. Jonathan Smith, a veterinarian; Eric Williams, a trailer park resident and con artist; Dr. Richard Lee, a research biochemist; Rachel, an heiress to a family fortune; and April, an intellect who takes unconventional and eccentricity to another level. Could there be a connection between these nine individuals and Patrick’s discovery? Is it a coincidence? Or could each of them be running from their own hidden haunted past?
In an era of advanced technology and e-mail, buckle your seat belt because Rendezvous in Chambéry is an intriguing first-class ticket to suspense that grabs you from page one, and it begs the question, “How can something so beautiful bring about so much evil?” Meet me, in Chambéry!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662400049

Book preview

Chapter 1

Columbia, Missouri, USA

Fall 1994

Christine Beauchamp and Marie-Louise Dubois had just returned from the Oktoberfest in Hermann, Missouri, a small German community located between Columbia and St. Louis, Missouri. They had had quite a few drinks, mostly red wine. Christine and Marie-Louise are both French. They had met at the French Round Table, an association set up by the University of Missouri-Columbia foreign language department. Marie-Louise is a graduate student in the economics department and teaches French to incoming freshmen. Christine is a postdoctoral fellow in the microbiology department.

The two had agreed to go for a nice long walk to burn off the fat calories from the Brie and bratwurst that they had eaten at the festival, but first, Christine had to check on an ongoing experiment at the laboratory. Driving back into town past Stephens College, Marie-Louise noticed a gray Chevrolet that came to a stop at the traffic light at the corner of Broadway and College.

Startled, Marie-Louise said, Did you see that? Christine, did you see it?

See what? Christine asked.

That car, that car there?

Christine responded, I see that gray car, but so what? What about it?

I saw it earlier. It looks like it’s following us, Marie-Louise said.

It was the same gray Chevrolet that she had seen driving back from Hermann.

Marie-Louise, who was driving, made a right-hand turn onto Hospital Drive and drove Christine to the side entrance of the medical science building located next to the University Medical Center. Marie-Louise decided to wait in the car since Christine had assured her that she would not be too long.

Moments later, Marie-Louise notices the same gray Chevrolet. She studied it intensely. A tall thin white man with long hair, dark eyes, and wearing a red T-shirt and a St. Louis Cardinals baseball cap, got out and walked toward her car.

Just then, she heard a soft-spoken voice. Hi, Marie-Louise, how are you?

Marie-Louise turned to find Sharda Patel, a graduate student from India, who worked in the same laboratory as Christine. Marie-Louise said she was fine while keeping one eye on the driver of the gray Chevrolet. Marie-Louise informed Sharda that she and Christine had attended the Oktoberfest and was going for a walk on the Missouri-Kansas-Texas or MKT trail, and she invited Sharda to come along.

Another time, Sharda said. I am going to sequence a gene in the laboratory. And she left and entered the medical science building to continue her research in the laboratory.

Marie-Louise kept her eye on the driver who continued toward her car. He turned at the walkway about four yards from her car and entered the building. Marie-Louise had become very suspicious of him. Her mind was occupied with his image, and she began thinking back to the beginning of their trip to Hermann. She started wondering whether she was being followed because she had seen him many times at the festival. But soon she thought she was just being silly. Why would anyone be following me? she wondered and dismissed the thought and concluded that she had been in America too long and watched too many stalker shows on television.

Marie-Louise jumped when Christine grabbed the car door handle to get in.

See, I told you I wouldn’t take a long time, Christine said.

You scared me half to death, Marie-Louise said.

What’s wrong? You look like you saw a ghost?

Marie-Louise responded, Well, you see that car there?

That gray car that sort of looks like the one we saw earlier or the other five gray cars in the lot?

Yes, Marie-Louise denoted, that one. I think he is following us. I saw him on the highway, and now he’s in the same parking lot. I think I may have seen him at the festival earlier as well.

Christine started laughing. Oh, Mary, your imagination is too much. He’s probably a student who went to the festival just like the two of us.

You’re probably right, Marie-Louise said while starting the car as the driver of the gray Chevrolet watched from a window inside the medical science building.

After they left, the driver of the gray Chevrolet drove the five minutes to his trailer home off Stadium Boulevard and Old Highway 63. He ran inside and grabbed his mountain bike and its car rack. Before leaving, he paused at the mirror and thought that the girls may have become somewhat suspicious. He shaved, change clothes, and cut his hair. As he headed out the door, he grabbed his slashing knife that was sitting in its brown leather case with the initials E. W. carved on it.

Marie-Louise and Christine arrived at the Forum Boulevard entrance of the MKT Trail, an arboretum and railway bed that had been converted to a recreation trail. It was a beautiful day with lots of sunshine and a temperature near seventy degrees. The scenery was projected by tall trees, standing strong-like soldiers in an unmoving row, and by yellow, orange, and maroon colored leaves that blanketed the ground. There was a lot of traffic on the trail—runners, bikers, couples holding hands, and the joyful playing and dancing of red squirrels, chipmunks, and other sciurids. However, Marie-Louise and Christine were oblivious to their surroundings as they spoke in their native language—French—and walked the trail.

The driver of the gray Chevrolet passed the ladies on his bike, but neither woman noticed him. He continued about two miles down the path, pausing at Scott Boulevard. He continued a little farther across Scott Boulevard to a less-traveled part of the trail, hoping that the ladies would also continue. This would be a perfect spot to get rid of them. Although he was only after one of them, he could get rid of both very easily and hide their bodies in the woods.

By the time Marie-Louise and Christine arrived at Scott Boulevard, they decided to return since it was getting late. It was only four twenty in the afternoon, but the autumn days were short, and they had a two-mile walk back. The driver of the gray Chevrolet waited for them in the woods. After forty minutes, he realized that Marie-Louise and Christine had turned around and started back. When he returned to the trail entrance, he watched them drive out of the parking lot.

Marie-Louise dropped Christine off at the laboratory again and headed home. Christine was able to get into the building because she had a key that allowed those working in the building after 5:00 p.m. on weekends to enter. She unlocked the building’s outer door, let herself in, and immediately locked the door behind her. She took the elevator to the sixth floor and walked the long quiet and dark hall to the microbiology department. It was Sunday, and there was no one around. The laboratory was quiet except for the humming of the computers, autoclave, and other laboratory machinery.

* * *

Christine turned the radio on full blast and began working on her experiments. This was the only time she could play the radio. It was not allowed during the regular hours because her boss felt that it distracted him and others. Since she was alone, Christine took full advantage of this opportunity. As she worked on her experiment, she sang and moved in rhythm to the music. She heard a noise above the music and immediately turned down the volume. Nothing. She turned the volume back up and continued working. She heard the noise for a second time, and again, she turned down the volume.

Is anyone there? she asked.

No one answered, so she continued work, but this time, the volume went back up but not as loud as before.

As she was pouring a sequencing gel, a hand touches her on the back of her shoulder, which startled her and sent the Erlenmeyer flask, which was in her hand, flying across the lab and shattering against the wall. Christine turned to find Sharda.

Christine lowered her hands from her heart and yelled, Damn you, Sharda. What the hell are you doing here? You almost gave me a heart attack!

Sharda did not know Christine was in the lab. She had been working with the autoclave in the next lab over. Sharda was wearing her headphones and hadn’t heard Christine. She has always worked wearing her headphones because her boss didn’t allow loud music either. They both clean up the shattered glass and returned to work.

Christine finally finished her experiment, waved goodbye to Sharda, and headed home.

Christine’s place was just three or four blocks away at Tara Apartments. The streets were well-lit, and many students lived in the area, and thus, it was no problem walking home this hour of the evening. Tara is a beautiful complex with a big white Southern plantation-style building in its center, which houses the complex management. Tara’s policy is not to rent to undergraduates, only to graduate students and other professionals in the community. Christine’s third-floor apartment J was in the section running parallel to the woods and facing the laundry room.

The driver of the gray Chevrolet had arrived at Tara before Christine. He was not sure what time she would get home, but he had to finish the job tonight—timing was of the essence. He hid in the laundry room and waited for Christine. He sat facing Christine’s apartment, pretending to read a magazine. After days of watching her, he knew where she lived. He knew all about her: when she got up, what time she left her home, and the route that she took to and from work.

Christine arrived at her apartment carrying her blue Coco Chanel briefcase. After locking the door behind her, she collapsed on the sofa and picked up the Pretty Woman video that she had rented from Blockbuster. She was really too tired to watch it but decided to try anyway because it was due Monday, the next day. And Richard Gere was starring in it. Christine had the biggest crush on Richard Gere. She would never forget when she saw the movie L’Officer et Galant Homme (An Officer and a Gentleman) where she fantasized about her, Richard, and going to America and finding her knight in shining armor. Tonight will be the start of it.

Christine started the shower. She always let the water run for about fifteen minutes to get the bathroom hot and steamy. As the water ran, she popped in a Miles Davis CD and poured herself a glass of red Bordeaux. Tonight was going to belong to her and Richard. Christine entered the shower and started shampooing her hair. She paused because she thought she had heard a door slam and some noise coming from her apartment. She didn’t move, just listened. The only thing she could hear was the music from the CD and the water spraying from the faucet. Seconds later, she dismissed the thought and continued showering.

* * *

E. W. were the initials of Eric Williams, a con artist, and hit man. He had lived all over the United States. He had lots of money, most of it in a Swiss bank account, but Eric lived in trailer parks to camouflage his profession. He had been raised in a trailer park in a small town in Alabama. His father was an alcoholic who abused both Eric and his mother. His mother was uneducated, dirty, and poor. Eric became associated with crime early on because there was no other work around, and he liked the quick and easy money.

That night, Eric meticulously worked his way out of the laundry room and into Christine’s apartment. He heard the shower running and saw the glass of wine sitting alongside the video. He heard a knock at the door and hid in the closet. No one came in, and the knocking had ceased. While waiting in the closet, Eric planned his attack. After that, he stood listening and thinking how horrible it would be to kill such a beautiful person. He had always fantasized about being with a European, especially a French woman. He recalled hearing French spoken by Marie-Louise and Christine and how beautiful it sounded even though he did not understand it. He could feel his penis getting hard from thinking about it, and he wondered if his attack would include rape. After all, she was going to die, so why shouldn’t he? Just then, the shower shut off, and he became very quiet. He gave up the idea of having sex with her just as quickly as it came. He would grab Christine by the neck when she walked by the closet. Like a spider that had spun its web while waiting for its prey to fall in, Eric eased the doorknob around and waited for Christine to fall into his trap. Christine opened the door to the bathroom and walked out in her robe. Then there was a tap at the door.

Damn! Eric said to himself.

* * *

Christine wondered who could be calling on her at this time of the evening. She was not expecting anyone. She went to the door, looked through the peephole, and saw April, her neighbor. As she reached down to open the door, she noticed the door wasn’t locked, which puzzled her briefly. April came in and asked Christine if she could borrow a screwdriver to hang a picture. Christine walked into the kitchen, opened the drawer, and grabbed the screwdriver. As Christine walked over to hand April the screwdriver, April asked Christine where her guest was. Christine told April that she had no idea what April was talking about. April said that a handsome tall man came by a few minutes ago. She was sitting at her window when he passed by. She also told Christine that she had come by earlier, and no one answered. Christine said that she had been in the shower and didn’t hear her knocking. Eric was getting very nervous. He was ready to jump out to make a quick hit on both of them.

April had seen the door close behind Eric as he entered Christine’s apartment. She did not mention this to Christine because it dawned on her that Christine was in her robe, that there was a bottle of wine out, and that the door to her bedroom was closed. April figured that Christine had a man in her room and was too timid to talk about the situation now and that she was getting in the way. April responded with a sly smile saying, Maybe I just didn’t see him when he left.

Yes, maybe, Christine said annoyingly.

April decided she should go and let Christine return to her business. She said goodbye and told Christine she would return the screwdriver tomorrow. Eric breathed a sigh of relief.

Christine let April out, and as she locked the door, she again became puzzled: first, there was the unlocked door that she knew she had locked; and second, this mysterious man that April claimed to have seen. Who could have come by? she wondered.

At that moment, the phone rang. It was Tina, a French friend that Christine met through the French Round Table. Christine spoke with her on the cordless phone as she prepared for her evening with Richard Gere by pulling the blinds, closing the curtains, and setting the VCR. Christine spoke in French, and again, this turned Eric on. He had never been with a classy woman and usually kept to the trailer park community, strippers, and paid prostitutes. He imagined sexing Christine, especially since she was French, very attractive, well-dressed, intelligent, wore Chanel No. 5 perfume, shopped at boutiques, and spent time in those fancy places for doing nails. And when she spoke English, she spoke it with a sexy French accent. The girls he had been with were trashy, spoke English with a drawl, wore cheap perfume, and shopped at Walmart. Eric had longed for a woman like Christine.

Christine ended her conversation with Tina and sat down on the sofa with her back to the closet Eric was hiding in. She pushed the play button on the VCR remote control and began watching the movie.

* * *

Eric waited twenty minutes before he made his move. His foot had hit the framework of the door, but it was not a loud noise, and Christine was impervious to the sound because she was concentrating on the movie. Eric eased his way up behind her and grabbed her mouth to muffle the sound, placing the knife against her throat. Christine’s face was white, with a look of fright, and she was literally scared to death. Eric whispered to her not to make a noise, or else he would kill her. Christine did not make a move. He kept his hand over her mouth and the knife at her throat. He asked her if she understood, and she nodded. He moved his hand down slowly, then down her chin and down her neck. As he looks down, he saw portions of her breasts. He ran his finger down her cleavage and pulled back the robe to expose her full-rounded breasts, accentuated by hot pink nipples. His breathing became heavy as he reveled in her scent.

He again thought about making love to her since his penis was fully erect. He loved the look of fright on her face and the fact that he was in total control. Tears trickled down Christine’s face and splashed one by one onto his hand. He caressed her breast and started massaging them. He whispered to her to say his name, Eric.

Air-reek…Air-reek, she said softly and pronouncing it in French.

Eric was turned on as never before. He never thought that his name could sound so sweet, so charismatic, and so sexy.

Again, he whispered.

Air-reek…Air-reek, she said, turning him on more and more.

Eric noticed that Christine’s face was now flush with red. He never had to force someone to have sex with him before, but he had never met anyone quite like Christine. He knew that he could get any trailer park gal or whore that he wanted, but a woman like this would not give him the time of the day. Eric knew that this could not go on much further. He asked Christine to close her eyes. He started nibbling on her ears and licking them with the tip of his tongue. Her tears came down more rapidly. Christine briefly opened her eyes, and Eric asked her to keep them closed. He whispered in her ears and told her how beautiful she was.

Christine then felt a sharp pain in her neck. It was Eric slashing her throat with his knife. He laid her limp body down on the sofa and watched the blood rush out as she lay numbed. He put his arm around her, kissed her on the cheek, and whispered into her ear how beautiful she was and apologized for his actions.

Chapter 2

Berkshire, England

Spring 1988

Patrick West, Robert Bayer, Wolfgang Muller, and Samuel Cook had just finished their singles tennis matches—Austrian versus Britons—and it came down to a deciding doubles match. Robert had beaten Samuel 7–6 (7–4), 4–6, 9–7 in a three-set thriller in which their contrasting styles made for a very interesting battle. Sam, an Englishman from Cambridge, was your classical serve-and-volleyer, and Robert, a typical clay court baseliner.

Robert and Wolfgang, Austrians from the beautiful city of Salzburg, grew up playing tennis on red clay courts. They hit the ball with heavy topspin, keeping their opponents pinned eight to ten feet behind the baseline.

Patrick, who has three citizenships—British, French, and American—and Samuel represented Britain. Their tennis was made for the fast grass courts of their country. They employ hard serves followed by penetrating volleys at the net on every opportunity.

On grass, Samuel would have no trouble beating Robert, but this spring was unusually warm. The worn grass courts were mostly dirt. When coupled with the hot weather, the bounce of the ball and the court played more like that of slow red clay, which helped Robert. Also, they had played so many times that Robert was getting used to Samuel’s style of play as well as the surface.

Wolfgang, on the other hand, had never adapted to grass. He hated the surface, saying it was for cattle and sheep. Wolfgang was not the athlete that Robert or Patrick was but had a dangerous backhand. Patrick knew this because they had played many times before. He was not worried because he knew that Wolfgang just didn’t know how to play on grass. There was always a sense of doom in Wolfgang’s grass court matches, much like watching Ivan Lendl play on grass. Patrick had no problem beating Wolfgang 6–2, 6–1.

Sam and Patrick won the doubles match easily, 6–2, 6–2, no big surprise and no hard feelings. They enjoy playing with each other, and they knew that the tables would be reversed when they next met on clay later that summer in Salzburg.

The four returned to their rooms at Eton College, a boarding school in Berkshire founded in 1440 by King Henry VI and located in Southern England. Robert and Wolfgang were returning to Salzburg in a couple of days. Samuel was leaving with them to spend his summer vacation in Austria, Czechoslovakia, and Hungary. Patrick had spent last summer with the Austrians, and he also had visited Czechoslovakia and Hungary. This summer would be different because it would be Patrick’s last time spending time with his mates from Eton. This was his last year at the boarding school because he was returning to the States to finish his fourth year in secondary education. He would be a senior in high school, and he would miss his good friends. After six years of studying, hanging out at the fish and chips pubs, chasing girls, and playing tennis with them, things would be very different. These guys were more than his best mates; they were his brothers.

Patrick had packed, said his farewells to his friends, and set out to the train station for his short trip to London. It was Saturday morning, and he had to take the earliest train because he was spending the day with his aunt, Mary Smith, in Bayswater, a section of London across from Hyde Park. He took the early train because his aunt was quite precise about teatime. Patrick visited her quite often on the weekends, and he knew never to be late for four o’clock tea.

Patrick arrived at Victoria Station just after 1:00 p.m. Generally, he would take the underground, London’s subway system, but this time, he went by taxi because he had several pieces of luggage. He arrived shortly before 2:00 p.m. at Aunt Mary’s Georgian style house, which faced Bayswater Road. Aunt Mary’s flat was in the back. To get there, one passed through the front entrance, through a hallway, and through a back door that emptied into a courtyard with a beautiful garden and atrium. Aunt Mary lives just across from the atrium. A window from her bedroom faced the garden and the exit to the front entrance of the complex. When Patrick arrived, he looked up and saw Aunt Mary looking down from the window waiting for him, just as she always had over the years. He always took the same train, so she knew that he would be arriving soon.

Patrick waved to her as he struggled to carry all his luggage through the corridor. She smiled and waved back, but Patrick could tell that something was wrong. His suspicions were confirmed when he entered her flat because her eyes were flushed with red. Patrick kissed her as always. First, his right cheek to her right cheek and then his left cheek to hers. He could tell that she had been crying. He asked if anything was wrong, and of course, she pretended as if nothing was wrong. A few minutes later, she gave in and confessed that she was sad that Patrick was leaving. He had always been Mary’s favorite, she had no children, and her husband had died twelve years ago of cancer. Her only living relative was her sister Barbara, Patrick’s mother, who