“I am Bitorez Dupont. I'm here on the offer of Mr. Gibson Jeph a week ago. It won't take long, I just need a signature on the acknowledgment sheet." Mr. Cake vocal cords was made heavy, his eyes stared back as sharp as a butcher's knife.
The door was widen, they stared at each other for a moment.
“I'm sorry, but haven't you heard that Mr. Jeph two days ago had a plane crash?” The bearded man tried to answer kindly, but his voice was still a little rough.
"It is unavoidable, I just heard the news," replied Mr. Cake put a little empathy.
“That's how it is, even the family is in the mood for a funeral procession. Can you postpone the arrival for the next three days?”
Mr. Cake eyes stared at Egremont for a moment, their nod making me worry that they were taking this action further.
“Obviously it can't be! We live by business, not friendship! The most important thing today is to get the signature immediately, or the authorities take care of it!” Mr. Cake snapped looks like a deb collector.
The jolt somewhat made them both flinch back.
“W-well, then please come in first.” The fifty year old aunt finally let us in.
The living room is spacious on a wooden-like footing. There is a circular staircase leading up to the fireplace. We sat in front of the fire, the soft red velvet sofa. While the man was still standing even though it was a bit forced, his legs were shaking a bit.
“Please wait a moment, Mr. Dupont. Mrs. Innamorati is preparing something. She will also contact the family regarding this matter. In the meantime, is there anything I can help you with?”
"Who are you?"
He puffed out his chest before bowing. “Ben Savoy, Mr. Jeph the and only chaffeur."
Again, even though he tried to be friendly, his hoarse voice resembled an uncomfortable friction. If he was used to receiving guests like this, Mr. Jeph pays more attention to his appearance style.
Mrs. Innamorati came with tea and two jars of biscuits. Her hands seemed to be shaking so much that I wanted to help her, but I refused to do so. This is the second point I'm not comfortable here.
"Mr. Savoy, straighten this out ASAP because time is our master! Tell me, how long do we have to wait?” Mr. Cake mouth lifted with a growl.
Sweat began to drip from his forehead, he briefly invited Mrs. Innamorati to the back. Luckily Mr. Cake, randomly acting out his imaginary role as Bitorez Dupont, agreed.
"Hey, what's this about, Hon?" I whispered.
“Just follow this Monkey. I don't understand one hundred percent either, Feline!” Egremont shrugged his shoulders.
Seen from the kitchen, we heard the voice of Mr. Savoy gave a short snap. If I'm not mistaken he sounded like asking to find a name.
Mr. Cake turned to me. “After this you have to think of a name. Use a calm, friendly, and submissive character. You're Serena's friend, got it?”
Haven't had time to agree, Mr. Savoy who had just snapped earlier came back in front of us. Both eyebrows of Mr. Cake rose to stare at him mercilessly.
"Sorry for the commotion earlier. By the way, we were just informed that the office will immediately conduct a check based on the appointment time. To make it easier, can you provide details Mr. Dupont."
His nod towards Egremont as if they were a gang of mutual consent, then Mr. Cake picked up his cell phone to walk out the door, as if he was busy receiving calls from important people.
“We represent the Tussaud de Consortium, the financial union behind the scenes, financing almost all the hotels, inns, hospitals and restaurants in France. Mr. Gibson Jeph made an interesting offer about Colombe Parcel, namely the right to grant control of the board of directors as an initial trial. For some reason, through Mr. Dupont as an opening, Owner Tussaud has purchased a twenty percent stake. Our presence is to ask for the legality of legalization of something we have paid for." Egremont quotes from his cell phone.
Egremont's words seemed so convincing that even I doubt she herself understood the nonsense. But to my surprise, the man nodded in understanding and began to lose his nervousness.
"Then this one lady?"
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Regine Tussaud, daughter of the leader of the Tussaud de Consortium. I'm here for another purpose. Where's Serena?"
Ben Savoy's hand wiped the sweat off his forehead, as if my light question was weighing him down too much.
“A-ah, Miss Serena, with the family in the process of arranging a funeral in Scotland. Of course we will join the funeral procession tomorrow," he added. "In the meantime, we are taking care of the rest, conveying Mr. Jeph when a business partner collects an appointment."
For some reason they looked more restless and nervous.
"You two don't sit down?" I turned to Mr. Savoy and Mrs. Innamorati.
“A-ah, we were told Mr. Jeph to act like this," added the woman in the white apron. “I will inform Miss Serena of the arrival of Miss Regine Tussaud. Meanwhile, aren't you all thirsty?"
Well¸ they have a point. There is no food that is not entitled to be eaten, especially when it has been bothered to serve it.
“Fine, then…” My hand that was about to reach the glass was lightly slapped by Egremont.
“Sorry, Miss Tussaud took some medicine a few hours ago. Tea can decrease the effectiveness of the medicine, it will take longer for her to heal.”
I don't understand what kind of nonsense Egremont is saying. In fact I don't understand what medicine and disease this friend of mine is referring to. I mean we just wasted their good manners, right? Moreover, Mr. Cake that from the start was fierce like a piranha. “You yourself, Miss…?” Mrs. Innamorati offers.
"Perigord, I'll take it myself later."
Ten minutes had passed, Egremont handled the conversation with the two. While Mr. Cake, making out with his cell phone. His voice was faint, but serious. Meanwhile, I wandered around for a while. It's just that every time I take a step, several other eyeballs stare warily at me, giving me goosebumps. Especially when I went up the stairs, without any wind passing, the door was slightly ajar. I decided to go down after that.
“So how is it? We have to receive the signature immediately?” protested Egremont, glancing at his watch.
"Th-that's why, miss-"
Mr. Cake came back.
"We don't have time, just use it that way." Mr. Cake looked at Egremont for a moment, then handed them a piece of paper. “Don't get me wrong, the situation is suffocating us. Please make a signature."
I just felt sorry for those two when Mr. Cake urged them.
“B-but Mr. Dupont, isn't this a forgery? Mrs. Innamorati reasoned.
His feet kicked the table. “Shut up! All legal when cornered! Nothing is clean in this world, not even your master, Mr Jeph!”
Mr. Cake managed to make the whole house soften. His actions did not stop there, his face glared at Mr. Savoy.
“Listen, this is just a signature while our obligations are paid off. We deserve the right, hm?” Mr. Cake thrust a pen from his black coat pocket.
“Y-yeah, we understand.” Mr. Savoy hand followed Mr. Cake with shaking.
I think we have overdone something. Even I feel right now those eyeballs are sharpening looking at us. Either because we overdo it, or indeed this house is a bit haunted.
After that, Mrs. Innamorati did the same. The next stage was for the two of them to be photographed by Egremont.
“We sent this photo to Colombe Parcel's head office in the city of Canterbury as evidence of two parties. In the future we will ask for a re-signature for renewal. While we are receiving these signatures,” Egremont folded the paper that had been signed by them. "Or do you prefer to wait for them to check?"
"Eh? N-no need! We can't prolong you. Right, Mr Savoy?” Mrs. Innamorati straightened, looking at his partner.
“Y-yeah, that's right!”
After that we got out and went to the car. Mr. Cake before opening the car door, he said something.
"Mr. Savoy, this reminds me a bit. Did you feel like sending a letter today?”
“Oh, n-no! By message Mr. Jeph yesterday that I was only ordered to guard the house and as a messenger that he was in France if anyone was looking for him. But something unexpected happened. Well, that's more or less."
"Hm..." added Mr. Cake is a bit slow. "Frankly, I don't like Mr. jeph. We never like sneaky people. He even boasted that he kept his packages of wealth under his bed, in the corner of the kitchen shelf, and in his wife's cupboard. A strange package for strange people."
Mr. Cake opened the car door, and we went even faster. A handkerchief was taken from his coat, wiping the sweat that was like drizzle falling on his forehead.
“Phew…,” he added after heaving a sigh of relief. "Time to get some ice cream."
Hearing that increased our blood stimulants, but it also gave us a trace of wonder.
"Let's explain that later, shouldn't we hurry to Portpatrick now?" I asked him, while Egremont looking in the rearview mirror.
"No need, someone else has done the homework for us."
***
ns 172.70.130.70da2