Actor Oder Fehr is the perfect rendition of how I visualized Maurice. |
Excerpt from The Coin:
Maurice popped his head out the car window, the usual
cigarette snuggled between his lips. “Reception committee. Must be real
urgent.”
“Maybe,” Richard replied and opened the door.
Maurice reached over and retrieved a long envelope from the
floor of the passenger seat. “I’ve brought you more info,” he said, closing the
car door as he got out. “It’s a geological report of the region and anything
else the computer could dish out as far as construction permits, new zoning
laws, or strange events which might have taken place within this area during
the past five or six years.”
Richard smiled. This man was worth more than his weight in
gold. “Anything worth looking at?”
“I think not.” Maurice scratched his head. “Only events that
stand out were a landslide about a year ago, several fires that ravaged the
region two years before, and the new prison. Nothing else.”
“Save them for my return. I don’t think this expedition will
take very long. Anything else?”
“The car’s ready. You can swap it for yours when you bring
Madame to my office tomorrow.” At Richard’s arched eyebrow, his smile turned
cheeky. “The photos of the area will be ready and on my desk by nine tomorrow. You
can save me a trip.”
Richard chuckled. “We’ll be there. I’ve got some samples for
your boys to analyze. My suspicion is you’ll draw a zero, but anything is worth
a try at this stage of the game.”
“D’accord,”
Maurice said. “The keys are in the ignition. Good hunting.”
Richard refused the offer with a slight shake of his head. “I’ll
be less conspicuous using the other car. And, Maurice, wait for me outside. I
don’t want Gabriela to suspect I’m gone.”
Maurice shrugged. “As you wish. Where do I camp out?”
“The terrace is your best bet. The rose arbor is nice, but
the seat is hard. No cushions.”
“And no female companionship to keep these old bones
comfortable. The terrace it is.” Maurice inhaled deeply from his cigarette.
“Sorry. No wine, either.”
“Buf.” Maurice
exhaled, the stream of smoke floating effortlessly in the still air. “Without
female company, wine would be wasted.” He finished his cigarette and ground it
meticulously into the ground. “If we only knew what we were looking for.” He
shrugged.
“I know. Do you have anything by way of gloves in your car?”
Maurice reached through the open window into the glove
compartment. “Here,” he said, handing Richard gloves and a tiny flashlight. “Don’t
stain them. They’re Italian leather.”
Richard laughed low. “My hunting is not of a violent nature
tonight. It’s more information gathering.”
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