Trafford Publishing: Shadows on the Seine: Paris 1952

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Shadows on the Seine: Paris 1952

by Edward Michel-Bird

453 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #01-0574; ISBN 1-55369-172-5; US$27.00, C$31.00, EUR22.00, £15.50

A family saga: M. Latille, multi-millionaire and CEO of the family business, dies plunging his young mistress (and their love child) into a desperate situation. The family conspires to "wipe the family name clean" by intimidation, blackmail and attempted murder.

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About the Book

The background is post WW II Paris in 1952. After the humiliating German Occupation, the great city still struggles to reclaim its title as the City of Light. The sudden death of Monsieur Latille, multi-millionaire and CEO of a large, family-owned pharmaceutical company, plunges his wife and son into a clash of wills, and his young mistress, Geneviéve (and her lovechild) into a desperate situation.
Selfish and flirtatious Madame Latille, and her son, Anatole, and eccentric ex-seminarian, turn their backs on Geneviéve and conspire to "wipe the family slate clean". They refuse to respect the provisions M. Latille had provided for her and his child.
Just before his fatal heart attack, M. Latille receives a coded message from his old friend, Amédée, warning him that his life is in danger. Edward, a young Canadian Professor on sabbatical, (and bearer of the message) quickly takes stock of the situation. He is attracted to the young widow and allies himself with her cause. He helps the old gentleman escape from his Mansion prison and reunites him with Geneviéve and their lawyer, Chevalier.
After a violent confrontation with the young widow, Madame Latille softens her attitude, when she learns that Geneviéve is privy to certain unsavory documents concerning her past. Anatole, her unstable son, remains adamant. He is horrified when he meets his father's 13 year old lovechild for the first time: the boy is the spitting image of his tall handsome father and bears his name, Jean-Claude! Anatole is livid. His reilgious fantasies on morality turn his jealousy into vengeance. He is determined to wipe out both mother and child and ultimately conspires to do so through his contacts with the Mafia.
For Anatole, the last straw comes when his mother arranges for Jules, her artist and "escort", to move into the family Mansion, and finances his entry into an international portrait contest, using the handsome boy as his model. The thought of his father's bastard hanging in the national gallery for all to see reduces him to blind rage. When his attempts to destroy the painting fail, he hires a hit-man to do the job with explosives. Geneviéve risks her life to save her dear friend, Edward. All of which brings about a chilling but startling dénouement.

About the Author

After the author completed his B.A. at the University of British Columbia, Vancouver, B.C. he went to Paris to complete his education and lived there for ten years. He was awarded a Canada Council Grant and earned his Doctorate at the Sorbonne. As a student he held the post of English assistant and taught in the high-schools of Paris for three years.
Later he was appointed Professor for three years at the Ecole des Traducteurs et Interpretes under the aegis of the University of Paris. Then, after his marriage, he returned to U.B.C., Vancouver, Canada, to accept an appointment in the Department of French.
He has published a number of articles, three textbooks, co-authored a fourth with his wife, and three novels, Shadows on the Seine: Paris 1952, Diamonds from the Dark Side, and Echoes From the Past. Other Voices, Other Climes (A collection of Ten Unique Stories) is also available.
The author now resides in West Vancouver, B.C.

Excerpt

    Paris, 1952: Anatole was making a good recovery after his attempted suicide. Although he felt weak and short of breath, he had lost none of his zeal "to wipe the family slate clean."
    At 8 o'clock that same evening the Aiglon, Anatole's hit-man, paid him another visit. Diane, the night nurse, protested, but Anatole shouted back that he'd slept most of the day, was bored to death, and needed someone to talk to. "Very well," she snapped as he moved from the bed to an armchair, "fifteen minutes and not a second longer!"
    The nurse left in a huff leaving the door ajar. The Aiglon closed it quietly, saying, "Where did you find that dragoness?"
    "One of my mother's discoveries. Please sit down and let's finish our discussion."
    "Who is that fellow who interrupted us earlier today? Asked the Aiglon. "He always turns up at the wrong moment."
    "That's André from Le Manoir-- efficient, but stupid."
    "Your mother's spy?"
    "I suppose so. Now tell me, Charles, is everything ready for tomorrow?"
    "Yes, and it was so easy it even astonished me."
    "Go on," urged Anatole, sipping his orange juice.
    "The device is already installed," whispered his visitor.
    Surprised, Anatole leaned forward and put down his glass.
    "Follow this scenario," began the Aiglon. "My grapevine tells me that tomorrow mother and son will arrive at Notre Dame at 11 o'clock for the organ recital. Gaston will park and wait... the recital ends at noon."

    "My device will be set to activate at, say, 12:20. From that moment on you will be rid of your blackmailers."
    An excited Anatole pressed the thumb of his right hand into the palm of his left before he spoke.
    "Wouldn't it be better to do it on the way there rather than on the way back?"
    "Non, non, mon ami, Gaston always takes the main streets to get there, and the back-street shortcuts to return. I don't want it to activate on a crowded street."
    "Of course," said Anatole, leaning back in his chair. "How did you isolate his cab long enough to install it?"
    "Ah, you want to know all my secrets," said the Aiglon proudly. "I watched his car for days. Finally he took it in for a minor adjustment. I went to the garage and showed an interest in two second-hand cars parked next to Gaston's cab. I told them I was waiting for my partner to give me a second opinion... and that's when I performed my magic."
    "Really Charles, you seem to have a charmed existence. Sometimes I envy you your exciting life."
    "Rest assured, Anatole, you have the perfect alibi. You will be in bed when it detonates. You will be here, surrounded by nurses and servants. I shall be on my way to Marseilles. And now listen closely, Anatole, do not leave this room under any circumstances until all the fuss is over!"
    Anatole nodded slowly and asked, "Do you still have your business in Marseilles?"
    "Yes," said the Aiglon, but not for long. It's just a front. I plan to quit my secret life, retire, burn my disguises, and become myself. I shall never wear this disguise again.
    "You mean this is your last contract? Thank God I met you in time! -- Do you have any regrets?"
    "Only one. Being cheated out of the Légion d' honneur I so rightly deserved. That deception twisted my life and led me down a strange path. Well," he concluded, getting to his feet, "I mustn't tire you any longer." Then he smiled and glanced at the door. "I think your dragoness has fallen asleep." The two men shook hands. Anatole rang for the butler to see his visitor to the door. The following day, when Anatole's doctor arrived for his usual visit, he was surprised to find his patient fully dressed -- in the height of fashion.
    "A la bonheur! Good for you," cried the doctor, "but let's no rush it too much. You still need another two week's rest and therapy. Your blood pressure is still much too high. Should come down within a week. -- Avoid stressful thoughts and situations."
    Later Anatole accompanied Dr. Legouvé to his car, followed by Jean, the butler, who carried the gate key.
    "Would you get my scarf, Jean, it's a bit chilly?"
    The butler handed him the key and hurried back to the house.
    This is my chance, thought Anatole. He waved goodbye to the doctor and looked up the dusty hill at a car in the distance. "Oh, dear God, let it be a taxi," he groaned. He waved with both arms. A battered old cab came to a stop.
    "Are you available?" he shouted. The surprised young driver nodded. Anatole got into the back seat.
    "Take me to the La Bouteille d'Argent, that's a restaurant near Notre Dame Cathedral... as fast as you can. I want you to wait there and bring me back."
    The old car growled and shook but finally pulled away.
    Anatole leaned back and smiled to himself. So I must avoid stress, he mused. Surely an organ recital won't kill me. "Genevieve and her bastard son will be there," he said to himself. "I must have one last look at those two -- especially the boy -- before my hit-man, waves his wand and they both disappear."

Catalogue Information