Page 52 of The Explorer
With a secretive smile, he put the painting back.
“Did you?” I asked with annoyance.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Do I know anyone who did?”
“Yes, but I’m not telling you.”
“How old is this widow?”
“She’s in her early thirties now. She’s pretty and very independent, but then she’s a Motlander.”
I was so consumed by my conversation with Indiana that I didn’t pay attention to the man who had come to the counter, talking to Banni about the treasures we’d brought back from our visit to Bordeaux.
“Are you going to see her when we get back?”
“Who, the widow?”
“Yes!” I hissed out in irritation.
Indiana kept looking at the toys and articles from the past that were all over the store. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Well, I think you should do it.”
I could have bitten off my tongue, but I was so tired of my stupid jealousy that I pushed him away. I felt his eyes on me as I walked to stand next to Banni, who was bent forward with both his elbows on the counter.
“Bonjour,” I greeted the man who I assumed was Helmes.
“Bonjour,” the old man muttered low with a short glance in my direction before he returned his attention to the jewelry in front of him. Unlike most people here in Old Europe he didn’t have on a colorful outfit. His gray hair seemed greasy and with his bushy eyebrows, large belly, and strong body odor, he reminded me of some of the old geezers I knew from back home.
“Is this Helmes?”
“No. This guy works for Helmes. I don’t know his name because he hardly ever says a word, but he does good work.”
Banni asked a question in French and the old man mumbled something back.
“Huh.” Turning his head to me, Banni said, “He says that Helmes is delivering something to a female customer.”
I didn’t ask if that meant what I thought it meant. Instead I asked about the one thing that mattered the most to me, “Can he repair the clock?”
“He says it will take time. It’s delicate work.”
Banni and I waited while the repairman studied all the jewelry. He was wearing glasses with lights and zoom function and took his time. Behind the counter, pushed against the wall, was a table with several tools and robots. Brushes, hammers, screws, and tiny spirals filled the table and on a shelf were piles of what looked like ancient manuals.
The air in this shop was heavy and made me think that not enough customers came by to open the door and let fresh air in, but then I remembered that we were underground, and down here the air wasn’t great in the best of houses.
We waited another five minutes while the old man studied the jewelry we had brought. Then the sound of the bell over the door sounded and a rangy man entered the shop. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, clean-shaven with jaw-length hair and a receding hairline.
Banni straightened up and grinned. The two men hugged each other and then Banni introduced us.
“This is Helmes, who turns trash into gold like a true magician.”
The man had a broad smile, showing crooked canines. “I know who you two are. You were on the News and rumor has it you’ve been winning some epic fights at the club.”
I looked to Banni, who grinned. “Helmes was the one who introduced us to the fight club.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said and lifted my chin in a greeting.
