“Then, it was another hook that struck the advisor’s nose full force, with a dull thud, synonymous with breaking bones. Quickly, a crowd had formed around the two men, and Olivier’s white shirt was now stained with the blood that was flowing profusely from his two hands holding his nose and face…”
“Read the previous episodes”
“Damn, Fred, what were you thinking?” asked Seb as he entered the empty hall of honor, just as the Gym had a good opportunity, judging by the crowd’s roar confirmed by the images projected on the room’s large screens.
“Two good pieces of news in just a few seconds.” Seb chose to joke, which had the merit of slightly easing the atmosphere. “Dad, I love you,” and his son’s loving smile almost completely relieved the tension.
“I’m sorry, Seb, Francesco… I don’t know what came over me, but when he talked to you like that, I couldn’t control myself… I’m sorry, Francesco!” “No worries, Dad, and if I could have done it myself, I think I would have too,” replied the son, worthy of his father.
“Ok, I have to head up. Go to my office to watch the end of the match, and I’ll join you as soon as it’s over.” Seb handed the keys to Fred, who headed towards the President’s office with Francesco. The game definitively turned in favor of the eaglets in a confrontation that was almost as heated in the VIP section as in the South Brigade one.
There was a knock at the door. “Come in!”, replied Fred, expecting to see his friend, even though he found it strange that he knocked on the door of his own office.
But, to his great surprise, the Mayor entered the President’s office. “Inspector Sรฉgur, I was told what happened in the corridor with Olivier, and even though I think you should better control your emotions, I can also understand your reaction. Olivier will not press charges, I assure you, but I do think, nonetheless, that you owe him an apology.” Fred looked the official straight in the eyes, unable to stop thinking that he would never apologize to that “pailhassou”.
“Inspector, Olivier is behind the door, may I ask him to come in?” inquired the Mayor.
Fred nodded, not very convincingly, which didn’t escape the mayor. “Olivier, please come in?” His advisor entered the office, with two bloodied cottons sticking out of his nostrils and donned with a club jersey as a shirt. “I wanted to apologize,” murmured Fred, staring at Olivier, thinking how well he wore the club’s colors.
“I accept your apology, but I warn you, this is the last affront you make to me in public,” spat Olivier, stopped immediately in his tracks by his superior.
“Don’t add more, we’re leaving. Goodbye, Inspector, and keep me updated on the rest of the investigation as soon as you have something.” The two men disappeared behind the wooden door, which opened a few seconds later, revealing Seb with a smile.
“I wanted to apologize…” joked the President, mimicking his friend. A first giggle gave way to laughter, which quickly turned into a fit of laughter: “Tell me, RC Lens is recruiting, he would be perfect in ‘Red’ and Gold, ha ha ha.”
After regaining his composure, Seb gave “his orders,” as he liked to do, to please his friends: “Come on, I’m taking you, we’re heading to the port, most of the players are joining us at Alex’s, and besides, he told me he received the first poutine and prepared it in three ways: Omelette, donuts, and salad. I’m already drooling.” Everyone quickly put on their jackets and coats to head out to an evening promising to be most enjoyable.
Fred stopped and called out to his friend: “I must first make a quick stop at Agecotel, I have an appointment with Mrs. Graglia from the Cercle de la Capelina d’or. Do you have someone who can drop me there? You take Francesco and I’ll join you directly at Alex’s.” “No problem, beu’. Here, take my car and we’ll get a ride from Virginie,” said Seb, handing the keys to his friend.
The stadium exit was relatively quick, the officials’ parking lot giving direct access to an exit road, and it took Fred no more than 15 minutes to reach the Palais des Expositions, where one of the finest gastronomic salons in France was taking place. Just enough time to park the car in the Jean Bouin parking lot, and Fred entered the palace, transformed for the occasion into a temple of hospitality and catering, heading towards the stand of the Capelina d’Or Circle.
Hunger was beginning to make itself felt, and passing amidst stands of various charcuteries, brightly colored pastries, and other great vintages did nothing to alleviate it. It was the first time Fred had visited this show, but he promised to return and give it another look, at leisure, with his two friends, Sรฉbastien and Daniel.
Mrs. Graglia was indeed waiting for him at her stand, as planned. She was a magnificent “little old lady,” as they are commonly called around here. Sprightly and smiling, she extended her hand to Fred: “Delighted, Inspector Sรฉgur, we’ve only been seeing you on TV these past few days.” The phrase made Fred smile.
“So you know why I’m here, Madam President?” asked the inspector.
“How could I not imagine it, Mr. Sรฉgur. And I wanted to meet you to give you my perspective on the events, which is why I called Sรฉbastien, whom I’ve known since he was about this high, you know?” She mimed with her wrinkled hand a height of about one meter.
“We had our restaurant right next door to where his maternal grandmother lived with my husband, and almost every Sunday, the family would come for ravioli daube at our place. If I summoned you, it’s because I’m convinced these chefs have been punished!” the President stated, lowering her voice.
“Punished, you say!” interrupted Fred, out of curiosity.
“Yes, punished!” Mrs. Graglia continued, enthusiastic about the revelations she was about to make to the nice policeman. “You know, our association has been advocating for years for the preservation and promotion of Niรงoise cuisine. And we know that certain cooks are more or less careful than others with tradition, as well as with the ingredients used. Well, these two, I feel they have been punished where they sinned! Ramage had the peculiarity of putting green beans in his Niรงoise salad, and Latour was known for using a lot of frozen products. Two significant breaches of our ancestral recipe. Did you know, Mr. Sรฉgur, that Niรงoise cuisine is the only one in the world to bear the name of its city?” stated Renรฉe Graglia with pride.
“No, I didn’t know that,” replied Fred, regretting not having drawn that connection earlier. Neither he nor any member of his team, for that matter. A vigilante of Niรงoise cuisine was almost surreal.
“Well indeed, there’s also Lyonnaise cuisine, but it doesn’t have a label, at least not like ours. They’ve opted to label their establishments, you know the famous ‘Bouchons Lyonnais’? Our label rewards the respect of the chef and their restaurant towards Niรงoise cuisine, but not only that, we’re very attentive to the decor of the establishments, their knowledge of Nice’s heritage, and of course, the products used to craft the recipes in our guide. For this reason, Ramage and Latour applied for the label, but their applications were denied,” explained Mrs. Graglia, handing Fred a copy of the Cuisine Nissarde Label recipe guide.
“Thank you very much, Mrs. Graglia, your information is invaluable, and may I ask for your phone number in case I need to contact you? Thank you also for these wonderful recipes, I’m not much of a cook, but I would happily use your guide if I ever try my hand at daube or pissaladiรจre,” Fred politely responded.
“Of course, young man, it’s 04 93 80 63 75. And no, I don’t have those gadgets people stick to their ears or type on all day long,” joked the President, wearing a beautiful golden capelina around her neck.
“Thank you again, and I will keep you informed about the progress of my investigation, Mrs. Graglia.” To bid farewell, Fred was about to offer his hand to Renรฉe, but she preferred a good-natured embrace.
“Good luck, pitchoun, and be careful!” she playfully tapped him on the back.
Hardly outside, Fred quickly called Sรฉbastien: “Yes, it’s me, I’m stopping by the station quickly, and I’ll join you directly at ‘l’Agua.’ You’ll be amazed…, what a character Renรฉe is.” Fred realized he needed to hurry, as Sรฉb was about to leave the stadium. A second call to inform Cรฉline and Jeff of the discovery, and Fred went to the station to initiate some research related to this new lead when his phone rang.
It was his former boss: “Fred, would you be available for tomorrow evening? We’d like to introduce you to some members of our association and discuss a plan we’ve been working on?”
“Of course, boss, where should I meet you?” Fred inquired.
“Let’s meet in front of the Garibaldi statue at 6 PM if that suits you,” proposed the former chief.
“That’s perfect, and thank you again for your help, boss,” the inspector concluded.
Fred thought that within a few minutes, the investigation had advanced more than in the past few days, and it reassured him. It was time for him to join Seb and Francesco to spend an evening that would keep him, at least temporarily, away from this case that was taking an increasingly unusual turn.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
