Rack Em

Rack Em

By

A.H. Scott

Copyright 2013 A.H. Scott

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 A.H. Scott

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This ebook is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this story are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, dead or alive, or other real-life entities, past or present, is purely coincidental.

Rack Em

by

A.H. Scott

Prologue

Romance is beyond the bounds of time.

Three years after Giacomo Casanova's release from Paris' Fort-l’Eveque in 1758, a nonchalant conversation between the prison's warden and a guard was overheard.

A 16-year-old jail cleaner, Pepon Larionne, was in the process of collecting garbage in the hallway outside of Lieutenant Hugo Arrieyenne's office, while the warden and longtime prison guard, Edgar DeSaviage continued speaking to each other inside.

Pepon was one of three men who had the task of cleaning the warden's office, guard tower, and guard barracks. This night, it was Larionne's job to handle the outer hallway, which led to Lieutenant Arrieyenne's office. The other two jail cleaners had already started going towards the barracks. This young man, who seemed an unlikely vessel of history, became Cupid's messenger.

It was at this moment in 1761, when Pepon's fate changed for the better. Lieutenant Arrieyenne spoke to Edgar DeSaviage about Casanova's imprisonment and release in 1758. Manon Balletti, one of Giacomo Casanova's great loves, procured his freedom with a pair of diamond earrings in 1758.

The fabled lover had received mercy from a long prison sentence at the bequest of a beautiful woman. And, this is the story which followed through the years.

Preparing his office for the cleaners, Lieutenant Hugo Arrieyenne and guard Edgar DeSaviage emptied out desk drawers onto the floor, revealing several varied sized items, including a small canvas satchel.

As Pepon entered the warden's office, he kept his head low and mouth shut in their presence. The lowly jail cleaner scooped up bits of food, papers, and that canvas satchel with his hands.

The warden and guard stood chuckling at the dirty work which Pepon had to accomplish as they turned their backs on him and went back to speaking about Casanova and the diamond earrings.

Finishing up the cleaning of Arrieyenne's office, Pepon excused himself and grasped a large canvas sack full of garbage. In the hallway outside of the office, another large sack of trash was gathered by Larionne. Pulling the sacks behind him, Pepon left through the lantern lit prison entrance.

Larionne joined up with his fellow jail cleaners in the courtyard near the guard barracks. He never told the others about the tale of Casanova and Manon Balletti's connection to Fort-l’Eveque. Yet, it remained in the back of his mind, while taking his share of the sacks of garbage down towards an incline to be dumped.

Something that the warden and guard didn't realize when tossing out the desk contents onto the floor, was the small satchel contained those precious items of devotion from Manon to the previous prison warden.

What had been tossed out amongst spoiled food, soiled sheets and vomit, were the pair of diamond earrings.

Pepon was also unaware of the situation, until shaking a canvas sack empty. A final item remained in the bottom of the sack. as the satchel revealed its contents. Larionne's eyes were affixed on a pair of earrings, a pen and a slip of fabric.

The simple man of bare means retrieved the trio of items and silently finished his duties for the night. His fellow cleaners were none the wiser for Pepon Larionne's fantastic find.

A conversation which he'd overheard from Arrieyenne and DeSaviage was not just a myth. But a reality, which was now wrapped in a dingy cloth with spots of crust mucus against Pepon Larionne's body.

The items weren't contained in a satin lined mahogany box to be delivered to a royal consort. But, they were transported within a filthy, loosened blouse of a lowly peasant.

Returning to his small cottage Pepon placed small sack into maple table. Alongside those earrings of Manon, a quill pen and square of lace were laid out by Pepon.

The peacock feathers gave Pepon visions of Manon and Casanova's tandem pen craft. Just to imagine what each would place to paper remained more than enough for this young man's imagination. Slight scent of lavender remained upon that lace.

Night turned to morn, as he left the cottage for a short journey.

Pepon Larionne's only thoughts were to give this newly found gift to his beloved Vivienne Coupette. The sixteen-year old woman with a gentle smile was the core of Pepon's undying devotion. Maybe some of the herald grace of Manon and Casanova's love would rub off on Pepon Larionne.

The prison jail cleaner would never be King of France. But as he presented the diamond earrings, quill pen, and sliver of lace to the lady he loved, Pepon Larionne would be forever the prince of Vivienne's heart.

Vivienne became his wife later that month. Their son Laurenz married Orlean Capelli at age 33. Grandson Charles Larionne took Charlotte Pantille as a bride in 1820. Charles' child Phillippe and his wife Ilese van Sharpone had Arielle in 1850. During childbirth, Phillippe Larionne became a widower and single father. Raising Arielle alone for many years he married a childhood friend of Ilese van Sharpone Marcellon Borneau.

1875 became a year of retelling this tale of overwhelming devotion. As 25-year-old Arielle came upon a small music box with those items stuff into a false bottom, Phillippe retold that tale of his ancestor Pepon Larionne's unimaginable luck and Casanova's exciting entanglements.

33-year-old Arielle married Henri Rausch in 1883. Over those next decades of division and destruction in Europe led Bertrand Rausch to move with his wife Sophie Devayne in 1943. Relocating to a town near French wine country Quimper was a good place to begin their lives together. Northwest of Bordeaux they opened a small bistro called Arielle's. Three years later Thomas was born in 1946.

For Thomas Rausch, life in Quimper seemed smaller then the large vista he saw himself being in. By age 36, Thomas was in charge of Arielle's. With debt collectors hounding and bills mounting, Henri Rausch's grandson began slipping off a tightrope of gourmet platters and financial reality.

Still single in 1981, he existed as a man with little to show for his life. Alas, memories of grandmother Arielle's cherished belongings of beatitude brought an idea forth.

Passing by an artist studio in Colmar, he saw a man cobbling figurines. Fiddling those items in his jacket pocket, a possible solution washed over Thomas Rausch.

For a thick handful of francs, Eduard Niemann became owner of those three bells of beauty. Rausch was able to stave off collectors for a while longer as a tiny bistro became viable once again. For artisan Niemann he acquired an elevated essence for selling earrings pen and slice of fabric. Ironic that it would be his idolized spouse that would come to a gloomy expiration in future years in handling history's heartache.

Beneath a bitter boot of German annexation, Metz was a most turbulent location for a young Jaqueline to bud into womanhood. Jaqueline Hurlot survived Europe's cloud of blackness during years from adolescence to early twenties. In post war years she married Eduard Niemann, a Colmar native.

Years after Eduard's death of cancer Jaqueline flourished in varied forms of sales. From private collectors to storefront visitors she made her own name in this errand of exclusivity.

During a six-month period before coming to an agreement with Cross Collectibles in Vancouver, she’d negotiated sale of those items for auction with five other entities. From Europe came three persons, and one each from Africa and China.

Calling The Little Bell in Austria, Freiderich Rothsberger passed on these gems. Although, he suggested the possibility of markets that were opening in Asia the name Flower Moon was given to her.

Taking an old friend's advice talks had begun with Flower Moon. But at that point in her career, Jaqueline was unsure about Asia's stability was a market for this particular product.

Secondly, The Red Chair in Lucca, Italy was contacted. Italian office located near Pisa didn’t seem up to its prior reputation. Blue Coastal International in Africa would have seemed a good choice for Niemann's proposal. Yet problems in negotiations caused retreat on both ends. White Tower might have been a pleasing choice for both she and its owner in Bilbao. Spain. Pity the timing was ill-fitted.

Oddly enough, it was Vancouver based Arlington Cross that placed a perfect bidding price and commission for Niemann. Cross Collectibles had a three and a half year worth of dealings in the past.

Jaqueline Hurlot Niemann's bank in Paris was wired a plush price for sale of a trio and fat finder's fee for herself. Items were shipped via freighter from Marseilles. The arrival date would be within 21 days.

Arlington Cross would be an opportune oracle of Manon’s magical jewels, which were a golden key of amorous amends.

Chapter One

Vancouver's Queen Elizabeth Park was sparsely occupied by a pair of dog-walkers and small smattering of joggers that July day. These early morning risers included the proprietor of an antiques establishment, known as Cross Collectibles.

Every pounding of footstep against pavement, revealed his declining stamina.

The morning breeze blew Arlington's mixed brown and gray hair away from his bobbing face as he thought of what the day would hold forward. Yet, he couldn't resist thinking about his humble beginnings. Raised not far from the New Mexico border, he was an Andrews, Texas native. At age 3, he'd moved with his family to Orange Grove for a newly minted business in Corpus Christi.

His father, Thomas Keith Oliver Cross, or TKO as friends called him, was a man with big dreams of rubbing lanterns of fantasized luxury. Cross-Banks began with high hopes, for both TKO and partner Lincoln Banks. Oil exploration came to be the blissful bread and butter for the two families.

Meanwhile, Arlington and his younger brother Maxwell were steered on the right path, under the maternal wings of Bonnie Weatherly Cross. Thomas taught them to fish, hunt, and interact with many a ball of boyhood. Bonnie, on the other hand, taught them fairness, courtesy, pride, and mental acceleration. Both parents gave them lessons in life, which they retained to this date.

Moments of joy, youth, laughter, and familial bonding filled the Cross’s three-bedroom home on 327 Carlyle Way. Alas, it all came to a stunted end with the caustic touch of cancer.

Bonnie Weatherly Cross had lost her battle with cancer when Arlington was 15 and Maxwell was 12.

Having moved to Vancouver at age 17, he and his brother were on a whirlwind adventure with their widowed father. Thomas, Arlington, and Maxwell got Cross Collectibles off the ground quite quickly. Within two years, Cross Collectibles became a moderately successful import and export antique company. The primary reason for this choice of vocation came with some local tax incentives and low overhead costs.

Thomas' sale of his half of the company to Lincoln Banks of Kimball, Nebraska, gave him enough seed money to travel north of the border. Ironically, that cash infusion for business opportunities in Vancouver remained a strike of financial genius by the elder Cross.

TKO finally decided to retire and let one of his sons run the family business. The younger brother had dreams of a life not in antiques. So, he was off the hook of export responsibility. But, Arlington Cross was filled with pride for his father handing him the reins at Collectibles.

With two sons to be proud of, TKO bought a home in Portland, Oregon. He lived quietly and happily, knowing Cross Collectibles was in good hands. Lawyer Maxwell Cross returned to Texas to take a position at one of Dallas's prestigious firms of legal thunder.

Gaze of Cross’s brown eyes reminded many of sable buttons floating in the deep, warm waters of Galveston Bay. Wearing a pair of washed out gray sweats and a Texas A & M hooded sweatshirt, an attached Walkman gently bounced from a constantly motioning hip. Anyone looking at this man, would mistake him for an overly-ripened fraternity brother and not a respectable business owner on this July 17th.

As the final notes of the Allman Brothers', ‘Jessica’, wound down, KVON's morning radio jock, Hugo Felipe announced the time of 7:14 over Arlington's music player. Clicking it off, Cross rummaged through his pockets to find the door key. The silver object slipped through his fingers and gently bounced off his scuffed, white Converse sneakers. Arlington bent down to retrieve the key.

You're going to kill yourself with that running, young man, a mature female voice flowed from above him.

Chayline? He stood upright and took a deep breath. His lips formed a genial grin, What doesn't kill me will make me stronger.

Fading red hair twisted beneath a gold and emerald hairpin. Chayline Vincent laughed, But, boss, I don't want me to outlive you. She pressed an index finger against his palpitating chest and pulled her purse over her left shoulder. Besides, what would this place be without a Cross?

Arlington unlocked the door, Oh, it's all with a wing and a prayer. I hope it can be a bit better than Teak House. His foot pushed aside a small pile of mail, knowing its majority were always billing statements from varied vendors.

Better than Bleak 56-year-old Chayline remarked to him with a pun she often used in describing this building's color as in similarity to a Dickensian tome. But despite joking about that shade of brown with a hint of maroon mixed in, both knew that the financial state of Cross Collectibles was verging toward a miniature level of San Andreas. She followed him inside Cross Collectibles.

The previous trio of months had a decline in sales and customers for Cross Collectibles weekly auctions. Although there were specialty items that sold to heightened financial plateaus, the majority of those goods were like lukewarm beer. Things may be wanted as an afterthought by the public, but not needed. Gifts for grandmothers or that forgotten anniversary were the fare of Cross Collectibles.

What time is Barris due in today, Chay? he said, scooping objects with both hands and tossing them onto the large reception desk. Pulling his sweatshirt off, he stood wearing a blue cotton tee and wrapped the hooded item around his waist.

He should be here around… She gazed at her oval wristwatch and quickly responded, Around 9:45.

Opening windows in the rear of the building, Cross slightly grimaced at her, That late?

Remember? His sister is coming in from the University of Ottawa for a visit?

Yeah, I guess I forgot.

Well, are you going to change? She walked toward him, a headmistress attitude taking over. Or is this the odor of the day?

Ignoring what she was speaking about, his head cocked to face her, Um, what did you say?

Come on, Mr. Forgetful, she chided. Placing firm hands on his shoulders and turning him to face the bathroom down the hall, she reminded him, We've got a busy day. And, the early bird gets the worm.

And not smell like one, right? Rolling blue fabric from his flesh and grabbing a clean white shirt from a closet, Cross entered the bathroom.

What color? she asked.

Twisting the knob, his head popped from the cracked door. He said, Dark brown, please.

Good choice. Chayline pulled a pair of brown pants from a silver hanger inside the closet.

His hand darted around and pulled the pants inside. Thanks.

You're always welcome, Arlington.

That's why you're the best, Chayline. Dressed in starched white shirt and dark brown pants, Arlington Cross was a man ready for the hectic workday. Cross pecked Vincent on right cheek, Thanks again.

She playfully waved him away from her. Now, let's get down to business, sir.

Trotting into a small kitchen area, he began to make them some coffee. Don't I know it. After microwaving some water and tossing a packet into a cup, Cross approached her desk. Hazelnut, ma'am. Your wish is my command.

Darling, you make an old lady giddy. She smiled and shoved her purse into bottom right drawer of the desk. When Barris gets here, do you want him to start on the inventory?

Sure. And, after he finishes, have him come up to my office. Dragging a brown box of books towards an elevator, he made sure the mail was set on top.

Sipping coffee, Chayline Vincent stood and began to prepare the first floor for business. See you later.

As it ascended to the fourth floor of that building, the gated elevator shook slightly. The bright capsule opened and Arlington stepped onto a dark plateau. The tip of his sneaker pressed the box across from that opening. Fifteen steps to his left, he flipped a light switch on. Opening rolling doors to his office open, Cross unlocked a small cabinet in the corner. He removed a white box from that top drawer and another pair of shoes. Resting himself into a swivel chair, Arlington quickly changed from white canvas sneakers into black suede loafers.

9:15 ticked away on a black and white wall clock in Cross’s office. The clanging of the elevator opening broke the silence of surveying