Opposing Forces (2 page)

“Apologies again for disturbing you, Sir, but as you can see, we have a situation here.”

“Yes, we do. Now would you mind explaining in a little more details what the hell we’re dealing with?”

“I think Officer Thevenez could best explain.”  Albert pulled Philippe into the office.

“Well, Officer, explain,” Steffen barked.

Philippe took a deep breath, he had never been in front of the Chief before and was feeling decidedly nervous.  Especially as he was partly to blame for the mess they were in.  “Dumont and I were sent to serve a noise violation at a private address in the old city.  I went up and Dumont stayed in the vehicle.  I could not get any response from the bell as the noise was too loud, so entered the apartment.  I was mistaken for one of the party guests and before I could explain the purpose of my visit, half the damn squad kicked in the front door.”

“Why did not you not serve the notice straight away?”

“Maisie was rather talkative and it took some time to establish she was the owner of the property.” He did his best not to smile.  She was one of the most engaging women he had ever met.

“Who the bloody hell is Maisie?”

“Helen of Troy,” Albert added, as if that made perfect sense.

Steffen rolled his eyes. “So the noise violation had not been served when the riot squad entered the apartment?”

“No, Sir.  Nor did anyone identify themselves or their purpose.”

“Who called the squad?”

“That would be Dumont, Sir,” Albert answered. “He panicked when he could not raise Thevenez on the radio so called out the riot squad.”

“And half the guys we have in the cells downstairs play for the Raiders?”

“That’s correct, Sir. And due to the injuries they’ve sustained, it is unlikely most of them will be fit to play tomorrow night. Or rather tonight.”

“Please tell me at the very least the medical team are with them?”  Steffen was beginning to despair at the trail of incompetence.

“Yes, Sir. Helen of Troy was very vociferous about that.”

“Would you mind explaining, Dufrais, why you keep calling this Millie, Helen of Troy?”

“Her name is Maisie, Sir, Maisie Carrington.  She is dressed as Helen of Troy.” Albert saw the look of confusion on the Police Chief’s face.  “It was a costume party.”

Steffen rubbed the sides of his temples.  What a bloody mess.  “Right, firstly I need to speak with Miss Carrington. My office is less formal than an interview room. Besides, up here nothing needs to be taped.  Then I want every available member of the medical team treating the players and other party guests for their injuries.  Lastly, Dumont is restricted to desk duty only until this whole episode is investigated.  That also includes you, Thevenez.”  Steffen glanced at Dufrais. “Is Miss Carrington English?”

“Dual nationality. She speaks French fluently.”

He poured himself a large scotch and downed it in one whilst he waited for Dufrais to bring the Carrington women up from the cells.  He was half expecting some hard-faced woman who was so far removed in looks from Helen of Troy, that he was genuinely shocked when this petit, elegant blonde glided through the door.  He was appalled at the bruising to her face and arms. But she really did look like Helen of Troy.

“Miss Carrington, please take a seat.” He indicated for her to sit on one of the dark brown leather sofas.

“And you are?” Maisie knew exactly who he was, but wanted to belittle him.

“Steffen Grundberg, Chief of Police.”

She raised an eyebrow in feigned surprise. “Your boys really must have screwed up if I’m talking with you.”

“Not at all, Miss Carrington. I just hoped we could move matters along swiftly considering the cargo in the cells.”

“Well, I am more than happy to speed things up as long as you agree to all my demands.”

“Your demands?”  

“Yes.  Your squad of thugs invaded my home without so much as serving a noise violation or identifying their purpose. They caused extensive damage to my property and belongings, and injured most of my guests.  You’re damn right I have demands.” Maisie made sure her temper was under control.

“You and your guests broke the law, Miss Carrington.” He tried to keep his voice on an even tone.

“Perhaps we were a bit loud. That still does not warrant the level of violence.  Besides, it does not take a genius to realise that if you pick a fight with someone who is under the influence of alcohol, there is every chance he, or she, will fight back.  But maybe that is a little too high brow for the morons you employ.”  She was could really put on the haughtiness when she needed it.

“Even so, attacking a police officer is an offence, sober or drunk.”

“They never identified themselves and I do believe they also threw the first punch. So our response could be seen as self-defence,” she retaliated.  “Now these are my demands.  All my guests are to be released without charge after their injuries have been treated.  Whether or not they press charges individually is up to them.  I myself insist that all damage to my apartment is put right at the expense of the Police Department.  As I have been left without a front door, I presume there is an officer on site safe-guarding my property.  The front door, all furniture and decorations are to be replaced.  Whilst that is being done, the Department will arrange for Julianne and I to stay in a suite at the Beau Rivage, all expenses paid. I will need to consult with my lawyer as to what the sum should be for my personal injury.”

“You appear to have a sense of humour, Miss Carrington.”  Her demands were annoying him, more so because they were largely justified.

She stood up and looked at him as though he was no more than an errand boy. “Those are my terms, take them or leave them.  Now I will return to my guests and wait for my lawyer to arrive.”

“You will stay exactly where you are, Miss Carrington. I tell you when this interview is over.” His temper was starting to bubble.  This slip of an English woman was really getting on his nerves.

She looked at him with pure disdain.  “If this was an interview, it would be held in formal surroundings with another member of staff present and our conversation would be recorded.  This meeting is purely for your benefit to fathom out how much shit the Department is in and perhaps coerce me into agreeing something without the benefit of my lawyer.”  She flung open the door and smiled kindly at Albert.  “Could you escort me back downstairs, Sergeant Dufrais? Our conversation here is finished.”

As they walked down the corridor, they both heard the unmistaken noise of a glass smashing against a wall.

“I think I might have upset your dear Chief,” she flashed him a painful smile.

Albert did his best to conceal his grin.  He was beginning to understand how young Thevenez could get so completely beguiled by this woman that he would forget his mission.

It was late morning before Steffen got any rest.  It had been a very long night, and one which he did not wish to repeat ever again.  His Department had screwed up totally and it was going to cost a hefty sum to rectify matters.  Most of the party guests were happy to be released with no charge; they were content with having had a good fight and making the headlines the next day.  But the Carrington woman was going to be a major thorn in his side.  She also had one very slick lawyer.  He had no choice but to give in to all her requests. 

He was unsure what action to take with Dumont and Thevenez.  Thevenez was young, but a good officer so he could not comprehend why he had got so tongue-tied with Maisie Carrington.  Sure, he had not seen her at her best, but there was nothing spectacular about the woman.  She was certainly pretty and had curves in the right places, but he had dated much more stunning women than her.  And Dumont, well he would be lucky to see duty again.

He had the delightful task of meeting with Maisie later that day at her apartment with an interior designer to go over the repairs needed.  Perhaps he would be wise to leave his gun at the station for that meeting; in his current mood, if she wound him up, he would probably shoot her.

Maisie did not wake until gone midday.  The bed and pillows were just so soft and squidgy, it was like sleeping on a fluffy cloud. And then she moved. Her whole body ached like someone had taken a baseball bat to it.  But then again, someone had.  Sitting up in bed, she looked around guiltily at her surroundings.  The bedroom was absolutely stunning, a recreation in the style of Louis XIV.  Courtesy of the local police department.  She gingerly made her way out to the sitting room; there was no sign of Julianne.  She tiptoed over to the other bedroom, and heard soft snores coming from within.

She phoned down to room service and ordered a late breakfast for them both. By the time it arrived, Julianne was back in the land of the living.

“You’re one hell of a negotiator, Maisie,” Julianne yawned and sat down at the table to tuck into the amazing spread the Beau Rivage had provided.

“The Chief and his boys had pissed me off,” Maisie grumbled. 

“So, what was the Chief of Police like?  I hear he is supposed to be very charismatic,” Julianne slurped her coffee.

Maisie had to think hard.  “To be honest, I really can’t recall what he looked like.  He was dark haired, tall and he had the charisma of an iceberg.”  It wasn’t difficult to spot that he was Swiss German, he had a very square jawline and his features looked like they had been carved from stone. 

“Compared to you, anyone is tall.”

“I can always have you moved to a broom closet,” Maisie grunted, unfolding the newspaper that was delivered with breakfast.  “Bloody hell, we’ve made the front page,” she spluttered.

Julianne snatched it out of her hand.  “Finally I make the headlines and I’m covered in blood. There’s just no justice,” she groaned.

“Look on the bright side. At least they didn’t print a picture of Marco.”

“Unfortunately, I was right behind him when he got into the police van. That is a sight I hope I never see again as long as I live.”

“How’s James by the way?  Will they play tonight?”

“They’re ice hockey players, they’re tough.  I’m sure with a handful of painkillers and lots of Deep Heat, they’ll be out on the ice.”

“I guess if they’re playing, we really should go to support them,” Maisie sighed.  The last thing she felt like right now was another late night.

“Frankie will be thrilled.” Julianne darted out of the way of the cushion that was thrown at her.  “Come on, you know he adores you.”

“He is gorgeous, but he’s just not my type.”

“So what is your type then, Maisie?” Julianne challenged her.  “I’ve seen a few of your boyfriends over the years, and there doesn’t seem to a particular pattern.”

Maisie chewed on her croissant as she thought about her answer.  “It’s more about character than looks.  I guess my ideal man would need to be strong and principled, to be able to lead but smart enough to know when to back down. He must also have a soft, caring side. The trouble nowadays is that looks seem to be the first thing people go for.  I would rather my man did not find me attractive when we first meet, that way our characters have a real chance to shine.”

“So you’re looking for someone who finds you physically repellent?  That should narrow the field a bit,” Julianne rolled her eyes.

“Yes. And he must also be prepared to take a bullet for me,” Maisie laughed.  “That is the best way to show true love.”

Julianne shook her head.  “You are truly a nightmare.  You have drawn up a list of characteristics that just do not co-exist in a man.”

She knew such a man could not exist. That was the point in having such criteria; it protected her from ever getting her heart broken again.