Pure Chaos

The late morning regulars line the long bar at La Savane des Chapels. Saucisson sec and rillettes on bread are served from a large tray for those interested.

A small welcoming bell agitates and rings as the Dandy and his three men come through the front door. The three birds-in-hats immediately descend on the tray gathering their meals as the Dandy spins his blue silk top hat in hand walking to the back of the bar.

“I visited the propriétaire immobilier address for Jacob.”

“You did, when?” Charlton leans heavily on the bar raising an eyebrow at his twin while taking a hearty bite of his sandwich.

“Yesterday afternoon, the men and I did.”  The Dandy clarifies.

“I figured you would send someone else to do the job.” The Dandy ignores his brother’s taunt.

“Few go freely onto that ground without fear. So yes, they came with.”

“The Canal Rats are children, between them and superstition, dere’s no reason for such fear. Sabot offers too many cautions.”

“Well, we got out there finding the door locked and undisturbed.” The Dandy summarizes only the tale told by his men.

“We made short work of the lock and got in to find chicken shit and chaos everywhere. A real mess. We did find envelopes and newspapers all over the floor.” Had the Dandy gone himself he would have seen the signs of a struggle.

“Where are da envelopes?” Charlton demands.

The Dandy whistles and snaps his fingers. Épervier, the fat pigeon of a man with the brown bowler, looks up wiping his hands on his shirt and pants as he comes to them.

“Envelopes.” The Dandy directs. The Brown Bowler produces the chicken shit covered envelopes from his dirty shirt placing the small stack on the bar.

“Like I said, a real mess. The chickens were pissed and attacked the men.” The Dandy states.

“But not you?” The Dandy ignores the question.

“Pure chaos. The men are getting pecked and scratched until finally they get the hens into the back room.

We collected lose fee envelopes in the apartment. No Jacob though.”

These are all?”

“Yes.” The Dandy says looking over his fingernails unwilling to touch any of the envelopes.

“Someone’s been collecting ours. I want the collector found and here to answer.” Charlton demands loud enough for all at the bar to hear.

“Saule, come get your fees and tell me how light we are.”