So I wait until 2am and check the street. It's clear. I could hear the boats on the river from my room, so all I need to do is find my way to the river and then follow it back to the Hotel Des Chats. It was farther than I thought, so far that I began to worry that maybe there were two rivers in Paris. Anyway I managed to get to the hotel, in and out of my hotel room, and get back to the Ruse Des Rosiers around 5am. I was so sleepy by then I didn't even turn the lights on, just jumped right into bed and almost fell asleep when a deep voice from nowhere gave me such a start I almost jumped through the ceiling."Alors, mon ami, have you had a good walk?" The voice was coming from the chair in the corner. It was too shadowy to see who it was. I jumped up and reached for my gun but it was not where I put it.
"You are looking for this." An arm reached out of the shadows and tossed my 44 on the bed. I picked it up and inspected it; naturally it was empty.
"You should not have left this room, mon ami, it is not safe, and you have disregarded my orders. I heard a match strike and saw hands lighting a pipe. By the pulsing light of the flame I made out his face. He took a few puffs in the darkness and then switched on the table lamp. He leaned forward and looked me thoughtfully in the eye. "I am Inspector Blaireau." He offered a paw.
"Call me Butter Boy." We shook.
He dropped the formalities. "I have to say you have disappointed me, monsieur Butter Boy. I have a personal interest in this case, too. I want you to understand that it is my case, and in France you will follow my orders. Is that clear."
I raised my paws to signal compliance: "D'accord for sure, Inspector."
The Inspector shrugged. "One more rash act and you will be sent back to Miami. Is that clear."
"I said 'd'accord, didn't I? And for the record, it's not Miami, it's Miami Beach."
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