Chapter 24
The front doorbell started buzzing stubbornly, shattering the quiet of the garden.
"I'll get it, let's take a break," Anemo said. He left the maps on the glass table and went into the house towards the front door.
Standing on the doorstep, wearing his usual slightly crumpled raincoat despite the warm early autumn weather, was Mr Daniel Frost—alias Trench. He adjusted his hat and smiled knowingly, looking exactly like his old-time hero, Lieutenant Columbo.
"Mr Anemo Gale! I am so sorry to drop in on you out of the blue like this," Detective Daniel Frost said, casting a quick, professional glance around the hallway. "I know you're a busy man with your writing..."
"Detective!" Anemo greeted him, trying to sound as relaxed as possible. "How can I help you? Has Mrs Anna Storm been in touch again?"
"Oh, no, no! Mrs Storm has completely calmed down now that she’s received a few messages and emails from her daughter," Trench said, waving his hand dismissively. "But you see... my wife—an extraordinary woman, by the way—always tells me: 'Daniel, when you work too hard, you need a break!' So I took her advice. Next week, we’re off on holiday. Guess where?... Exactly! Egypt."
Anemo swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in his throat.
"What a... wonderful coincidence," he stammered.
"Isn't it?" Trench smiled. "I said to myself... because you see, sometimes I find myself, well, you know, having a little chat with myself, you know..."
"If he says 'you know' one more time, I swear I’ll push past Anemo and pounce on him," Mistral whispered to the other fur-babies. Curious as always, they had followed the writer into the hallway but were keeping a safe distance.
"I think you mentioned, if I remember rightly, that Miss Remi is staying there..."
Simoon, who looked like a slightly older, more sun-tanned version of Anemo, appeared at the door next to his son.
"Mr Frost, what a surprise! What brings you here? I didn't think I'd see you before I head back to Egypt."
Frost seemed lost for words for a few seconds. He swallowed hard and added:
"Ah, so you’re going to Egypt! What a coincidence! What are you doing there?"
Simoon put on his most charming Indiana Jones smile and replied:
"Not much. Just what any Egyptologist does in Egypt."
Trench took off his hat and began twisting it nervously in his hands.
"You see, your wife... er, I mean, my wife, my own wife, is a massive fan of the books written by Remi Storm. I just thought Anemo—I mean, you know—might want to send her something from home. A... a... something her ladyship might like."
Behind the "humans", a little performance was taking place on the carpet. Mistral was doing a brilliant impression of Trench, while two steps behind him, a certain tufted cat had a red, crinkled face from trying to stifle a laugh.
"What an... incredibly kind gesture, Detective," Anemo managed to say, forcing a smile. "But Remi is very strict when she’s writing. She locks herself away and becomes completely antisocial. You see, we writers are a bit of a strange breed."
"Ah, of course. Creative people, a breed apart. My wife always says writers need their solitude," Trench nodded approvingly.
He turned halfway around, making it look as though he was about to leave, and Anemo almost let out a sigh of relief. But, just like the famous TV detective, the investigator stopped dead in his tracks. He tapped his forehead as if he had just remembered something totally unimportant, turned back, and raised a finger:
"Oh! Just one tiny thing, Mr Gale... well, there are two Mr Gales now, aren't there? Mr Anemo Gale, I was just thinking... you wouldn't happen to be going to Egypt as well, would you? Maybe we could travel together! My wife would be absolutely thrilled to bits to travel with a famous author."
Anemo gave a wide, mysterious smile. Refusing to be intimidated by Frost, he replied as calmly as he could:
"It’s highly likely. We’re leaving on the 8th of September. What about you?"
Trench dropped his jaw in shock. He was completely speechless. *Not even the real Columbo would have sniffed that out,* he thought to himself. He mumbled a few more words:
"What a surprise, my wife..."
And he shuffled off towards his old Peugeot saloon, which was parked quite a bit further down the road from the House of the Winds.
*
"What on earth was that?" Anemo asked the empty room, throwing his hands in the air. "It’s like that man is my new shadow."
"But why did you tell him everything, Mr Anemo?" Fleur asked, looking baffled. "Did you really have to tell him you’re going to Egypt too?"
"Why not? Have we got something to hide?" Simoon answered instead of his son. "What’s the point of beating around the bush and looking suspicious? Like we've committed some sort of crime against humanity? My son is coming to Egypt with me, along with his white cat, which he is simply returning to its rightful owner... the cat's owner, that is. There’s nothing unusual about that, especially when it comes to this strange breed of writers... is there?"
"Yeah... all roads lead to Cairo," Remi whispered, understood only by the cats and Fleur. "I’m so nervous. I’ve never been to Egypt before, and now I’m going for the very first time, 'dressed' in this... gorgeous fur."
"Your fur is super-duper gorgeous, Miss Remi! I’ve heard everyone praising you," Sirocco chimed in, cheering her up the best way he knew how.
There were only a little over two weeks left until the autumnal equinox. Deep down in her soul, Remi could feel that the adventure wasn't ending here—she still had so much to discover and learn. It felt as though her nostrils could already catch a whiff of the hot air of Egypt, heavy with history and mystery.
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