The Penny Thief

Chapter 1

                                                            1

            As the water rolled gently down the surface of his body and swirled down the shower drain in a frothy whirlpool, Henri Pichon gazed through the tiny bathroom window at the rooftops of Montmartre, which were soldiering their way through the last remnants of the night.

            The bells of Saint-Jean-de-Montmartre cut his musings short.

            Seven in the morning, time to get back to reality.

            He closed the tap with a quick flick of the wrist, drew the transparent yellow daisy print shower curtain, being very careful not to sprinkle a single drop on the floor, and gingerly stepped out of the bathtub to place his 203 pounds on the bathmat. He vigorously shook the water off his abundant hair and searched his reflection in the mirror for some trace of what he used to be, not that many years ago. As usual, he thought about needing to do something to get rid of those extra pounds. He’d only recently hit the forties mark—still time to take charge of the situation.

He’d never quite understood why his aunt, his mother’s sister, had preferred to install a bathtub that was barely over three foot long instead of a shower tray. In fact she never used it as a bathtub in her life. Apparently back then it used to be some sort of status symbol.

            Now that she was gone he had to do something…

            He’d been thinking about it for a few years without getting round to doing anything—he’d also need to redo the kitchen, repaint the master bedroom, tear down the wall of his old room to expand the narrow living room. And why not, get rid of the little humdrum hall, pull up the creaky old parquet flooring and replace it with bright, modern floor boards, as well as the warped windows that distorted the outdoor world and which were impossible to close completely, turning the house into a veritable hurricane at the slightest sign of wind, not to mention the furniture, gloomy from layers upon layers of wax polish…

            He’d even drawn up some plans…

            The house was over a century old and it was undeniable that everything in it had been there from the very beginning. The only features he’d keep would be the beautiful moldings, ten foot above ground, and the two small but opulent fireplaces, which harkened back to the warmth of another era. The building stood on a corner of the Emile Goudeau square, formerly Place Ravignan, opposite the famous Le Bateau Lavoir,[1] a meeting place for painters and writers in the early 20th century.

            Montmartre had gone from being a very poor neighborhood, to boasting the title of one of the most expensive and sought-after districts in Paris today.

            He was ready. This time the mirror returned the reflection of an elegant man of respectable stature, dressed casually in light trousers, a beige cotton sweater, and polo shirt of the same color. When he stretched you could hardly tell he was overweight, he could even pass for slim. And of course, he looked under forty, especially with all that dark, unruly hair, without a single strand of white.

With this sprightly positive feeling that was so characteristic of him, Henri grabbed his canvas jacket from the back of the sofa and went out.

            He carefully closed the rackety, antediluvian bolt on the door and took to the old wooden stairs with their red threadbare carpet, making his way down the four flights of stairs that separated him from the street.

            He was greeted by the fresh air outside. It was ten past seven in the morning of the last Sunday in Spring. The dense, leafy trees covered the cobblestone square in darkness, with the sun barely breaking in the East. The sky was clear, it was surely going to be a beautiful day. Henri smiled thinking it was going to be one of those pleasant Parisian days with that particular bright light which brings out the grandiose architecture of the city and the smiles on people’s faces. It was too early for the tourists to be out on adventure.