Haiti Noir

I came upon a vast courtyard. The place seemed dead; everything was covered by a thin layer of dust. The courtyard faced a garden overgrown with brambles. Empty pans were waiting around the dry basin of a fountain. I couldn’t see anyone but I remained vigilant. I would have preferred to see people: the silence and desolation of the spot were giving me the shivers. I heard a noise and my heart started pounding wildly. In my whole career as a policeman, it was really the first time I’d been that scared inspecting a place. I couldn’t foresee what kind of enemy I was going to be faced with. The lady upstairs had turned on the radio. Suddenly I realized that the whole time I’d been there, I hadn’t heard the humming of a generator. I glanced at the roof. No solar panels. They couldn’t have a system that worked on batteries when there was no current to recharge them. So? And yet everything seemed to work on electricity at the Paradise Inn.

The backyard of the hotel was uninhabited. No staff, no life, no smell. I continued my tour, hugging the walls as I walked along. I opened a door. It made an eerie sound, amplified by the emptiness of the place. A bedroom with closed windows bathed in a red half-light. I didn’t go in, but I looked around. Cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. The place smelled stuffy. There were many mirrors hanging on the walls, in all dimensions. Most of them were covered with big, dark veils. I made out the shape of a motionless body in a large bed, and I could hear regular breathing.

Josiane was lying in the middle of a mess of dried flowers, veiled mirrors, and spiderwebs. Her perfume reached me despite the strong smell of mold. I was chilled to the bone. What was Josiane doing in this sinister setting? How could people live in a place without leaving any trace of life? Who were these people?

I moved on. Two other rooms had the same dusty, abandoned appearance-what used to be a kitchen and a pantry in brown ceramic tile. I thought I’d seen enough.

Yet I still didn’t know what to make of my tour of inspection. It was all muddled up in my mind. What conclusion could I draw from what I’d seen? Everything seemed frozen, fossilized. What energy was feeding this façade of life?

The lady at the reception desk greeted me as coldly as before. She suggested fried eggs and boiled bananas for breakfast. I agreed. The room was empty. No employee was bustling about to serve up the meal. My landlady appeared to do it all herself. I walked over to a table-number 5. I stumbled on something that seemed to be a foot stretched out right next to the table, but I couldn’t get a good look. I stumbled again and tried to pull out a chair to sit down, but it resisted. I looked around. What do you know? The receptionist was watching me from behind her desk. Then I remembered what she had told me and walked back to table 6, rather embarrassed. I sat down with no problem. I had to keep my eyes open. Something very fishy was happening here. I was facing extremely tough enemies. Instinctively, I felt for the gun stuck between my skin and belt.

When my hostess brought over my breakfast, I decided to have a little conversation with her.

“I saw your daughter last night,” I said.

There was no strong reaction from her. She looked me right in the eye as she answered, “Oh, yes. Were you happy with her services?”

The impudence of the question threw me for a loop. I wasn’t expecting such audacity from the woman. I answered, as naturally as possible, “Yes, she does her work very well. But doesn’t she help you with the service? I noticed you don’t have much of a staff.”

The woman smiled. An ironic smile that stung me to the quick. “Josiane only works in the evening. She takes care of room service. She has to save her energy for certain guests. Tell me, Commissaire Vanel, aren’t you satisfied with our service so far? The room doesn’t suit you?”

“Uhh, yes. I have no complaints.”

“So don’t worry about a thing. The staff here is competent and efficient. But I do thank you for your interest, Commissaire Vanel.”

I decided not to continue the conversation. I had just received a lesson in authority, in all due form. The woman was chilling. She left me powerless.

I was hungry and ate greedily.

Like the previous evening, I noticed leftovers on the other tables, but no guests. The customers of the Paradise Inn were as discreet as could be. By the time coffee came (which was very sweet, strong, and hot), I felt myself overwhelmed by the same weariness as the night before. If this went on, I’d just laze around in bed. The air of the hotel must have soporific vapors, for I couldn’t explain the lifelessness of my limbs and my will. I had to force myself to get up and head out to my car. It was time to take a drive around the town and locate the police station.