Short story: The girl's basement

( "A new life post-mental hospital is full of mysteries") 

Dear Readers: This story reminds the facts first published story ( "The mysterious Hotel Oloffson"). Therefore, I suggest you to read this first, so that history is complete. 


A quick introduction 

He was locked nobody knew how long. Nobody knew whether ate or drank. It also asked if all of why the authorities do nothing. The underground of the old houses in a field in which nobody knew the past, it was a scene of cruelty without size. That was what was thought to be in town. 

Thousands of people passed through the region, and the door was always locked the curious. It was hard to believe that there lived a family. More than that, what exactly was happening in the basement? 

Meanwhile, far away ... 

Fresh from a psychiatric hospital in Santo Domingo, after several weeks of incarceration, the old oil executive back to you. 

- Where suis-je? (Where am I?) 
- Lo siento, señor, but not speaking French. How are you? 

The nurse did not speak the language francophone, but the patient did not speak Spanish. 

- Je ne suis pas au Haiti? (I am not in Haiti?) 
- Sir, you're at the Quisqueya Hospital in Santo Domingo. 
- Am I in the Dominican Republic? 
- Yes, you are, mister DuFois. 

The last time that his conscience showed signs of normalcy, Pierre DuFois, citizen of the Principality of Monaco, was in Port-au-Prince (read the story "The mysterious Hotel Oloffson," Peter Boeira, Porto Alegre: January 2008). The lack of structure of the Haitian capital forced the staff of the hotel where Pierre was found in a state of insanity to ask for help Dominican Embassy in Haiti. Thus, the neighbor received this former senior official of oil. 

- What's with me? Why did I get here? Nurse, must make an urgent international call. 

Pierre called to the residence of his friend Claude Toulouse in Monte Carlo. Attended the housekeeper's fine house. 

- DuFois Monsieur, monsieur votre ami Toulouse n'habite pas là depuis l'année last. (Mr DuFois, his friend Mr Toulouse not live here anymore since last year). 
- Madame, comment est-ce je peux l'find that, s'il vous plaît? (Madam, how can I find him, please?), Pierre growl, because Claude was the only person who could tell assisting you in the post-trauma Haiti. (Here, we would do a biography of Toulouse monsieur, but let me summarize: is a citizen of Monaco and the right arm of Pierre. "Thanks for your attention, the story continues on the next line).
- Il dwell on the Colombie.Je think savez vous qu'il est diplomat. (He lives in Colombia. I think you know who he is a diplomat). 

I knew Claude was a student in the department of state, but have moved was a surprise, I even spoke a restless Pierre. 

Pierre was discharged from the hospital. Receiving their belongings back, find your American Express. Hosted at the Hilton Hotel and called the embassy in Bogota of Monaco. Je voudrais Toulouse parler avec monsieur, s'il vous plaît. (I'd like to talk to you Toulouse, please). Why not be a good excuse, the secretary did not complete the connection. Our friend Pierre could say it is an old guerrilla who fought in the war between Monaco and San Marino and sanctuary needed. Well, there was never such a war. 

Fearing trouble finding Claude, Pierre flew to Bogota in the first semi-direct flight following morning. (Dear reader, Santo Domingo and Bogota are not connected by direct flights). Then the airport to the hotel and the hotel to the embassy. 

- I am a citizen of Monaco and you need to talk to Claude Toulouse. 
- We do not have any diplomat with that name, sir ... 
- DuFois. Pierre DuFois. 
- Mr DuFois. 
- Miss, told me that Mr Toulouse works as a diplomat in Colombia. 
- Mr DuBois ... 
- It DuFois. 
- Mr DuFois, the principality of Monaco has consulates in other cities of Colombia. I suggest you get in consulates in Medellín and Cartagena. 

Why Monaco has many diplomatic missions in Colombia? We are too small for such international relationship, suggested a cult Pierre in his thoughts. 

Sounded on the phone from Monaco consulate in Cartagena. 

- Consulate of Monaco, good morning. 
- C'est toi, Claude? (Is that you, Claude?) 
- Pierre? I do not think! There is no one week is your news! 
- I was living a big nightmare in Haiti. My official biographer, Peter Boeira, told in detail in The mysterious tale Hotel Oloffson. For me when I was in the Dominican Republic. 
- Glad to hear it! You are in Monte Carlo? 
- No, in Bogota. 
- Let's see. You were living a nightmare in Haiti. Do nothing, ended up in the Dominican Republic. Then, as I was stopping in Colombia. What happens? 
- Were you looking for. I need a new life. Dropped the oil company. Well, not officially abandoned, but was out of consciousness for weeks and should have given me and disappeared. 
- Friend Pierre, you can simply communicate with the company. 
- This is actually decided. Do not go back to the company. 
- Okay, buddy. Can I help? 
- Do I tried here at the embassy in Bogota, but now realize that missed the city. Can I talk to in Cartagena? 
- I hope. I came here just now, then I am living in a hotel, Bóveda of Santa Clara. 
- It will be this afternoon at Hotel Bóveda of Santa Clara. 



Back to the city's introduction 

Pierre left Bogota. The cold Andean gave space to heat the Caribbean noble Cartagena. Installed in the luxury hotel in the historic city center and waited for Claude as a rowan Colombian rum at the bar. 

Claude was back to the hotel. It seemed upset by the heat. The classic diplomatic dress was too hot to Cartagena. Pierre admiring found a bottle of Ron de Medellin. 

- You n'aimes pas du tout Boiro. You the oublié? (You do not like to drink at all. Thou hast forgotten?) 
- Claude! Old friend Claude! Let's talk in Portuguese so that readers understand us. What a pleasure to find it! 
- I'm here, dear Pierre. Did it? I am a diplomat. 
- You lucky to be working in Colombia. While oil executive, I just stopped in Liberia or in Haiti. 
- Tell me everything. Why did I come look? 
- I enlouquece in Haiti and I am away from the oil company, either by my disappearance, while taking holidays in the mental hospital in Santo Domingo, is not by my desire to live what I lived in Port-au-Prince or other exotic city where the company to me causes. You're the only one who can help me. I need to restart their lives. 
- Start over how? You're an oil executive! To that again? 
- Do not give further details. Now, help me, dear Claude. 
- Pierre, here in Cartagena something strange is happening. Nobody has head for nothing. I believe that no cartagenero think about giving jobs today. 
- Something strange? Are you going to tell me that Port-au-Prince is small cafe near Cartagena? 
- I know that you lived strange things in Port-au-Prince. But here is not for less, my dear. 
- So, I changed six per half dozen? 
- Perhaps, dear. 

What was in Cartagena? The girl's basement. A few days here, everyone said that someone lived in that old house in the underground city. Some people said that parents had admitted that lock, for reasons "perfectly justifiable," his daughter down the house. 

Pierre found the story very simple, if compared to what happened in Haiti. Could leave and resume their lives elsewhere, even though need the support of Claude, the only person who understood the trauma of Pierre, until a few days ago, a guest house of crazy. 

- Pierre, I say, but here is not your place. I would love to help you, but we are dismayed by thinking that there is a child trapped in the basement of a house in the historic center. 
- Claude, thank you for your sincerity, but without your support, nothing can do. 
- You know what to do, my dear. You know I'm here at the hotel for what it takes. 

Collected to their apartments. Pierre had a thought while Evian water in the girl's story basement. It would be something similar to the book of love and other demons, classic García Márquez lived in Cartagena? 

Pierre went to the apartment of Claude. 

- Where is home? 
- Well, my house is on the Rue Le Mardi, in the eastern part of Monte Carlo e. .. 
- Claude, I think of the girl's house basement! 
- Are you crazy? Nobody can get there. The cops came once, but did not find either girl or basement. 
- The house, Claude. 
- Seven straight blocks and two blocks on the left. 
- Merci beaucoup, mon ami. (Thank you, my friend). 

The broad steps, Pierre followed the instructions of Claude. Rumor or not, nothing was better to do. The beautiful streets with colorful balconies of the houses enchant the former oil executive. 

- Let the life here! 

He came to the house. A small group of curious beat on the door. Some argued that heard cries of children. They called the parents of cruel monsters. Pretending is desentendido, with help from Comment dire tout his book in Spanish, asked the leader of buzz: 

- Excuse me, sir, what is happening here? 
- A couple locked the child in chains in the basement! They told them! 
- Under that argument? 
- They said it was the best for her! Some are crazy! I called the police immediately. The non-malandros are so ashamed that to conceal the basement and the girl when the guards arrived! 
- Is this true? 
- They told me, sir! Assumed that, God knows why, if there was reason, trance the small underground! 

Pierre was curious. His new life for unemployed it was interesting. Although with some trauma, why not investigate this mystery? He left the small group of baderneiros in front of the house and went to a cafe in the Plaza Santo Domingo figure out what to do. 

Return to the hotel, called Claude's reception, calling him for a drink. 
- Claude! We have to do this morning! 
- Buy your ticket to Monte Carlo? 
- Absolutely not! Let's walk seven hips in a straight line and two blocks on the left. 
- Perfect. In court Thursday we got and the ham. 
- Go along the beach then! 
- Go? Who said I'm going? 
- I say, dear Claude. We will be home to the girl's basement. 
- You think I say that? 
From sunglasses and jackets of black velvet, Pierre and Claude left the hotel Bóveda of Santa Clara. A visual heartwarming to the heat of Cartagena. 

- Why are we dressed well, Pierre? 
- Because every mystery needs a clothes to match! 
- Are you sure you had high of psychiatric hospital? 
- Are you insinuating that I am crazy? 
- Yes. 
- Thanks, dear friend, thank you. Now we will continue to walk. 

The wind blows, but nothing that could shorten the heat of the heroic Cartagena. Claude regret it at every moment of having counted the rumor the girl's basement. 

At home, there was no sign of demonstrators. Pierre knocked on the door. 

- Monsieur Pierre, is five minutes we're here. No one lives in this house. 
- I will not miss the boat. Tocarei again. 
- I will ask the Ministry of Health of the Dominican Republic to review the mental hospital from where you left. 
- I know you're playing and who trust me, Claude. 
- None of the two hypotheses, dear Pierre. 
- Why do I look like that, Claude? 
- Is the twenty-nine minutes we're here. 
- For a little more hope. 
At 01:56 am, 66 minutes after the first beat on the door, lit up a light. Steps were heard in the distance. A lady high and extremely smooth hair, in black clothes, asked them: 
- Good morning, gentlemen, how can they help? 
- I'm from Monaco. I do not speak Spanish. 
- Thanks for passing the pump to me, dear friend. 
- You expect the answer, Claude. In that she can help us? 
- Excuse us, madam. My friend insisted that I wanted to visit the house. 
- It is welcome. 

You led them to a room and left alone, alerting would return in a few minutes. 

- Pierre, you know that we are cold in most of life, right? 
- Now we learn all about the girl's basement, think on the positive side. 
- Assume that this is true. It is notable that she will bring to hide the girl, do not you think? 
- Alegro me for believing in history. That worries me. Listen to the sound of steps. She is going to the underworld to a girl in the disappearance. What do we do? 
- And I know that? I brought you here, you crazy. 

The steps are close. She was back. 

- Dear you, follow me. I will take them to a place where we can talk. 

They were coming to the door with stairs. The path of the basement. Or disappear or find out what this round house of Cartagena. A comfortable and elegant room appeared. 

- Excuse me for the delay, but the gentleman should realize that arrumei better for the environment to receive them. 
- That does not seem captivity and Pierre. 
- You spoke captivity? - Mess with you. 
- Excuse me, miss, but you should know that the stories we hear around here. 
- I these people speak what should not. It is absurd to call this captive as elegant. Do not believe? 
- It seems to me that yes - a stunned Claude sighed. 
- It is absurd to call home the captivity of my daughter. 

Claude and Pierre looked it. In French, commented: the story was true! You have the number of strips to redemption, at least, our bodies? 

- The gentleman would like to know my daughter? 
- Yes - a curious Pierre sighed, in his fateful Spanish. 
- Because she is in the next room. 

- See, Claude? Not only hides the girl here, as in other rooms hidden underground. I did well to come up here. 
- I would rather forget all that. I do not know how convinced me to leave the hotel to come here other than get out alive. 

- Gentlemen, I present them Clara Rodriguez. 

The two friends did not understand anything. There was just a doll, very well looked after, apparently manufactured a few decades. They were worried about the isolation of a doll? 

- This is my daughter, gentlemen. 
- Madam, this is a doll. 
- Dear sir ... 
- Toulouse. Claude Toulouse. 
- Mr Toulouse, this doll has been here since 1966. My little girl left us this year, a day after winning the doll. She played, but felt pain in the chest and died the same evening. This doll is like my daughter. 
- Why was hiding down here? Why let all the accused? 
- My daughter suffered the attack on top, then created an underground floor, a new and safe place so that this doll represents the new life of my daughter, my beloved Clara Rodriguez. 
- You respect your history, lady - Claude said. 

The phone rang in the upstairs. 

- Excuse me, gentlemen - you asked and withdrew. 

Alone in the mysterious basement, Pierre and Claude seemed to calm. There was no girl confined there, after all. Strong noise to interrupt the silence in an underground room to room where they were continuous. Pierre was investigating. It was a broad framework, full of webs and mold, which had fallen. 

- Look, Claude. There is a picture of you and a girl. 
- Despite the state in the table, the picture is today! Even the lady's hairdo is the same. Who is this girl? Look what's down there? 
- Let's see: 
Always be here, Clarita. December 1888. 

Xangri it, in January 2008.