Missing Person by Patrick Modiano, Daniel Weissbort Read Free Book Online Page A

opposite. We sat down.
    "I'm late. Forgive me."
    "Not at all."
    He stared at me with curiosity. Did he recognize me?
    "Your telephone call intrigued me a great deal," he said.
    I tried to smile.
    "And particularly your interest in the Howard de Luz family... of which I am, my dear sir, the last representative ..."
    He had spoken these words in an ironic, self-mocking tone of voice.
    "Besides, I call myself Howard, quite simply. It's less complicated."
    He handed me the menu.
    "You don't have to order the same as I do. I'm a gastronomical columnist... I have to try the house specialities... sweetbread and the fish bouillon ..."
    He sighed. He really seemed to be at a low ebb.
    "I've had enough of it... Whatever's going on in my life, I'm always obliged to eat..."
    They were already bringing him some meat pie. I ordered salad and a piece of fruit.
    "You're lucky... I have to eat... I have to write my piece this evening. I've just returned from the Golden Tripe Competition... I was one of the judges. We had to swallow a hundred and seventy pieces of tripe over a period of one and a half days ..."
    I could not tell his age. His hair, which was very dark, was brushed backward, his eyes were brown, and there was something negroid about his features, in spite of the extreme pallor of his complexion. We were alone at the back of this section of the restaurant, in the basement, with its decor of pale blue paneling, satin, and crystal ware, all of which gave it a kind of gimcrack eighteenth-century air.
    "I've been thinking about what you told me on the telephone ... The Howard de Luz you're interested in can only be my cousin Freddie ..."
    "You really think so?"
    "I'm sure of it. But I hardly knew him ..."
    "Freddie Howard de Luz?"
    "Yes. We played together a few times when we were little."
    "Have you a photo of him?"
    "Not one."
    He swallowed a mouthful of meat pie and suppressed a heave of the stomach.
    "He wasn't even a first cousin ... but once or twice removed ... There were very few Howard de Luz's... I believe we were the only ones, dad and I, and Freddie and his grandfather ... It's a French family from Mauritius, you see ..."
    He pushed away his plate with a weary gesture.
    "Freddie's grandfather had married an extremely wealthy American woman ..."
    "Mabel Donahue?"
    "That's the name... They had a magnificent estate in the Orne district..."
    "In Valbreuse?"
    "My dear fellow, you're a veritable encyclopedia."
    He threw me an astonished look.
    "And then afterward, I think they lost everything ... Freddie went to America ... I can't give you any more precise information... I only know this from hearsay... I don't even know if Freddie is still alive ..."
    "How could one find out?"
    "If my father were here... I used to get news of the family from him ... Unfortunately..."
    I took the photo of Gay Orlov and old Giorgiadze out of my pocket and pointed to the dark-haired man who looked like me:
    "Do you know this fellow?"
    "No."
    "Don't you think he looks like me?"
    He bent over the photograph.
    "Perhaps," he said without conviction.
    "And the blonde woman, do you know her?"
    "No."
    "And yet she was a friend of your cousin Freddie."
    He seemed to suddenly remember something.
    "Just a moment... it's coming back to me ... Freddie went to America. And it seems that there he became the confidant of the actor John Gilbert..."
    John Gilbert's confidant. This was the second time I was being given this piece of information, but it did not lead anywhere in particular.
    "I know, because he sent me a postcard from America at the time ..."
    "Did you keep it?"
    "No, but I still remember what it said by heart: 'Everything fine. America is a beautiful country. I've found work: I'm John Gilbert's confidant. Regards to you and your father. Freddie.' It made an impression on me ..."
    "You didn't see him, when he returned to France?"
    "No. I didn't even know that he had returned to France."
    "And if he were sitting opposite you now, would you recognize