chapter 12d 

(The Bells of the Bell Tower) 

Moïse Berri 

and the Reconstruction of the Haitian 

Space Agency 

by Jude Jarda 

12d 

The Bells of the Bell Tower 

In the meantime on the Atlantic coast, in Palm Beach, Florida, Eudoxie Angélique Legitime and Alejandro are preparing a new batch of medical marijuana cigarettes in the company of Mr. Norbert and Mrs. Papadakis, while listening to Bob Marley's Easy Skanking. Soula Papadakis came to borrow a pair of secateurs. She caught the old lady and her gardener in the backyard, their feet soaking in the pool, smoking pot and laughing like two mischievous teens with a thirst for anarchy. They were busy writing inane remarks under different posts from Alejandro's social network profile, using a waterproof portable computer. Grandma Legitime convinced her nosy neighbor that taking a toke or two was like inhaling natural fruit essences and medicinal herbs, but without the usual oriental equipment. Soula Papadakis jumped on the occasion to go get a bong she bought years ago in a Lebanese shop in Downtown Detroit. The device had never been used and had been collecting dust in her attic. Before putting it at use, Soula insisted that, based on her semantic and etymological research, they should refer to the apparatus as a narghile and not as a hookah. Fifteen minutes later, the Greek lady was calling the water pipe, Lucy with Diamonds, and bursting into uncontrolled episodes of laughter for no apparent reasons. 

The many phones of the house start ringing. It's Edmondine Belhumeur. She could not have chosen a worse time to call her mother-in-law. After consuming the second gram of cannabis and surviving a dry martini contest, Soula Papadakis introduced Eudoxie Angélique to the mysteries of Metaxás 7 from Thessalonique, omitting to inform the matriarch of its alcohol concentration. Alejandro felt the need to represent his country, so he went out to get a bottle of Fernet-Branca from his native Argentina at his second employer's house on Ocean Terrace. So now everybody is a little bit tipsy. Edmondine Belhumeur is looking for her husband. She went to the headquarters of Legitimus Automotives, in Joliet, to ask about his whereabouts and get an explanation for his sudden disappearance. All her bank and credit cards were unusable, mainly due to insufficient funds. She had to run away from the premise when an Irish mechanic proposed to keep her hostage until the payroll problem was solved. Edmondine’s Lincoln Navigator later died on Stevenson Expressway, south of Chicago, near Leclaire-Hearst park. The vehicle being practically new, Edmondine is persuaded that it's not a major problem, but the tow truck driver she called wants to be paid before he brings her to the garage of her choice. Edmondine wants Eudoxie Angélique to help her and her neurotic husband before she goes haywire. It's all because of Ulysses Hercules's embarrassing quirks and fear of germs that she stopped touching paper money since Beijing 2008. Grandma Legitime only knows the virtues of her son; therefore, her reply comes like a bullet that ricocheted off a pile of cow dung. 

“Why don't you go take a look under his girlfriend's bed, you ugly stuck-up duck? If you gave him a little more action and a little less prostration, maybe he'd be by your side as we speak. That's just my two cents.” 
“Oh! Uhh! What the... excuse me? Are you insinuating that my husband is having an affair of some sort? Ulysses Hercules lost his mojo years ago. He went as far as buying a Tibetan tiger penis in Guangdong to stimulate the blood circulation down there.” 
“I guess that you're the last person to hear about it. My son is playing with his oboe in another orchestra, one with more swing. You may want to sit with him between two visits to the jewelry store and figure out if your name is still on his testament.” 
“You don't sound like yourself. Have you been drinking alcohol in spite of doctor Stewart's warnings?” 
“Just living the thug life, my dear. If you've got a problem with that, bring your fat ass down here and we'll deal with it too.” 

Alejandro applauds his boss straightforwardness. Still logged on Facebook, he opens the profile he created for Grandma Legitime to show her some new pictures posted by her grandchildren. There's Clyde partying with his Scottish friends near the ruins of Hadrian's Wall. Here's Thomas, now a big guy, leading scorer and captain of his school basket-ball team. The little seducer seems to have found love with one of the cheerleaders. There is also Armandine, stepping out of a limousine on her prom night. That tall gentleman escorting her must be that famous Benny Chapman she kept mentioning at the last Christmas Eve party. Eudoxie Angélique would now want Alejandro to show some photos of Haiti to Soula Papadakis. She'd like to show the wonders that her late husband has built from the grave. Especially the village of Mizerikod; destroyed by the earthquake of 2010 and reconstructed entirely under the supervision of her three children. The best place on the Net for such pictures is on Grandma Legitime's little brother's personal Web page: the mayor of Mizerikod's homepage. Soula Papadakis is staggered by what she sees on Amédée Fleurinor's site. She taught for some reason that the white sand beaches stopped naturally at the border with the Dominican Republic. Alejandro reminds her that most television programs focus on selling stuff to the viewers, not on teaching and learning the truth about anything. While Soula Papadakis is discovering the Pearl of the Antilles in images, a particular photo album dedicated to the renovations of Mizerikod's main church bugs the Argentine gardener. 

“It's very strange,” Alejandro says, rubbing his chin. “On that picture, right here, from the month of July, the restauracion of the church seems completed. On the next page, right there, the slide show indicates that the photo was taken in Octubre of the same year, but the doors are gone and many dormer windows are missing. And what about the bells of the bell tower? One more click… half the bricks of the back structure have been removed, but manually, very aproximadamente, not like a real mason would recommend it to be done. My cousin, Frascuelo, he builds houses. I know this things. In the previous album, double click, your brother, the mayor of the town, is shaking hands with that old man in front of a villa on a hill. Can you read the inscriptions in Latin above the entrance door? I am no FBI, but I am not stupid: this is the door of the church in the July picture.” 
“That can't be, my dear Alejandro,” Eudoxie Angélique says. “If you're right, that would be very disturbing. I am supposed to receive a seven hundred thousand dollar bonus from the Heritage Legitime foundation, when the renovations on the Our Lady of Seven Sorrows church are done and finished. I never got that check.” 
“Who is that old man, Dona Angelica, his stare gives me the goose bumps?” 
“That evil man is Louis Edmond Fleurant, but he insists on being called Senator, even if his candidacy was rejected back in 1991 for national security concerns. I had no idea that Amédée was an acquaintance of that deranged individual. There is blood that can never be washed on that werewolf's hands. Is it possible that you are mistaking, my dear Alejandro. I mean, that the dates on the pictures could be wrong?” 
“I doubt so, mi corazón. You see, if you compare the height of the trees in the yard of the church, between July and Octubre, well, no technology known to man can make them shrink.”