So. He walked up to Missy's uncle's house and knocked on the door.
Wes Jenkins opened it himself. He smiled in a friendly enough way. In fact, he looked like he was in a really good mood. That was always better than catching a man in a bad mood. Not to mention, he seemed awfully wide awake for this early in the morning on New Years Day.
Mrs. Jenkins seemed like she was in a good mood, too. Also wide awake. And she worked at the same office, so it ought to be all right to say everything in front of her.
Ron started talking. It was amazing how much a man could say during a whole night of playing cards. Particularly a man who was not entirely and totally all there because of a head of blonde hair. Particularly a man who was trying to impress that head of blonde hair with his family's connections and influence.
A man who apparently didn't have the vaguest idea that the half-brother of the blonde hair was in military intelligence. That was interesting in itself.
It was surprising how much Jean-Louis LaChapelle had let drop in passing while they were playing cards the night before. How much Ron, in thinking back to Venice, had started to get the sensation of "deja vu all over again." People representing themselves as out of town Committee of Correspondence sympathizers trying to make contacts in Grantville. And . . .
"I've heard some of this at work, too, out at the plant. I just hadn't put it all together. Everything in Grantville isn't perfect. There are places, not just the 250 Club but other places, where up-timers and down-timers seem to rub one another the wrong way, sometimes. LaChapelle seems to know they're doing this. More of the 'who, what, when, where, and how' than I felt comfortable about, even though he didn't say anything to indicate that he's involved in it himself. Especially considering who he is."
"Who?"
Wes obviously didn't know. Well, there wasn't any obvious connection between the two names.
"LaChapelle is the nephew of the man who married Pam's mother. Velma Hardesty. That guy was—well, is, he's alive and well somewhere in the Netherlands, Haarlem I think—thick as thieves with this Jacques-Pierre Dumais. They spent a lot of time together while he was in town. And Dumais . . . Mr. Jenkins, I really don't want to say something stupid."
"Say it." Wes smiled. "As I recall, I thought your view of my mother's gravy boat was a pretty fair assessment of the item."
"Dumais makes a big thing about being Huguenot. It's one of the cards he plays, locally. 'I'm your heroic Protestant type Frenchman, no lackey of that evil Cardinal Richelieu.' The other, for the 250 Club people, is, 'I'm no Kraut,' which isn't quite the same thing. But in Rome, Ducos and those people who tried to assassinate the pope—they were Huguenots. And they were manipulating other people to do their dirty work. That included the Committee of Correspondence people in Venice."
Wes looked a little blank. He had had other things on his mind during the period of the embassy to Venice.
"Uh. The Marcoli family. My brother Frank's in-laws." Ron frowned. He knew that he didn't have all the connections, so not all of this made sense. "Ducos got away. He has to have gone somewhere. He has to have connections, ways to get instructions to his people. I don't have a thing to tie LaChapelle and his uncle to Ducos. But they do tie to Dumais, at least Mauger does, and Dumais is manipulating other people to do his dirty work. I don't have anything to tie Dumais to Ducos, either. It's . . ."
"You don't have to have a full picture when you bring something in," Wes said. "Every piece of the puzzle helps. There's staff up in Magdeburg who spend all day, every day, trying to fit the pieces together."
"Nasi's people, I know. Thanks anyway," Ron said. "If it hadn't been for the gravy boat, I might have let the whole thing drop, or tried something really roundabout like writing to Father Gus, since he and Frank are pretty good friends, and hoping that he would show it to Father Mazzare—Cardinal Mazzare, I should say. But I thought, if you were interested, this might be faster."
"If a couple of other people are interested in this, is there anyplace in town I can catch you later today? I know it's a holiday . . ."
"I was going back home. I suppose I could always go over and annoy Missy's parents by existing."
"I would not, if I were you." Clara said. "Debbie has already sent Missy to go to sleep and called me to complain."
"Go over to Ben Hardesty's," Wes suggested. "Cory Joe has already been in touch with Arnold Bellamy this morning, early. He's waiting at Ben's until we get a meeting set up. I'll swing by for the two of you when we've gotten in touch with everyone who should be sitting in on this. At least, everyone who doesn't have a hangover. The administration of the SoTF has at least a couple of officials who seem to have partied harder than the rest of them." He grinned. "Ed Piazza among them. We'll brief them tomorrow."