Mini Series Episode One: Picasso Anyone?

The inquisitive reporter asked me, "Miss Jones how has your life changed since the disappearance of Madame Carlton?"
"You mean my life?"
 "Yes, your life."
 "You mean lately?"
 "Yes, lately," replied all the reporters with their notebooks and pencils in hand waiting with great anticipation for my reply.
Naturally, I couldn't tell them that I didn't belong in their world. And that I was trying to make sense of things. I didn't want to give them an inkling of my secret world. Or that of Madame Carlton's. I replied to them all, "Hmm. Well guys, to be honest with you, I have not done much lately. You know the same ol' same ol." The reporters somehow looked disappointed because they wanted a juicy story. So I proceeded to give them a better answer. I went ahead and said, "What I meant to say is that my life lately has been like a collage. You know like one of those interesting art collages with bits and pieces of glued newspapers on it."
"Collage? What is a collage?"
"Picasso anyone? How is it that you don't know about Pablo Picasso? Haven't you heard about his many talents? His cut paper fragments. Compositions. Made from newspapers pages. Named collages. Haven't you heard his period of Cubism? Geometric structures. Paintings and sculptures. Forming fine art, out of old wallpapers and newspapers clippings. Picasso anyone?"
Duh, of course! Picasso haven't come into the picture yet. So I had to come up with a better explanation. "My life has been so, so..." They were awaiting for the big climax. "Freaking! My life has been so freaking amazing since I arrived her in Paris. And from the bottom of my heart, I thank all Parisians for showering me with so much love." Like a hive of buzzing bees, the reporters enthusiastically dotted down my answer. But they weren't satisfied. They wanted more.
"Where were you when she disappeared?" My mind went to the moment when I saw her being shoved into the elevator.
" I was a few feet away from her."
"You said that there were three possible suspects that took her away. If you see them in the streets will you be able to recognize any of them? 
"No, they were all wearing masks."
"Did they have an accent?"
"Yes, actually. They sounded German."
"Were you afraid for your life?"
That question unexpectedly made me afraid. I waited to compose myself. "Yes, I was." The reporters all stared at me.
"Do you keep your innocence of Madame Carlton's disappearance or possible kidnapping?"
"Yes, indeed. I am innocent! I have nothing to do with Madame Carlton's disappearance. I don't know those people that took her. I wished I knew what happened to her. But I don't have the answers!" I exclaimed while looking straight at the reporter and then at him.

At a short distance was a person that wasn't at all my fan. As a matter of fact he seemed to not like me at all. From the beginning he was so suspicious of who I was. This person became in a short time my WORST ENEMY! This person was non-other than Detective Gautier. This relentless man was one of Paris' best known detectives. But worldwide he was better known by his prized huge bushy mustache, which he called his inseparable companion and an excellent competitor since his mustache got him several awards and fame.

 As I was being hounded by the reporters, he was siting in front of the café shop enjoying ever so slowly his cream filled pastry and hot cocoa, which funny enough we had that in common. Both him and I prefer hot cocoa over a cup of coffee. He too had been writing aimlessly on his note pad. I read the other day on the newspaper that he promised the whole city of Paris along with the commissioner that he will not give up until he solves Madame Carlton's disappearance. Unfortunately, while detective Gautier was investigating the case, he end up finding my missing phone. It was at the hotel right in front of the elevator where I last saw it. Besides him finding my finger prints all over my phone he too had it analyzed by a scientist. His conclusion was that I not only was an American tourist, but that I also was an American spy. Boy, with that kind of imagination he could have become an amazing writer!

I, on the other hand, tried unsuccessfully to find a way to retrieve my phone, but because he kept the phone near him at all times, even hiding it under his pillow, it was hard to get it from him. Well, in a way I had become like a spy. I followed him for days. Taking along my opera glasses with me and peaking into the private life of this detective. I was worried that he too was going to peak into my silly private life as well. My solar powered cell phone was 120 years ahead of their time. Good thing at that time that neither him nor his buddies were able to crack my password. If they did, I sure would be in deep trouble! And so would Paris!"👢

Collage by Victoria Lee Jones picture in my Paris Studio Room. To purchase my artwork, vintage and retro finds please visit my Etsy shop at: