Son Parfum Persiste, Mate!

My days after Christmas were meant to be an uncomplicated holiday on the east coast of Australia, escaping the European winter in a camper van with the gorgeous Madame Charlottenburg. It wasn't meant to be the beginning of a puzzle, the unravelling of which would begin to emerge weeks later on a Mediterranean island. I am Dougay Roberre, and in Australia I had youthful reminiscences to relive, waves to catch, beers to drink, and Madame Charlottenburg's lips to kiss. Once home in Nice, France, questions emerged which needed answering. Who wishes to establish a protection racket over the local cafes? Why did I foolishly offend the reputation of gangster Eddie Contant's mother? And how can numerals written on a two-year-old's birthday card lead to a successful outcome for my Australian puzzle? Someday I should ignore questions, keep my mouth shut, and stay well away from trouble. Someday I should - though that day wasn't today.