by Rachel Green
Noémie woke up grisly so Camille took her for a little walk while Margot and Pierre strolled back to the car.
“I don’t suppose I could bum a cigarette?” Pierre said. “Being cooped up in the back of the car gave me cabin fever.”
“Sorry,” Margot said. “I haven’t had a cigarette in eighteen days.”
Pierre’s face brightened. “You’ve quit?”
“Trying to.”
He took hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Good for you.”
“Not so good for my hips,” Margot said, patting her side. “The amount of chocolate I’ve been eating instead.”
They walked out through the arch and set off down the street. Margot took off her black gloves and pushed them to the bottom of her bag. Twice in one year; she hoped she never saw the horrid things again.
“Any news from Marseilles?”
“They’ve seized two containers. There was a hundred kilos of heroin hidden in a shipment of rugs from India. And they’ve arrested a dozen people at the port where it was loaded. It’s a major haul.” Pierre leaned in. “You ignored every warning I gave but I’m glad you persisted.”
Margot allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. It could all have ended very differently and she felt lucky to have come out of it unscathed, suffering no more than a few cuts and bruises. “I just wanted justice for Aswan.”
“I know.”
“Any sign of Enzo?”
“No. They raided his house and his office in the docks, but he was long gone. But don’t worry, he’ll be back, and when he does we’ll be waiting.”
Paolo had confessed. He’d given them a detailed account of what had happened on the night Aswan and his father had lost their lives, how he’d killed Aswan’s father in the heat of the moment and dumped the body down by the fort. His account of what had happened to Aswan seemed plausible. He’d owned up to a dozen other smuggling offences and to forging passports, though claimed he made little or no money out of it. His motives were altruistic, he’d said, though the fact he’d been happy to let his friend take the blame did him no favours.
As far as Enzo was concerned, however, Paolo had refused to comment. His desire for absolution didn’t extend as far as implicating family, it seemed.
“Oh, I’ve got something for you.” An air of supressed excitement took hold of Pierre when they reached the car. “Wait there.”
Margot stood on the pavement while he nipped round to the other side and reached into the passenger seat. When he came back, he was holding a brown paper bag which he presented to Margot with great care. “I found it last week.”
Margot gave him an enquiring look. She opened the bag and peered inside. It was an LP, that much was obvious, but when she pulled it out and caught sight of the sleeve she let out a little gasp of excitement. Yesterday and Today by The Beatles. She beamed.
“Where on earth did you find this?”
“I have my sources.”
“Oh, Pierre.”
“It’s not got the original sleeve but it is an early one.”
“It’s wonderful.”
Pierre’s eyes turned a little bit glassy. He swallowed, struggling to shift a lump in his throat. “I was thinking I could bring one with me every time I came to visit,” he said, voice cracking. “We could restore the collection one by one.”
A wave of raw emotion swept up through Margot’s body and it took her a moment to compose herself. She inhaled deeply.
“I think I like that idea very much,” she said, and pulled him in for a hug.
Chapter 36
Raul was cleaning the deck of Carpe Diem with a broom and a hosepipe when Margot approached along the jetty. He was so involved in the task that he didn’t spot her immediately and she slowed, remembering the day she’d first encountered him on this jetty. How she’d cursed him.
“Ahoy there, skipper!”
Raul looked up in surprise. Realising who had accosted him, he turned off the hosepipe and put down his brush. “You startled me.”
“Permission to come aboard?”
“Margot, have you ever needed my permission to do anything?”
She smiled away his comment and bounded up the steps at the stern. It had been a week since they’d last seen each other and the time had dragged. Last week he’d been in Madrid, visiting his daughter, and he’d been unable to get back in time for the funeral. In honour of the small reunion, Margot had squeezed into an old pair of blue jeans – she’d always looked good in them, though they appeared to have shrunk somewhat. She slid through the gap between the two consoles and sat down in the deck salon, happy to be back. It was surprising how much she’d missed it. Carpe Diem had become like a second home.
The harbour was alive with activity and gaggles of tourists were meandering along the jetty, looking appreciatively at the yachts. Elderly men in baseball caps, women eating ice creams; speculating, no doubt, about the wonderful lives the owners must lead, what great adventures they must have. And it had been an adventure, a shame it had had to end. Margot closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sun, blissfully soaking up the heat. In her idle moments she’d entertained ideas of following Raul’s lead and setting off on a journey of her own, maybe even join him on his lap around the world if he asked her to.
It occurred to her that he hadn’t spoken for a few minutes and she opened her eyes. He’d abandoned the hosepipe in favour of a soft white cloth and was now absorbed in polishing some of the chrome-work. Margot stared at him until he raised his head, then tried to coax a smile out of him.
“It’s looking rather splendid.”
“Thank you.”
“To look at her you’d have no idea what she’s been through.”
He carried on polishing, seeming determined to get out its maximum shine.
“Did you get the scratch out?”
“Pardon?’
“The scratch. On the table in the salon.”
“Oh, yes. Go down and see.”
Margot did so. The table looked good as new. Indeed, everything was back to how it had been on the day she’d first set foot on board. When she went back up, Raul was still busy polishing. She went to stand by his side and leaned against one of the wheels, thumbs hooked into the front pockets of her jeans. He smiled politely and Margot smiled back.
“Are you taking her out today?”
“I thought I might sail across to Sardinia.”
“That sounds nice.”
“There are some extraordinary sea caves over there. I’ve always wanted to check them out.”
“Mm-hm.” Margot nodded her head like one of those dashboard dogs. She hoped he might elaborate, perhaps invite her to go with him, but he remained silent. “How long will it take?”
He shrugged.
“A day?” she prompted.
“Maybe a few days.”
“You’ll be back for the weekend, though, won’t you?”
He paused. A couple of moments went by before he put down his cloth and faced her properly. And when he did, the look on his face told Margot everything she needed to know. She took her thumbs out of her pockets and straightened her spine. Her good mood drained like someone had pulled a plug.
“I see.”
Raul gave her a sad sorry look. “I thought it was time to move on. There’s so much to explore.”
“Of course. Wherever the wind takes you and all that.”
“Italy was always going to be next on my itinerary.”
“I’m sure it will be lovely.”
Margot nodded again. She worked on hiding her disappointment but it wasn’t easy. For a while she couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. How quickly some people can permeate your life; how wrenching their departure can feel. She gathered her emotions and produced a smile. “Well, the wind brought you to Argents-sur-Mer and I’m glad it did.” She extended her arm for a handshake.
Raul looked down at her hand but didn’t shake it. The corners of his mouth crept up ever so sli
ghtly and the twinkle returned to his eye. “You could always come with me.”
“And sail around the world together?”
“Why not?”
Margot retracted her arm. Less than a minute ago she’d entertained that very idea but now it seemed ridiculous. It would never happen. Happy little visions like that belonged to other people, or the world of fantasy.
“I don’t think I could handle the seasickness.”
“We could stock up on pills.”
Margot shook her head. She glanced around the deck of Carpe Diem one final time, remembering with fondness the good times they’d shared, and then moved towards the steps at the rear. Raul followed like a shadow.
“I guess this is goodbye.”
“I suppose it is.” Margot reached for the handrail.
“Margot.”
She turned back. “Yes.”
“I hope you find it.”
“Find what?”
He paused. “Whatever it is that will make you happy.”
She had that image again: of jumping in just as the tide was going out. When she leaned back and kissed him on the cheek, Raul held onto her elbow, perhaps wanting more, and for a moment Margot thought she might crumble and give in. But the feeling quickly passed.
As soon as she got back home she took off the jeans and threw them in the bin.
***
Margot was snoozing in the courtyard when her phone juddered on the wrought-iron table. Her eyes were slow to focus and she couldn’t quite read the number that was showing.
“Hello?”
“Madame Renard?”
“Yes.”
“This is Captain Bouchard of the Gendarmerie de Argents-sur-Mer.”
Margot rolled her eyes. She swung her legs over the side of the sun lounger, her bare feet connecting with an empty champagne bottle that had somehow got down there. She picked it up and returned it to the table. “What is it?”
“Judge Deveraux asked me to call. She would like to see you at four o’clock.”
“Why?”
“She didn’t say.”
Margot checked the time: it was two p.m. now. She removed her sunglasses and rubbed some life into her eyes. “Very well.”
“I’ll meet you outside her office at four p.m.. Sharp.”
Margot sobered up with two cups of strong black coffee. Most of her clothes were in the wash, and she still hadn’t replaced those that had been lost in the fire. The only decent outfit she had in her wardrobe was the jacket and pants she’d taken from Enzo’s laundry room so she put those on.
This time, the receptionist greeted her with a friendly smile and sent her straight up. Captain Bouchard was already waiting in the vestibule, fidgeting with annoyance. As Margot closed in on him, he raised his wrist and pointedly stared at his watch.
“It is four-o-six, Madame.”
Margot breezed by with her head held high before knocking sharply on the door. She flicked him a conquering look as her hand turned the handle.
Judge Deveraux came out from behind her desk and intercepted them en route. “How lovely to see you, Madame Renard.”
“It’s nice to see you, too.”
“And thank you for coming.”
“Not at all.”
They warmly shook hands. Anyone would think they were old friends.
The judge indicated seats on the nearside of the desk as the secretary brought in coffee. The judge remained standing while she filled the china cups and added milk and sugar – none for Margot, three lumps for the captain. She carefully handed them their cups before retreating to her side of the desk.
“I hear you’ve moved back into your house.”
“Yes. They’ve finished all the repairs.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Biscuit?”
She offered them a plate. Margot declined, Captain Bouchard took two. They each had a sip of their coffee before the judge returned her cup to the tray. Her eyes were sparkling and she seemed quite buoyant.
“I imagine you’re wondering why I asked you here.”
“The captain was very cryptic.”
The judge smiled. “The first reason was to formally thank you. The fact we apprehended the smugglers and foiled a substantial drugs plot is largely down to you. Your determination is to be admired.”
Margot gave a small nod of her head.
“I understand you also paid for a funeral for the boy and his father.”
“It was the least they deserved.”
“How commendable.” The judge smiled wistfully and the office fell silent. She was looking Margot directly in the eye and Margot flushed, not quite understanding her interest. After a few moments, the judge came back and shifted her gaze.
“Which brings me to the second reason.”
“Yes.”
“I was hoping I might enlist you.” She said ‘enlist’ in a conspiratorial way.
Margot frowned. “Enlist me, for what?”
Judge Deveraux shuffled some papers. “I’ve been looking into your background; I hope you don’t mind. But I see your father was a judge in England and that you trained as a lawyer in both London and Paris.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Nevertheless, it would be a shame to let such talents go to waste. You’ve proved what a diligent investigator you can be. You could be a real asset to my office.”
“That’s very kind of you but—”
The judge raised a hand. “Please don’t be modest. You’re a compassionate, intelligent woman and it’s important we stand up for ourselves in this patriarchal world.” Neither of them looked at the captain but the judge’s words were enough to stick pins in him. Judge Deveraux continued, “We always have a number of cases where, for whatever reason, the investigation reached a dead end or failed to result in a prosecution. Our ‘cold cases’, if you like. I’ve always felt it would be useful to have a fresh pair of eyes look over them.”
Margot straightened in her seat, beginning to see where this might be heading.
“I was wondering if you would be interested in working for me. You would remain in a civilian capacity, of course. The cases you would be given would be at my discretion and you would take a purely advisory role. But, in principle, is that something that might interest you?”
Margot was flummoxed and didn’t know how to respond. She clasped her hands around her knee, and when she opened her mouth to speak the words evaporated on her tongue.
“You would need to liaise with Captain Bouchard, of course. I trust that won’t be a problem.”
Margot brightened. Suddenly the proposition took on a whole new dimension and she saw the potential. A sly smile warmed her face. “I’m game if the captain is,” she said.
And this time they both turned to the man at her side. Captain Bouchard gave a begrudging nod of his head, looking as if he’d just swallowed something unpleasant.
THE END
***
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Margot Renard will return in:
FIVE DEAD MEN
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