by Katie Penryn
“With reservations. You and I have some talking to do on the subject of bees, but it’ll keep. Tonight is family night.”
We stayed up late playing board games and chatting about what we would do when Jonny Sauvage’s murderer had been caught. That day couldn’t come too soon for me. I didn’t want another visit from the nasty old cockroach.
*
Felix and I had planned to continue with our interviews on the Monday morning, but the mayor called me at about ten o’clock to say he wanted to see me in his office.
“Did he sound peeved?” asked Felix.
“Not at all. He was businesslike. We’d better leave now, but first I must let the queen bees out of their boudoirs.”
“I’ll leave you to it, boss, if you don’t mind.”
I made my way through the uneven tussocks and piles of stones in our poor back yard and pulled out the sliding door to the queens’ chambers. I lifted up the top of the hive and peeped inside. All seemed to be going well.
I left the bees to continue with their new life, collected Felix and drove to the mairie.
Monsieur Bonhomie greeted us with a curt bonjour and a quick handshake. He hadn’t forgiven me for my intrusive questions, but while he stayed on our list of suspects that was all right with me.
“What did you want to see me about, monsieur?” I asked him when we had taken out seats and he had sent for coffee. No choice of tea today I noticed.
“I heard from the Americans first thing this morning. Fortunately, the official spoke to me in French. They have done what they can to trace any relatives of Sauvage but without success. They stressed their searches had not been conclusive because of the emergency conditions in Louisiana at the moment caused by the flooding of one of their great rivers.”
Felix and I nodded our understanding.
“What did they say?” I asked.
“It appears that all four of the Americans are from New Orleans itself, which escaped the worst of the flooding this time. Available records show that Sauvage was unmarried and had no direct family. He was orphaned young and brought up in a children’s home. If he does have a next of kin, they can’t trace him or her.”
“What about the funeral?”
“The Consulate will pay for the funeral. They say it should be held here in France as there are only three days to go to fulfill the mandatory seven days. They can’t arrange to have a body sent home when they don’t know who to send it to. They added cremation was the ideal choice because if a next of kin was traced later, Sauvage’s ashes could be sent across to the States.”
Felix and I exchanged glances. How did this affect us?
The mayor went on. “I would like you to take charge of the funeral arrangements, Madame Munro. It is more sensible for someone who speaks both English and French to cope with both the church and Sauvage’s business colleagues.”
“You mean his band members?”
“Exactement.”
“And what is to happen to them?”
“The Americans will pay them an allowance for rent and food until the case is solved and will then help with their fares home if necessary. They want us, that is you, to pack up Sauvage’s belongings which they’ll ship to the States pending a next of kin. At least it will all be off our hands then.”
“His guitar must be worth a lot? Shouldn’t his girlfriend be entitled to some of his valuables?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, she is not his legal next of kin unless she can prove they were married. The Americans can find no trace of a will.”
“So no one murdered him for his assets such as they were — his guitar and his royalties?”
“Not as far as we can tell.”
“That eliminates one of the main motives for murder — financial gain. That leaves us with sex, revenge and fear of discovery.”
The mayor snorted. “Which one do you think fits me? Oh, revenge. You think I killed Sauvage to pay him back for what he did to my daughter?”
I couldn’t answer his question diplomatically so I changed the subject. “Do you want us to visit the band members and tell them what’s been decided?”
“If you would and report back to me. Are you making any progress with your private enquiries?”
I drank my coffee and returned the cup to the saucer before replying. “What private enquiries, monsieur? You know we are forbidden to interfere by Madame Fer-de-Lance. We don’t have your blessing this time, do we?”
This discomforted the mayor who harrumphed and messed about with the papers on his desk.
I seized the advantage. “Do you know what line of enquiry Inspector Dubois is following?”
The mayor sighed. “That Dubois. He’s as bright and shiny as a new Euro piece but he doesn’t have the spark of intuition that you have, Madame Munro. He’s a plodder.”
“So what’s he doing?”
“He’s interviewing every employee of the hospital and every visitor to the hospital on the day of the murder. But he told me he’s stumped because no one shows up on the CCTV footage. He’s sent the recording off to the forensic experts in Paris to see if it was tampered with.”
“We have the same problem, monsieur, so we’re tackling it from the other end. We’ll find out who did it and then work out how.”
Bonhomie stood up to show us out of his office.
As he shook my hand he said, “I am aware of the conflict of interests you face in your dealings with me on this case, but please accept that I am with you in spirit. I want you to find the murderer and soon. As you know, it is bad publicity for our town when one of our visitors meets an untimely end.”
“Thank you for your understanding, monsieur,” I replied. “We hope to be able to clear you soon.”
Chapter 26
“That was heavy,” said Felix as we walked out beneath the tricolore flying above the mairie. “What do we do now?”
“I was hoping to interview that unmarried mother the one who’s a nurse at the hospital, but we’ll have to change course and inform the band members about their Consulate’s plans for them.”
“I’m not looking forward to that. The place was disgusting last time we visited.”
“Try and keep your feline sensibilities in check then,” I said laughing at the look on Felix’s face.
As things turned out, Felix needn’t have worried. The house and grounds would no longer be mistaken for a squatters’ camp. Still shabby yes, but clean and tidy. Gone were the empty beer cans and the detritus from a thousand take-aways. Two brand new garbage bins stood by the door. The steps had been swept and all the windows at the front of the house sparkled in the sunshine. Even the hired tour bus had been cleaned.
“This looks promising,” said Felix approaching the front door and giving it a good knock.
A slurred voice called out, “Come in, why don’t you? No need to break the door down.”
Felix turned the knob and we walked into the fresh smell of lavender and pine cleaning products. Not a happy mixture but anything was better than the stench of old vomit. The trend continued as we trod the highly polished floorboards. No spider’s webs, no dust.
“We’re in here,” the voice called out again.
We walked into the sitting room to find Zack, Petey and Joliette in a room clean enough to be a doctor’s surgery. The battered old chairs even had clean cotton throws spread across them. Zack sat sprawled in one while Petey dozed in the other. Joliette lay on the sofa like an Eastern odalisque and wearing as little. The summer heat was stifling but even so two or three diaphanous cotton wraps seemed inadequate given the two men in the room with her. Coming from New Orleans I would have expected the three of them to be used to the sweltering August heat.
But as we advanced into the room, the heavy pall of freshly smoked cannabis hit us in the face winning the battle against the industrial fragrances, and they’d been drinking heavily. Zack lumbered to his feet to shake hands dislodging a couple of empty vodka bottles from the depths of his armchair. They fe
ll on the carpet with a clank.
Joliette raised an arm and took a swig from her bottle before saying “Hi.”
I said hi back, glad to find the booze and grass had made her dopily friendly and not aggressive as she’d been last time we met in the Dames at the Blues Festival.
“Sit, sit,” Zack invited, kicking a box over for Felix. “Move your legs, girl,” he mumbled at Joliette.
She pouted and tried to sit up but fell on me as I sat down making the sofa dip in the middle. I pushed her up straight again and wedged her with a cushion. The room may have been clean, but she wasn’t. I hadn’t given much thought to Joliette up until that point. I’d viewed her only as a suspect. I hadn’t considered her pain: that she could be grieving for Jonny and this was her way of escaping from reality for a while. I’d allowed my personal feelings for her to blind me to her humanity. I should have given her the benefit of the doubt and honored her grief. I vowed to do so from that point on until and unless I had proof that she’d murdered her lover.
I waited for someone to speak but Felix was less tactful.
“What happened here?” he asked. “This place looks as if you’ve had a visit from a flock of good fairies.”
“You could say that,” Zack answered and slurped another swig of his vodka. “The local priest came by with a crowd of do-gooders. They pushed us all out into the yard and went through the house cleaning and tidying. They even cleaned up Jonny’s room, and you remember what that was like.”
“Father Pedro’s a kind man,” I said.
Joliette sat up straighter and stared at me. “I know you,” she said.
I held my breath fearing she’d had a flash back to our previous engagement, but she smiled a silly smile and took another drink from her bottle.
I couldn’t avoid the question any longer. “Where did you get the money from for all this booze? You were broke last time we saw you.”
“Father Pedro gave us some money for food,” said Zack.
“Figures,” said Felix tightening his lips.
“The mayor sent us some Red Cross food parcels,” Zack added.
Petey woke up with a growl. “Wassa matta?”
“It’s Penzi and Felix,” said Zack.
“What are they doing here?” Petey asked. “Can’t you see we’re having a wake?”
“We’ve come to tell you what your Consulate has arranged for you. They’re going to pay for Jonny’s funeral which will probably be on Thursday.”
“What about us?” asked Zack. “We can’t get any gigs without Jonny and are tickets are for weeks ahead.”
“They’ll be sending funds to you — to the mayor of Beaucoup-sur-mer so you won’t be able to spend it all at once. And when appropriate they will sort out your fares?”
“What does that mean?”
“The police won’t allow you to leave until Jonny’s murderer has been found.”
“They came round and took our passports so we know that. And they questioned us, but we don’t know anything,” Petey said.
That was because Dubois didn’t know what questions to ask. I hoped I’d have more luck.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right. You won’t know, but I’ve had success with two other cases recently.”
Joliette threw her bottle on the floor. “Silly thing’s empty. Why do you want to question us? It’s not really any of your business, is it? Jonny was my man, not yours.”
“Of course, he was.”
“And he’s left me all alone in a foreign country with no money.”
“He didn’t intend to, Joliette. Someone killed him and I will find out who.”
“But he promised me. He promised me,” she said, her voice breaking with grief or self-pity, I couldn’t decide which.
“What did he promise you?”
“He said that if I came with him to France, he would make a will leaving me his royalties if anything happened to him.”
I looked round at Zack and Petey. “Did you two know anything about this?”
“We all did,” Zack said. “Petey and I argued that we should get a percentage, but Joliette wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Did any of you ever see this will?”
Joliette snuffled and wiped her nose on one of her veils. She shook her head.
“Zack? Petey?”
More headshakings. Jonny could have been stringing Joliette along and never written a will, but Joliette had believed him. Could she have murdered him in the mistaken belief that she would inherit?
“You do know that without a will you cannot inherit?” I asked her. “You are not Jonny’s next of kin. The Consulate has carried out searches in the States and hasn’t turned up a marriage for Jonny.”
She broke down into violent sobs. I put my arm around her and tried to comfort her. When she could speak again she said, “Jonny always said we didn’t need to get married. I was his sweetheart for life, he said.”
Zack stumbled to his feet and fetched a six-pack from the fridge. He tore the cardboard and threw a can at each of us, appropriating two for himself.
“Do you mind if we search Jonny’s room?” I asked as I pulled the tab.
Joliette shook her head. “I’ve already looked for his will.”
“Do any of you know what happened to the money the band earned at the festival?”
Again they all shook their heads.
Zack said, “Jonny’s always been bad about money. This trip’s been worse than usual. He hasn’t paid Petey and me.”
“Tha’s ri’,” said Petey coming to life again. “No money. Jonny didn’t do ri’ by us. He was a s—”
“That’ll do,” I said quickly as Joliette struggled to her feet.
I caught hold of her arm before she could swipe her empty bottle across Petey’s head.
I pulled her towards the door. “What you need is a good hot bath, my girl.”
Leaving Felix to cope with the two drunken band members, I coaxed Joliette towards the bathroom. I pushed her down onto the stool where she swayed tipsily to and fro but managed to keep her balance. I turned on the taps and looked around for something to sweeten the water with. Joliette waved towards the cupboard to the side of the basin. Father Pedro’s little helpers had tidied all the pills and beauty products into neat rows. I chose a scented foam bath and tipped a generous dollop into the bath and frothed it up.
Joliette watched me as I hunted about for a clean towel, her face vacant of all expression. “Why you doing all this? I was nasty to you.”
I helped her to her feet and laid the towel on the stool within reach of the bath. She plucked at the shawls, but she’d tied them when sober and the knots defeated her now.
“Here, let me,” I said brushing her hands away and releasing the folds which dropped to the floor. She kicked them away saying, “Dirty, dirty things.”
Getting her into the bath proved difficult but at last she sank down into the foam. “Slovely,” she said giving me a fleeting smile.
I had to find her some clean clothes, but couldn’t leave her alone lest she drown.
“Felix,” I called out, “come here a moment.”
He answered my summons wiping his hand across his forehead and flicking off imaginary sweat. “Phew, it’s getting kind of stinky in there. What do you want, boss?”
“Stay here. By the door,” I added as he flashed me a wolfish grin. “Make sure she doesn’t drown.”
The fairies had been busy in the room Joliette and Jonny had shared. A faint smell of stale vomit still lingered, but not enough to make me hold my nose this time. Two garbage bags full of dirty clothes met me to the side of the doorway. The fairies hadn’t gone as far as doing the laundry. My hunt through the wardrobe and chest of drawers turned up nothing wearable. No wonder Joliette had clad herself in nothing but flimsy summer shawls that morning. What to do?
I hurried across to the boys’ room and found a clean T-shirt. It must have been Zack’s because it was large enough to make a mi
ni dress for Joliette. Back in her room again, I found a pair of clean underpants belonging to Jonny I guessed. My heart sank. There was no way I could leave a woman in her state with nothing to wear. I would have to stay long enough to put her clothes through the washer.
I returned to the bathroom with my haul of T-shirt and boxer shorts and pushed past Felix to lay them on the side of the washbasin for Joliette.
“Can I go now, boss?” Felix asked.
“Sorry, I have to wash her clothes. She has nothing to wear.”
“That’s above and beyond the call of duty. We have things to do and people to see.”
“Felix, you heard what she said. She’s just lost her partner, she’s got no money and she’s in a foreign land. She has no support group here. No friends, No family. I’m doing what I hope someone would do for me in similar circumstances. And if you’re worried about the time, we can interview the three of them while the cycle’s running.”
“Good for you. I know you’re a do-a-you-would-be-done-by kind of girl.” He shrugged. “I’m more of a be-done-by-as-you-did kind of guy. It must have been growing up in the jungle that did it.”
“Whatever,” I said and then laughed at myself. “It’s all a bit much isn’t it?”
“You can say that again,” he said slouching back against the doorjamb as I left to collect the dirty washing.
When I returned I sent Felix back to the two men and suggested he made them some strong coffee to sober them up ready for us to interview them. “And see what you can get out of them — on the sly. Don’t go riling them up.”
Felix gave me a mock salute. “Right ho, boss.”
Sometimes he could be so exasperating. My care of Joliette annoyed him because he thought it would exhaust me. In truth, I was tired. Tired of the mess people make of their lives.
Joliette looked up as I entered the bathroom and sat on the stool facing her. Already, she looked more aware.
“Are you feeling better?” I asked her as an opener.
“Much. So kind.”
That made me feel a bit of a heel as I was about to question her, but at least she wasn’t about to attack me and hold me under the water. But with Jonny gone, there would be no point to that, would there?