Mrs. Belfast’s reply came back swiftly.
Lorelei Belfast: With pleasure.
Eulalie got into bed just before eight with a mug of chamomile tea and a book. The cat walked straight past the basket Mrs. Belfast had put out for him and jumped on the bed too.
He squeezed his way between her face and the book and collapsed his full weight onto her chest and neck. Breathing was a challenge, but it was impossible not to enjoy the weight of him pressed against her neck, the rumble of his purrs penetrating her chest, and the furry warmth under her hand. She couldn’t read like that, so she put her book down and switched off the light. She fell asleep knowing that she was not alone. This creature would watch over her all night if necessary. It made her feel safe.
Chapter 4
Angel arrived at Eulalie’s apartment in a cab at four-thirty the next morning.
Eulalie scooped up the backpacks she had prepared the night before and left the apartment - the cat fast asleep on her bed.
The cab took them up Bonaparte Avenue and onto Lafayette Drive, heading south-east in the direction of the Coast Road. The streets were deserted as they drove through the pale wash of the street lights. Fairy lights twinkled in the trees. As they reached the Coast Road and looked out to sea, a faint lightening on the horizon promised that sunrise was imminent. The cab turned right into Cliff Road and started to climb steeply upwards. They crossed over Edward Drive which led to the neighborhood known as Edward Heights – home to some of the wealthiest families on Prince William Island.
When it seemed as though the road couldn’t get any steeper, it suddenly ended in a small station for the funicular train that would take one further up the cliff. The train ran twenty-four hours a day to service the people who lived in the houses that clung precariously to the cliff face.
Angel paid the driver and hopped out of the cab. She inhaled deeply, drawing the mild morning air into her lungs. “I haven’t been home in two months. I’m looking forward to it, even though the circumstances are not ideal.”
She spoke in Guillaumoise, the vernacular language of their village.
“Me too,” Eulalie replied in the same language. “Not since that business with Bibi’s kidnapping.”
The train took them up to the cable car station which was opening for the day. Several tour companies organized early morning trips up the cable car for tourists wanting to watch the sunrise from the top of the cliffs. Today the station was deserted.
“We’re alone,” Eulalie commented. “That’s convenient.”
“I can still climb, you know. You don’t have to set up an abseil line for me.”
“I know, but why make life more difficult than it needs to be?”
At the top of the cable car, the cliff flattened out to form a wide, natural platform from which one could see for miles. Great streaks of pink and orange were stretching like fingers across the sky to the east, heralding one of the island’s magnificent sunrises.
“Need any help?” asked the cable car operator.
“We’re good thanks, Fabien.” Eulalie slid her backpack off her shoulders. “We’ll be gone by the time you get back up here. See you the day after tomorrow.”
He gave a small salute and stepped back into the cable car.
While Eulalie worked to set up her line, Angel sat down on a bench and unpacked the breakfast she had brought. Warm, flaky pains au chocolat, freshly squeezed citron pressé, and strong coffee were set out on a piece of white linen. Eulalie ate while she worked.
An expert free-climber, Eulalie would have descended the cliff into the forest below without any equipment if she had been on her own. As it was, she had to set up several secure lines all the way down the rock face so that her grandmother could rappel down in minutes. It took her an hour, and she was sweating by the end of it. It helped that there were already solid metal pitons and loops driven into the rock all the way to the ground. She tested the stability of each one as she threaded ropes through them.
Back at the top, she helped her grandmother into a body harness, clipped on her carabiners, and assisted her into position to start her abseil. Eulalie free-climbed down the cliff alongside her rappelling grandmother.
“Even at my best, I wasn’t as fast as you,” said Angel, when they reached the bottom. “You seem to get more agile every year.”
“I’ll always be grateful to you for teaching me, even when I was grumpy and wanted to go and play.”
On the ground, they stood for a while and just breathed in the scents of their forest home. The birds were waking up with a great cacophony, and little tendrils of sunlight were starting to pierce the dense canopy of trees above them. The forest was still gloomy, but it would brighten up soon.
They set off in the direction of the sound of flowing water that they could both hear over the sighing of the wind in the trees. They would walk with the river on their right, but not along its banks because freshwater crocodiles were a feature of this part of the island. Whenever the undergrowth got too thick, Eulalie took a knife out of her backpack and cut a path for them. Again, if she had been on her own, she would have taken to the trees and climbed over the obstacles, but she wasn’t going to subject her grandmother to that.
They walked for many hours, stopping regularly for food and water breaks. Not once did they have to correct their course. Not once did they consult each other about which way to go. The route was as clear to them as if it had been marked with flashing red arrows.
It wouldn’t have been nearly as clear to the dead man.
How had he got to the village? He must have had a guide. It was impossible to stumble on the village by accident. The blisters on his heels suggested that this kind of strenuous hiking was new to him, however strong and fit he might have been. Everything about him – from his clothes to his shoes to his soft, manicured hands – suggested an urban creature, unversed in forest lore.
Yes, he must have had a guide. And if so, where was that person? Why had he or she not reported the man’s death, or even disappearance? More than anything, Eulalie wanted to find the guide.
Strangers who got lost in the forest and ended up wandering near the village did not commonly get murdered. It had happened twice in Eulalie’s lifetime and both times the stranger had been given food and water, and a place to sleep for the night. The next morning, they had been guided back to the safety of Queen’s Town. The villagers chose to cut themselves off from modern society, but the claims of hospitality that were owed to the stranger at the door were taken very seriously.
“Nearly there now.” Angel lifted her arms above her head to stretch out her back and shoulders. “We should get there before five. We’ve made excellent time. You’ll have an hour-and-a-half of daylight.”
“Should we go straight to the scene of the murder, or do you want to go to Uncle Virgil’s place to rest first?” Angel’s son had been born two years after Eulalie’s mother. He was an influential member of the Council of Elders.
“I am fine, mon ange. Let us go and see where this poor man died.”
They circled around to the north of the village and emerged upstream in an area where the fishermen cleaned their catch before taking it home for cooking. There was always a faint smell of fish here, along with the glint and gleam of scales lying discarded on the river bank.
“It was about a quarter mile north west from here, wasn’t it?”
“I believe so,” said Angel.
As they walked, they could hear the sound of children’s voices. It would be the end of play time soon, and the children would be expected back at the village to do their evening chores. Village children were given responsibility at a young age. They were an active part of village life, with duties and responsibilities being added to their schedule until the age of seventeen, when they were considered full adults. They were taught a wide range of skills in the belief that their natural abilities and inclinations would reveal themselves as they got older and could choose to specialize.
E
ulalie would have been a hunter, or possibly a fletcher of arrows, if she had stayed in the village. Her abilities in both directions were considered extraordinary. That was part of why she wanted to get a look at the arrow that had killed the victim.
“I think this must be it.” Angel came to a halt and pointed at a clearing. There was a tree with a big gouge out of the bark.
“Yes, it is.”
Eulalie pulled out her cellphone and took her own pictures of the scene. Chief Macgregor would share the official photos with her, but she liked to keep her own record. She wished she could have brought her good camera equipment with her, but it was too bulky.
“Is that blood?” Angel pointed at a dark patch on the tree trunk.
“Yes. You can see where it has stained the ground and some of the roots. The arrow went straight through the victim’s aorta. The bleeding must have been tremendous. Much of it pooled into the abdominal cavity, but it looks as though plenty spilled outside the body too.”
“I need to sit for a moment.” Angel sank down onto a fallen tree trunk and took deep breaths.
“Sorry, I know it’s gruesome. I attended the autopsy, so the details are still fresh in my mind.”
Eulalie paced around the clearing, trying to picture what had happened.
“The victim would have been here.” She planted herself in front of the tree. “He must have had his back to the tree. The arrow hit him more or less squarely in the upper abdomen, so he was standing at the time. It went straight through his body and penetrated deeply into the tree trunk. That means it was fired by a recurve with a heavy draw weight, or possibly a longbow. The shooter couldn’t have been standing too far away for the arrow to have struck with such force.”
She paced out a distance from the tree straight across the clearing. It took her into the trees.
“Can you still see me?” she called.
“I can see a shadow on the ground,” said Angel. “And a distortion of the light that tells me there is someone there.”
“But you can’t actually see me?”
“Mais non.” Angel stood up and walked to where the victim was shot. “No, I can’t see you. I know someone is there, but possibly the victim would not have known that.”
“He was an urban creature, our John Doe. I doubt he would have noticed much.
Eulalie stepped back into the clearing.
“Perhaps the shooter was standing here - right out in the open. He might have been talking to the victim, threatening him, pointing an arrow at him. Or perhaps relaxed and chatting, the bow looped over his shoulder, or hanging loosely from his hand. No warning, no suggestion of danger. Just two bros hanging out and chatting. Or perhaps one bro and his hired guide.”
“You don’t think it was a villager who did it?”
“Let’s rather say I need to be convinced that it was a villager who did it.”
“Who else would have been walking around here with a bow and arrow? And the arrow was locally made. I would also like to believe that it was not someone from the village, but facts are facts, ma belle.”
“We’ll see.”
They turned as a high-pitched sound floated across the clearing. It sounded rather like a giggle.
“Mon Dieu!” Angel exclaimed. “But who is that I hear? If the owner of that giggle does not give me a hug right now, there will be consequences.”
She knelt down and held her arms open. A moment later, a small body burst out of the trees and hurled itself at her. She hugged the little creature, stroking her braided hair.
“Now, let me see what I have caught in my hug trap.”
The little girl stood back and smiled up at her.
“Ah, it is you, Marie-Louise. Shouldn’t you be fetching water for your Maman?”
“I already dided it, Miz Angel. We came to see you and Lulally.”
“We?” Angel made her eyes big and round. “Who is we?”
There was another rustle of the leaves and two more children came forward for hugs. One of them made a beeline for Eulalie. She hugged him tightly.
“It is so good to see you, Bibi. How are you?”
“I’m okay, Eulalie. I don’t dream about it so much anymore.”
“That is good, my darling. I hope you will stop dreaming about it altogether soon.”
Eulalie smiled, but her heart was breaking. She was afraid he would have nightmares about his kidnapping ordeal for the rest of his life. Nearly six days of confinement in a small room would do that to a child. He had been unconscious from dehydration and lack of food when they had finally found him. His physical recovery had been quick, but she wished she could erase the whole incident from his mind.
“You are looking at the place where the man was shot,” said the third child, a boy called Eugene. He was the older brother of Marie-Louise. “My papa says you are going to find out who did it.”
Eulalie waited until all three of the children were looking at her. Then she said, “Who do you think did it?”
Eugene and Bibi shrugged their shoulders. “We don’t know. We never saw him before.”
Eulalie looked closely at the little girl. “What about you, Marie-Louise? Did you ever see him before?”
“I never sawed him, but I sawed someone else.”
“Don’t tell fibs, Marie-Louise.” Eugene shook his head at her. “This is important grownup business. You mustn’t make up stories.”
Eulalie clapped her hands together. “We should go back now. We want to say hello to everyone while it is still light. Eugene and Bibi, why don’t you lead the way with Miz Angel, and Marie-Louise and I will walk at the back.”
Marie-Louise tucked her hot little hand into Eulalie’s, and they walked together behind the others. Eulalie hung back so that the gap between them and the boys widened.
“Where did you see the other man?” she asked as they walked.
The little girl ducked her head. “I seed him in the forest.”
“Can you remember where in the forest?”
She ducked her head. “Nowhere.”
Eulalie knew that head-duck. She had used it herself as a child.
“I think maybe you were somewhere that you shouldn’t have been, Marie-Louise. Somewhere that the grownups tell you not to go. But you can tell me the truth, because I’m not going to scold you. When I was your age, I used to go to places that were forbidden all the time. It was one of my favorite things to do. I promise not to tell on you.”
Marie-Louise thought about this.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“I wanted to go to the dry lake. I wanted to play there and see the animals. It was too far to walk. My legs got tired. But I saw the man coming from there.”
“He was coming from the dried-up riverbed?”
Marie-Louise nodded, but her eyes were tracking away from Eulalie’s. She was losing interest in the conversation.
“What did the man look like. Was he alone?”
“I dunno. He looked like a man. Then anuvver man came and talked to him.”
“Did they seem friendly, Marie-Louise? Did they seem to like each other?”
The little girl shrugged.
“Did this happen on the same day that they found the dead man?”
The little girl laughed. “No, silly. This was long, long, long time ago. Not yesterday, not day before, not day before. It was more than twenty moons ago!”
Eulalie smiled. “Well, thank you for telling me. I won’t tell anyone I heard it from you.”
As they approached the village a cry of welcome went up. Eulalie and Angel were engulfed in a sea of friends and relatives.
Chapter 5
It was good to wake up to the sounds of the forest and the smell of the early-morning cooking fires. Eulalie opened her eyes and watched the sunlight creeping across the floor of her childhood home. The windows were shaded by thin wooden canes, breaking up the sunlight into skinny bars that stretched across the floor.
The floor was made
of tightly-compressed dung, mostly from crocodiles and deer, that was packed together, sealed, and polished to a high shine. It made excellent flooring because of the warmth it exuded. The walls and roof were a mixture of mud and grass that became as hard as rock when it dried.
Eulalie turned to look at the other bed and saw her grandmother was already up. She hopped out of bed, got dressed, and went to help with the breakfast preparation.
Angel waved her away.
“Go and do your investigating, ma petite. I’ve got this. We only have one day here, so you must use it well. Tomorrow, I need to be back in town for a function. The Rotary Society is holding a dinner to celebrate the four-percent increase in tourist revenue this year.”
“You’ll make it, don’t worry.”
Eulalie took the bowl of traditional tea her grandmother was holding out to her, and went outside, warming her hands against it.
As soon as she stepped outside, she realized it was earlier than she’d thought. There was only one cooking fire going, and it was coming from the house of Phillippe and Rosa, the parents of Bibi. She saw Rosa sitting at the front door kneading dough that she would soon put into the clay over that smoked next to the house.
She looked up and smiled as Eulalie approached.
“You’re up early.”
“So are you.”
“I always get up early on baking mornings. What’s your excuse?”
“I have a lot to get through. Angel wants to leave early tomorrow morning. I want to speak to everyone I possibly can about this ugly business.”
Rosa pulled a face. “It has unsettled everyone. Even the children feel it. The thought that something like that could have happened so close to us – well, it’s just unbelievable. And the thought that it might have been one of us…” She broke off and shuddered.
“How have things been in the village since I was last here? Any tensions? Any dramas?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Two of the men worked on a canoe together, and then argued over who it belonged to. They took it to the council and a ruling was made that they should use it on alternate days. Then someone complained because little Eugene was keeping a live snake as a pet. People thought it was an axe-mouthed tree snake, and you know how poisonous those are.”
The Eulalie Park Mysteries Box Set 2 Page 4