Murder on Vacation

by Nell Goddin

  He moved slowly. He did not want to sit next to her.

  “Ira!”

  “Coming, Mom.”

  “Why don’t you get your history book and read to me out of it? You go get it and I’ll just refresh my drink. You have no idea the week I’ve had.”

  Ira scampered upstairs, wishing he could stay in his room until the food came but not daring to. Back in the living room, he sat in a chair across from his mother and began to read aloud about the Pilgrims.

  “You do understand that it’s nothing but propaganda, that book,” his mother interrupted after a few minutes.

  “What’s poppagander?”

  “Lies. Bull. They’re trying to make it like the Pilgrims were terrific, but they weren’t really. Nobody tells the truth these days.” Mrs. Bilson let her head drop and put her hands over her face. Ira knew that tears were on the way. With Mrs. Bilson, tears—and cruelty—were always on the way.

  “Should I keep reading?”

  “No! Just shut up, Ira!” his mother said, jumping up from the sofa and coming toward him. “Why do have to be so…why are you…what is wrong with you?”

  Please let the delivery man come, thought Ira. When she got this bad, the arrival of shrimp toast was his only hope.

  22

  That afternoon, when all the guests had returned to La Baraque from their various touristic endeavors, they wandered around the property, aimless and ill at ease.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking,” said Ira, talking to a group on the terrace. “I bet everyone booked their time at La Baraque as a kind of Valentine’s Day thing, right? Or, well, at least some of us did. And with all that’s happened, Valentine’s Day went by without anybody even mentioning it.”

  “Because it’s a stupid commercial holiday that nobody cares about,” muttered Darcy.

  “So—” said Ira, pressing on, “I know it’s awkward, with the investigation and all—but I propose we have a belated Valentine’s party. Nothing fancy, just a way to do something positive in spite of this whole mess.”

  “I can’t believe you’re suggesting we have a party,” said Ashley. “Ryan is dead. One of us is a murderer. Frankly, it gives me the heebie-jeebies to continue staying here. Who knows which one of us might be lurking around after dark, up to no good?”

  “Ash,” said Patty in a low voice.

  “Well, nobody’s forcing you to stay. You could pack up and leave at any time,” said Darcy.

  “And have the gendarmes immediately on my tail? I don’t think so,” Ashley sneered. “Besides, who gets an excuse to stay in France an extra week or two? I can’t pass that up.”

  “I’m not that concerned either,” said Ira. “I mean, unless we’re dealing with a serial killer, I don’t see how any of us has anything to worry about. Whatever beef the killer had with Ryan was between them.” He was careful not to look in Ashley’s direction. “Come on, what do you say, everyone? Valentine’s party? Who’s in?”

  “I am, I guess,” said Nathaniel. “Obviously everything has changed and there’s no getting back to where we were. But it’s worth a shot. Ryan would probably be all for it. And besides, no matter what Chief Maron seems to think, I don’t see how he can say one hundred percent that the guilty party is one of us. Random murders do happen, even in places as charming as Castillac.”

  “That’s the truth,” said Darcy. She was watching Ashley’s every move, trying to decide whether she believed the other woman had actually been together with Ryan back in the States. “I’ve been wondering if we should ask Molly for a refund. I mean, we didn’t exactly pay all this money to end up as murder suspects with maybe our lives in danger.”

  “Not a bad idea for once,” said Ashley.

  Constance was just coming outside, having gotten Ben’s room in order, and heard that last bit. “A refund?” she shouted. “After everything Molly has done for you? She could have kicked you all out, you know. You could be staying someplace with scratchy sheets and rats! But she’s still welcoming. To all of you. Against the advice of her friends, I don’t mind saying.

  “And let me tell you something else. Perhaps you don’t realize that Molly is famous in the village? That she is one of the foremost detectives in all of France, known also for her amazing culinary soirées? In fact, we’ve got a television producer coming next week to talk about doing a reality show here at La Baraque. That’s right,” she said, seeing the guests’ wide eyes. “A reality show, right here. Guests coming and going, local color, the odd murder—it would be a smash hit!”

  “TV?” said Ashley, sitting up straight and posing for an unseen camera.

  “A refund is silly,” said Nathaniel. “Even if our vacations have taken an unexpected turn—something we’d never have chosen, obviously—it was hardly Molly’s fault, what happened.”

  “One other thing,” said Constance, “I’m sure she would rather I didn’t say anything…but I’m grabbing hold of the steering wheel here at La Baraque right now, because Molly’s been diagnosed with Lyme disease. She’s just started the treatment and from all accounts it can be kind of brutal. So please, have some consideration. If you want to leave La Baraque, and France, that’s between you and Chief Maron. But if you want to ask Molly for a refund you’re going to have to fight your way past me first.”

  Ira chuckled, looking at spindly Constance standing in the middle of room in a posture of defiance, ready to take on all comers. He was six-foot-five and could have picked Constance up with one hand as easily as a kitten.

  “No refund,” said Patty, looking down at the floor. “Anyway, I think we signed some kind of disclaimer when we confirmed our reservations. And since we’ll be here a little longer, I’m willing to try to make the best of it. I’ll come to the party, Ira.”

  The others all agreed to attend as well, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Constance nodded approvingly and said goodbye, Bobo trotted back to Molly, and the guests were left on their own to figure out what to do with themselves.

  Ashley announced she had a splitting headache and was going to the pigeonnier to lie down. Darcy said she was going for a walk in the woods, alone. Ira went back to the cottage and settled in for another session of Googling.

  That left Nathaniel and Patty, both naturally shy. Despite having already spent a day together seeing the cave paintings in Montignac, they looked at each other awkwardly. “Well, do you…” started Patty, “do you want to do something?”

  “How about we walk into Castillac and go to a café?” said Nathaniel. “I’m not really all that interested in more sight-seeing, to be honest. Seems like people like to go to famous places just to be able to take a picture and say they saw it.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Patty. “Yeah, sure. Let me get my coat and I’ll meet you out front.”

  Nathaniel was tall and slim, wearing a camel’s hair coat that had belonged to his father and was too big for him. Patty looked like a sprite next to him, in her bright green cap and sneakers, walking with a bouncy step and barely as high as his elbow.

  “This whole thing is crazy,” she said to him, with an air of confidence now that they had a plan and were on their way. “First of all, I thought I was coming on a trip with my sorority sister, and it was just gonna be the two of us, running around eating a lot of French food and seeing a château or two. And instead it turns into a non-stop party with a bunch of strangers with a murder thrown into the mix.”

  Nathaniel laughed, “I hear you. I planned the trip a long time ago, before I got together with my girlfriend. She couldn’t get out of work to join me, so, eh, I wasn’t all that excited to be here, you know? I didn’t want to waste my money and not come at all. But I sure never expected anything like this.”

  “So, just between us, who do you think…?”

  “Is the killer? I’m so glad you asked that. I’ve been really wondering what everyone is thinking, but no one has the courage to ask. You’ve got some impressive qualities, Patty McMahon.”

  Patty sh
rugged but couldn’t help beaming.

  Nathaniel jammed his gloveless hands into his pockets. “Well, I’d have to say I just don’t know. What motivates a killer? Greed? Passion? Ashley was half in love with him, seemed like. Same with Darcy. Maybe one of them had, like, a fit of jealousy, and went crazy? Or maybe Ira did it, for the same reason?”

  “Ryan was kind of an operator. I watched him go around, pulling his crap on all the women. Disgusting.”

  “I bet you didn’t let him get away with it.”

  “That’s right, I didn’t! Hey, here’s a place. This look good to you?” They had reached the brightly it Café de la Place, in the center of Castillac, looking quite inviting in the gray afternoon.

  Pascal greeted them at the door. “Bonjour!” he said, and then continued in English, “You would like to sit near the fire?” and gestured to a table by a small hearth at the end of the room where a couple of logs burned.

  Patty nodded in an exaggerated way, which was her main method of communicating in France. She and Nathaniel sat at a table by a window where they could feel the warmth of the fire.

  “Good-looking waiter, huh?” said Nathaniel, seeing Patty look at Pascal with undisguised admiration.

  “You could say that,” she admitted, her voice up high.

  “So, tell me about your life back home, Patty,” he said, smiling. “I know you work as a vet technician, is that right?”

  “Yup,” she answered, eyes glued to Pascal. “I just really love animals. So that’s what I do all day…take care of dogs and cats. My vet is a small-animal vet; she doesn’t do horses or anything.”

  “You ever thought of going to vet school?”

  “Not smart enough,” said Patty matter-of-factly, though it was not true.

  “Welcome to Castillac,” said Pascal, arriving at their table with pad at the ready. “You are guests of Molly Sutton, yes?”

  “How did you know that?” asked Patty, her expression glowing.

  “Ah, I am a detective too, though no match for Molly,” Pascal said, laughing, his straight white teeth on display. “I have not seen you before this day. It is not a season of tourists, and there is not much to see here in Castillac anyway. Therefore,” he said, drumming his hands on the table in a suspenseful beat, “I guess you are guests of Madame Sutton. ‘Guess’ and ‘guest’…English is not easy,” he said, smiling at Patty. “I very much hope you will make this a long stay.”

  Nathaniel watched Patty practically melt into a puddle of bliss at the attention of the handsome server.

  “Molly’s place is packed with people this week, and it’s been super fun. I just met Nathaniel here a few days ago. And I bet you’ve heard all about the murder?” chirped Patty.

  “I did,” said Pascal solemnly. “I am so sorry this has happened during your sojourn. You must understand that France is not full of murdering peoples!”

  “Nobody seems to think the killer is from around here,” said Nathaniel. “Chief Maron sounds pretty sure it’s one of the guests at Molly’s. Sort of feels like we’re living a TV mystery episode or something!” He made some spooky musical sounds and waved his hands around, but Pascal and Patty were not looking at Nathaniel but each other.

  “Your English is amazing,” murmured Patty.

  Nathaniel raised his eyebrows at her transformation from a skeptical, gossipy woman to a starry-eyed teenage girl.

  “Listen, can you tell me where the ladies’ room is?” she said to Pascal. “Nathaniel, just order me whatever you’re having.”

  Pascal pointed out the direction of the bathroom, and then turned back to Nathaniel. “What can I get you? Your friend…she is very attractive,” said Pascal with a sly grin.

  “Yeah, Patty’s great. Uh, two coffees, I guess. And do you have cookies, or pastry or something? Bring a plate of that too, please.”

  “May I ask how long you both plan to stay?”

  Nathaniel shrugged. “We’ve been asked to stay longer, though they can’t force us to. I’ll probably have to leave at the end of next week—my boss won’t let me stay in France indefinitely. Hopefully Chief Maron will wrap things up by then, or least be okay with letting us go.”

  “And…your friend?” Pascal did not attempt to sound nonchalant about his interest in her, but seemed to be holding his breath, waiting to hear Nathaniel’s answer.

  Nathaniel stared. “You mean Patty? No idea what she’s doing. I haven’t heard her say anything about her plans. But,” he added, leaning toward Pascal and lowering his voice, “no doubt she needs to get back soon to continue with the treatments. We’re all just grateful that she had this one last trip.”

  Pascal’s eyes were wide. “What do you mean?” he whispered.

  “Cancer,” said Nathaniel, shaking his head sadly. “But please don’t say anything. She doesn’t like to talk about it, understandably.”

  “Oh yes,” said Pascal. “I’m…so sorry to hear about this. I will bring your coffee right away.” Nimbly he moved through the tables on his way to the kitchen, his gorgeous face sorrowful.

  When Patty and Nathaniel returned to La Baraque, Patty thanked him for going to the café with her, and then went to the pigeonnier to check on Ashley.

  Nathaniel stood in the yard, trying to decide what to do next. With sudden certainty, he strode to the front door and knocked hard on the French doors. He stood for a moment listening, and heard nothing.

  He knocked again, and heard shuffling footsteps.

  “Yes?” said Molly, opening the door, not sounding like herself.

  “I don’t mean to intrude, I hope I’m not bothering you. I’ll just say—I’m afraid Constance has blabbed to the rest of us that you’re not feeling well. I’ve had friends get sick with Lyme, and it can be such a bear to recover from! Anyway, the last thing I wanted to do was get you out of bed. Go back and I’ll bring you something to drink. I’m sure your doctor has told you to keep hydrated.”

  “Oh, you’re very sweet,” said Molly, heading back to her room. “I am thirsty, actually, so thank you.”

  In a moment Nathaniel came into her room with a glass of ice water. “No bother at all. I know one friend said that the Lyme treatment made everything taste bad to her—is that happening with you, too?”

  “Yes! It’s the weirdest thing. Even water tastes nasty. No, no, I’m glad you brought me the water and I should be drinking a lot of it. But the taste makes me want to throw up.”

  “Would you like something other than water to drink?”

  “Somehow I don’t think Dr. Vernay would be all that keen on my having a kir. And to be honest, it doesn’t sound very appetizing, which is really saying something. There might be some juice in the pantry somewhere? Check the floor, behind the bag of rice.”

  Nathaniel disappeared, then quickly returned with a tall glass of iced apricot juice.

  “Oh, right, now I remember! I bought a bottle of that a while ago for some recipe I never ended up making.” She took a tiny sip, then gulped some of it down. “That is good! Thank you so much, Nathaniel.” She put the glass on her bedside table and fell back on the pillows, exhausted from that small effort. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m apologizing, but there it is. I hate this.”

  He nodded. “Anybody would. You’re so fun and energetic, it must be so frustrating and upsetting to be stuck in bed. Has the doctor said when you can expect to feel better?”

  Molly shrugged. “He says it depends on a lot of things. Listen, let’s not talk anymore about sickness. You’re just back from the village? What were you up to?”

  “Patty and I went to that café in the center of the village and had some coffee. It’s a nice walk and I’m really glad I decided to stay in your gîte instead of getting a hotel room, so I have a chance to make friends. And I do worry a little about women traveling alone. The waiter was making eyes at Patty so I got her out of there and home safe.”

  “What…Pascal? Oh, I’m sure it was harmless, whatever it was. Listen, would you mind distrac
ting me with something happy? Tell me about Miranda. How did you meet?”

  Nathaniel grinned. “Well, it was an unusual meeting, for sure. You know I work in a hospital? Doing computer stuff, not direct health care or anything, so I don’t have any contact with patients. But there was this one woman who had been transferred from a hospital in another state, and we were having a devil of a time getting her records to show up in our database. Finally I went to see her myself, wondering whether I could get some kind of idea from her about what was holding things up, thinking maybe the staff had bungled up the information somehow. Anyway, I walked into her room, which was filled with flowers from her friends and family, and there was this incredibly beautiful woman….”

  “Oh my! Why was she in the hospital? Is she okay now?”

  “Oh yes, absolutely. She had cancer, but a very rare type that her first hospital wasn’t qualified to treat. Once she came to us, they got it taken care of and she recovered nicely.”

  “With plenty of visits from you?” said Molly, smiling, remembering the sweet letter she had read while snooping in his room.

  Nathaniel blushed, which Molly found charming. “It’s a little weird, or maybe not at all, but my mother had cancer when I was a kid. She died when I was eight years old. So, I don’t know, there’s a kind of…understanding, maybe? About people who are ill, that I learned during that time.”

  “I’m so sorry you lost your mother,” said Molly, her eyes getting moist.

  “Thank you. But really—it was a lifetime ago, and no longer painful. I only brought it up because, well, falling in love with a patient in a hospital might seem unusual.”

  “Ever read Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms? A nurse and a patient. Though I can’t think of any cases where the woman is a patient and the doctor falls for her. It’s usually the other way around. Anyway, I’m happy for you. I guess we never know where we’ll find love, huh?” She took another sip of her juice. “You’ve been in touch since getting here? What does she think about how crazy this trip has turned out to be?”