"You got seven hours."
"No, I didn't. Rhonda called."
"About time. Where the hell is she?"
"Paris. She and Rousel are leaving tonight for the States."
"About time, again. I'm just a lit-tle tired of her crap running our lives. Bon Voyage, and good riddance is what I say."
"Yeah, I guess."
"You guess? Don't tell me you're still fretting over her."
"No. Well, maybe a little."
Jan blew her bangs off her forehead. "And why?"
"Rousel stashed her in an apartment and took off for a meeting this morning."
"So?"
"He has their tickets and passports."
"So?"
"So, what if he disappears? She has no tickets, no passport, nada."
"Hetta, will you ever get over Jean Juc disappearing on you?"
"I'm projecting here, huh?"
"Ya think? You get outta bed while make café au lait. Mine in a cup."
"Savage."
Chapter Twenty-seven
The six-hour trip from Cannes to Negra took Jean Luc under five in the fancy car he selected from his garage. With minimum road noise and the famous soft Citroën ride, it was like traveling on a cloud. I nodded off a few times in the backseat.
Jan sat in front with Jean Luc, and I was just a little annoyed that she seemed drawn, like flies to a warm turd, to his charismatic personality and heart-melting French accent. Okay, so I admit DooRah is hard not to be mesmerized by, but then, so is a cobra. In spite of all his bewitching charms, I well knew his true colors. He was, unlike Jenks, who would be back soon, thank goodness, a rat capable of epic treachery.
The night before, DooRah made it very clear he wanted to pick up where we left off twenty years before, and I have to admit I was flattered that this handsome, rich, and charming Frenchman still wanted me. He was divorced, his kids were doing their own thing, and he wanted someone to spend time with. Me.
I noticed his friends at the dinner, all in our approximate age group, taking great interest in his obvious, and embarrassing, attention to me. They were mostly family friends and cousins, none of whom I'd met back in Paris, of course. From their chit-chat I gathered they spent their time bopping to the chic spots to meet with others of their ilk.
They found Jan and me très amusant, but I was wise to the ways of these dilettantes who pick up people like us like the would stray puppies, thinking us amusing and interesting until we pee on their Aubusson rugs. It was a reminder that, charmant or not, Jean Luc d'Ormesson was one of their aristocratic clubby breed.
We were almost to Negra when my phone dinged. "Hey, I have a text from Rhonda."
"Please tell me she's boarding a flight out of our lives," Jan groaned.
"Not exactly."
"Jeez Louise, now what?"
"I'll read it to you. 'So Excited. At Air France passenger terminal at Orly waiting for R. He was delayed so his cousin dropped me and luggage and went to park the car. More later if I can.' "
"Text her back and ask what she means by 'if I can'?"
I did. There was a delay, but then she texted, Cousin might tell R about phone.
When I read this aloud, Jean Luc shook his head. "Some family."
I refrained from mentioning that his family had pushed him into a marriage he didn't want, or so he says now.
I texted back: From Ladies room, and got a thumbs-up.
"What time is her flight?"
"Not sure, but tonight."
"So Jean Luc, now that we know she's leaving on Air France tonight from Orly, can your friend at least confirm there is a reservation in her name?"
"Let me try. Normally that kind of information is hard to get unless you are on the police force or in the military, and then only if they think something is wrong."
He made a call, despite all kinds of signs along the road warning of a forty euro fine if caught on the phone while driving. It took a few minutes, then he greeted someone named Claude and told him the situation. After waiting a minute, he asked me, "Are you certain she said Orly Airport? "
"Yep, that's what she said. Why?"
"Because my friend Claude says there are no Air France flights to the United States from Orly tonight, only from Charles de Gaulle airport. Perhaps they have another destination?"
"I guess it's possible. What a mess. Anyhow, can he at least check her name and destination so if we never hear from her again we'll know where she went?"
He asked, and then hung up. "He says he will, but it is highly irregular."
"I can't help but wonder what Rousel's game is here? She let him make all the arrangements and hold the tickets. Betcha a euro he shows up with some bull crap story to keep her here in France, because he can't let the Bank of Rhonda get away until he cleans her out."
Jean Luc looked at me in the rearview mirror. "You are such a cynique, Hetta. Do you not think that just maybe this man is in love with her?"
"How would I know? My romantic experience with Frenchmen has been limited to total libertines."
Jan blew her bangs up. "Settle down, you two. If she's at the Air France terminal, that means the cousin who took her there knows that's where she's meeting Rousel. Problem over. Adios, Rhonda."
We all agreed that bidding Rhonda adieu and wishing her good effing luck was the way to go at this point.
Jean Luc exited the autoroute, followed a narrow road down to the Canal du Midi, turned right where Jan told him and crossed the bridge at the lock. We parked next to the office.
"I'll spring my car and be right back. You guys stay warm.''
A brisk breeze blowing down the canal set up a wind chill factor far below the actual temperature, and gathering dark clouds didn't help. I rushed into the office to find the staff huddled around a propane stove, probably counting the minutes until closing time and hoping no more boats showed up at the lock.
They greeted me like an old friend. I don't think they'd had too many people who had not only upgraded their vessel, but had an open-ended rental. If Jenks didn't wrap things up soon, we might as well buy the damned thing.
I joined them by the stove and warmed my hands. "I came for my car. The boat is in Castelnaudary."
"Yes, we know. The Harbor Masters and eclusiers give us a daily report on the location of our boats."
I had noticed the lock keepers writing down the names of boats in their locks but didn't know they reported in every day. Now I also knew how our reputations preceded us up and down the Canal.
"I'll bet everyone stays put until tomorrow. It's getting ugly out there."
"Yes." He looked at his watch and smiled. "One boat passed through an hour ago, but they were going to tie up for the night very soon. As will your friends. They left early enough to pass a few locks before they closed, as they were anxious to do so before the weather worsens. I am sure you will see them in Castelnaudary soon."
"My friends?"
"Yes, on the vessel Trebés."
I think my mouth dropped open. Why would Rhonda tell me she was in at the airport when she was here? What they hell was going on? "Uh, you saw my friend, the American woman here today?"
They all shook their heads.
"But you saw the man?"
They all nodded.
"I thought he turned the boat in last week when they left."
"Mais non, mademoiselle, they only left for a few days but retained the boat. It is somewhat unusual, but then you...." I think he wanted to say you and your friends seem to have more money than good sense, but let it slide. "Well, now they returned and are on their way. You only missed them by two hours."
One of the other men said something, but I couldn't hear him, so the other one added, "Ah, he says he is sure the woman was not on the boat today, as he helped the man with his lines when he left."
Unable to stop myself, I said, "That son-of-a-bitch. Can you tell me where the boat is, like right now?"
Looks were exchanged, then the manager shrugged and picked up the phone.
Within minutes I knew Trebés was docked at Port-Lauragais for the night. Jenks and I had spent one night there. It was the only real marina we found in this part of the Canal. The Harbor Master was actually an American.
They gave me a slip of paper with the numbers for the combination lock on the storage area gate, and I left. Getting back into Jean Luc's car, I slammed the door harder than necessary and yelled, "AAAARrrrgggg!"
"What now?" Jan asked.
"You are not going to believe this, but Rousel came back here today and took off in Trebés."
Jean Luc frowned. "He went to Trebés? But why would he go there?"
"No, he didn't go to Trebés, he went in Trebés. That's the name of the boat they rented."
"What? How? Why?" Jan rattled off.
"You forgot Who, When and Where."
Jean Luc cocked his head, waiting for an explanation, so I told him, "Journalism class. A story, to be whole, should contain the following: Who, What, Where, When, Why and How."
"So," he nodded, "we know who, what and when and how. The question would be, why, yes?"
"Exactement. Stand by, I'm texting Rhonda." I'd still not mastered the thumb texting thing, so I tapped out: What's the latest?
I got a return message quickly. Nothing. Cousin never returned. Worried about Rousel.
Jan and Jean Luc both shook their heads when I read the text to them. Jan suggested a text and I sent it. Can you see if maybe your ticket is at the counter?
Good idea, getting in line.
Long line?
Yes.
Let us know.
K.
"So much for the Rhonda problem being solved. What should we do now?" Jan asked.
Jean Luc pursed his lips. "Even should there be a ticket waiting for her, you say she has no passport. She cannot board."
"Jean Luc, while we wait to hear back from her, would you mind following us to Port Lauragais? I wouldn’t mind having a little tête-à-tête with Rousel le Roué."
"Ah, so he is a roué and I am a rat. Very amusing, your way of classifying men."
Had he overheard me referring to him as DooRah? "Only when they deserve it. Oh, never mind. Can you follow us? I’d just feel better with backup.”
"Better yet, leave your vehicle here. I shall drive you. It is not far. What will we do when we get there?"
"I want to be absolutely certain that's him on Trebés. When I am, I'll tell Rhonda so she can…hell, what will she do?"
Jean Luc started the car. "I will have her picked up at the airport and she can stay in one of the family apartments in Paris until we can return her passport to her."
"Ya think we can talk Rousel into handing over her passport and credit card?"
Jean Luc nodded. "Oh yes, he will. I can assure you of that. Perhaps this is my chance to make some amends for my past bad actions?"
"Don’t count on it," I muttered.
He sighed a very Gallic sigh and put the pedal to the metal.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Several local inhabitants shook angry fists at us as Jean Luc skillfully threaded his luxury automobile through tiny villages at well over the speed limit of fifty kilometers an hour. On the narrow two lane roads, some of them cobblestone with no sidewalks, we could have reached out and touched the old buildings. Twenty minutes and a couple of close-calls with a sheep or two later, we pulled into Port-Lauragais, which is basically a marina with a restaurant and a few shops.
Trebés rested at a side-tie, but was completely buttoned down, with all doors and windows shut and curtains pulled.
“There she be," I told Jean Luc as he parked behind another car just in case Rousel was outside the boat. Not that Rousel would have an inkling we were inside the Citroën, even if he saw it, but better to err on the side of safety.
"But is he in the boat? That is the question."
"Yep, he sure is," Jan said, showing Jean Luc a blinking light on her tracker device. "Well, at least his wallet is cuz I've got him, see."
"You have somehow located his wallet?"
"Yep, got it on my GPS locator."
An astonished Jean Luc asked, "Who are you women?"
Unable to resist, I warned, "If we tell you, we'll have to kill you." I checked my watch. "We've got a little over an hour and a half until it gets dark. Anybody have any ideas on how to roust the roué out?"
"Knock on the boat? See if anyone opens the door?" Jan suggested.
I thought about that. "Seems reasonable, but I doubt he would open up for me or you. We are hardly his favorite people.”
"I will go,” Jean Luc volunteered. "He does not know me and I look innocent enough, n'est-ce pas?"
"Looks can be deceiving.”
"Hetta Coffey, you just lighten up on Jean Luc for now, okay? You two can duke it out later, but right now we need to nail the other rat bastard."
Jean Luc barked a laugh. "I am certain I have been doubly insulted, but I am willing to take my just desserts. However, let us deal with that," he pointed to the boat, "rat bastard first. Agreed, Hetta?"
"Okay, peace. For now."
"You two stay in the car. I shall approach the boat. But first, I will speak with the people on that one." He pointed to a boat behind Rousel's. The wind had died, and even though it was quite chilly, several bundled-up partiers on a good-sized barge sat out on deck having drinks. "Perhaps they have seen him."
We watched as Jean Luc casually walked around the quay, looking at boats, greeting other walkers, and finally approaching the Happy Hour crowd.
Rolling down the window, we heard him greet them in French. They answered in kind. Jackpot! They were French and, from their hearty reception of Jean Luc, delighted with their handsome countryman’s friendly approach. Within minutes, he was onboard with a glass of wine in hand.
"Who says the French aren’t friendly?" Jan said. "Dang I could use a glass right now myself."
"Later. We can’t take a chance on Rousel spotting us. Let’s see what Jean Luc learns from his new BFFs."
The minutes passed, Jean Luc finished his wine, politely refused another, waved goodbye to the partiers, and returned to the car.
"You could’a brought us a drink, ya know?" Jan teased. "So, what’s the deal?"
"They saw him once, but not since he tied up and went inside the boat."
"And he was alone?"
With a slight nod, Jean Luc said, “They think so, as they saw no one else."
"So, now what?"
"Aller vois. Or as you say in English, pay him a visit."
"And what are you gonna say if he opens the door? 'Hey, Rousel, it seems we have much in common, what with you also being a world class rat and all, so I thought I'd stop by?' "
"Hetta, put a sock in it. How about Jean Luc says he’s looking for us?"
"Oh, what a grand idea, what with Rousel being so enamored with us."
"Smarty pants. Hear me out. Jean Luc can say he lives in Castelnaudary and met us and Rhonda there. So, when he saw the boat sitting here, he thought maybe Rhonda might still be on board."
Jean Luc waved his arms, "Hey! He, of whom you are speaking, is sitting right here. But it sounds like it will work."
I gave Jan a we’re-not-worthy two-handed bow. "It's genius. This way you can mine him for info on Rhonda, as well. Dang, and us without a bug to our name."
"Bug?" Jean Luc asked.
"Listening device," Jan explained. "We usually have several, but they’re on our boat. The only reason we have the GPS tracker for Rousel's wallet is it was in the bag with our other trackers. We always take 'em whenever we travel with Hetta's dog. He's chipped."
Jean Luc cocked an eyebrow. "Interesting. I wish to hear more of your espionage talents later."
"Ooh, I’ve got another idea," I said. "Once you’re face-to-face with Rousel, I'll call your cell phone and you can act like you're not taking the call, but hit the TALK button and We'll hear everything. Uh, if we call you while your phone is engaged, do you get some kind of signal?"
“How about a vibration?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
I glared at him. "What I mean is, can you set the phone to vibrate for an incoming call while the line is open?"
"Yes, it is possible."
"Okay, troops, phones at the ready."
Jean Luc, a sardonic smirk on his lips—which, by the way, I was doing my best not to acknowledge existed—raised his phone and saluted with it.
"This will work. So now, all I have to do is get him to answer the door?"
"Yep, you tackle him and we'll move in as backup. You got any rope in this car?" I was warming to the idea of giving the bum a rush. "Once we've got him, we'll make him give us back Rhonda's credit card, passport, tickets, et voila! Our work here is done!"
Jean Luc shook his head. "We are not in Texas. In France he will have us arrested for assault. We must first try diplomacy."
"Yeah, that'll work," I scoffed. "Okay then, we try it your way first. But," I handed him a paper baguette bag, "take this with you."
He looked inside and his eyes went wide when he saw my .380. "I shall refrain from asking where this came from. For now. Do you think this Rousel is dangerous?"
"Who knows? Anyhow, it's chambered and I’ve wiped off all fingerprints, so don't touch it. Well, unless you have to."
"You expect me to hold him at gunpoint."
"Nope, I have other plans."
We discussed the next few critical minutes, and what had to be done.
“Okay, then. From now on we'll have to play it as it lays. You are the key, Jean Luc. He has no reason to suspect you're up to anything, so go do your thing."
Jean Luc slowly slid out of the car, then stuck his head back inside and said, "Why is it I think this might be the most idiotic thing I’ve ever done besides the abandonment of Hetta?” and slammed the door.
“Whoa,” Jan whispered, “that was about the best apology I've ever heard.”
I was still so stunned I just nodded. What the hell was going on here, and what was I going to do about it?
Light was fading fast as Jean Luc sauntered up to Trebés and rapped on the hull.
Jan and I waited, me with my fingers crossed, Jan humming "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" quietly. Jean Luc knocked again, much harder, this time on the wooden door.
Just Pardon My French (Hetta Coffey Series, Book 8) Page 18