by Susan Finlay
Fabienne looked backward as they neared the cottage. “Can’t we stop at the café for coffee?”
Jeannette said, “I’ll go pick up your prescriptions and bring you a coffee.”
“No. I want to visit with our friends.”
“Not going to happen,” Maurelle said. “You’re going home and straight to bed. No argument.”
“But I feel much better now.”
Maurelle opened the front door and pointed upstairs. “Dr. Maison gave orders. You’re to take it easy for a few days, and I intend to enforce those orders. Jeannette and I will bring you your meals in bed. If you behave yourself, we’ll allow visitors. Clear?”
Fabienne stomped up the stairs with Maurelle following. When she reached her room, she sighed and climbed into bed, pulling covers around her. Although Fabienne’s curly white hair affirmed advanced age, Maurelle decided she looked every bit the naughty child. Funny how in such a short time they’d done such a complete turnabout. It was barely a week ago that Fabienne and Dave had stood by her bedside, treating her as though she was the child.
Jeannette appeared moments later with a cup of coffee from the kitchen. “I’ll be going out for a while. Maurelle and I decided that I should call Coralie and let her know about your incident. Maybe she’ll be able to pass a message to Dave. Or maybe she’ll have news for us. Either way, I need to call her.”
Fabienne nodded.
When Jeannette returned an hour later, she brought several locals, people from Jeannette’s and Fabienne’s past. They were all introduced to Maurelle, but their names soon escaped her. Three hours passed before Maurelle had an opportunity to ask Jeannette about the phone call.
When she finally was able to corner her in the small kitchen, Jeannette told her, “Coralie was shocked about Fabienne’s illness. She couldn’t talk much because the house was full of people. She did tell me though that Simone was there. Oh, and Simone brought a man. I think she said his name was Greg. He’s an American friend of Dave’s. That’s probably a good thing, don’t you agree?”
Maurelle’s heart leapt at the mention of Dave. She figured that Dave had met with Greg in London as planned and had subsequently heard about their new predicament. And Dave, knowing he couldn’t very well show up right now with the gendarmes looking for them, had sent Greg to France in his place.
She smiled at Jeannette and hugged her, whispering “Thank you, Jeannette. I’m sorry that you and your family are stuck in the middle of this, but I’m glad that you’re here in Saint-Julien with us.”
Jeannette patted her on the back. “So am I, dear.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
As they LEFT Rob Carsters’ house and walked back toward Willoughby Crescent, Kate said, “I don’t know what to think anymore. That man feels sleazy to me, but it doesn’t mean he would kill someone, does it?”
Dave said, “No. I wonder, though. If he was interested in Maura, and thought Jared was a rival, might he have been driven to it?”
“The thought had occurred.”
“It seems plenty of people could have had it in for Jared. I’m not ruling out Maura Barrington, but my money is on Robin Sutcliffe or Elizabeth.”
“Why do you say that?” Kate asked.
“It sounds as though Robin had a brief fling with the boy, or she wanted to. Maybe the mother found out, and they argued. At least two neighbors have mentioned a blow-up between them. Now suppose the ex-husband, Peter, didn’t know about it, and someone threatened to tell him. I’m thinking Jared or Elizabeth.”
Kate looked deep in thought, then said, “Could be either of them. Robin might have gone to the house to talk to either Jared or his mother. Who knows? My guess is that Robin and Jared got into an argument and in the heat of the moment, she stabbed him. Of course, Elizabeth could have turned on Jared and killed him because she saw him as a younger version of her husband, coming on to Robin. She might have resented him and could no longer cope.”
Dave nodded assent.
As they turned the corner onto Willoughby Crescent, Kate added, “On the other hand, what if Peter did know? What if someone had told him and he confronted his son about Robin? They fought and Peter stabbed him.”
“You’re right. That’s another good possibility,” Dave said. Approaching Ian Waitley’s house again, Dave saw the curtains move in the front window. Ian was watching them. Not surprising, since they’d already heard he watched the comings and goings of everyone. If anyone had seen the killer, it was most likely Ian.
When Dave knocked on the door, Ian peeked out the same way as he’d done the previous day, as if he didn’t already know who was there.
Ian opened the door a crack and nodded his head in Kate’s direction. “Who’s she?”
Remembering that Greg had been with him on his previous visit, Dave said, “This is Kate Hill, a freelance journalist I’m working with.”
Kate stepped forward and handed her business card to Ian. After glancing at it, he opened the door for them to enter and tucked the card in his pocket.
Dave spotted a wooden coat rack in the corner next to the door. Several hats, a cardigan sweater, and a light jacket with a logo on it hung from the hooks. Dave moved in nonchalantly to get a closer look at the logo. It was a circle with a picture of a restaurant or pub on it. Next to the coat rack was a bench, under which was a pair of scuffed sneakers.
Ian led them through the long hallway and into the living room. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
Kate sat in a rocking chair across from Dave.
“I should be offering you tea,” Ian said, standing behind the sofa.
“That won’t be necessary,” Kate said. “We’ve recently had some.” Ian sat down on the sofa. “Dave tells me that you’ve been keeping an eye on the Raybourne house.”
He didn’t respond.
“He said you see everything that happens around here. That made me wonder if you were home on the night of Jared Raybourne’s murder. Perhaps you might have seen something.” He shrugged. Kate pursed her lips and glanced at Dave.
“Mr. Waitley,” Dave said, “did you see anyone go to the Raybourne’s house on the night of Jared’s murder?”
Ian abruptly rose and said, “We need something to drink. I’ll be right back.”
Kate leaned toward Dave. “He’s stalling.”
Ian returned, balancing a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and three glasses. He set the tray on a table next to the couch and poured the liquid into each and handed them to his guests.
Dave took a sip and said, “Did you see anyone at the house, Mr. Waitley?”
Ian squirmed, uneasy, slurped his lemonade rather loudly, and finally said, “All right. If you must know, I saw a woman.”
“Why didn’t you tell the police?”
“I mentioned it to one copper, barely out of nappies, he was, took no notice.”
“Could it have been Maura Barrington?”
“No.”
“You must have some idea of who it was.”
He crossed his arms, uncrossed them, and rearranged a stack of magazines on the coffee table in front of him. “Robin Sutcliffe, it was” he said finally.
“You’re sure about that?”
He nodded.
Dave looked out of the window at a lamppost across the street, lighting the area near the Raybourne driveway.
“What time was it when you saw her?”
He shrugged. “Early evening, but I remember it was already dark out, well, except for the streetlamp and it being a full moon that night. She was in the shadows some of the time, of course, but I could see well enough.”
“Had she driven to the house? Did you see her car?”
He tilted his head, momentarily thinking. “No, I didn’t see any car. I don’t expect she did. She often rides the train and walks from the station. It’s common around here.”
“How long was she there? Did you hear any arguing?”
He shrugged again.
Taking a different approach, Dav
e said, “What do you know about Robin and Jared?”
“Oh, I know plenty about that boy.”
“Like?”
The old man’s face lit up. “He was a menace, he was. And mad as a loon. Well, I’ll be telling you. He spray-painted the school one night. Oh, nobody could pin it on him, but I know it was him.”
Kate looked at Dave. Why hadn’t they heard anything about that? Dave wondered.
“What makes you think it was him?” Kate asked.
“I seen the paint cans through the door of their shed,” Ian said. “It weren’t but two days after the school incident, it was.”
“What else did he do?” Dave asked.
“He killed Abby and Josephine.”
“What?”
“My moggies.”
Dave drew his eyebrows together in confusion. “I’m sorry. What are moggies?”
“Cats, moggies be cats!” Ian said, rolling his eyes at Dave. “Abby and Josephine were my companions for fourteen years, they were. My girls—my own Wilhelmina’s kittens. Of course she’s long gone. My poor moggies.”
“Ah,” Dave said. That was the cat killing they’d read about. He leaned forward. “Why would Jared kill your cats?”
“He was an evil boy,” Ian said. “He—” The old man snapped his mouth closed. He looked out towards the garden as though drifting off into his memories.
“How did Jared kill Abby and Josephine?”
“He . . . he cut their heads off.”
Dave noted Kate’s sudden intake of breath before asking, “With what?”
“I don’t know,” Ian said. “I couldn’t get anyone to investigate their murder. The coppers treated the case as petty and not worthy of their time because the victims were just cats, is what they said.”
Kate glanced over at Dave, signaling him to stay quiet. Then she calmly prodded Ian to continue. “Why would he do that?”
Ian’s eyes darted between Kate and Dave as though he were trying to decide whether to answer. Finally, sotto voce, he said, “He was trouble, that’s what. We argued sometimes and we didn’t like each other.”
Dave squinted, looked over at Kate and back at Ian.
Kate asked, “What did you argue about?”
Ian shrugged. “I don’t recall. But ask around, why don’t you? Everyone argued with that boy because he picked fights. Ask old Mrs. Winston. I’m sure she can tell you some stories. Ask Brittany Stevas. Ask the Headmaster over at the school.”
“How did Peter and Jared get along? Did they argue?”
“Peter’s a pushover. Takes a lot to rile him up.”
Kate said, “What about Maura Barrington? Did she argue with Jared?”
“She wouldn’t kill nobody. I tried to tell the coppers, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“What makes you so sure? Almost anyone could kill, given the right circumstances.”
“Maura’s too nice and too gentle. She might kill in self-defense, but not for the reasons people are saying.”
“Don’t you think she might have considered it self-defense because she would have lost her job?”
He shook his head rapidly. “No, she couldn’t even kill a spider or a mouse. She’s a softy. I suppose if a wild animal was attacking her, she might fight back and try to kill it, but she wouldn’t unless she was sure it was going to kill her.”
Dave thought about the man who had given Maurelle a ride near Vendome.
“Did Jared ever threaten her that you know of?”
He shrugged.
Dave said, “Do you know anyone who had a grudge against him?”
“You go ask the Headmaster. I’d tell you to ask Jared’s parents, but they wouldn’t tell you the truth. They know.”
Late at night, after Fabienne and Jeannette were asleep, Maurelle got out of bed and tiptoed down the stairs. Thinking about Fabienne’s illness and Dave’s absence was keeping her awake.
She sat on the sofa, tucked her legs underneath her body, and asked herself what Dave would want her to do. Before he left for England, he’d made it clear they couldn’t call each other, but wouldn’t he want to know about their changed situation? Wouldn’t he want to know about his grandmother? She’d considered calling him several times since they’d left Reynier and had held back because she didn’t want to worry him. It was different now that she had some good news. Fabienne was on the road to recovery.
She went back upstairs, got dressed, and pulled from her bag the piece of paper with Dave’s hotel name and its number. Downstairs, on the kitchen counter, she grabbed the phone card they’d bought. It should still have enough minutes left on it.
The streets were darker than she’d expected, filled with spooky shadows, with only a sliver of moon and the stars to guide her to the phone booth near the general store. She paused halfway between the cottage and the store and glanced up at the sky. Back in Reynier, she’d been amazed sometimes at the amount of stars. Here, with a clear sky and virtually no lights anywhere in town, the sky was sensational, bright with starlight, like being in an observatory, only much better. She picked out the Big Dipper and Little Dipper the way she’d done with her mother when they were on a holiday, then smiled.
When she reached the phone booth, she pulled out the piece of paper from her pocket and dialed.
The desk receptionist answered and at first was reluctant to put her through until she said it was a family emergency. There was a far off buzzing, and someone picked up on the second ring.
“Hello.”
“Is that you, Dave?”
“Yeah.” He mumbled something she couldn’t understand, then said, “Who’s this?”
“Uh, it’s me. Maurelle.”
Silence.
“Did I wake you?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry. I know I’m not supposed to call. I thought you should know what’s happened.”
“I talked to Simone. She told me what Paul had done, that the gendarmes were looking for you, so you had to disappear, and you took Grand-mère and Jeannette with you. I sent Greg to Reynier to check the waters and snoop around.”
Maurelle hesitated. Did Dave sound angry?
“Yes, but that’s not why I called. Your grandmother became ill. We thought she might be having a heart attack. She had some medical tests done this morning, but she’s all right.”
“What? What happened? I thought she’d made up the story about being ill.”
“She had stents put in two arteries a year ago and was on heart medication, but she forgot her pills when we left Reynier. The doctor doesn’t think there was any damage done. He put her on the same medication she was taking and she seems to be much better now, but she’ll need to get checked out in a hospital when she gets back home.”
“So, she lied to me about having cancer, but didn’t tell me she had a heart condition. Just wonderful. Why does she do these things? Is she in a hospital now?”
“No. She’s here at home, well, at our temporary home.”
“And you’re all safe?”
“Yes. Are you? Is—is everything going all right?”
“As good as can be expected, I guess.”
Maurelle hesitated. “Have you found out anything helpful?”
“We’re getting a lot of discrepancies. Which reminds me, while I have you on the phone, how well do you know Ian Waitley?”
“Not well. He’s a strange man, but funny. I liked talking with him. Why do you ask?”
“What was his relationship with the Raybourne family? He seems to know a lot about their lives. Is that just from watching them?”
“Well, as I recall, he and the Raybournes moved into the neighborhood around the same time, about four or five years ago. Jared would have been about eleven or twelve then. Ian told me he would sometimes check in on Jared while Peter and Elizabeth went out for the evening. He always seemed to need to help, wanted to be part of things. Apparently, back then he and Jared got along.”
“But not later?”
“Not so much, I guess.”
“Did Elizabeth and Ian get along?”
“I think so. I remember one time, this was shortly after I moved in, Elizabeth was sick. She’d had her appendix removed. Ian came over and cooked for her. He was like that, always willing to help out if he could. He was a really good neighbor.”
“Did you ever hear Elizabeth and Jared quarrel?”
“Yes, several times, but I tried to stay out of it.”
“Do you know what they fought about?”
“Everything. At least it seemed that way. It’s not unusual for kids that age to push boundaries, so I didn’t think much of it at the time.”
Silence followed. She could hear Dave breathing. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
Instead of answering her, Dave asked, “What can you tell me about Rob Carsters?”
“Rob? Why do you ask about him? There’s nothing really to tell.”
He sighed loudly enough that she could hear, and her heart sank.
“Why didn’t you tell me you dated him and that you two worked together?”
Becoming ever more anxious, she stammered, “I—I didn’t think it was important.”
“Another thing. You told me you were tutoring Jared, but people here are saying it’s not true.”
“Dave, it’s true. Why would they say that?”
“Good question.”
Maurelle hesitated. Unsure what to say, she asked, “What are you thinking, Dave?”
“We’re still looking at all angles. It’s a tough case. I wish I could tell you we’ve ruled you out as a suspect, but I can’t. I should hang up now. The longer we talk on the phone, the riskier it is for both of us. You shouldn’t call again unless it’s really an emergency.”
After she hung up, feeling devastated Maurelle sobbed and put her hands over her face, wishing she hadn’t made the phone call. Everything seemed to be closing in on her again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dave hung up the phone, groaned, and hung his head. He’d wanted to talk to Maurelle badly ever since he’d left France, and apparently he had succeeded. He’d