by Susan Finlay
She dropped the basket of muffins she was holding.
Bruno continued talking at a more normal volume. “Maurelle Martin sent me to get you, Simone.” Wheezing, Bruno paused momentarily to catch his breath, apparently having run to the café. “I was walking past the chateau and I heard someone scream. A woman, it sounded like. I ran down the stairs and saw that your grandmother was leaning against the back of the chateau, shaking and looking like she’d seen a ghost. Paul was with her. He hugged her and then ran inside to get help. Maurelle showed up about that time and asked what was going on. Jeannette said there had been another murder, this time in the cave just behind the chateau. Anyway, a couple minutes later Camille came running out the backdoor and said the gendarmes were on their way. Maurelle, seeing Jeannette so upset, asked me to come get you.”
“Merde, are you serious?” Alain asked while Simone bent down and cleaned up the mess she’d made.
Bruno nodded. “There’s already a big crowd gathering around the cave. Some gendarmes were already in the village because of the first murders, so they showed up while I was standing around. They taped all around the entrance. Gotta go see what’s happening now.” He turned around and ran out the door.
Simone scooped up the ruined muffins, placed them back in the basket, and set the basket on the counter, and then glanced at Alain. He nodded. She mouthed a ‘merci’, pulled off her apron, and threw it on the counter. As she arrived at the scene, Simone frantically searched for her grandmother but couldn’t see her through the large crowd. She turned around and spotted Bruno standing near the back door of the chateau, waving at her.
She rushed to where he was and found Jeannette sitting in a chair on the courtyard. Maurelle was kneeling beside her.
“What happened?” Simone asked.
“Paul and I were in the cave,” Jeannette said. “He was helping me find the rock wall where your grandfather and I carved the names of all our family members. Do you remember that?”
“I do remember. But why did you want to see that now? That was years ago.”
Simone remembered it vividly, the day of her great-grandfather’s funeral. They’d left the cemetery—Maman, Tante Brigitte, Oncle Gaston, Simone, and Paul—and followed Jeannette and Charles inside the cavern to a lovely spot alongside an underground stream. Paul must have been eight or nine, making Simone eleven or twelve. “Surprise,” Grand-père had said when he held his lantern up close to the limestone wall and proudly displayed the carvings. Simone and Paul had squeezed in front of the adults and searched for their own names amongst the many names. He had handed the lantern to Grand-mère and taken the bottle of champagne she was carrying, without saying a word and smashed the bottle against the wall. “This is our family’s tradition,” he had stated afterwards. “One day, when you are older, you must walk these passages slowly with your lanterns and you will find generations of our family immortalized all along this wall. You will inscribe the names of your own spouses and children, continuing the tradition in turn when your children grow up and you tell them to do the same.”
“I’m writing my memoirs,” Jeannette continued, “and I wanted photos of the rock wall inscriptions to go with it. Paul said he would help me find it. He brought his fancy camera, the one with the really good flash.”
Simone remembered her grandmother talking about writing memoirs for several years. Did that mean she’s actually started work on it? That would be interesting. Maybe they would all find out more about those early years in Paris.
“Grand-mère, what happened in the cave?”
“Well, we were only there a few minutes. We were walking in the lit up part, you know, the main section where they put in all those wires back in the mining days. It must have been in the nineteen-forties, I suppose. I don’t know, I can’t remember. Anyway, we were right near the split off where passages become narrower and darker. We saw something lying on the floor. At first I thought it was a duffel bag. Maybe some kids had dumped it there. But when we went closer to take a look, I could see it was a body. Paul went up to it. Not me. I was afraid. He checked for a pulse and said that the man was dead.”
“Oh my, God,” Simone said. She glanced at Maurelle. “So why are you here? Were you inside the cave, too?
“No. I was passing by on my way back home. I’d just left Fabienne’s house a few minutes earlier and was walking just behind Bruno. We both heard Jeannette scream.”
“Where is Paul?” Simone asked.
Jeannette said, “He went to look for the mayor. One of the gendarmes sent him. You know, those gendarmes have been snooping all over the village day and night. Too bad they weren’t in that part of the cave when the killing happened. Maybe they could have caught him or her.”
“Did you see who the victim was?” Maurelle asked.
“It was Luc Olivier from over at the restaurant.”
“What happened here?” someone said.
Simone looked up and saw Dave and his father pushing their way through the small group gathered around Jeannette. She explained what Jeannette had told them and then watched as the two men walked toward the cavern and stepped over the gendarmes’ tape.
“Are they allowed to do that?” someone in the crowd yelled.
Everyone watched to see if the gendarmes kicked them out, but after five minutes the locals quit watching and began whispering amongst themselves.
Paul and the mayor, Claude Rousseau, finally arrived.
“Where is Captain Goddard?” Claude asked.
“I’m here.”
Simone turned in the direction of the voice. The captain was walking out of the cavern toward them.
“I need to speak with Paul Sinclair and Jeannette Devlin,” he said. “Monsieur Rousseau, would you help clear the area. Your citizens are getting in the way.”
Paul stepped forward.
Jeannette jumped up from her seat and swooned. Captain Goddard rushed to her side.
“Are you all right, Madame?” he asked.
Jeannette’s eyes flickered and then she looked up at Captain Goddard and said, “Oh, I guess I’m a bit light-headed but I’ll be fine, officer.”
“Are you Jeannette Devlin?”
She nodded.
“Well, Madame Devlin, why don’t you go home for now,” he said. He smiled at her. “I’ll speak with Monsieur Lepage and catch up with you later, after you’ve rested.”
“Come on, Grand-mère,” Simone said. “I’ll walk you home if you can manage.”
GODDARD FINISHED HIS interview with Paul and was walking toward Jeannette Devlin’s house. Paul had given him directions.
“There you are,” Edward Martin said breathlessly as he caught up to Goddard on rue de Rennes. “I heard about the latest victim. This murder doesn’t appear to fit the profile of the others. Are you still thinking serial killer, or something else?”
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t had time to integrate this latest crime. Meantime, I need to interview Jeannette Devlin. I’m on my way to see her now.”
“I guess we aren’t meeting up at Chez Olivier then.”
“Oh, that, yes. I had intended to look over Monsieur Olivier’s office for clues as to his whereabouts. My men have already looked, but I thought I might notice something they missed. I guess I’m a bit late. Still, I might find clues as to what he was up to and who might have wanted him dead. But that will have to wait now until after I talk with the Devlin woman.”
“May I accompany you to see Madame Devlin? She knows me from back when I was living in Paris and going to school there.”
“That’s right,” Goddard said. “I remember someone telling me Madame Devlin lived in Paris at one time.”
“Yes, true, but that was decades ago. I met my wife at university in Paris. She is Fabienne Laurent’s daughter. We visited Reynier often, until we moved to the U.S. Anyway, that’s how I know Jeannette. Her daughter, Coralie, and my wife Eloise were best friends back then.”
“Ah, I see. Well, I suppose you might
come along. She appeared quite upset about the whole ordeal today. A familiar face might help calm her.”
“WHAT HAPPENED WHEN you went to the petrol station to talk with Yves Rousseau?” Maurelle asked.
She and Dave were seated at a table in front of the bakery, a favored spot for them because of their early days together, sort of the way some couples had their own special song. Dave breathed in the fresh air and tried to relax for the first time in more than a week. Sitting here with his lovely wife was almost perfect. The only thing marring it was the elephant in the room—the killing spree—and he forced himself to quash the thought of it for a few brief minutes at least, thinking instead of the first time he and Maurelle had sat here together.
It was last year, the day after the incident in the general store, when the Cardin twins had knocked Maurelle over and Dave had rushed to her aid. But this time, outside the bakery the next day, it was Dave who’d made her spill her coffee and drop her baguette in the puddled coffee. His embarrassment was quickly forgotten, replaced with delight at the serendipitous turn of events that provided a second meeting with this lovely, intriguing woman.
“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” Dave said. He bent down and picked up the coffee sopped bread and empty coffee cup, embarrassed, smiling sheepishly at the dark-haired woman he had inadvertently knocked into in his rush. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, she looked different at first than he remembered. But those eyes were unmistakable. It was definitely the woman from the general store. His eyes locked onto hers as she raised her downturned head and he again felt awestruck. Smiling at her and taking advantage of his unexpected good fortune, he said, “Why don’t we go inside? I’ll buy you another coffee and baguette.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary, really. Actually, I should be going.” She took a step backward. Although both spoke in French, he was more sure than ever that she was not French.
“Of course it’s necessary.” Still holding the ruined items in one hand, he held the door open for her with his other hand. “I insist. I owe you that much. Besides, I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee myself. You’ll join me at one of the outside tables, won’t you?”
“No. I really shouldn’t,” she whispered.
“Please. It’ll make me feel better about being such a big oaf.”
She smiled and glanced down at her feet. “I’m not sure you’re the oaf. I seem to be a magnet for accidents lately.”
“Maybe we both are,” he relented, smiling.
“Where are you?” Maurelle asked.
“Huh?”
“You looked like you were somewhere far away.”
“Oh, I was remembering that day when I rushed past these tables and that scraggly terrier, the one Simone adopted, darted past me and caused me to turn my head to see what it was. Do you remember?”
“How could I forget?”
Dave said, “I crashed into something—I didn’t know what—and stumbled backwards. I barely managed to stay on my feet. God, I was so embarrassed when I realized I’d crashed into someone. Then I saw it was you. I was thunderstruck. Did I tell you I’d already fallen in love with you the day before when I saw you sitting on the floor of the general store?”
She laughed.
“I think you may have mentioned that, but I like hearing you say it.”
“I was worried when you disappeared again. The other day, I mean, not when you disappeared from the bakery when we met. I was afraid you’d left, or that the killer had . . . .”
“I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to leave.” She hesitated, looking as if she wanted to say more. Finally, she said, “Are you still upset with me for not telling you I was at the Raybourne house on the night Jared was murdered?”
“No. I was upset and disappointed at first. I wish you could have trusted me more, but I can understand why you didn’t at the time.”
“I couldn’t find the courage to bring it up. As more time passed . . . .”
He placed his hand over hers. “I’m glad that you finally told me the whole story. No more secrets between us. Okay?”
“No more secrets. I promise.”
Dave smiled.
“But you didn’t answer my question.”
“What question was that?”
“You went to meet your father at the petrol station. Did you find any new clues?”
“Yves said that he told you and Jonas about seeing a woman in a white car on the night of the big storm, and he thought she might be the toddler’s mother. Does that ring a bell?”
Maurelle nodded. “He wasn’t sure which day it was, but yes, he did say something like that.”
“At eighty years old he’s having some memory problems, so I wasn’t sure about his statement. I hope Grand-mère doesn’t get that bad.”
“What did he say? Did he remember something else?”
“He said he might be wrong but he thinks she asked him for directions to either the café or the restaurant. He couldn’t remember which one.”
“She was going to Chez Olivier or Café Charbonneau? Maybe she was meeting someone there. Simone said she didn’t see any strangers. I asked her when I took the little girl there. I didn’t get to talk to anyone at the restaurant, though. And Felicia worked there. Could they have known each other? Maybe they had a mutual friend.”
“That’s a distinct possibility.” Unable to resist, Dave pondered the questions and potential implications as he sipped hot coffee. Did the victim go to the restaurant or café? Did she meet someone there? Did she know the second victim? What were the connections that led to her demise? He shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. Too many unknowns, not enough information.
“SO SORRY TO show up unannounced, Madame Devlin.”
“Bonjour, Captain Goddard. Quite all right. Thank you for giving me some time to recover. Please come in and have a seat.”
“Do you remember Monsieur Edward Martin?”
“Is that really you, Edward? I’d heard you were back in Reynier. You’ve changed. Well, I suppose time takes its toll on all of us, does it not?” He nodded.
She led them into the living room.
“Can I get you some refreshments? Simone, won’t you help me with the coffee and tarts.”
“That’s not necessary,” Goddard said.
“Nonsense. It’s polite and I won’t have it any other way. We’ll be back in a moment. Please be seated, make yourselves at home, both of you.”
Goddard glanced at Edward, and then they both sat down on the sofa and appraised their surroundings. The house and furnishings were surprisingly elegant for Reynier. Though smaller than the chateau, the owner of this house obviously had exquisite taste and apparently the money to indulge. If she chose to open a bed and breakfast inn, she could easily take business from the chateau.
Jeannette returned in a couple of minutes. “Here we are. I hope you are comfortable.” She set down a silver serving tray on the coffee table, poured two cups of coffee from a silver pot, then handed one to each of the men. “Cream? Sugar?”
“No, thanks,” Goddard said. “That’s a beautiful silver set you have, Madame.”
Edward took two sugar cubes and proceeded to stir them into the steaming cup.
“Oh, this old thing. I wish I could say it’s been in my family for generations, but it hasn’t. My husband, Charles, gave it to me for our fortieth wedding anniversary. He knew how much I love antiques. Such a sense of the past, of the quality which once existed. This set came from an estate sale at a chateau in Burgundy. I was quite thrilled to have it, as you can probably imagine.”
“I’m fairly knowledgeable about antiques myself,” Goddard said. “My father-in-law is also a collector, and he’s shown me many of his treasures, as he calls them.”
“A smart man, I can tell.”
She poured her own coffee and one for Simone.
Settling herself on a high-back chair opposite the sof
a Jeannette said “Now, how may I help you? Oh, I wanted to thank you for allowing me to compose myself from that horrible discovery before being questioned. I have to say I was feeling quite faint.”
“You’re very welcome. Your grandson told me about finding the body in the cavern, but I need to hear from you what your recollections are—what did you see? Did you hear or smell anything unusual? That sort of thing.”
“Hmm. Well, it’s been so long since I was inside any of that section of the caves, young man. I’m not sure I would know anymore what was unusual. Well, of course, except for the smell of blood. It was cool in there. It always has been. But isn’t that typical of caves? That part of the cave system isn’t really active anymore. Hasn’t been for many decades. Too dry. You know, you need moisture to make stalactites and stalagmites. We learned about geology in school.”
Goddard restrained himself from interrupting her for the moment, allowing the elder woman leeway to tell what she remembered in her own way.
“Oh, dear, I’m getting off subject, aren’t I? Well, as I was saying, that part of the cave is dry and didn’t smell moldy or musty like some of the other rooms where there’s water and more minerals. When we first saw something lying on the ground, I didn’t know what it was. Some of the kids play in the cavern. Some people even travel through there with their groceries and purchases, at least those that live in the troglos that are easily accessible through the tunnels. I assumed someone had left a bag there. Maybe dropped something and didn’t realize it, you understand?”
“When did you realize it was a body?”
“Not until we got closer. I smelled the blood first. It’s a smell I remember from my childhood. We lived on a farm, and my papa used to slaughter the cows and pigs. After smelling it a couple of times, I learned to recognize the smell and used it to avoid actually seeing the carcass.”
“So that’s what you thought you smelled, blood from a carcass?”
“Well, yes, I guess you could say that. Thought it was from some animal at first. It’s impolite to call a human a carcass, though, isn’t it?”