by Joan Carter
“Oh, it is all good, of course,” said Sophie. “But the lamb is the plat du jour and it is excellent.”
“That’s it, then,” said Ned. “Are we all agreed?”
“Yes,” said Imogen and Marie, laughing.
“Well, then, I’ll choose the wine.”
“You must ask Paul,” said Sophie, and she went into the restaurant to get him.
Paul came to the table, and as he and Ned discussed the wine menu, Marie said, “As I was here early, I asked Paul whether he was familiar with those words.”
“Oh, really,” said Imogen, feeling unsettled, although she couldn’t be sure why.
“He knew nothing of them. I think they must be a literary reference.”
“I suspect you’re right.”
*****
After a wonderful meal, Ned and Imogen walked Marie back to her car.
“Thank you for a great evening,” said Marie.
“No, we must thank you,” said Ned. “I’m afraid I’m leaving tomorrow, so I won’t see you again. It’s a shame as I would have liked to hear more about Avignon. You know it so well.”
“I have some very good books about it,” said Marie. “You could borrow them until next time you come.”
“That would be excellent,” said Ned. “Thank you so much.”
“I could bring them early tomorrow, before I go to work?”
“Why don’t we meet at the café in the square for a quick coffee?” said Imogen, feeling a little left out of the conversation.
“Yes, I can do that,” said Marie. “Say nine in the morning? That’s not too early?”
“That would be perfect,” said Ned. “I often go for a run early morning.”
“Wow,” said Marie. “I am impressed.”
“Amazed is the word I would use,” muttered Imogen.
*****
Ned and Imogen walked back towards the house.
“A great evening,” said Ned.
“Well..” said Imogen.
“Well, what?”
“I was a little unsettled. It seems that Marie told Paul about our mysterious words.”
“So?”
“I don’t know. It just worried me. We don’t know him – he’s a bit smooth for my liking and he knows Sabine. I just would have preferred to keep it all quiet for now.”
“I don’t see how it can do any harm. I’d just forget it.”
“You’re right,” said Imogen. At least, I hope you are, she thought.
CHAPTER 11
The following morning, Ned and Imogen reached the café just before nine to be ready for their rendezvous with Marie.
“I must have some croissants,” said Ned. “It’s my last day in France.”
“They do actually sell them in London,” said Imogen.
“Yes, but they don’t taste the same as they do in France.”
“I find that a bit difficult to believe,” laughed Imogen, as the coffee and croissants arrived. “I wonder where Marie is? I’m surprised she’s late because she said she had to go on to work, didn’t she?”
“Err, I think the claret was a little too good last night. It slightly affected my memory of events.”
“I suggest we finish our coffee and then make tracks. She can always ring me and we can’t wait here all day.”
“I agree. Aren’t we hoping to have lunch in Avignon?”
“Yes, but don’t you think we ought to finish breakfast first?”
“Point taken.”
*****
It had been a lovely day, reflected Imogen as she travelled back to Eygalières by taxi, having dropped Ned at the airport and returned the car to the hire firm. In fact, it had been a great few days. She would miss Ned. On the other hand, she had a lot to do. And still no news from Marie. She really couldn’t understand it.
Back in Estelle’s house, she prepared a light snack – she didn’t need much to eat after a few days spent with Ned. She then decided to take a stroll, before settling down to plan her work for the next few days.
Imogen walked straight out to the edge of the Alpilles, where she could savour the view of the sunset. As she approached the end of the road, just before it became a path crossing the hillside, Imogen was surprised to see a group of people being held back by two policemen. Nearing them, she heard, from behind her, the siren of an ambulance. Approaching one of the bystanders, Imogen asked what was happening.
“There has been an accident,” replied the woman. “A young lady has fallen.”
“Do you know who?” asked Imogen, a feeling of dread starting to build in her stomach.
“I don’t know her,” said the woman. “She is a girl from Maussane.”
“Is she badly injured?”
“Unfortunately, she is dead.”
Feeling almost nauseous with fear, Imogen rushed back to the house and phoned Ned. He should have cleared the airport in Southampton and be on the train to London by now. To her relief, he answered.
“It’s Marie. I think she’s dead.”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“There’s a body. It may be hers.”
“Where is there a body? Tell me slowly.”
“I walked to the edge of the village for some fresh air. The police and quite a lot of people were there. Someone, an older woman from the village, I think, told me that a girl from Maussane had fallen. Her body was in the ravine.”
“I’m sure there are lots of girls in Maussane.”
“Of course, but as I went back to the house I saw Marie’s car parked in one of the small side turnings. It must have been there all night. When the woman told me, I knew at once it must be Marie. She didn’t come yesterday and she didn’t answer her phone.”
“Are you sure it was her car?”
“No, but it was the same. A green Deux Chevaux.”
“They are so common in France.”
“But I think it’s my fault.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told her about the words and now she’s dead. I knew I shouldn’t have told her.”
“I can’t believe that’s the case. I wish I were down there with you. I suggest you wait in the flat until tomorrow. It may not be her at all.”
“As soon as I heard, I was so sure. I suppose I was just panicking.”
“Look. I suggest you try to calm down. It could be anyone. Ring me any time you like.”
“Ned.”
“Yes?”
“I’m frightened. What if there is a killer here? I’m on my own.”
“I’m sure she fell. Whoever it is.”
Talking to Ned made Imogen feel calmer. Despite her anxiety, she felt he was right. She poured a glass of wine and switched on the television, but not before locking the door. She also closed the shutters on the ground floor and locked them. She hadn’t previously felt the need to do this. There was no mention on the television of anything occurring in Provence, so she showered and got ready for bed. As she climbed in, her mobile rang.
“Just checking,” said Ned.
“I’m fine,” said Imogen. “You got back okay?”
“No trouble at all.”
“I’m sorry if I worried you. I suppose I just panicked, but it frightened me when I heard there was a body in the ravine, after all the business with Elodie. I’ve calmed down now. I’m just getting into bed.”
“Wish I was there.”
Despite herself, Imogen had to laugh. “I bet you do.”
“Seriously, though, this is pretty nasty, whoever is in the ravine. Let me know what you hear tomorrow. I’ll check my mobile when I can. I could try to get back down towards the end of the week, if it helps.”
“No, I’ll be fine. I just felt ver
y vulnerable – and, of course, possibly culpable. You know one of those moments when fear takes over?”
“Not really, but I’ve heard about them. Anyhow, as I say, keep me in touch.”
“I will.”
“Oh, just one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Lots of love.”
“Thank you, Ned,” said Imogen, and for some reason her eyes filled with tears.
*****
Imogen had a restless night and ended up sleeping in later than usual. Checking her watch when she woke, she realised it was 9am and decided to get moving. As she pulled on her dressing gown, she heard a knocking at the door. Looking out of the window, she saw that it was Sophie. Immediately, she had a sense of foreboding.
“Can I come up? I must talk to you,” Sophie said.
Imogen ran down and opened the door. One look at Sophie told her all she needed to know. Sophie had been, or maybe was still, crying. Her eyes were very red. Dressed in jeans and a crumpled yellow T-shirt, she looked as if she’d been in the same clothes all night.
“Come upstairs,” Imogen told her.
Once upstairs, Imogen pulled a chair out from under the table and Sophie sat down. Sophie said nothing, but instead started to sob.
“Sophie, you must tell me what has happened,” said Imogen. Sophie, by now, was weeping, rather than sobbing, but still said nothing.
“Sophie,” said Imogen. She was almost shouting now. “What has happened?” She wanted to shake Sophie, she felt so desperate. She moved to the stove to pour some coffee. Sophie suddenly managed to stem the flow and looked at her.
“Is it Marie?” asked Imogen.
Sophie, still unable to speak, nodded.
“Oh, no,” said Imogen. “It was Marie’s body in the ravine?”
“Oui,” whispered Sophie.
“What happened?” asked Imogen, placing a cup of coffee in front of Sophie.
Sophie picked up the cup with a shaking hand. “We don’t know. Nobody knows.” Her voice was still barely audible. She started to weep again. Imogen found her some tissues and sat facing her.
“Do you think she fell?” she asked. “It’s dangerous there at night. Why did she go there?”
“Everyone says maybe a lover.” Imogen felt her jaw drop. “A tourist getting in his car after dinner saw a man leaving the area very quickly.” Sophie looked straight at Imogen as they both had the same thought. Neither of them mentioned the name Paul.
“Surely not,” said Imogen. “Why would a lover do such a thing?” Although she could think of one reason. “But then,” she continued, “she didn’t come to meet up with us yesterday. It could have happened on Saturday night.”
“Anything could have happened. That’s why we are waiting to hear,” said Sophie.
“But she was so sweet. She helped me so much. I can’t believe anyone would do this. It must have been an accident.”
“I suppose so. Maybe the police will tell us.” Sophie was now more composed. The coffee had obviously helped. “I will go,” she said. “I felt that I must tell you, but I need to be with Paul now. If you want, you can join us later.”
“Thank you. Please can you let me know if you hear anything? It really is frightening.”
“If it was a lover, then that is that. If she fell, then again, that is that. But I really just can’t believe it.”
Imogen saw Sophie out of the house, then turned to go back upstairs and get dressed. She noticed a piece of paper on the floor behind the door and picked it up. It was a piece of card, and was cream-coloured with a pink border. It was rather crumpled and grubby, as if someone had trodden on it. Imogen froze as she recognised the same words that she had mentioned to Marie, written on the card. It seemed incredible. How had it got there? Had Sophie dropped it? But how would she have known?
*****
“I’ve been trying to get you,” said Imogen to Ned.
“It’s been frantic. I haven’t had time to breathe. What’s the news?”
“Dreadful. I barely know what’s reality. Marie is dead.”
There was no reply at first, then, “That’s truly dreadful,” said Ned, in a low voice. He sounded close to tears. “I’m so sorry. I never believed it would be Marie’s body in the ravine.”
“I know.”
“How are you? Are you okay?”
“I suppose so.” Imogen, too, was close to tears. “It’s the most terrible thing to have happened.”
“I take it she fell into the ravine.”
“Fell or was pushed. It’s too early to say, but there’s something else you need to know.”
“Which is?”
“Sophie came this morning to tell me about Marie. When she left, I found a piece of paper on the floor behind the front door. It had the words Elodie used written on it.”
“Wow.” Ned let out a low whistle. “That ups the ante if ever anything did. Are you sure she wrote it?”
“No. Originally, I assumed she did, but then I realised that I can’t even be sure she dropped it. Let alone wrote it.”
“I think you should get out of the house. I don’t think you’re safe there. Maybe you should come home.”
“I just can’t. I can’t abandon my whole project. If nothing else, I feel I owe it to Marie to continue. She gave me so much support.”
“Well, move into a hotel. Or go back to Avignon.”
“Ned, I can’t do anything. I can’t even think straight. I’ll wait and see what the outcome is today. I’ve asked Sophie to keep in touch, so I’ll go down to the restaurant at some point, although I don’t really want to.”
“Why?”
“I’m probably being silly, but a man was seen hurrying from the scene of Marie’s death. I couldn’t help thinking of Paul. I find him a bit creepy.”
“Oh, come now. I think this is down to stress. I can’t believe that Paul was managing to see Marie without Sophie having something to say about it. I think it’s a good idea to go. I’ll ring again later. Just don’t go near the ridge.”
“You must be joking.”
Once she had said goodbye to Ned, Imogen picked up the piece of card and looked at it. Could Marie have written the words down? But how would it have got into the apartment, unless Sophie had dropped it? Even then, how had she got hold of it? Something was certainly going on, leaving Imogen feeling confused and devastated.
She decided that the only way to try to cope with such dreadful events was to attempt some work. She had an interview to prepare for, so she got her computer out and logged on. She was going to interview Luc Favier, who lived in Nîmes – one of the major towns of Provence. He was well-known as a conductor, particularly in Paris, although he also conducted abroad. He was revered as an interpreter of Verdi – this being the main reason she had selected him. Imogen began to make notes for her interview and, becoming absorbed, worked right through lunch into the early afternoon. Having no appetite, she took a short nap and was just coming to when she heard a knock at the door, followed by someone putting a key in the lock. Panicking, she rushed to the top of the stairs. It was only Estelle. Imogen was so pleased to see her she burst into tears.
“Forgive me,” said Estelle. “I tried to ring you but your phone was turned off, so I just came.” She was very pale. Even though she was casually dressed, she still looked elegant in black trousers and a striped safari jacket. She wore a white cotton scarf around her neck and huge sunglasses. Leaving her overnight bag by the door, she moved to the cafetière and started to prepare coffee.
“What have you heard?” asked Imogen, sitting at the table.
“Very little. Marie’s aunt rang me. The parents are too distressed to speak. She only knew that Marie had been found dead at the bottom of the ravine. I expect you knew that?”
“Yes.
Sophie came to tell me.”
“Ah, Sophie. She will be very upset. They were good friends. I felt I had to come straight back to see the family.”
“I’m so glad that you’ve come. I was feeling worried about being on my own.”
Estelle turned from the hob and looked at Imogen. “But why should you feel worried?” she asked.
“If there is a killer, around, then…” Imogen started, lamely.
“Don’t think that for a moment. I am sure she fell, waiting for someone. Young people often meet at that point late at night. Really.”
“But what if…”
“There is no question. Believe me. Even her parents think that she fell.”
“But Sophie said that maybe a lover killed her.”
“Oh, pouf! Sophie always has a big imagination. No, I am sure it was an accident.”
Imogen hesitated. She couldn’t possibly reveal all she knew. “I’m sure you’re right,” she said to Estelle, but she knew she wasn’t.
CHAPTER 12
“We thought you might like to come and eat with us,” explained Sophie, when they opened the door to her an hour or so later. “The restaurant is closed for the day, but Paul will cook, just for us and for a friend of his.” Pale and drawn, Sophie nevertheless looked more together than she had that morning. Her clothes were sombre, to reflect the prevailing sentiment – a dark grey cotton skirt and black, long-sleeved T-shirt. She didn’t stay, so was obviously not in the mood for conversation.
At around 8pm, Imogen and Estelle made their way to the restaurant. Both had chosen to dress in a mixture of grey and black. They avoided looking up the road towards the ravine, but Imogen felt a chill. She didn’t know whether to attribute it to the first note of Autumn in the air or the knowledge of what had happened at the end of the road.
Although Sophie had told them that there were a lot of journalists around, there was no evidence of them now as there was limited accommodation in the village. Imogen noticed that Marie’s car was no longer parked in the side road – presumably it had been taken away for testing, but the area where it had been was cordoned off and there was a police car beside it. Imogen assumed that some poor policeman would be there for the night.