“What’s this?” he asked everyone. “Did this come with them?”
Elise turned to Audette. “Was it Sabine’s or Gabriel’s?”
“I do not know,” she muttered.
Conor sat on the bed and put the valise in his lap, snapping open the latch and widening the mouth of it. Elise stepped closer to peer inside.
“Looks like toiletries,” she said, seeing razors and aftershave.
Pascal moved around the bed to inspect it. “But why keep it under the bed?” He swiped dust off the outside. “Dump it out.”
Conor stood up and turned the valise upside down. The items scattered: combs, shaving brush, hand mirror, various bottles. The men leaned over the mess and poked it. “Nothing unusual,” Conor said.
“Looks old,” Pascal said, checking the labels on bottles. “Maybe from another era.”
Merle glanced at it. “Some chauffeur’s stuff?”
Audette went back to the armchair. Gini was huddled on a footstool by the heater, wrapped in a blanket. Elise stepped over to them. “Chilly in here, isn’t it? Did Sabine and Gabriel complain about that?”
Gini shrugged. Audette said, “We rarely saw them here. We go to bed early.”
“And get up early,” Gini added.
“How did you come to be hired for this job?” Elise asked.
“Through the caterer we work for sometimes,” Audette said. “Things were slow after Christmas and we needed work.”
“Are you two related?” Elise glanced at Gini, then back at Audette. The two Frenchwomen exchanged a look.
“We are cousins, yes. We came from France last year to work in London. We knew the General and Sabine through the caterers.”
“They were friends with the caterer?”
“They had some soirées last spring that we worked,” Audette said.
Elise frowned. “In London?” Audette nodded. “They lived in London?”
“For some time. I don’t know how long,” Audette said.
“Do you remember where they lived?”
Gini frowned. Audette shook her head. “Too many parties since then.”
“Can I get the name of your employer? Someone in the family might need something catered.” Elise smiled at the chef.
She saw through the fabrication, that was obvious. “I don’t care. We will get no more work from him now. He has heard about the death somehow.” Audette stood up and rummaged through a black tote on the table, extracting a business card. “Louis Bordeaux, he calls himself. A nom de guerre— a business name.”
Elise took the card. Bordeaux had a Kensington address, very fashionable at least on paper. “Thank you.” She slipped it into her coat pocket. “Did you get on with Sabine and Gabriel?”
Gini choked back a laugh. Audette sighed. “She was quite a trial, always wanting to change things.”
“She spit in the custard,” Gini said, making a face.
“I had to throw it out and start over,” Audette continued. “There was nothing wrong with it. She just liked to boss around. That is correct— boss around?”
Elise raised her eyebrows. “Correct. What about him— the General?”
“He liked to argue with her. On and on. They were quite a team.”
Gini nodded. “A shouter, Louis calls him.”
“And boorish,” added Audette. “Louis told us to be on our guard.”
“Has he— done anything boorish around you?”
“Just to Sabine,” Audette said.
“But the caterer has seen them have arguments?” Elise asked.
“Yes,” Gini said. “He told me about one. Called it ‘down-right bonkers.’ Something about the placement of spoons.”
Conor, followed by Pascal and Merle, exited the bedroom and paused to collect Elise. Pascal spoke to Audette in French again. “If you think of anything about them, Sabine and Gabriel, that might help find him, and figure out what happened to her, please call me.” He handed her one of his police business cards. “My mobile is there on the back.”
At the bottom of the stairs, as the foursome was readying to split up and go to bed, Elise wondered how Pascal and Merle were getting back to town. Conor would have to make another trip. She opened her mouth to volunteer to go with him when Pascal’s mobile phone chirped.
“That was quick,” Merle said. “Is it from Audette?”
He squinted at it in the dark, the screen lighting up his face. “No. They’ve found your car, Conor.”
“And Gabriel?” Merle asked.
“Just the car. Parked at the rail station in Newport.” He clicked off his mobile. “Looks like he’s on the run.”
Chapter Six
The drive from Monmouth to Newport the next morning was a short one, less than forty-five minutes, although the motorway was slick in spots, slowing traffic. The Albion’s Range Rover was dependable and heavy. As they merged onto the southbound A449, Elise turned to Pascal and Merle in the back seat.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you about my conversation with the chef last night,” she said. “And the maid.”
Pascal leaned forward against his seatbelt. “What about?”
“Sabine and Gabriel.” She looked at Conor who glanced at her, listening. “The two of them, the chef and maid, are cousins. They came over from France sometime over a year ago to work with a caterer who calls himself Louis Bordeaux. They don’t know his real name.”
“They suspect he uses a false one?” Pascal asked.
She nodded. “He lives in London, as do they. And guess who else? Sabine and Gabriel. They’ve lived in London for over a year, they say. Audette said they held several catered events last spring.”
“In London?” Conor asked.
“Yes.”
Pascal asked, “And the chef, she says she has been to their home, worked there?”
“Right but she didn’t remember their address.” Elise pulled the caterer’s card from her pocket. “Here’s the caterer’s number. He will know where they live, I imagine.”
“Gabriel must have gone back to London,” Merle speculated.
“Perhaps,” Pascal said.
To Conor Elise said, “Your mother hadn’t heard from Sabine for some time, right? A few years?”
“That’s right. I think she lived in Paris then, but I’m not sure.”
“Can we ask her?” Elise said. Conor said he would handle it.
“What else did they say?” Pascal asked Elise.
“That Sabine and Gabriel had many fights, shouting matches. The caterer has witnessed at least one, over something silly like spoons.”
“We have heard this,” Pascal said. “Their relationship must be very volatile.”
“Enough for him to kill her?” Merle asked. “I thought you said he seemed to care for her.”
“Well. I could be wrong about that. He did point the search away from her body, whether on purpose or not.”
“How long have they been together?” Merle asked.
“Do you know, Conor?” Elise asked.
“No idea. He was a new wrinkle when they showed up.”
They tested various theories about Gabriel and Sabine for the remainder of the drive to Newport. Soon they were at the rail station in the middle of the city, trolling through the parking lot, looking for the navy blue Ford sedan. Conor asked if the police had impounded it but Pascal thought not.
Conor parked and got out to walk through the hire car section of the lot. In a moment he raised a hand and waved: he had found it. The others waited for nearly an hour as he spoke to the rental agency about the car inside the station. Finally he emerged and got back in the Rover.
“Well, that car is not for me anymore. I guess it’s part of the investigation into Sabine’s death. They’ve given me something else and a lot of grief about it.”
“Something powerful, I hope,” Pascal said, always ready for a fast car.
“I’m afraid not.” He turned to the back seat. “Who is ready to drive on the left?” He glan
ced at each of them in turn, smirking.
“Oh, it has to be Pascal,” Merle said. “Not me.”
“Nor me,” Elise said.
Pascal rolled his eyes. “Do I get this car then?”
Conor agreed to let Pascal drive the Range Rover and he and Elise left to find the new hire car. In a moment they were back, in the pale green Fiat that was a third of the size of the Rover. Pascal began to laugh, starting the engine of his new ride. He followed Conor out of the rail station and down into a shopping district for lunch.
As they drove back north later in the compact Fiat, Conor with his knees around the steering wheel, he told Elise what had happened on the first day, with his father.
“I don’t like to admit it,” he began, “but my parents have been helping me with my career, giving me money every year. They say it’s because I never finished uni and they saved all that money, but I think they just liked to have a stake in my future. Or so I like to think.”
“That was nice of them,” Elise said. “But now—?”
“My dad says they’re cutting me off. It’s fine actually. I make enough on the circuit, I don’t need their money.”
“What did you use the money for?”
“Travel mostly. It’s expensive to fly around the world with your caddy. Flights, hotels, meals, and all that.”
“I bet.” Elise frowned. She really had no idea how much money Conor made playing golf. He wasn’t in the top tier. The last time she checked he ranked under 200 in the world, which was great really, but not Tiger Woods level. “You did so well in that Scottish Open I went to. That was a good win.”
“It was.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you were there. My lucky charm.”
“But you don’t have to rely on just winning tournaments, do you? You have sponsors and all that?”
“Not many. My agent— who is really my lawyer— isn’t great on finding them. He says just keep playing better.”
“What sponsors do you have now?”
“Landsdowne, they’re a freight company. And Freddy’s company gives me a bit.”
“I see.” He didn’t mention any actual golfing or sport companies, she noticed. His agent must be terrible at sponsorships. “What if—”
“What?”
“What if I tried to find you some real sponsors? Would your agent be upset about cutting into his turf?”
“Are you serious?” Conor looked at her again.
“Why not? You ask, negotiate, and write up a contract. It’s not hard, is it? You don’t need credentials to be a sports agent, do you?“
“Ah, no, or there wouldn’t be any. You’re a lawyer. That’s what Trevor is. I should ask him though.”
Elise smiled. This was exciting, a new venture. She should be nervous about it. She obviously knew zip about getting sport sponsors but something seemed just right about it. She would find someone to teach her. She could do it.
She squeezed Conor’s shoulder. “Ask him, please.”
When they returned to the cottage near Monmouth the place was in an uproar. Bree and Sally were shouting at their parents, Richard and Cecily, who were doing a good job returning fire. The four of them stood in the front hall where almost everyone in the household had gathered to listen to the clamor.
“I didn’t lose it, Daddy! I can’t believe you think I could lose it,” Bree was saying, her face red. “You never trust me with anything. I am always at fault.”
“Well, yes, Breezy,” Richard intoned. “Because you often are a major screw-up.”
“Richard!” Cecily shouted. “That’s not helpful.”
“Yes, please, Daddy,” Sally smirked. “Be more helpful.”
Merle, Pascal, Conor, and Elise edged around the argument and into the drawing room where a small crowd watched the action. Conor leaned into his mother. “What’s happening?”
Isabelle sighed, clasping her hands tightly in front of her. Her face looked like it was aging rapidly. “It’s the Jag.”
Elise remembered the pretty turquoise car in the carriage house garage. “What happened to it?”
“Apparently Bree drove it last night,” Isabelle said. “And lost it.”
Bree spun to face her aunt. “I parked it in the garage! Why does everyone blame me? Maybe someone stole it. Have you thought about that?”
Isabelle shrugged. “Maybe.”
Bree squealed, furious. She ran up the stairs. In a moment a door slammed somewhere. Sally and her parents stood silently, watching. Pascal frowned, thinking. He said, “Sally— is that your name?”
She nodded, startled.
“Were you with your sister last night?”
She glanced at her parents and nodded, hanging her head. Cecily cried, “Oh, for godssake. Why didn’t you say?”
“I didn’t think you’d like it— where we went,” she said in small voice.
“And where was that,” Pascal asked.
“A club, in Newport.”
Richard threw up his hands. “All the way to Newport on a snowy night? Are you suicidal?”
“Actually just bored, Daddy. It’s not that far.”
“What club, Sally?” Pascal kept on doggedly. Merle frowned at him. What was he getting at?
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Bree got a text about it. There was no sign or anything. I think it was a pop-up thing.”
“Where did you park the car in Newport?”
Sally stared at him. “What the hell does that matter?”
“Answer him,” Cecily demanded.
“The rail station lot. It was right next to the club. And free after all.” She bit a fingernail.
Conor stepped closer. “We’ve just been to Newport to pick up my hire car that was taken by Gabriel. It was parked at the rail station.”
“Did you see Gabriel in Newport?” Cecily asked her daughter.
“No, of course not.”
“Where did Bree leave the keys when you got back?” Pascal asked.
Sally rolled her eyes. “I left them on the floor, under the steering wheel.” She glared at her father. “Yes, I drove home. Bree had been drinking. I parked it in the garage, just where it had been.”
Pascal turned to Richard. “Does the rear compartment of the Jaguar lock always, or can it latch when it is unlocked?”
The older man blinked a few times. “There’s a b-button to open it then it locks with a key. I leave it unlocked while we’re here.” Richard’s eyes widened. “Are you saying someone came home with them? In the boot? Who would do that?”
“Someone who recognized the car,” Conor said.
Chapter Seven
They stood in the empty carriage house garage, staring at the spot where the Jaguar once was parked. Four black tire marks were all that remained. Pascal turned to Richard, the car owner, who looked sad and annoyed.
“When did you find it missing, sir?”
“About ten this morning. I always check on it mid-morning, except if we’re off shooting or something. I’ll start the engine, let it run a while, to keep everything warm and working.” He sighed. “My baby is gone.”
“He dusts it every day,” Cecily said, having followed them to the scene. “Sometimes he waxes it too.”
Richard squinted at her. “Your point, my love?”
Pascal and Conor stood with arms crossed, thoughtful. Conor said, “If Gabriel squirreled himself in the trunk, found the keys, and drove off in the middle of the night, wouldn’t someone have heard the engine and the door going up?”
“And down,” Merle added. She looked at the ceiling of the garage. “We’re under the sitting room though. Maybe Audette and Gini are heavy sleepers.”
“We should check to see if anything is missing upstairs,” Pascal said.
Richard passed the carriage house keys to Conor and they tramped up the rickety steps again. All but Richard and Cecily who walked silently back to the house.
Unlocking the door the four of them entered as they had the day before. The sitting room was
cold and deserted now. Pascal pushed the second bedroom door wider, the staff’s room. The twin beds were cluttered with clothing and toiletries. Conor opened the other bedroom door. At first glance it seemed the same: Sabine’s gowns hanging from the curtain rod, her suitcase bulging, clothes hanging out, her shoes shoved haphazardly under the luggage rack.
“His bag is gone,” Pascal said. “He would have a key to this apartment, wouldn’t he? No need to break in.”
Conor rounded the bed. “Right. Anything else missing?”
Merle poked around in Sabine’s clothing. “Her jewelry bag isn’t here. I saw it yesterday.”
“What was in it?” Elise asked. “Good stuff?”
“It looked like it. Diamond necklace, pearls, a ruby ring.”
They backed out of the room. “Why would he steal her jewelry? Is he broke?” Elise asked as they stepped back down to the driveway.
Conor turned to her. “That car is worth a load of money. If you could sell it.”
Pascal rubbed a spot between his eyebrows. “We need to find out more about him.”
In the front hall Merle tapped Elise on the arm. “Let’s go talk to the French girls.” Pascal and Conor went on to the drawing room, still speculating on the whereabouts of Gabriel Tremblay.
The sisters found the chef and maid in the kitchen, washing up from lunch. Isabelle was standing across the table that served as an island, writing a list and discussing dinner plans. They all looked up as Merle and Elise entered the room.
“Bonjour, Isabelle. Ladies.” Merle nodded to all. “I was wondering if I could ask Audette and Gini a few questions.”
“About?” Isabelle frowned at her.
“Last night. If they heard anything in the carriage house,” Merle said, looking at the younger women. “Did you?”
Both women shook their heads.
Birds of a Feather: 3: Fly the Nest (Bennett Sisters Mysteries Book 16) Page 3