Then the attention of the room shifted to Pascal. He appeared not to notice and walked to the bar for a glass of wine. Merle bumped him with her elbow. “Well? What did you find out?”
He turned to the room to find all eyes on him. He spoke at a volume for all to hear. “It took a little digging back in Paris by my colleagues. But it appears that Pauline— whose actual name is Agnés Loup and is wanted for leaving France without permission after her domestic assault conviction—” He let that sink in to those who hadn’t heard it yet, then continued. “—Agnés is the biological daughter of Gabriel Tremblay.”
A murmur went through the group. Questions arose from several. Finally Isabelle’s voice came through the loudest. “What is she doing here then? How did she get Duncan to bring her here?”
Pascal shrugged. “Somehow she insinuated herself into his life.”
Evans stood up, frowning. “So she knew Gabriel and Sabine were coming here? How could she? We didn’t even know.”
Pascal nodded. “That one we figured out. It was through the agency, Louis Bordeaux, who arranged for Audette and Gini to accompany them here, for the food to be delivered, all the arrangements. Sabine was not organized enough for that. She needed Louis and his French girls. Pauline also works for Bordeaux.”
Isabelle blinked, agitated. “I must wake up Duncan. She is drugging him.” She ran out of the room and up the stairs.
Evans looked baffled. “Drugging him?”
“We found sedatives in her room,” Conor said. “That’s why he’s been sleeping so much.”
“But why?” his father asked.
“Maybe he figured her out,” Elise proposed.
“We’ll know once he wakes up,” Conor said.
Evans looked around the room at his brother’s astonished face, his son’s resigned one. Then he rushed toward the hall, a picture of paternal concern. “She might need some help,” he muttered as he ran up the stairs after his wife.
Ten minutes later Evans returned, ashen-faced, standing in the door of the drawing room. Conversation paused. He looked around the room, found Conor’s eye, then Pascal’s, then his brother Richard’s. He raised his hand, holding something in a white handkerchief.
It was a kitchen knife.
“This—“ He gulped and straightened his shoulders. “This was under Duncan’s pillow.”
Epilogue
Twelfth Night
“One more day and she’d have absolutely given us the slip.”
The Albions, Bennetts, and Pascal d’Onscon sat around the big dining table littered with plates, glasses, and crumbs. The long dinner, the réveillon, was almost done. ‘Delicious’ was the verdict.
It had begun at nine o’clock, as an antidote to the excitement of the arrest of Pauline/Agnés. She had gone unwillingly, handcuffed, kicking, and shrieking. She later broke down and confessed, according to communications from the Detective Inspector, to some aspects of the death of Sabine. Many questions remained but they were discussed, dissected, and dismembered, along with various dishes of French cuisine.
“What was this called again?” Elise asked, holding a fork full of something creamy and smooth.
“Celeriac and parsnips,” Cecily answered. “Mashed with truffle butter. My contribution.”
“It is divine,” Elise declared, eyes wide as she popped a bite into her mouth.
“I could eat it all day long,” Merle agreed.
The meal had begun with five courses of entrées— appetizers— ranging from salmon roe on sliced carrots to green olive tapenade on cucumbers. “Just enough veg to get you started,” Freddy exclaimed happily.
The last big meal of the holiday was always a way to use up all the food in the pantry and fridge, according to Isabelle. It was very French to concoct ways to use every scrap of food. She had instructed the chef on various techniques she’d used in the past but was pleasantly surprised with Audette’s innovations. Plus she knew many French recipes by heart, making the long, celebratory meal less stressful for the kitchen staff.
Matching this ‘Last Supper’ to the réveillon was declared a genius move by all. The spreading out of each course from the previous one allowed digestion to proceed naturally, Isabelle told them. And for the wine pairing, Aubrey explained. The children had gone to bed, thankfully, as the dessert courses were not due until midnight.
A small slice of tender duck breast with raspberry coulis was followed by fried green tomatoes with shrimp remoulade, then a taste of foie gras on toast points and a flute of champagne. Later there was the boeuf bourguignon and the celeriac and parsnips mash. Elise and Merle had both tried to pace themselves to make it through the enormous meal, taking small bites like a tasting menu, trying to last until the end.
Midway through the réveillon— which conspicuously did not include oysters this time— there was ‘la pause’ for digestion and a discussion of the events of the week.
“What the dickens,” Freddy asked, “was Pauline playing at with Duncan? And where is he anyway?”
“I took him up some supper,” Isabelle said. “He’s still groggy. Pauline was giving him sedatives to keep him in bed, hiding the knife in the pillowcase. She must have hoped no one would search there.”
“It fell out when I flipped the pillow over,” Evans said, still a bit shocked by the discovery.
“But how did she manage to wangle an invitation with Duncan?” Freddy insisted.
Pascal sat back, hands on his stuffed stomach. “Well, I heard she confessed to tricking him into believing that they’d met before and were, as she put it, more than friends.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Memory lapses.”
“Really?” Conor said. “Pathetic.”
“She’s a better actor than I would have believed,” Aubrey said.
“We thought she was just a git,” Freddy added. “A brainless model.”
“That was the act,” Merle said. “How long has she known about Gabriel being her father, I wonder. All her life? Or a recent discovery?”
“That we can only guess for now,” Pascal said.
“But what happened between her and Sabine?” Elise asked.
Pascal looked at Conor. “What did the Inspector tell you?”
“Not much,” Conor said, looking at his parents. “What did they tell you?”
Isabelle took a sip of Bordeaux and dabbed her lips. “That they argued. We know from Gini that they shouted that morning in the carriage house. Then after Sabine went missing, Pauline found her, out by the hedges.”
“She must have looked for hours,” Elise said.
“She was gone a long time, yes?” Pascal asked.
“We left the house about three-thirty,” Elise said.
“She returned quite a while past dark,” Conor said, “filthy with mud and leaves. Elise and I had just sat down to soup. We thought she had got herself lost in the woods.”
“That was plenty of time to locate Sabine,” Merle said. “Odd that no one else found her though.”
“We gave up just after nightfall,” Evans reminded them.
“Pauline told the police Sabine had threatened her,” Isabelle said. “Told her to stay away from Gabriel, stop bothering him or she would take matters into her own hands, or something like that. Whether that is true or not, I don’t know. She’s probably working on a defense. But it’s possible they set up a meeting to discuss their differences of opinion. That could be why Pauline suddenly decided she must help with the search for Sabine.”
“There was a call on Pauline’s phone, around five o’clock,” Elise said. “I didn’t get a chance to see whose number it was. We haven’t found Sabine’s phone, have we? Pauline must have tossed it.”
“Did the constables take Pauline’s mobile?” Freddy asked.
Elise nodded. “I wonder—do you think Pauline was blackmailing Gabriel?”
“I think that’s possible,” Evans said. “She is penniless, right?”
“As is he,” Merle added.
“Have they
located him?” Aubrey asked.
“They’re watching the airports and rail stations,” Pascal said. “They have downgraded the search for him since Pauline’s arrest. But it will happen soon. The French authorities are also aware.”
“Why did he run off— steal autos— if he had nothing to do with Sabine’s death?” Aubrey asked.
“Fear of exposure is my guess,” Pascal said. “The police say he has many complaints in London against him for failure to pay what he owed. His rent is overdue by six months. I would be surprised if the same isn’t true in France. He’s practically been on the run for over a year, pretending to still be a casino magnate. He could have been trying to avoid the responsibility for the staff salaries and food bills.” He looked at Conor’s parents. “I’m afraid that will come to you.”
Evans sighed. “The least of our worries. It will be dealt with.” He put a hand over his wife’s. “As we must with Duncan.”
Eyes lowered to their plates. Duncan’s problems had spurred the entire event, in a way. If he hadn’t been susceptible to Pauline’s wiles because of his blackouts, hadn’t brought her into their mix, the holiday would have been much different. Sabine and Gabriel still would have showed up unannounced. But there would be no death hanging over them, no murderer in their midst.
That wasn’t Elise’s view of it though. Duncan, drunk and disorderly, would have been just as hideous, and caused just as much heartache, with or without the drama of Sabine, Gabriel, and Pauline.
Conor took her hand under the table and gave it a squeeze. He leaned closer to her and whispered, “Tomorrow we’re out of here.”
Elise put her head on his shoulder. It was nearly midnight. She took a deep breath, feeling relaxed for the first time in days. She liked Conor, a lot, and the comfort of him next to her. Not that she couldn’t take care of herself, rewinding her vicious kicking of Duncan. Her mind often went back there, standing over him, wanting to hurt him. Despite its malice, it was a good feeling, a proud moment, knowing you had it in you to defend yourself. That if necessary you could dig deep to defeat your own fears and fight back. To not run away but stand your ground. She liked to think of herself as a warrior, in her own way. But her warrior self— the angry, violated woman lashing out— took a back seat to the one who felt appreciated, protected, and, yes, loved.
It was pretty damn nice, she had to say.
She let out her breath and squeezed Conor’s warm hand. “I’m ready.”
Bonus Recipe
Celeriac Parsnips Purée
1 cup Desirée or similar potatoes, peeled and cubed
1 cup celery root, peeled and cubed
1 cup parsnips, peeled and cubed
4 ounces truffle butter (or unsalted butter)
Add chunks of potatoes, celeriac and parsnips to a large saucepan of cold, salted water. Bring to the boil, reduce the heat and simmer for 15 minutes until tender. Drain and put in a pan with the butter. Mash well by using a potato ricer or by hand, season with salt and pepper to taste.
Keep warm or serve immediately.
For a creamier mash, add 1/2 to 1 cup heavy cream, as desired.
The Bennett Sisters Mysteries
Read all
The Bennett Sisters Mysteries
Blackbird Fly
The Girl in the Empty Dress
Give Him the Ooh-la-la
The Things We Said Today
The Frenchman
Odette and the Great Fear
Blame it on Paris
A Bolt from the Blue
DEAD FLAT
1: Bottle of Lies
2: Outside the Bubble
3: Uncorked
Lost in Lavender
BIRDS OF A FEATHER
1: Swan & Peacock
2: Crazy as a Loon
3: Fly the Nest
plus
The Bennett Sisters French Cookbook
featuring recipes from the books
ALSO BY LISE McCLENDON
The Alix Thorssen Mysteries
set in Jackson Hole, Wyoming
The Dorie Lennox Mysteries
set in World War II-era Kansas City
Standalones
Jump Cut
PLAN X
All Your Pretty Dreams
Written as Thalia Filbert
Beat Slay Love
See all the books on AMAZON
About the Author
Lise McClendon is the author of numerous novels of crime and suspense. Her bestselling Bennett Sisters Mysteries has been charming readers for over ten years. When not writing about foreign lands and delicious food and dastardly criminals, Lise lives in Montana with her husband. She enjoys fly fishing, hiking, picking raspberries in the summer, and cross-country skiing in the winter. She has served on the national boards of Mystery Writers of America and the International Association of Crime Writers/North America, as well as the faculty of the Jackson Hole Writers Conference. She loves to hear from readers.
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Birds of a Feather: 3: Fly the Nest (Bennett Sisters Mysteries Book 16) Page 8