Annalise lifted the exquisite gems from their box and slipped them into her ears. “Thank you, Benoît,” she whispered, leaving the kitchen and admiring herself in the hall mirror. “Merci, Inspector Mallery. I will never forget either of you.”
In the quiet village of Salbec, Paul Theron sat by the fireside in his Perigordian-style home with a brandy glass in his hand. He could hear his wife upstairs running a hot bath and commended himself on choosing well. There weren’t many women who would have dinner ready on her husband’s return and then offer to massage his aching shoulders after a treacherous day at work. They had eaten well that evening, a delicious beef bourguignon, a fitting end, he felt, to a few weeks of heavy graft. It had been a strange few days, not least because of Max Mallery’s unusual request for the Coroner to break with protocol.
Having transferred Bianca de Fontanges’ remains to his autopsy room, the suave inspector had joined Paul in the processing of the skeleton. There was nothing unusual that he could see, although, besides the magnificent necklace that they’d all been witness to, deep within the cavity were a set of matching emerald earrings that had obviously fallen from the corpse’s ears as she decomposed.
It was during his retrieval of these items that Max had made his appeal.
“Paul,” he’d asked tentatively in his soft French voice, eyeing the green jewels eagerly, “what if we were to say nothing about these?”
The Coroner had been startled but beckoned the police inspector to continue with the flick of a wrist.
“If it hadn’t been for Abbot Arnaud’s map, we wouldn’t have found Bianca’s grave and the treasure within. He obviously wished his son to find the necklace and to perhaps use the money gained from it for his own benefit.”
“You mean it was compensation for Benoît not being around as a father?”
“Exactly,” Mallery had replied, his eyes lighting up. “So, would it matter if we gave these to Madame Van Beek? After all, only we two know about the existence of the earrings.”
“We would be breaking the law,” Theron had told him, although the man’s voice was soft and sympathetic.
“We would, in a way. But if something doesn’t officially exist, how can it be a bending of the rules?”
And in that moment, Paul Theron had realised that Max Mallery had a huge heart and was proud to be his friend.
THE END
About the Author
A.J. Griffiths-Jones began her writing career in 2014 on returning to England after a decade living and teaching in China. Her passion lies within the realms of crime, both historical and current, and in particular she enjoys the research of cold cases and mysteries.
In 2016, A.J. was awarded the ‘Jack the Ripper Book of the Year’ prize for her work ‘Prisoner 4374’, an account of the life of convicted poisoner Doctor Thomas Neill Cream, which had taken years of research, and she unearthed some ground-breaking documents concerning Cream’s whereabouts during the Whitechapel murders of 1888.
Since completing her research, Griffiths-Jones has gone on to publish a series of five cosy mysteries and a standalone crime thriller with Next Chapter Publishing and plans further crime novels in the future.
Now temporarily residing in Shropshire, A.J. enjoys swimming, cooking and the great outdoors, with a passion for exploring National Trust buildings and ancient ruins.
A move abroad is on the cards, watch this space!
You can follow A.J. Griffiths-Jones on her website:
www.ajwriter.simplesite.com
Twitter:
@authoraj66
Facebook:
A.J. Griffiths-Jones Author Page
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