The Witch Who Mysteries Box Set 2

by Katie Penryn

  I turned to Gwinny with raised eyebrows. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she gasped, “Oh my. I’d forgotten all about him. He’s come to give us a quote for sorting out the garden: laying flower beds and giving us a lawn for children to play on.”

  I couldn’t stop the fleeting grimace of annoyance from crossing my face. I didn’t like not knowing what was going on in my own house, well, that is Sam’s, Jimbo’s and my house.

  Gwinny put her hand on my arm. “Please don’t be angry, Penzi. Jimbo needs a garden. It’s too dangerous for him to go out there and play even though the worst of the junk has been cleared up.”

  I shook off my silly feeling of losing control.

  “Gwinny, it’s a wonderful idea. Sam and I are tired of having to tip toe through the uneven sods and stones to get to the beehives to care for our bees.”

  “We don’t have to accept his quote, Penzi.”

  “Well, let him in then.”

  Jimbo ran to the front door, opened it and called out for the man to come in.

  He introduced himself as Patric Desjardins.

  Gwinny and I took him through to our shambles of a garden with Jimbo jumping about with excitement behind us. Desjardins halted on the verandah and scanned the prospect while Gwinny and I stood by in respectful silence.

  “Bien,” he said and coughed.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “The quote is for this garden and the one next door?”

  “Yes, we’d like them knocked into one.”

  “It is not going to be cheap, madame. We’ll have to strip the surface, double dig all over, replace the topsoil, lay a lawn, plant shrubs… and that doesn’t include the cost for the landscaping design.”

  His voice failed as he waited for my reaction.

  “Do your best, monsieur. We would like shrubs and flowers for the bees, a large enough grass space for the children to play and a graveled area over there in the corner,” I said pointing to the far corner nearest the sea.

  “For when?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “I can rearrange some of my projects. To start a garden now really is the best time of the year when the ground is going to sleep and the rains will fall.”

  “How soon can you let me have your quote?”

  “I’ll send it to you by email by tomorrow evening.”

  We escorted him back to the kitchen where we exchanged emails and telephone numbers. Gwinny wrote everything down for me and gave him a glass of wine.

  As he took his leave he mentioned how good it was that we were bringing the old place back to life again. After the rats and the dead body, Gwinny and I couldn’t have agreed more.

  Chapter 13

  As soon as Desjardins had left, I popped into the study to find out how Felix was getting on with his hacking into the Marin family accounts. I’d noticed him watching us from the window while we discussed the new garden with Desjardins, and so I guessed he’d finished.

  The first thing he said to me was, “Penzi, don’t forget to arrange therapy for me for my aversion to bees. No matter how beautiful our new garden will be, I won’t be able to enjoy it or even go out into it, if the bees buzz about all over the place.”

  “And Zig. I’ll find out if Father Pedro can help.”

  Father Pedro was our local parish priest and a great beekeeper.

  “Good idea. Now, do you want to know what I’ve found out?”

  “Of course.”

  “I hacked into the firm’s accounting records. Joseph was right to be concerned about Ben’s overspending. Some of the items in their creditors’ account go back more than six months, so not only are they unpaid but they’re clocking up interest. Their cash flow is a mess. They’ve been spending way over their income.”

  “What about the new equipment Joseph was talking about?”

  “Ben did take out a loan with the local bank, a loan secured by a mortgage on the firm’s office and oyster treatment center. How Ben or the bank expected the business to pay the interest on the loan, I don’t know. Promises of increased revenue, I guess. And with Joseph gone that’s in jeopardy. No key man insurance. And the bank made out the check directly to the vendor. The money didn’t go through the firm’s bank account. I guess Ben didn’t want Joseph using it to pay the bills.”

  “How much?”

  “Fifty thousand Euros. Ben’s idea was to ramp up the firm’s takings with the new equipment, but it was risky. If sales don’t increase as planned, they’ll lose the business.”

  “Whoa, stop. Let’s think about this for a minute. I can imagine Joseph being so angry with Ben that he killed Ben, but why would Ben have killed Joseph? What did he stand to gain?”

  “Nothing as far as I can see. The mortgage deed is legal. Ben and his sister signed the papers. It only needed two out of three, remember.”

  “But what if Ben murdered Joseph in the heat of the moment? If they had an argument when they returned to port?”

  “What about self defense if Joseph attacked Ben? That’s possible. Their personal bank accounts aren’t healthy either. They both have heavy overdrafts and steep credit card debt. Both houses are mortgaged.”

  I stood up and paced the floor.

  “So,” I said stopping and looking at Felix. “All we’ve learned is that they had money problems. Did you check out Ben’s phone and credit card for the last few days? Dubois says they haven’t been used.”

  “I did. The last call on Ben’s phone was to his wife, Désirée, at 2 p.m. on the Saturday afternoon.”

  “We must ask her about that. Presumably, he was telling her he was about to sail but we need to check.”

  “His phone has been switched off since then, so no GPS tracking. Its location is a mystery. He hasn’t used his credit cards or drawn money out of his bank account. He hasn’t reported his cards missing. There’s no digital trace of him anywhere since that phone call on the Saturday afternoon.”

  “That confirms what Dubois said. And Joseph’s phone? Did you check that?”

  “Of course. Switched off at about the same time and nothing since.”

  “Hold on, I’ll give Dubois a quick ring and ask if they found either of the phones on board when they searched.”

  I made the call, catching Dubois as he was leaving his office.

  “No phones,” he told me, “and still no trace of Ben Marin, but we’re working on it.”

  “What if Joseph was killed by a thief? Perhaps the thief stole the phones.”

  Dubois chuckled. “Always possible but don’t you think the thief would have tested the phones to check if they worked? Those calls would show up in the records.”

  “He could have changed the SIM cards.”

  “Penzi, you’re clutching at straws.”

  “Xavier, if Ben killed Joseph, why is his phone missing?”

  He chuckled again. “To make things more difficult, of course. Now I must go.”

  “So what now?” Felix asked.

  “We’ll have to do it the old fashioned way: make a list of suspects and check their alibis.”

  Felix took out a pad and a ballpoint pen from the drawer in my desk. “Let’s begin and get it over with so we can spend the evening with the rest of the family.”

  “First off: relatives. His wife, Bella. She had several possible motives. He may have had personal life insurance even if there was no key man insurance for the business. Two, he mistreated her. Three, she’s having an affair with André Preneur, her husband’s business competitor. Maybe she didn’t like the way Joseph was running the business or the way he treated their sons.”

  “Boss, I didn’t find any payments for a personal insurance policy on Joseph’s life. Moving on to his sons, as far as the older one Oscar is concerned, the antagonism between father and son might have reached intolerable levels. The younger one is too small to have slashed Joseph’s throat, but he could have been in cahoots with his older brother.”

  “That’s a terrible picture of family life you�
��re painting, Felix.”

  “Next, the obvious suspect and possible fall guy: Ben. He may have wanted his brother out of the way so he could run the business his way. Several people mentioned that they have been arguing a lot recently. And he’s missing, possibly scarpered. We must leave him to last because we don’t have anything to go on.”

  “There’s his sister, Agnes and her husband, Jean Tanguy. She was happy to sign the mortgage papers to buy the new equipment. She must have known Joseph didn’t agree. She’s been complaining that they’re not getting any return from their investment in the business.”

  “Yes, but again, boss, I don’t think she’d be strong enough. But her husband’s a possibility. Who else?”

  “Don’t forget André Preneur,” I said. “We need to find out whether he was serious about Bella for the long term. Apart from the people we’ve listed, we’re left with a casual theft as a motive for murder. But where was Ben? What about adding Désirée?”

  Felix shook his head. “No, same reason as for all the other women. Until we have evidence to the contrary, this was a man’s crime.”

  I leaned forwards and closed his notebook. “That’s enough for tonight. Tomorrow we’ll start by questioning Agnes and her husband. We should leave Bella and her sons for another day in view of their recent bereavement.”

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and asked Felix to call Father Pedro.

  “How nice to hear from you, Penzi, What can I do for you?”

  “I wondered if you knew anything about treating people with an aversion to honey bees?”

  “Oh dear, not someone in your family not getting on with your new hives?”

  “I’m afraid so, Father. If you remember, Felix wasn’t too happy when we were at your place and now one of my dogs is terrified and won’t go out in the garden.”

  “How about Friday afternoon? I’m free then. We’ll see what we can do.”

  I confirmed the appointment, thanked him and rang off.

  Felix put the writing materials away and stood up to leave. “I hope he’s not going to make the bees sting me or something weird like that.”

  “Don’t be silly. Why would he do that? The bees that stung you would die.”

  “Some modern therapy: making me suffer the worst that could happen so the fear goes away.”

  “I thought you said you were wary not afraid.”

  Chapter 14

  First thing next morning Felix looked up the Tanguy’s phone number and put a call through, passing me the phone. Agnes Tanguy answered saying she was on her way out of the door to take her children to school and her husband had already left for work. I explained that I’d like to speak to her about her brother’s death. At first, she refused, but when I told her to ring the mayor about me she relented and agreed to give me ten minutes at lunchtime at their house. Her husband wouldn’t be home until the evening, she said, but I might be able to get hold of him at his place of work. She gave me the number which Felix keyed into my phone.

  “What shall we do this morning?” Felix asked.

  “How about calling at Éts. Preneur and interviewing André Preneur? A surprise visit.”

  We didn’t have to hunt for the address because we’d passed his premises on our way to visit the Marin oyster farm the previous week. We drove up the north coast and turned right after crossing the River Seudre to where the oyster farms were situated. The tide had gone out. A cold mist hung over the vast stretches of mud, hiding the oyster ponds from view. I turned down the track to the Preneur offices. We went in through the front door and followed the long passageway down to the office. On the other side of the glass wall of the passage the crystal clear, clean water in the treatment tanks for the claires process reflected the light.

  “That’s what costs fifty thousand Euros?” I asked Felix.

  “I guess so. Preneur has invested to give his business the competitive edge.”

  Felix pushed open the door to the office.

  “Oui, bonjour,” said the tall handsome man we’d first seen dancing with Bella Marin at La Rose des Vents. He stood looking over the shoulder of a young woman who was clicking away at her keyboard in front of a computer screen. “How may I help you?”

  “Monsieur Preneur?” asked Felix striding forward with his hand outstretched.

  “Yes. Have we met?”

  “Not exactly, but we’ve seen you at La Rose des Vents. This is my colleague Mpenzi Munro, an English advocate. She’d like to ask you some questions about the death of Joseph Marin.”

  I stepped forward and shook Preneur’s hand.

  He wrinkled up his forehead and squinted down at me. “I’m not sure I understand. Why would I know anything about that?”

  I glanced at the young woman and back at him. “Wouldn’t this be better in your private office, monsieur?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t have anything to hide, madame.”

  “Not even your relationship with your dancing partner of the other night?”

  He turned on his heel and made for a door to the right throwing over his shoulder, “You’d better follow me.”

  As soon as we were inside his office, he slammed the door to behind Felix. “You have no right to come charging into my office first thing in the morning, without an appointment, and accuse me of goodness knows what.”

  He took a deep breath and puffed out his chest, cast a sideways glance at us and made for his chair, establishing his desk as a barrier between us.

  When we didn’t reply, he opened the top drawer of his desk and slammed it shut a couple of times. At last he looked back up at us.

  “Just what are you accusing me of, exactly?”

  “May we sit down?” I asked him.

  “Yes, sit. Sit.”

  “So, what is this all about?”

  “The murder of Joseph Marin,” I said. “We’re not accusing you of anything, but we would like you to tell us about your relationship with his widow, Bella Marin.”

  “That is really none of your business, is it? My private life is my own and so is hers.”

  Felix drew his chair up to the desk and leaned his arms on the top.

  “Not when a murder is in question, monsieur. No one has a private life then. You’d do best to answer Madame Munro’s questions. Better hers than those of the police. Has Inspector Dubois questioned you yet by any chance?”

  Preneur left his seat and walked over to the window. He spent a few minutes looking out over the bleak scene of the mist covered sand banks. I put my finger to my lips to shush Felix. The longer the silence stretched, the more likely Preneur was to answer my questions. He turned back to us and took his seat again quickly as if he’d come to a decision.

  “Bella and I love each other. Yes, we’re having an affair but it’s nothing sleazy or hole-in-the-corner. We would like to be married.”

  “So Joseph’s death is opportune for you?” Felix asked.

  Preneur’s brow creased in annoyance. “You would look at it that way and I suppose you’re right, but I had nothing whatsoever to do with his murder. I was as surprised as anyone when Bella phoned me with the news.”

  “Did Joseph know Bella wanted a divorce?” I asked. “Had he refused to give her one?”

  Preneur shook my questions off. “Of course not. Bella hadn’t found the right time. Marin used to beat her up. She was scared he’d get worse if he knew she wanted out of the marriage.”

  Felix removed his arms from the desk, sat back and crossed his legs. “And now you’re expecting to take over the Marin business, I take it.”

  Preneur thumped his desk and jumped to his feet. “Now listen here, that’s a stretch too far. I haven’t even thought about it. I’ve been too busy helping Bella and her boys. Marin was only killed two days ago. Do you consider me to be a ghoul?”

  I ignored his spate of outrage and asked, “Where were you between the hours of one and three o’clock on Sunday morning?”

  “Is that the time of death?”

&nbs
p; Felix nodded.

  “Where do you think I was? I was in bed asleep like most people.”

  “Alone?” I asked. “Can anyone vouch for you?”

  A secretive smile flitted across his face to be replaced within a nanosecond by a scowl.

  “No, unfortunately, but that doesn’t make me a murderer. Wouldn’t you be better off looking for the younger brother?”

  With that Preneur resumed his position at the window dismissing us.

  As we walked back to our car, Felix said, “He was being a gentleman. With Joseph away for the night, I bet he was with Bella Marin.”

  “What with two boys in the house?”

  “They’d have been at his house. He’s not married, is he?”

  “That would make the older boy complicit, at least in the affair. He would have had to babysit his younger brother.”

  *

  On our way back to town we called in at La Rose des Vents for a sandwich and a glass of wine as we’d be missing our lunch to interview Agnes Tanguy.

  “Well, if it isn’t the two unfortunates who discovered Joseph Marin’s body,” exclaimed the owner as he welcomed us. “Who’d have imagined it? Right down there on our docks. Nothing as exciting as that has happened for years around here.”

  Felix pulled out a bar stool for me and took the one next to it. “I’d have thought you could do without that kind of excitement.”

  The owner laughed. “It’s been wonderful for business. You’d be surprised how many people have come down here to gawp at the crime scene. Now, what’ll you have? The drinks are on me in thanks for boosting my business.”

  Felix and I hid our disgust as best we could. While Felix ordered, I decided to pump the owner for more background on the Marins and André Preneur.

  The owner called our sandwich order through to the kitchen, pulled the cork on a bottle of Bordeaux and set it on the counter for us.