I smiled. “I’m listening.”
He smiled back. “Seems like old times, the two of us.”
I gave him a look. “Don’t get comfortable with that.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.”
Who was he kidding?
“Okay, go on,” I said.
“I spoke to Jean and he mentioned a few tidbits.”
“Such as?”
“When Curat bought his property and built his house, there were rumors that he had two sets of blueprints.”
“Whatever for?”
“No one ever found out, but it does sound intriguing.”
“I’ll say! What else have you got?”
“All the other properties were bought and houses built within six months of Curat’s.”
“I know. Nothing sinister, but the timing’s noteworthy.”
“I agree,” Clay said. “But I’m still thinking there’s more to it than that. Someone is sending a message to the others, and now you, because of what?”
“I don’t know. They were all friends, but the dispute over that brooch ended years ago.”
Or did it?
Clay leaned forward. “I’m flying out for a few days, checking on something. Jean’s piloting.”
What was the rush? Why the plane?
“Where are you going?”
“Those companies that were vacated in St. Raphaël.”
“Obviously Martha mentioned what they found, right?”
“Yeah, that one of the companies dated back to the fifties. The other company has left a blind trail.”
I figured he’d latch onto their information and relaxed.
Well, almost.
“Do you think you can trace the key figures?”
“If they’re still alive, I’m not sure, but with Jean as interpreter we should be able to come up with something. Maybe even find out what the company dealt in back then.”
I didn’t want him to know it, but I was going to miss him.
“Hey,” he said kindly, grabbing my hand in his. “I’ll be back in a few days.”
I averted my gaze not wanting to appear bothered by his leaving, if only for a few days. “I’ll be just fine.”
“Please, while I’m gone, try to stay out of trouble.”
My eyes snapped back to his. I laughed. “Of course!”
Now, what makes him think I could possibly do that?
Chapter 66
Staying Out Of Trouble…Well, Trying To
“I can’t wait to see this Eze place!” said Martha, as I made a left up the curvy, narrow road from the city of Nice.
I probably needed my head examined taking them for lunch at the Château Eza, four hundred metres above the Mediterranean, but I didn’t want them missing such a unique experience in the medieval Eze Village and dining at the hotel at the top with its spectacular view.
Hazel piped up from the back. “According to the brochure, this town is a thousand years old. You have to walk by foot the cobblestoned narrow streets to get to the hotel where we’re having lunch.”
“Plus, there’s tons of stores,” offered Betty excitedly.
“I’m ready,” chimed in Martha. “I hit that ATM machine yesterday and I’m loaded with euros.”
I felt an involuntary pulling on my left eye, a spasm.
Crystal nudged me and winked. “Sounds like fun.”
I tried massaging the nervous twitch. “I can’t wait.”
Now, I’m not going to distract you with an exciting account of the medieval musicians in costume playing along the way, or the ancient chapel with the painted murals, or the first dozen stores that were enticing even to jaded me, or the spectacular views that kept popping up when we’d turn a corner. I won’t even describe the delicious lunch—made especially pleasant because it was uneventful except for our taste buds.
No, I’ll continue to where it took an unexpected turn.
We were heading back to the car. Crystal and I had hung back a little, downing our bottled water instead of trying to keep up with the Three Musketeers who led the way. It was impossible anyway. They flitted in and out of the stores on our walk to my car, all downhill, thankfully.
I couldn’t believe their energy. The heat had intensified and I longed for a nap and shade. I had already decided to take the A8 home rather than the scenic coastal route. I didn’t think I could handle the longer ride back and was seriously considering taking B12 shots when I returned to the States, too.
But the three of them had energy that never seemed to flag. Crystal and I were already carrying excess packages to make room for them to buy more. I glanced at my watch, with high hopes of transcendentally moving the hands forward quicker. It didn’t work.
“Want to switch loads?” Crystal asked.
I was somewhat relieved to see that she was out of breath too. So it wasn’t just me.
“What?”
“The packages? Could we switch? Yours look a lot lighter. My right arm has gone numb.”
We did the exchange thing and that’s when I spotted them: Monsieur Toussout and Madame Sorrell.
I dumped all my packages back in Crystal’s arms. “Hold these a second, will you?”
What were Toussout and Sorrell doing together? Here?
Chapter 67
Accidentally On Purpose
I left a cursing, “Hey, wait!” Crystal behind. Unable to balance the packages, she quickly dropped to a bench.
I was solely focused on finding out what the two of them were doing together. In the past, I’ve spotted the oddest pairings of people in the strangest of circumstances. I was sort of surprised, but then, I really wasn’t.
I was more curious than anything. Even though the cobblestoned walkway was crowded, I couldn’t get near enough to hear a thing and didn’t dare edge any closer.
And that was when the unexpected happened.
I sucked in my breath at who materialized. “Uh-oh.”
Walking out of the store entrance that Madame Sorrell and Monsieur Toussout were huddled against, emerged the trio from Trouble Town: Martha, Betty and Hazel. Martha was looking behind her at Betty, who was obviously talking to her, and knocked smack into Toussout.
“What the blazes?” Martha said, whipping around.
I hesitated for a second, figuring, why not? With those three distracting them, I edged in closer, certain that Sorrell and Tousout had no clue I was even there.
“Well, of all people to run into,” Martha greeted. She looked all around at the crowd. “Monsieur Toussout, where is your wife? I didn’t notice her in the shop.”
Speechless, Toussout was visibly uncomfortable.
Martha plowed on, turning to Madame Sorrell. “Isn’t this place something else? You come here a lot?”
Sorrell turned, eyeing Toussout for a verbal out. “I…”
He cleared his throat. “No, my wife is at home, ill.”
Betty moved in. “Oh, my! Nothing serious, I hope?”
“No, no. It is merely a bad headache.”
Hazel piped up. “Well, I’m glad you were able to keep each other company. Awful far to travel just to shop though, don’t you think?”
Madame Sorrell finally spoke up. “I was looking for a specific piece of jewelry and since Madame Toussout couldn’t make it, Monsieur Toussout was kind enough to volunteer to accompany me.”
Martha gave them an exaggerated wink. “Heck, we sure don’t care. You know what they say. When in France…”
Gasping, Madame Sorrell’s face colored, and then her purse slipped from her hands, its contents spilling onto the cobblestone. Everyone quickly dropped to the ground to help pick up the scattered contents and within seconds, everything was back in Madame Sorrell’s possession.
…Well, almost everything.
Martha turned in my direction and smiled slyly. ‘Sticky Fingers Louie’ had palmed something into her pocket.
But what was it?
Chapter 68
Say Cheese!
&nbs
p; Completely rattled, Madame Sorrell hastily departed with Monsieur Toussout trailing and whispering to her.
I rushed over to where the three were still standing and nudged Martha. “Okay, what did you lift?”
Martha smiled slyly and fished around inside her pocket, then pulled her hand and opened it for all of us to see.
“Well, holy mackerel!” said a shocked Martha, looking down at her own hand. “What’s this? Why, it’s a passport!”
Hazel stood there shaking her head. “Oh, you’re not fooling anybody with that act. That’s why you lifted it in the first place, right?”
Ignoring her, Martha flipped it open. Inside was a woman’s picture attached. It read, Jacqueline Forniet.
“It can’t be, can it?” Betty asked.
I stood there, my mind trying to process it. What a twist!
“What is Madame Sorrell’s picture doing on the passport of the romance novelist, Jacqueline Sandoval, who is actually Jacqueline Forniet, who also happens to be the one and only Mademoiselle Dominique Forniet’s deceased grandmother?”
Martha turned to me. “I guess she’s not dead, is she?”
I nudged her again. “Good call, Einstein.”
Betty grabbed it from Martha’s hands. “It’s current and doesn’t look tampered with, but then again, I’m no expert.”
I thought about what we were looking at.
“Do you realize how this changes things?”
Martha smiled. “Yeah. It means that staid, old widow is one hot momma.”
Hazel laughed. “Yes. She’s also someone who has a lot of explaining to do, like what she was really doing here with that man.”
I stared at the photo, trying to see some kind of family resemblance. I didn’t. That was strange. Then again, some people just didn’t look like some of their relatives. Still…
Martha was jostling me. “…Hey, where did you just go? Didn’t you hear what I just said to you?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t. Repeat.”
She looked exasperated. “Old people have a rep for wandering minds, not thirty-somethings, like you.
I looked her in the eye. “Maybe I caught it from you.”
“The only thing I expect you to catch is my brilliance.”
Hazel rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother.”
Betty handed back the passport. “Now what?”
I tried to think out loud. “I don’t know. I have to be careful how I handle this. There must have been a good reason for them not wanting to reveal that they are related.”
“It sure would be interesting to find out,” Martha said.
“Another unexpected string,” I added. “But…”
But what, nothing. Why the pretense?
Chapter 69
And Bringing Up The Rear
There was a lot of commotion going on, so we all turned. Crystal had resorted to dragging all the shopping bags across the open plaza, huffing and puffing, not pleased at having missed whatever it was we’d been up to.
Apologetically, we rushed over to help.
“How could you desert me? I missed all the action.”
We quickly filled her in on what happened, each of us giving our various opinions and theories.
Crystal was annoyed. “I missed the climax of the day.”
I chuckled. “Trust me, I’m sure there’s more to come.”
“Especially if Sam is involved,” Martha said.
Betty came to my defense. “What are you insinuating?”
“I’m not insinuating, I’m intimating.”
No one spoke for a second, trying to figure that one out.
Hazel tsked. “Oh, you and your two-dollar words. They both mean the same thing. Your logic is incoherent.”
Martha shrugged. “Not in my dictionary. You see, there is a slight nuance involved. I merely suggested…”
Crystal held up her hands to stop their bickering. She turned to me. “What in hell are they talking about?”
“I have no idea. The three wordsmiths are always at it. Obviously, too much bookstore time.”
Hazel cleared her throat loudly. “Let’s ditch the mumbo jumbo and get straight to the caper at hand. What’s next?”
Betty smiled. “That cut right to it, Hazel. Kudos.”
Hazel nodded, appreciatively. “Compliment accepted.”
Martha elbowed in. “Oh, cut the cra…”
Betty shushed her. “Now, Martha we’re all ladies here.”
“Speak for yourself,” she said. “I’m an independent.”
I shook my head, wondering when I would ever get a word in edgewise. I took a stab at it. “Come on, you guys. We obviously have our work cut out for us.”
Martha turned to me. “What do you mean …we?”
Oh, that was payback. Her sarcastic comeback proved it. I conceded the point. “I guess I’ll need all your help.”
“Well, it’s about time you admitted you need us,” Martha said. “We’ve been ready from the get go.”
I thought of Clay checking out what else Jean had to offer. It was midweek. I’d see him in a few days. “First, I want to check with Clay to see what he found out.”
Martha winked. “Fine with us. We’ll research Monsieur Tissout and this novelist and see what the three of us can dig up.” She then turned to Crystal. “And you?”
Crystal nodded. “I’m having a drink tonight with that Harley guy I met at the dealership regarding the house of red light. I should have an answer by this weekend.”
I smiled. “Perfect. Let’s all have pasta in Les Issambres Saturday night and compare notes.”
Martha smiled at me. “Why Saturday night? Got Friday night reserved for date night?”
My face reddened. “Hey, it’s only pizza.”
She laughed and winked. “What’s for dessert?”
Chapter 70
Serving Up More Than Food
We had been arguing the point about confronting Madame Sorrell with this new information concerning her background for some twenty minutes and still had not come to any conclusion. Why wasn’t I surprised? Clay had a more aggressive and riskier way of doing things, whereas I was more methodical and had a conservative streak, although, now and then, I’ve been known to think outside the box.
Especially with him.
I was frustrated. “Why would I want to take the risk of losing the element of surprise when the time is right if I confront Sorrell with this information now? What’s the purpose?”
Clay considered my point. “But isn’t it worth taking that chance just to see how she reacts? She might be caught off guard enough to start tripping on her own story.”
“Yeah, and maybe she might clam up and throw me out and where would that leave me?”
Up the creek with a crew that was driving me crazy!
Clay smiled. “About where you are now, without a clue as to why she went to all that trouble to conceal her identity. Why, I bet even her dead husband didn’t know.”
You know, Clay had a point.
“Maybe I should throw it all out there and see where it lands.”
Clay laughed. “Just get out of the way of the fallout if it doesn’t go well.”
“What else did you learn?”
“That besides Jean, Martine’s husband, this Monsieur Toussout also has a pilot’s license.”
“So, what’s so interesting about that?”
“Not much, but don’t you want to know when he received his license?”
“Okay, I’ll bite. When?”
“1940.”
I sat upright, now at full attention. “Am I thinking what you’re suggesting?”
He smiled. “Great minds think alike, don’t they?”
Another common thread! “World War II!”
Clay nodded. “The French Air Force taught him.”
“How would Jean know?”
“They were in the same flight class!”
Ah, the plot thickens. “So they knew each other in th
e Air Force?”
“Yes, and guess who else?”
I laughed at the obvious. “Curat and Toussout, too!”
“I love it when you get that look,” he said.
My face reddened. “…What look?” Alert! Incoming!
“When everything starts to click in place. Why don’t you ever get that look with me? We fit together so nicely.”
I looked away, trying not to smile. I lost the battle and finally turned back to him. “I’m not there yet, Clay.”
What a liar!
He took my hand and looked intently into my eyes. “Let me help you get there.”
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
“For now, I’m traveling light.”
Chapter 71
Word Play & Discourse
I carefully made my way up the hilly climb up the back gardens to Martine’s house. It was a drinks invite with just the four of us: Martine, Jean, Clay and myself. A murder mystery in English had the ladies glued to the TV, so I was safe for at least two hours.
Crystal’s drink with her Harley friend who worked at the Les Issambres Marie (city hall) to find out about those two companies’ background had been postponed until tonight. So I’d catch up with her in the morning. Walking the path, I questioned if I was on the right one myself, especially where Clay was concerned.
Even with a road map, I’d still get lost with that guy.
He was totally unpredictable, a liability that was starting to grow on me. I hated to admit it, but he had taught me a lot in the past. Now, whether I would put any of that into play was another story.
I shouldn’t get upset, but in the presence of Martine and Jean, with Clay thrown into the mix, I would be. Still, it would be interesting to see where the conversation might take us, or, perhaps, where I would take the conversation.
Martine came out of her kitchen just as I arrived. Clay and Jean were sitting on the terrace and stood up when they saw me.
86 Avenue du Goulet (A Samantha Jamison Mystery Volume 3) Page 12