by Ruby Loren
I frowned at the brusque tone. “You’re not treating him as a suspect in all this, are you? He was walking through the village when it happened.”
Detective Prideaux shrugged. “We are keeping our minds open at this point in the investigation.”
I resisted the urge to throttle him. At least with the village being as small and closely knit as it was, it wouldn’t be difficult to find people who could attest to Lowell’s whereabouts if the police did decide to escalate their suspicions.
“I need everyone present to recount the last time they saw Monsieur Devereux alive,” the detective said, whipping out his notebook again.
He looked at me meaningfully, and I tried to iron out my frown.
“I never met him. I’ve only been here a week,” I reminded him.
He did that infuriating shrug again but thankfully moved on.
To my surprise, it was Luna who first lost her temper with Detective Prideaux.
“Look, the man was practically an outcast! No one in this village particularly liked him, but all the same, he’s lived here for years and none of us have killed him for it. Why are we suspects? We watched him fall!” she said and then choked up. Her blue eyes were wide and unseeing and her wispy, done at home highlighted hair fell forwards to hide her features.
“We’re just trying to establish some facts,” Detective Girard said, offering Luna a smile. She hastily wiped it from her face when Prideaux gave her a sharp look. He was clearly against any show of emotion that might hinder an otherwise robotic job.
“I, uh, spoke to Pascal last week,” Adele admitted. “I’d gone into Angoux to do some shopping and parked in the pay and display car park.” She shrugged. “Tourist season, you know? Everywhere else was packed. I got back to my car two minutes later than the time on my ticket and Pascal was already writing out a fine. I wasn't too happy about that.”
I noticed that Justin looked surprised by Adele’s confession. He hadn't known about the altercation.
“Two minutes late does sound unfair,” Detective Girard commented and received another quelling look for her trouble.
“You argued?” Detective Prideaux prompted.
“Well, I said he was being unreasonable but he refused to rip up the notice. I wouldn’t normally have made such a fuss but he’d seemed surprised to see it was me when I confronted him.” Adele threw an apologetic glance at Luna before continuing. “Luna and I drive the same brand and colour car. We even have identical L'airelle Zoological Park stickers. I think he thought it was her car when he wrote out the ticket.”
The detective was scribbling frantically now. “And why would he be so keen to give a ticket to Madame Fleur?” he said, referring to Luna.
Luna shot an understanding smile at Adele before responding. “Pascal and I have never really got along. He and my father once went into business together and there was some discrepancy that meant Pascal believed my father had cheated him. He couldn’t afford to take the case to court and get a judgement. Instead, he contented himself with being bitter. Since my father passed away, he’s transferred my father’s punishment to me.” A light frown creased her forehead. “But I haven't spoken to him for at least a year. I thought he’d given up, but what Adele said sounds just like something he’d do. He used to try all sorts of things! In the past, he’s painted double yellow lines outside our house and sent false parking fine notices in the post.” She shook her head. “It was an annoyance, but it was something I weathered. For years,” she added, making sure she made eye contact with the lead detective. Her implication was clear - why would she have snapped now and had someone murder Pascal Devereux when he’d finally let his petty attacks wane?
“I hope Rico, Julian, and Boba, are okay,” Adele murmured, looking over at the shut-off sleeping compartment in the tiger enclosure. They would have finished the meat Justin had given them and would no doubt be bored. I tried to give her a reassuring smile. There would probably be some bickering between the brothers, but I was sure it wouldn’t be much longer before the coroner would have taken the body and they could be let out again.
Adele was the tiger keeper, so this situation was most stressful for her. Luna looked after the lions and Justin handled the leopards and panthers. The smaller cats were divided between them. They also all helped out with the zoo’s guided tours and other duties. One thing I really liked about L'airelle was the way that everyone pitched in. Despite the zoo’s larger size, there were only a few more staff than there’d been at Avery Zoo, and I knew it was because everyone had a wider range of responsibilities. The team effort was the upside of having a smaller staff. The downside was that certain health and safety measures were overlooked.
“Mr Adagio, please come with us. We shall be back to ask more questions as needed,” Detective Prideaux announced to the rest of us.
I made eye contact with Lowell but he didn't seem nearly as angry about being considered a suspect as I was on his behalf. On the contrary, he seemed mildly amused.
“I’ll see you this evening,” I said, rather pointedly. If Detective Prideaux thought his small-town jurisdiction meant he could wrongfully detain innocent people, he’d have another thing coming. I may be a foreigner, but I could still kick up a fuss.
“Don’t worry, Theo Prideaux likes to talk big, but he's fair. He just thinks acting tough is how you get people to respect you,” Adele reassured me once the police had left.
I looked back towards the body and couldn’t help feeling a bit resentful.
An old acquaintance of Lowell’s - who had lived in L'airelle village for his whole life - had just happened to show up dead one week after we’d arrived.
I wanted to believe it was down to chance, but I couldn't help wondering if someone else had known about Pascal Devereux’s dangerous past… and his convenient connection to Lowell.
I’d just put the tartiflette in the oven when Lowell unlocked the door to our little rental cottage.
“Good timing!” I said, giving him a smile that he returned. I’d worried he’d have to microwave his portion of the cheesy potato dish, and I knew he’d been looking forward to the indulgence for days.
“Don’t worry, I’m not nearly as guilty as Detective Prideaux made out,” he told me, moving over to wrap his arms around my waist, while I fiddled with the oven timer.
“It wasn't that bad?” I enquired.
I felt him shrug. “I think the detective was hoping I’d come clean and admit to murdering a man I haven't seen for a good ten years, but I disappointed him. He just asked me some more questions about the work we did together and I told him he’d get more answers if he contacted British law enforcement. The gun smuggling case was one we actually did on behalf of the authorities, so it was all above board.”
I turned a little and raised my eyebrows at him. “What made you stop doing official assignments?”
He grinned back at me. “Money… obviously.”
“You’re shameless," I told him, turning back to the cooker to double check it had accepted my instructions. The archaic oven was quirky to say the least.
Lowell bent his head and lightly kissed my neck, sending a shiver right through me.
“I guess I just need someone to realign my moral compass for me. I’m a bad person,” he teased.
“Oh, shush,” I told him, sorely tempted to give in to the distraction he was offering. Instead, I got free of his arms and walked over to the fridge. I’d bought some exceedingly cheap sparkling white wine, flavoured with peach, that was meant to be served as an aperitif. It was the sort of thing you thought was a great idea on holiday but would never have contemplated back home. I had a feeling it wasn't going to be my last drink of the evening either.
“Don't you think it’s weird though? Some guy you haven't seen for a decade suddenly winds up dead, right after we come into town?”
Lowell sat down at the round kitchen table and toyed with the vase of dried flowers. “Except for the law enforcement officials that Pascal and I were
contracted by, no one else knew about the case. Well, other than the bad guys who found out who we really were. But they all got caught, or died when the police moved in.”
“You’re sure about that?” I said, thinking that it was a hell of a coincidence that someone had taken out Pascal immediately after Lowell had visited the village.
“There’s just no way it could be connected like that,” he said, standing up again. He walked over to the kitchen window that overlooked fields as far as the eye could see. “It can’t be about that. I might never have come to this village. Even if someone did know our connection, why would they have waited all this time?”
“Unless they were following you, hoping you’d lead them to Pascal,” I offered.
Lowell grunted. “Then they’ve been stalking me for a hell of a long time without me noticing.” He rubbed a hand through his dark hair. “I don't know, Madi. It’s a hell of a coincidence, but I don’t think this has anything to do with me. You should worry more about your friends.”
I took a sip of my frivolous aperitif. “My friends? You heard what they said. Luna has put up with this man being antagonistic towards her family for years. She said it herself - he hadn't done anything mean for a whole year! Until the car parking thing,” I added and tilted my head to the side. “But you could say that was justified. Maybe he was just overzealous like that with every car in the car park.”
“Not from the way Adele described his surprise at seeing her. What about her and her husband’s motive? Perhaps they had a bone to pick with old Pascal, too.”
“No more than Luna had!” I said and bit my tongue. That had been exactly what Lowell had wanted me to say.
“Luna is probably going to find herself under a lot of scrutiny,” he said. “She could have paid someone to take out Pascal and then deliver the body right where she’d see it - in the tiger enclosure.”
“Adele is the one who looks after the tigers,” I corrected.
Lowell just shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe their aim was off.”
I crossed my arms and gave him a look. “Be that as it may, do you really think a zookeeper could employ an assassin? This is rural France! Assassins don’t hang out on street corners waiting for clients. Anyway, she’s put up with his behaviour for years. There’s nothing to suggest that she’d snap now.”
“Then I suppose we are at an impasse. I’m sure the police will figure it out. Unless it was an especially psychopathic tourist who took being given a parking ticket badly, there isn’t an endless pool of suspects. It’s a small village.”
Lowell looked away from the window and caught the end of my thoughtful expression.
“Really? You took that seriously?” he said with a grin, referring to his psychopathic tourist analogy.
I turned back to inspect the interior of the oven, where the tartiflette was bubbling away nicely. “I don't know, it could have been! People get pretty steamed up over parking tickets,” I huffed.
“So, what was with the whole paragliding thing? The tourist wanted to kill someone and dispose of the body whilst enjoying a bit of aerial sightseeing? I admire their ability to multi-task,” Lowell said with a sideways grin.
I smirked a little in spite of myself. “You’ll be sorry if they find out that’s what really happened! Hey - where are you going?” Lowell had walked over to the front door and opened it.
“Oh! I was going to visit the police to tell them we’d solved the murder. It was a very angry tourist all along.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Anyone who leaves the house will miss their dinner. I may be small, but if I put my mind to it, I bet I could eat the whole tartiflette.”
Lowell shut the door. “Now that’s one thing I don’t doubt,” he said, walking towards me with a twinkle in his dark eyes.
I tried to bat him away with a spatula, but my resistance was half-hearted at best. I only realised how much time had slipped by when the cooker beeped to let me know that dinner was done.
No matter how much chemistry there was between Lowell and me, nothing would distract me from a dish that included cream, cheese, and bacon.
It was all too easy to forget about the events of the day and dig into one of the greatest savoury comfort foods I knew. Solving the murder could wait until after dinner.
I woke up next morning when my phone beeped to let me know I had a new Facebook message. I wasn't the biggest fan of social media. Fans of the comic I wrote told me it was important to spread the word, but I’d been burying my head in the sand… until now.
My best friend Tiff was looking after my kitten, Lucky. I knew Tiff from Avery Zoo, where I’d worked as a zookeeper, until my success with encouraging animals who didn’t usually reproduce in captivity to breed had launched my career as a breeding and habitat consultant.
Lucky was just starting to become more independent, so I didn’t feel too terrible about leaving him in Tiff’s care for a few weeks. Her house was already full of waifs and strays. I’d also thought it would be a good opportunity for Lucky to do some socialising. When he’d been really young, I’d taken him around the zoo with me in a carrier case, but he hadn’t seen much of the world beyond his carrier. I was hoping that if he met other animals, he would be more likely to accept a life on the road. There was a chance it wouldn’t work out and I’d have to settle down back at Avery Zoo, but that would be Lucky’s choice. I’d taken on a responsibility when I’d rescued him, after he’d been rejected by his mother. If Lucky didn’t like travelling or other animals, I would gracefully accept that my career as a consultant was over.
I opened the Facebook message and smiled at the photos Tiff had sent over. This was why I’d been persuaded to actually use the account she’d set up for me years ago. It would have cost her a bomb to text over the slew of snapshots. Tiff had written a note, too.
Lucky is doing great. Everyone here loves him and he’s even weaselled his way into One-Eyed-Jack’s heart, which I'd never have believed possible! It’s given the old fusspot a new lease of life. Here they are sharing a bed:
I looked at the pictures of Lucky, flopped on top of a very disgruntled looking off-white cat. I’d have to take Tiff’s word for it that they were best buddies. One-Eyed-Jack was the bane of Tiff’s life. He was a stray who'd turned up out of the blue, probably attracted by the mass of animals in Tiff’s care. She’d done all she could for him, but he was half feral and didn’t like people.
He was also long-haired, which was a disaster. When he’d first arrived, his fur had been so matted, Tiff said he’d looked like a walking dread lock. She’d had to keep her own animals inside so she could trap him and take him to the vet, where they’d sedated him in order to sort his fur out. Despite his new, cushy lifestyle, brushing him was still out of the question. Tiff dragged him, kicking and screaming, to the vet to be sedated and shaved at regular intervals.
I smiled and closed down the images. It was nice to hear that things were going well back at home. While I was still thinking about it, I wrote a text to Auryn Avery - my friend, who was almost singlehandedly running Avery Zoo, now that his grandad was so unwell.
I’d managed to spend a week back at the zoo before I’d left for France. In that time, I thought Auryn and I had figured out a lot of things and made some great changes to the way the zoo operated. Board meetings had once been comprised of a bunch of crotchety middle-aged men, deciding the future of the zoo. Now they were a free for all, with managers expected to find their own solutions to the problems they faced and a chance for any staff member at all to have their voice heard. Turning the zoo into a democracy was something I thought would both take the weight off Auryn and also result in a better zoo for visitors and staff alike.
I sent the text and hoped things were going as well as they had been when I’d left. Mr Avery Senior was largely believed to be in his final furlong. I hoped he’d stay a little longer, if only to see what his grandson accomplished. Hopefully my text would let Auryn know I was thinking of him.
I lean
t over and kissed Lowell on the forehead. He mumbled something in his sleep.
“I’m off to work. See you later,” I told him.
He opened a bleary eye. “Shhh, I’m on holiday.”
I threw a pillow at him and he complained. It’s all right for some, I reflected.
L'airelle Zoo was already busy first thing in the morning. The French liked to rise early. The natives always arrived at opening time in order to get in a full day. It was the international tourists who liked to sleep late.
I nodded to Justin, who was on tour guide duty this morning. Although the keepers weren’t always thrilled to have to do this job, I actually thought it was pretty great. Who better to show visitors around the zoo than someone who actually worked with the animals? It also meant that at the end of the tour, the keeper would feed one of the animals they looked after, or find a way to interact with them, depending on the time of day. This was a great way for tourists to learn more about, and appreciate, the animals we were all working hard to conserve.
I walked through the green and leafy park, smelling the heady scent of the many oleander bushes. They were beautiful flowers, but their presence was yet another thing that bothered me about the French zoo. In England, having a deadly poisonous plant all over the place would probably result in some kind of lawsuit.
A squirrel monkey jumped across the path in front of me and landed on a wooden stake that made up the rope barrier between the path and another health-and-safety-defying hillside drop.
“I don’t have any popcorn,” I told him.
This was yet another issue I would be bringing up with the zoo’s manager: the squirrel monkeys and their popcorn addiction. While I thought (on the whole) that popcorn was a pretty healthy snack to hand out to animals like goats and deer, the squirrel monkeys did everything they could to secure the bulk of it. I'd even seen them snatching the cups out of visitors’ hands. I worried that it wouldn’t be long before they grew even more bold.
“You should be in your enclosure!” I told the monkey who tilted its head at me, probably still looking for any popcorn I might be concealing.