“My niece was happy to do it.”
“So, fraud’s a family business, huh?”
Abeneau scowled, then seemed to change his mind, offering a small smile. “Look, there’s no reason we have to be on opposite sides of this thing. I can make it worth your while….”
Jennifer had a very good idea of what would happen to someone foolish enough to believe a murderer’s promise.
“You mean split the gold you found in the crypt?”
Abeneau’s eyebrows went up in surprise, then he set down his glass and started to clap slowly. “Well, I’m impressed. You found another way into the crypt, I take it? I hadn’t had any luck digging back in yet.”
“And that was why you didn’t want the real heir here, in case you couldn’t get back to the crypt.”
“Yes, it is. Brilliant, isn’t it? All I had to do was give them a fake heiress and fake documents and I was golden. I stashed the genuine paperwork I discovered working around the house, in case I had to use it later. I just wanted a bit of time to find a way back into the crypt, that was all, and I needed a secure place to keep it.”
“In the beehive.”
Abeneau smiled. “Just in the top. Otherwise the bees try to build on it. I just popped all the papers into a heavy plastic bag, sealed it, and then I didn’t have to worry about my plan getting messed up by someone tripping across the documents. Smart, huh?” His last comment was filled with sarcasm.
“But the housekeeper knew you had it, or saw you at the beehives.”
He gave a snort of absolute disgust. “That sheila was always spying on people. She knew I had something in the hives and when I found her snooping around, trying to open the top of one of them…” His voice trailed off as he looked away, but Jennifer completed his sentence for him.
“So, you killed her. Crushed her skull with a rock. You left her to die in the dirt.”
He looked back at her, without responding.
Jennifer tried to keep her tone even. “And what do you get out of it?”
He snorted in disgust. “You saw what was downstairs, the saint who’s going to make me rich. That sort of cash could set me up for life.” His mouth twisted in an attempt at a placating smile. “We can share it, you and me. You take half, I take half, and we go our separate ways. You think I want to stay here in this sinkhole and have to be around these people? The only way I’m going to get enough money to get back to Australia in style is to get that money.” His voice and his anger were rising. Leaning forward to make his point, he shook a finger at Jennifer, a rim of white around his eyes as his voice rose in frustration. “No one’s using it! So what, it was a church? It’s not doing any good just stuck in the ground like that, is it?”
He took a step toward her, then another as he raged. Jennifer watched his feet and his eyes. Both would tell her when he was going to make his move. There was no way he was going to let her go, and she knew it.
“And Madame Durand?” Keep him talking, she thought. Choose your moment.
He paused, staring at her. “Look, I’m really sorry about this…”
The moment he put his foot forward to take his next step, Jennifer sprang into action. Either she took the initiative, or he was going to.
In the blink of an eye, she launched herself across the space between them, arms out to grapple him on contact. She aimed her fingers at his face and saw his eyes widen in surprised horror just as she crashed into him, taking him down to the floor in a painful heap.
Abeneau snarled and grunted as Jennifer used her best martial arts moves on him. He was strong, especially in his fear and rage. She couldn’t match that, but her technique and experience made them nearly equally matched. Again and again he tried to choke her or smash her head, and every time she’d parry or bite or gouge as he squealed in anger and pain. They rolled back and forth on the floor, scuffling for breath and position, a deadly wrestling match that could only have one victor.
Finally, Abeneau got a fistful of her hair and began to bang her head against the floor. She struggled against his strength, trying desperately to think of her next best defensive move, and trying to stay conscious. Red flashes of light burst behind her closed eyes every time her skull was slammed into the stone, and she gasped for air as she felt the strength draining from her body.
Far away, through the roar of rage and combat and scuffling, she heard a yammering, a yowling.
No, it was a barking. Small, but full of fury.
There was a low growl, then she heard Abeneau yowl in sudden pain. He let go of her hair, his arm reaching back to take care of the new source of his agony.
Jennifer scrambled to shift position, opening her eyes just long enough to see a very determined little French bulldog hanging onto the back of Abeneau’s exposed heel. Orly was holding the murderer’s achilles tendon between his teeth and clamping down like his life depended on it.
Maybe it did, because Abeneau was doing his best to fling the little dog off his leg, thrashing about wildly while Orly hung on with every bit of strength he had. Finally, he was shaken off, flying across the room just as Abeneau rolled over to get a better grip on Jennifer.
Arm nearly pinned, short of breath, Jennifer struggled to get the upper hand on the handyman, and finally saw her chance. As he repositioned his hand to get a better grip on her, wanting to snuff the breath from her body, she reared up and looped an arm over his windpipe, them slammed him back down. Within seconds his face was turning purple as his fingers desperately scrabbled and clawed at her viselike arm. It hurt, but she clenched her mouth and focused on the deadly pressure she was putting on his throat.
Just a few more moments…just a few more…
Her strength fading, she could suddenly feel a slackening in her arms as Robert Abeneau, murderer of an unarmed woman and thief, collapsed in an unconscious pile, the oxygen to his brain completely choked off.
She gasped in relief, her arm still a hard bar across his neck, leaving only enough room to let him live, instead of stopping any bloodflow going through his neck.
“Good boy, Orly,” she gasped out, and the little dog toddled over, apparently unhurt. Just as Jennifer was wondering how long she was going to be stuck on the kitchen floor, trying to keep a murder unconscious, Martin DuBois pushed his way in the door.
“S’il vous plait,” Jennifer began, and his eyes widened as he saw the tangle of Jennifer and Abeneau wrapped together on the floor.
“Give me a hand here, buddy, will ya?” she asked breathlessly as Martin gaped in utter shock.
He may not have understood the words, but it took him only a second or two for him to grasp the meaning of Jennifer’s plea. Determination in his eyes, he lurched across the room and bent down to help.
***
“In the beehives, oui?”
Jennifer nodded at Officer Augustin’s question. “Yes. I doubt he moved the paperwork. If you check, you should still be able to find it there.”
Looking around, she could see a lot of the same police officers in the chateau’s courtyard who had been there the night of the housekeeper’s murder. Sitting on a wooden bench under the shade of the largest tree, Jennifer had never appreciated Martin DuBois as much as when he’d help restrain Robert Abeneau while she had Sally call the police. The entire chateau, which had been so quiet and stable for so long, was buzzing with staff and police, and a lone neighbor with his pet pig.
Robert Abeneau had been silent when they’d dragged him out of the kitchen and marched him across the yard. He’d glared daggers at Jennifer as he’d walked past, and she finally smiled and cheerfully waved good-bye at him as the officer pushed on his head to fold him into the police car’s back seat. It was childish of her, true, but it felt good to see a man as evil and greedy as Abeneau on his way to jail.
She glanced up at Augustin, who was finishing giving one of the other younger officers quick instructions. As the junior officer walked away, she realized there was something she needed to tell the police, and August
in was the one she knew and trusted.
“Officer Augustin, I need to show you something I found downstairs, and I’d like to bring Sally, the cook, along, too.”
“Downstairs?” He looked surprised, and she nodded.
“Yes. I need someone to see it so we can be sure it doesn’t disappear. You’ll need a good flashlight.” She looked him over, noting his spotless uniform. “You’re not worried about getting dirty, are you?”
Chapter 15
It was more than two hours later before all the police and visitors had gone home, their questions answered and interviews completed. Jennifer had accepted congratulations from people with as little extra comment as possible. She was happy the murderer was gone, but it still felt odd to realize as soon as she was done dealing with the aftermath of her fight with Robert Abeneau, she was going to need to email Gable and tell him about her current situation.
“Well, I think after all this excitement we deserve a drink,” Sally said as she strolled across the courtyard toward Jennifer. In one hand was a large bottle of red wine and a corkscrew, and in her other she gripped the stems of two wine glasses.
“Great idea,” Jennifer agreed, plopping down on a wooden bench by the fountain. “I’m going to really miss the wine from Chateau Mersau.”
“You are?” Sally asked, as she set the glasses down on the bench and began to expertly uncork the bottle. “Well, I can fix that. I’m pretty sure we can fill your car with as much wine as it can carry.”
The cork released from the bottle with a satisfactory pop, and Sally smiled as she poured each of them a glass. “After all you’ve done for us and the chateau, it’s the least we can do. Who know how long Abeneau would’ve been here, prowling around after killing poor Madame Durand, trying to take what wasn’t rightfully his?” She shuddered. “And digging in that crypt, around all those skeletons. It gives me the creeps, it does.”
She paused, her face thoughtful. “I only have one question that hasn’t been answered.”
“What’s that?” Jennifer said, shooing a too-curious bee away from her glass.
“Why did Madame Durand have a cigar? She wasn’t a smoker.”
“You know, I’d been wondering that, too,” Jennifer admitted. “I didn’t figure it out until after Abeneau was in handcuffs. The way I figure it, she’d found an old cigar and took it out to the beehives, in case she needed to use smoke to calm down the bees.”
Sally looked confused. “Smoke?” she asked, and Jennifer nodded.
“Bees normally settle down at night, but maybe she thought she could use some cigar smoke in case they got upset when she tried to retrieve the documents. Professional beekeepers use smoke to settle down angry bees, so she probably was thinking she’d do the same thing if she needed to.”
Sally held out a half-full glass to Jennifer and they clinked them together in a silent toast. After a sip and a murmur of appreciative approval, Sally sighed.
“So, now that Abeneau is off to jail, what will happen with us? With the paintings you found, and the coins and everything? That gold crucifix looks like something that should be in a museum.”
Jennifer took another sip and leaned back against the stone wall. “It’ll be up to Mademoiselle Beauville. The police said they will inform her that she is the real heir of the chateau. he can decide whether she wants to live here or sell it.” She took another sip of her wine. “And what she wants to do with the contents.”
That didn’t seem to sit well with Sally. “Not just the contents. She gets to decide what she wants to do with the people here, too. All of us, even if we’ve been working at the chateau for years.”
Jennifer was silent. Sally was right, but somehow confirming it felt like rubbing salt in an open wound.
“So, I may be out of a job,” she said, her expression apprehensive. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to apply anywhere. I’m not exactly young, you know.”
Laughing a bit, Jennifer shook her head. “Look, no one’s going to bulldoze this place. It’ll still need staff. Even if you did need to find another position somewhere else, they’d be lucky to have you. You’re a much better cook and pastry chef than I ever was, and that’s the truth. I could talk to Mademoiselle Beauville, if you want.”
The relieved smile Sally gave Jennifer was genuine and wide. “Thanks. I guess I needed to hear that.” Her eyebrows pulled together in sudden thought. “And the rest of it, what’s going to happen?”
“What rest of it?” Jennifer asked, and Sally almost rolled her eyes.
“The girl who impersonated Beauville. You know, Abeneau’s niece. She had to know what was going on. Are they going to arrest her for fraud?”
“Oh, she definitely knew what was going on, at least part of it,” Jennifer agreed, taking another sip of wine. It rolled over her tongue in a spicy, honeyed way. If they gave her a case of this wine, she’d be very happy indeed. “From what I understand, the police have already put out a bulletin to find her and pick her up, and then they’ll decide what to do with her. I imagine it will depend on how much she knew ahead of time, about her uncle’s plans.”
“I guess it would.” They sat in silence for a bit, listening to the soft hum of honeybees stopping by the fountain for a sip, or droning away in the nearby lavender bushes. “So, if your boss isn’t going to get to buy this place, do you get to keep your job?”
Jennifer laughed. “Sounds like it. He says I did the best I could, and got him the information he needed. If it doesn’t pan out, it’s not my fault. He can’t always get everything he wants, as much as he’d like to.”
“Oh, he’s used to getting his way, is he?” Sally asked, and Jennifer nodded.
“I’m kind of getting that feeling, yes. He’s a strong personality, but I think I can keep up with him.”
“So, where do you go next?”
Jennifer swirled the wine around a bit in her glass, and pursed her lips in thought. “I’m not sure. Home to Ravenwood Cove for a bit, maybe. Then I’ll be sent on another assignment.”
“The beach town in Oregon?” Sally asked, and Jennifer nodded. “We’re going to miss you.”
Sally’s voice held a tinge of sorrow in it, and Jennifer tried to smile in return. “I’ll miss you, too, but I’ll keep in touch, I promise.”
“So, you’re leaving this afternoon?”
“Yes, right after I get my things together. I’ll get a hotel in Aix and check in with my office. I’m not sure if I’m flying out of there or Marseille, or where I’m supposed to go. Maybe Bruges, maybe somewhere else.”
Sally set down her wine glass on a nearby wine barrel, her expression determined. “Well, then I’ve got one last thing to give you before you leave.”
“You do?” Try as she might, Jennifer couldn’t keep the tone of childish delight out of her voice. She loved gifts. “What is it?”
“Actually, I think it belongs to you already,” Sally said, her smile a bit mysterious as she picked up her glass of wine and walked toward the kitchen door.
***
Tongue hanging out, front paws on the armrest of the car door, Orly looked as happy as a little dog could possibly look. The Provence landscape scrolled by his window, and even with his short bulldog nose he could smell the scents of everything he saw, and some he couldn’t. Next to him, his new owner, Jennifer Eleanor Peetman, was humming along with the radio and watching the curving road in front of her, mindless of the lush vineyards on either side.
She glanced over at the little dog, who was happily panting as he swiveled his head to look at her again. “You having a good time, Orly?” she asked, and he seemed to smile in return, his comical mouth turned up in approval around his curled tongue.
“Good boy. Sally was right. You deserve a better life than being cooped up in a kitchen all day and having to worry about mean dogs and cats that hate you.”
He cocked his head to one side as he listened, and she took it as tacit agreement with what she’d said.
“Look, I’m
going to be traveling a fair amount, but if you’re a good boy and a good traveler and I can take you with me, I will, okay? But only if it’s safe. If not, you get to stay with a friend of mine. You’ll like her. Her name’s Amanda and she’s got a dog named Benson.” She couldn’t help but grin at the mental image of her little French bulldog meeting the big yellow lab. She had a suspicion that size wouldn’t matter at all, and that Orly would be certain he was in charge of the larger dog. “I think you’ll be good friends.”
Apparently unimpressed, Orly sat back on the seat and gave a huge yawn, then slumped down and closed his eyes to take a nap.
“We’re partners now, little guy,” Jennifer said, dropping her voice a bit so she wouldn’t startle the sleepy dog. “I’m going to take good care of you, and we’re going to have all sorts of new adventures together.”
***
THANK YOU for reading this book! I have three series, and check reader reviews to let me know which one people like the best. If you’d like to see more books about Jennifer, please take a moment to leave a review on Amazon. ??
Want to read the next book with Jennifer’s international adventures? Check out the next book in the series:
A CORPSE IN CORNWALL: World Travel Cozy Mystery (book 2)
Other Carolyn L. Dean books:
Here are the books in the Ravenwood Cove series:
#1 – BED, BREAKFAST, and BONES
#2 – DUNE, DOCK, and a DEAD MAN
#3 – MISTLETOE, MOONLIGHT, and MURDER
#4 – SEA, SKY, and SKELETON
#5 – TIME, TIDE, and TROUBLE
#6 – SUN, SAND, and SECRETS
#7 – ROCKS, ROSES, and RIPTIDES
#8 – FRUIT, FLOWER, and FLAMES
#9 – TEA, TREATS, and TERROR
#10- JAM, JELLY, and JUST DESSERTS
…and here are the books in the World Travel Cozy Mystery series:
Perils in Provence Page 8