After breakfast, Carolette piled into a sleigh along with the others, and Giselle looked like she had a new lease on life…along with an engagement ring that sparkled when she waved as they rode off toward their cars on the other side of the forest. Forty minutes later Carolette felt wired from too much coffee as she drove behind Solange’s car on their way home. They were making good time due to light Christmas Day traffic, when she saw Solange put on her turn signal and take the exit for Clémency.
“We’ve only been driving for fifteen minutes,” Robert grumbled.
“Must be Selma’s tiny bladder,” Auguste sighed.
“My legs could use a stretch,” Laetitia said, and it was no wonder since she was folded up in the back seat.
“Oh putain! C’est Spratman! Là bas!” Robert gasped.
Carolette spotted him getting out of his rental car. “Holy shit!”
“Don’t look!” Laetitia cautioned.
Spratman was oblivious as he walked toward the center of town.
Carolette eased her car down the street and parked behind Solange’s Citroën Cactus. The doors flew open, and Henri, Fauve, Selma, and Solange came speed-walking to her car.
Carolette rolled her window down and they huddled together as Spratman entered the Chouettes Jumelles Hotel in the distance.
“Who volunteers to keep an eye on him?”
“I will,” Laetitia said as she jumped out of the car.
“I’ll stay with her.” Robert climbed out after her.
“Don’t speak to him! We’ll text each other updates.”
With a nod, he was off and hurrying to catch up with his sister’s long stride. She was already halfway to the hotel.
Carolette called Giselle and put her on speaker.
Giselle answered with a breezy, “You just left. Miss me already?”
Fauve crowed, “We found Spratman!”
“Where are you?” Giselle asked, sounding instantly excited.
“Clémency.”
“Let’s trap him! I mean unless you guys are too tired. You all didn’t get much sleep.”
“Are you kidding? This is war!” Carolette declared.
“Okay, let’s do this! Henri and Fauve, get Stuart and his plane ready for Plan B. I’ll call Stephen and tell him you’re heading for Château de Clavy.”
“Make sure he unlocks the secret passageway I’ll be using,” Carolette urged.
“I’ll make sure to remind him. Selma, you call your mother and have her pull the Exagon out of the garage.”
“Right! I’ll have her pull out one of your dresses, too,” Selma said while grabbing her own phone.
“Fauve and Solange, call Luc, Terrance, and Gendarme Evan and tell them to get right over to Château de Clavy. It’ll be a great Christmas gift for them to question one of the hit men!”
Carolette saw group texts popping up on her friends’ phones. “Gigi, the locals have spotted him.” She looked at the group text on Auguste’s phone, which he was pushing toward her.
SPRATMAN ORDERING BREAKFAST IN CHOUETTES JUMELLES HOTEL CLÉMENCY
Solange said, “We’re all covered on this end, Gigi, don’t worry. Carolette will drive her car to your château. Henri and Fauve can take my car straight to the airstrip to set up Plan B. Robert can stay here to keep an eye on Spratman. I have a friend here in Clémency who can help us. He’s got a big SUV and can take me, Laetitia, and Selma to Château de Clavy to help monitor the trap.”
They all flew into action, and Carolette couldn’t remember a better Christmas as she and Auguste roared off down the road. She was getting to borrow one of Giselle’s dresses, drive Vincenzo’s Exagon Furtive-eGT, lead Spratman on a merry chase, and after his arrest, Giselle, Markus, and Yvania could come out of hiding. They’d be back home by dinnertime.
It was almost no time before she reached the turnoff to Giselle’s property in Gernelle.
“Damn, woman!” Auguste almost dropped his phone as he put up hands to brace himself when she banked off the country road and onto the château’s long white gravel drive. “Selma just texted. Veronique has pulled the car out front and is waiting with your disguise.”
“Right, we’ll be heading back to Clémency within ten minutes.”
“Spratman may move on. Can you get us back on the road in under five?”
“That depends on whether or not I can fit into Giselle’s clothes. I’ve got a bit more…of everything than she does.”
As they reached the château’s grand courtyard, Veronique was standing next to Vincenzo’s gleaming metallic gold electric car, which was parked at the ready with the doors open.
Carolette put her car in park and jumped out with Auguste right behind her lugging her purse.
Veronique gestured for him to toss the purse into the Exagon. “I put a package in there as Selma asked. Drop it somewhere before you exit Clavy just in case Spratman hasn’t followed you inside. It’ll look like you dropped something off. But then run like hell back to your car so he can’t catch you. Luc and the boys, plus Selma and others will be outside to help keep you safe. Here, put on Giselle’s red dress. It’s elastic so you just pull it on. Cover your hair with this red scarf. You’ll be easy to spot.”
Carolette felt giddy at the prospect of wearing that dress. Giselle had worn it to the opening of her show at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art.
“It’s certainly an eye-popping color, especially with the scarf. There’s no way Spratman could miss me unless he’s color blind. Oh! Could he be?”
“Perish the thought Auguste!” Veronique moaned.
“I think that’s green they can’t see. But even if he is, he won’t be able to miss your figure,” Auguste said.
Carolette let Veronique and Auguste yank her boots off, while she stripped her clothes off right there on the flagstone driveway of the regal old estate.
“No bra?” Veronique queried in motherly consternation. “Lift your arms.”
With Auguste’s help, Carolette shimmied into the clingy dress and dragged it into place.
Veronique knelt at her feet. “Dépêche toi! Put your boots back on, your feet are too big for Giselle’s shoes.”
Carolette accepted their help getting her feet back into her boots and tried not to fall down as she did a quick new hairstyle that was more like Giselle’s, then topped it with the scarf and tied it neatly under her chin.
Auguste’s phone rang. “It’s Robert,” he said. He answered with, “Is Spratman still in town?” while zipping her left boot with his other hand. He listened to Robert while Veronique zipped Carolette’s other boot and then smacked her derrière as a dismissal.
He said, “Glad he’s such a thorough hunter, it makes him slower. We’re driving back now. Gotta go!” He ended the call and they hurried to the car.
Veronique yelled, “Just put it in gear and start slow! That’s a racing car that hits ninety-six kilometers an hour in under five seconds!”
Carolette found that getting into V’s car wasn’t easy. It was so low to the ground, there was no way to do it like a lady, and she was grateful to be wearing underpants. Veronique already thought she was a slut without giving the poor woman a gynecological view. But once inside the car, it was pure luxury! She secured her belt, stroked her hands over the curving dashboard, and ran her fingers down the gauges, controls, and electronic screen before putting it into gear and taking a firm hold of the steering wheel.
“Ready?” she asked Auguste, who was on his phone calling Robert back.
He nodded. “Let’s get that hit man!”
Carolette pressed down on the accelerator and the custom tires screamed, leaving rubber on the flagstones as the heavy machine roared forward. The instant they reached the gravel drive, the car fishtailed and shot twin geysers of white pebbles high into the air. For a scary second, she grappled with their velocity and direction before regaining control.
“Wee! I’m a Bond girl!”
It didn’t take long for her to get the feel of the car. She knew th
is part of France like the back of her hand and racing along the quirky local arteries in a car this responsive was a thrill she would have gladly paid for.
“Ask him what Spratman’s doing now.”
Auguste did, and after listening he said, “Robert is strolling behind him. He’s going into every open door in Clémency as if expecting Giselle to be hiding inside. He just went into a bookstore.”
With no traffic on the A34, Carolette had them back to Clémency in under fifteen minutes and Auguste told Robert to be ready to yell, “There goes Giselle Verona in that gold car!” As they entered the small town, Auguste slumped so low he was practically on the floor so Spratman would think Giselle was alone.
Driving slowly down Grande Rue, she spotted Robert, who gave her a little nod before going into the bookstore. He immediately came back outside, held the bookstore’s door open, and pointed dramatically after her, saying his line, “Hey! There goes Giselle in her fancy car!”
“Oh!” Carolette felt a thrill. “Auguste, there he is! Here comes Spratman!” They watched him shove past Robert and run to his Sprat-mobile.
As she rolled slowly to give him enough time to start his car, Carolette saw another man burst out of the bookstore. He was a big bear of a man wearing a blazing orange Izod shirt and a shocking blue wool blazer, and he was followed by an expensively maintained woman in an ivory cashmere coat with frosted hair from the Dynasty era. Carolette rolled the window down and could hear him hollering, “Giselle! It’s me! Hank Taft!”
What the hell? Then she saw the hitman’s silver Peugeot coming toward her.
“Ooh! Here we go!” Carolette goosed the accelerator, leaving Spratman in the dust.
“Okay Coco, now don’t lose him on the way to Clavy.”
“Don’t you worry about me. Call Laetitia, tell her we’re on our way. Let’s see what that little rental car of his can do… Château de Clavy here we come!”
She roared onto the A34, where she and Spratman practically had the road to themselves. In traffic, it would take just over forty minutes to get from Clémency to Château de Clavy, but at this rate of speed, they’d be there in no time. She slowed down a touch so he wouldn’t think she knew she was being followed—just out running errands in her fast car. But as she approached Clavy, she put some distance between them so he would be able to see her go into the château but couldn’t grab her. Auguste started fidgeting nervously beside her.
“Are you worried for me?”
He blustered and tried to act calm. “Me? Not at all.”
Carolette swung into the château’s parking lot and pulled into a spot next to a tour bus. She saw Selma standing out front holding a map, and Laetitia was taking photos near a bunch of tourists. Auguste handed her the package. “Go!”
She scrambled from the car and tugged the clingy dress down over her bottom before trotting across the courtyard and up the steps of the château as if she were in a hurry, but not running a race. Inside she was surprised to find the place was mobbed, so she had to dodge tourists who thronged the merrily decorated entryway and halls. Even Christmas Day didn’t stop the tourists. She couldn’t wait for the place to clear, so she plunged forward.
Carolette bolted down the hall toward the secret passage—which all the local kids knew about but was strictly off limits—yanked the curtain aside and disappeared into the darkness. She knew plenty of people had seen her, but it couldn’t be helped. When Spratman asked people where the woman in red had gone, they’d point to the curtains. The darkness smelled the same as it had when on a dare she’d let Gustave Moreau kiss her in these secluded confines back in the fifth grade.
She bounded to the top of the stairs and had a scary moment of doubt. What if the door was locked? She’d be killed by Spratman coming in behind her. As she tripped to a stop at the top of the stairs, she started pawing the door for a knob, but nothing! Don’t panic! Terrance, Luc, and Gendarme Evan may have him by now. Of course, the doorknob is here. She swept her hand lower and grasped a handle with a little thumb lever. It clicked easily, and she burst through the door into an empty library. She tossed the package to the side, ran through the room, down the upstairs hallway, over to the main stairs, and then took them two at a time back to the front door. Thank goodness she hadn’t insisted on cramming her feet into Giselle’s heels.
Once outside she flew down the big stone steps and didn’t care if she looked like she was running a race or not. She dodged more tour buses as they arrived, yanked open the car door, and did an impressive modern dance move to dive inside without skinning her knees.
“Whew!” she said as her butt landed in the seat and she put the car back into gear. “Who are you on the phone with?”
“Gigi,” Auguste said and showed her the video call in progress. Carolette could see Giselle, Markus, Yvania, and Daniel all hunched around the phone.
“Inside the secret passage, it really hit me that these guys murdered Elli’s staff.” She shuddered and made a face of terror at Auguste’s phone camera, then shook herself.
“We should have word any moment about Spratman’s capture. Hang on, Coco,” Giselle said. “Markus is waiting for Terrance or Gendarme Evan to call him with an update.”
“Okay, I just need to get out of this spot. A bus is about to block me in, and if the boys miss Spratman, I don’t want to be murdered here in Vincenzo’s car.” She eased to the edge of the lot as Auguste kept his phone pointed at the front of the château for Giselle to see.
They heard Markus’ phone ring, and he put it on speaker so everyone could hear.
“We don’t see him.” It was Luc, and he sounded angry. “He must have blended in with the tour that’s going through the main rooms. Terrance is going around the side. Where’s Carolette?”
Giselle replied, “She’s back in the car. It’s okay, we’ll move to Plan B at the airstrip.”
“He’s a slippery fucker,” Luc said in exasperation.
“We know.”
Just then, Carolette saw Spratman bounding down the steps two at a time. He’d spotted her car. She dropped the accelerator, and in the rear-view mirror, she saw him reach his car.
“Carolette, they missed him!” Markus and Giselle said in unison.
“I noticed,” Carolette said. “He’s back on my tail.”
“Get to the airstrip.”
“On my way. Woo, now he’s driving like a maniac,” she said as he took a shortcut going against oncoming cars and onto the county road via the entrance instead of taking the long way to the exit.
“Luc, do not to chase the Spratman!” Yvania yelped. “Will spoil the next part! The Plan B!”
“Luc, we’ve got it from here,” Giselle said. “Thank Terrance and Gendarme Evan for me, d’accord?”
“Oui, d’accord. Sorry, Gigi,” Luc said before he disconnected.
Carolette opened up the engine and zoomed down the almost vacant D34 with the silver Peugeot not far behind. He must have the gas pedal to the floor.
The chase continued toward Aiglemont’s little airport, and as Carolette approached the airstrip, she took advantage of the car’s power and put more distance between her and Spratman through the flat farmland. On the open phone line, they heard Markus call Fauve and put her on speaker.
“Fauve, Coco’s coming fast. Are you in position?”
“Oui, Henri’s ready to close and lock the hanger when she’s inside. I’m standing next to Stuart’s jet, and he's ready for takeoff. Mon Dieu, it’s cold out here!”
As Carolette pulled onto the tarmac, she saw Henri and Fauve bundled up in ground crew jackets. Fauve stood near the plane, and Henri was at the wide-open hanger that Carolette aimed straight for. She braked hard inside the empty hanger and put the car in park. All was silent as Henri slammed and bolted the door.
“I don’t like being locked in here. What if he kills Fauve and Henri? We’re sitting ducks,” Auguste groaned.
“Maybe this car is bulletproof?” she squeaked under the roar of the Cess
na’s takeoff outside.
They held hands and stared at Auguste’s phone, watching and listening to not only Giselle’s group, but listening to her conversation with Fauve.
“Spratman is here!” Fauve exclaimed. “Heading straight for me. Yikes! I hope his brakes are good.”
There was a pause, and then they all heard a man’s voice near Fauve shout, “Hey, I was supposed to meet Giselle Verona here. Where is she?”
“Just missed her, she was on that plane.” Fauve’s voice sounded cool, and efficient.
“What? I…uh…have something for her!”
“You’ll have to send it to Iceland. She said she’d be there for a while.”
“Iceland?” the man sounded upset.
“Ouais, said she’s going to Kópavogur to install one of her sculptures at the home of some collectors. Do you remember the name she said?” Fauve must be talking to Henri now.
“Name of Guðmunds,” came Henri’s voice.
“Do you have an address?” Spratman sounded hopeful.
“No.”
“Okay, thanks.” He sounded far off now.
Then Fauve was back on the line. “And there he goes. Think he’ll stalk you to Iceland, Gigi?”
“Let’s all hope so,” Giselle sighed. “With any luck, he’s heading for the airport in Reims or Paris.”
“I will call my nephews,” Yvania said. “If he knocks on their door, he will not be leaving unless we say so. So, we wait to hear news from Iceland.”
CHAPTER
9
The day after Christmas, Mateo’s patience was stretched to the limit. He’d called the faithful to the basement chamber of the safe house in an effort to galvanize them to the immediate goal of getting some of them hired on at Raphielli’s soon-to-be-opened shelter, and thus gain access to the Scortini Palazzo. But it had been almost impossible to keep the group on topic. The Amendolas vacillated between unhelpful outbursts and bouts of disapproving silence during which they sat glaring at him.
“We still need to discuss a plan to get our daughter and her…Salvio’s unborn child! Where’s the chloroform you ordered?”
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