“Kat! Where did that come from? You imagination is getting carried away. Come to bed. We’ve had a busy weekend, and things will look better in the morning.”
At the same time, they both realized that Coco had been there with them the entire time. Lying quietly by their feet, still as a mouse.
Philippe got up and called her to go to the kitchen to sleep in her crate. After she ate her usual bedtime treat, Coco went into her crate, turned in a circle, and came right out. She went to Rocco’s open crate and did the same thing. Then she sat in front of it and whimpered.
“Her heart is hurting too, chou. I think we should let her come to our room.”
Philippe only hesitated a moment. “D’accord. Tu as raison—you’re right. It’s not fair to leave her here alone.” He took her bed from her crate and called to Coco, who trailed happily behind him to the master bedroom.
“I wonder how Belle is going to feel about this. She’s already claimed ownership to her spot on our bed,” Philippe speculated. Kat and Philippe settled in. The tabby was curled up by the headboard, her favorite spot. Coco settled onto her bed on the floor but did not take her eyes off them. Looking at each other, Kat and Philippe nodded. Kat patted the space beside her and called, “Coco, viens ici. Come here.”
Belle shifted slightly but gave no other reaction. Not even a hiss.
“Maybe Belle knows we all need this,” Kat whispered as Philippe slipped his arm around her.
Morning came early. Belle, always an early riser, was already out her cat door on her daily search for mice and moles in what was left of the old potager.
Kat and Philippe gazed sleepily at each other as they awoke to a small furry body tucked between them. They lay quietly stroking Coco for a few minutes. The pup slowly wriggled her face up to theirs, delivering soft licks to them both.
“That’s better than any alarm clock,” Philippe said.
As reality set in, Kat felt her face begin to crumble and tears well up in her eyes. Philippe put his arm over her. “Shhh, shhh. We will find our boy. Ne t’inquiètes pas.”
“It feels like Coco is trying comfort us. Even so, it’s hard not to worry.” She sniffed and wiped her cheeks with her hands. “Where is Rocco? Is he okay? Did he get hurt somehow? Is he lying alone waiting for us to find him? This is so awful, and I can’t stop worrying … and crying. I didn’t realize how painful this could be, how much we love our pups …”
Philippe’s voice cracked. “C’est vrai … difficile.”
The three stayed like this for a few minutes before the adults got out of bed. Coco followed closely.
The sunrise would not happen for quite a while, nor would it be the usual distraction for Kat today. Her thoughts were focused on one thing: finding Rocco.
No one had slept well. Kat, Philippe, and Delphine were all in the kitchen by six a.m., yawning and sympathizing with each other. Coco was like their shadow.
“Eh bien,” Philippe said. “We’re all terribly upset, but we must get on with our lives. Remember, Rocco is chipped. I’m sure we will hear soon. Delphine, off you go to the refuge. I’m headed to the market. Kat, I agree with your plans to spend the day searching every possibility. I’m sure Didier will help if you need him.”
Delphine and Kat nodded, both bleary-eyed. Coffees were poured, but no one had the appetite for anything else. Even the plate of madeleines was left untouched.
Just then, the phone rang. Bernadette called to say that she and Gilles had seen some signs of suspicious activity down on the rocks by the sea across from the villa. Gilles was going to talk with Philippe about it at work. “I’m doing a street-by-street search in my car today. I’ve alerted all zee chauffeurs in town to watch out for Rocco. We will find ’eem … tôt ou tard.”
“Sooner or later,” Kat repeated. “I pray it is sooner.” Then her heart sank. She hoped that people being down on the rocks had nothing to do with Rocco’s disappearance. What if those drug-dealing criminals have something to do with this? I can’t let go of my paranoia around that …
Now she had even more to worry about.
Coco was sitting outside the pups’ crates. She clearly did not want to leave the kitchen. She continued to go in and out of Rocco’s crate and sniff all around the room. Philippe called her to go outside, and she followed hesitantly. It was obvious she felt her brother’s absence.
Before going outside, Philippe put on her leash and Coco dragged him down to the bushes at the bottom of the garden again. Philippe followed her into the undergrowth, using his flashlight to look carefully for telltale signs of disturbance during the night.
Back in the kitchen, he breathlessly reported that there were definitely faint shoeprints in the mud. As he wiped Coco’s feet, he said, “I’ll see what Gilles has to report. Then I’ll speak to Mercier.”
Mercier was the local chief of the gendarmerie and was referred to simply by his last name. He was a lifelong resident of Antibes and had a reputation for always getting the job done. “Ne provoque pas Mercier. You don’t mess with Mercier,” was something Kat heard often from her local friends.
Philippe continued, “It looks like there was a bit of rain during the night. Everything was pretty damp, but Coco was finding smells she got excited about. And I saw more of what I found before.” He wrinkled his nose with his last words.
Delphine was stalling, still terribly distraught. But she also knew she had to open the refuge. She spent several minutes with Coco before she left.
Kat promised to keep her absolutely up to date with the search throughout the day and hugged her once more before the girl left.
“Come for dinner tonight, my dear. Let’s share some comfort food. Who knows? Maybe our boy will be back by then!”
On another note, Kat was surprised at Delphine’s natural beauty without her usual heavy makeup.
I wonder what she is hiding behind all that maquillage, the black eyeliner and lipstick.
She mentioned it to Philippe, who admitted he hadn’t paid attention in his worry. “You were much better at consoling poor Delphine than I was. I can’t think of anything but Roc and what might have happened.”
“I know, I know. I …” Her voice trailed off and she threw her hands up in the air.
Philippe took Kat in his arms. “Il faut avoir confiance; have faith. Today we have to set worry aside and believe we will get to the bottom of this and bring our Rocco home. Now I’m going to work. I’ll call you later.”
Kat hugged him tightly. “D’accord.” She had to believe he was right and did not mention her paranoid thought about the drug dealers again.
19
Katherine stayed in the shower for a long time. Her tears mingled with the water streaming down her face. She wanted to get a grip before she headed out.
Coco was lying patiently outside the bathroom. Her tail thumped lightly against the floor as Kat knelt down and cradled the pup’s head in her lap. Coco softly licked Kat’s hand and rubbed her muzzle into Kat’s thigh.
It was all Kat could do not to start crying again at the pup’s comforting response. The moments were sweet, and for a time, nothing else came into her thoughts.
It’s as if she knows. As if both our hearts are hurting …
After several minutes of stroking and softly talking to Coco, Kat felt her resolve grow to make the day productive. After one last hug, Coco settled, with a loud sigh, in her crate. Kat’s heart filled with the love between them.
Now she needed to get the other half of that love affair back home. She had to.
She decided her search would be most effective on her bike and soon was on her way. She had mapped out a plan in her head and took each street on the route slowly, while calling out Rocco’s name.
Whenever she passed someone walking, she would stop and ask if they had seen a dog of his description. No one had seen anything.
After riding right over the hill to Juan-les-Pins, Kat returned along the shore. She slowed or stopped whenever there were places that an i
njured dog possibly might rest or hide, calling out over and over.
Nothing.
After several hours of searching, she some time spent sitting on rocks looking over the tumbling azure waves. She thought about how life threw unexpected wrenches into plans. Not that this was the first time.
And there I was, getting all worked up over how I could make my first fête de Noël perfect. Then this happens and puts everything in perspective. Honestly, Kat, here’s something that truly matters …
She got back on her bike and rode like the wind, thankful there were few cars around. Tourist season was well over and holiday makers for Noël had not yet arrived. She pedaled hard and fast for a good half hour. Ever since she was young, if there was one thing that had cleared Kat’s mind, it was riding her bike. The rhythm and the feeling of abandon set her mind free. She could feel her anxiety level abating, not entirely gone but decidedly lower.
Pulling into Simone’s driveway, Kat texted to let her know she was there. Simone seldom answered her phone but liked to communicate with texts.
Kat heard the door buzz to let her in, and her phone buzzed with a text: “Bonjour chérie, I am in the studio, viens! I’m not stopping painting but you can join me! ANY NEWS ABOUT ROCCO?”
Kat went in the house and down the hall to Simone’s art studio.
Simone was waiting for her, covered in paint. “Chérie, I’m embracing you with my words. I’m so sorry about this crisis with Rocco and know how worried you must be!” Her brow was creased with concern, and her eyes offered Katherine her sympathy.
“Oh, Simone! I’m worried but hopeful. Everyone is pitching in, and surely we will find him.” She felt her throat tighten and her eyes sting as she fought an overwhelming urge to burst into tears.
Not this time. I’m not going to let it happen.
“This is such a terrible turn of events. In fact, I’ve been painting nonstop so I won’t be constantly worrying about Rocco. He has to turn up. We have to keep believing that.”
Kat swallowed hard and took in Simone’s canvas. “Wow, this is stunning!”
“Désolée! Je suis en veine—truly on a roll with this painting. Please forgive me for not cleaning up.”
Like all of her more recent pieces, this was a massive floral with amazing details, the subject a multilayered peony in deep shades of pink and rose.
“Ahhh, une pivoine! One of the few flowers I know how to say in French,” Kat said, relieved to have a distraction.
Simone laughed. “Well, we filled our homes with enough of them in June, n’est-ce pas?”
Kat chuckled as she poured herself a glass of water from a nearby pitcher. “Absolument!” This past summer had been Katherine’s first time in France during peony season. She had been amazed at the vast quantities that were sold at the markets and at the vibrant colors, some of which she had never seen before. Her camera shutter had clicked endlessly as she took countless shots.
When peonies were in the market, Kat had been able to tempt Simone to go with her on more than one occasion. The joy Simone showed as she filled her arms with blooms of all shades made Kat think her heart might burst. Together they had filled every kind of container in Simone’s villa with overflowing bunches. The fragrance that filled the house was, in Simone’s words, “some kind of magic.”
Now Kat pulled up a chair and straddled the seat, leaning on the back to give her muscles a good stretch.
“Quoi de neuf?” Simone asked, as she turned to continue working on her canvas. “Pardon mon dos tourné!”
“I never mind your back! Nothing is new, I’m sad to say … at least as far as I know. I’ve been out on my bike for a few hours, scouring every nook and cranny. I’ll check my phone now. And you? Ça marche?”
“Oui, oui. I’m taking my time with this piece but want to have it finished by la Saint-Sylvestre,” Simone told her. “I’m sorry there is no news.”
Katherine knew that a buyer from Paris visited Simone every January and left with some of her work.
After chatting for a few minutes, Kat said she wanted to check out the forested area on Simone’s property that abutted theirs.
“You will find my sweeties down there,” Simone told her. “As I said the other day, they are very interested in something in that corner. But I want you to call Didier and have one of those boys go with you. There could be squatters around.”
Katherine politely rebuffed the suggestion. “I’m fine to go look on my own. I don’t think we will find anyone there during the day.”
“Chérie, listen to your wise old friend. Call him.”
Kat smiled as she texted Didier.
I should know better than to ignore Simone’s advice.
Kat asked Didier if one of them could pop next door to Simone’s. She said she would meet them by the potager just a few steps out the kitchen door.
Waiting there, Kat could see that the kitchen garden had been pretty much put to bed for the winter. She thought it odd that there were no vestiges of anything left. Normally there might hillocks of late potatoes and other root vegetables.
Auguste arrived to accompany Kat. He was sympathetic as he chatted with her about Rocco’s disappearance. When they reached the bottom of the garden, they were greeted by loud brays from Victor Hugo, who approached Kat immediately and nudged her pockets looking for treats.
Rubbing his nose, Kat offered chunks of the carrots Simone had given her. The two miniatures trotted over for their share and a good scratch each, before they returned to grazing between the bushes.
It was apparent that someone had trampled the undergrowth in the bushes closest to Philippe and Kat’s property. It was not the kind of trampling done by an animal. She recognized it as the same kind of disturbance they’d found at their place.
Kat reported back to Simone shortly.
“The question is why would anyone be down there in the first place? It doesn’t make sense,” Simone replied.
Becoming jittery again, Kat asked, “Do you think it has anything to do with Inspecteur Thibideau’s warning? Maybe the drug dealers have something to do with who has been poking around there.”
“Serieusement, non,” Simone said without hesitation. “What those guys are after is in the water. There’s absolutely no way they need to come on our properties. They know what they are looking for.”
Katherine bit her lip and swallowed questions she was dying to ask. She knew Simone would not divulge anything except on her terms. It had become apparent the previous year that Simone and Inspector Thibideau shared an unspoken connection. The mystery continued.
20
Kat was normally a sound sleeper, but tonight she tossed and turned. Her mind simply would not slow down. Her anxieties about the holidays had faded, replaced by her obsessive worry over Rocco’s disappearance.
Yesterday had ended in disappointment, without a single sign of Rocco.
At dinner the previous evening, Delphine reported that she had called all of the refuges and animal hospitals in the area. It was obvious she felt responsible for Rocco’s disappearance, no matter how much the others assured her it could have happened when any of them were around. After all, who knew?
Bernadette texted to say she had sent out an alert to her fellow taxi drivers. They had collectively driven all over throughout the day, often retracing their routes, yet had seen nothing.
It was as if the pup had simply vanished.
Kat slowly dragged herself out of bed. Looking out the window, she saw that the outdoor lights were on and that Philippe was keeping Coco on a leash as they went out to the garden. The pup appeared determined to pull him down to the forested end.
Back in the house, Philippe reported that Coco once again frantically sniffed and whimpered at that end of the garden.
“I carefully inspected as much as I could, and I’m going to ask Didier to cut back all of the low-growing underbrush this afternoon.”
Kat could see Philippe was desperate to find some answer to this mystery.
She knew his heart was aching as much as hers.
Kat offered to pass that along. “You have to get to work, mon chou. I’ll take care of it.”
Philippe also reported that, before she got up, he had phoned Mercier right after he had his first espresso and two madeleines. Also an early riser, the police chief had already heard about Rocco going missing. News traveled fast in this small village.
“He said everyone was keeping an eye out for Rocco. Apparently there is une équipe that is dognapping all along the coast. Pas optimistique …” Philippe’s voice faded.
Both felt disappointed and discouraged.
“I’m going out on my bike again today,” Kat said. “I’ve got some things to do around here, then I’ll take a different route. I’ve got to keep trying to find Rocco or I’ll just wallow here and cry. Véronique is going to take me to lunch. She insists I need a diversion.”
“That’s what friends are for,” Philippe said. “C’est une très bonne idée!”
They hugged each other tightly.
“Gilles and I are going to come up with another plan. We will come here after closing and talk to you about it. Can you be home then?”
“Oui,” Kat murmured. Her dejection was obvious. Philippe planted a gentle kiss on each cheek and was out the door as Kat gave him a feeble wave.
Philippe had been gone just a few minutes when Kat’s phone rang.
“Bonjour, ma chère.” Kat was happy to hear Joy’s comforting voice.
“Oh, Joy …” Kat’s voice broke.
Joy continued, “I’m so sorry to hear what is going on chez vous. Oncle François called Philippe yesterday and heard the terrible news. Of course you must be so worried.”
Kat sniffled. “Je m’excuse. I’m a wreck …”
They spoke for several difficult minutes. “I know you understand exactly how we feel,” Kat said. “Imagine if this happened to your dear Picasso. It is sheer torture.”
The First Noël at the Villa des Violettes Page 11
