by Katie Penryn
“I want to help — to make up for all the years when I left you to do my job. And without you I would still be languishing in that horrible prison facility.”
Felix meowed and jumped back onto the floor purring.
*
The weather held fine for Saturday evening. No sudden summer squalls blew up to tear down the multi-colored bunting or blow out the candles in the Chinese paper lanterns strung along the sea wall.
With professionals to man the bar, set up the piped music until the local band could attend and serve the food, our family was free to welcome our guests. Izzy had been a true friend in persuading the firm to cater for our small do. She had chosen not to attend the party because she said her fame would get in the way. It would take the attention away from me, and she didn’t want that to happen.
Everyone else we had met was there except Keith Gardner who I hoped was suffering agonies in prison for what he did to Edna Yardley and, to a lesser extent, to Gwinny and me. I had taken in his little dachshund, Piffle, and he had made friends with Zig and Zag. The three of them were tearing around the edge of the party play fighting and having a marvelous doggy get-together.
We couldn’t have done without Martine in our investigation and it was good to see her smiling happily with her husband and five children. Monsieur Faux-Filet brought a gift — steak, of course — which Gwinny hurried off to our new fridge. Monsieur Brioche told us in confidence he had worked all morning on the centerpiece of a traditional croque-en-bouche, a towering splendor of miniature choux buns stuffed with crème pâtissière and spattered with caramel and almonds. Monsieur LaPresse offered us a tub of ice cream.
Each family had brought along their friends and their children’s friends. The guests kept coming, some I hadn’t met before, each bringing a gift to welcome us and to thank us for our work in solving a crime which had threatened their tourist industry. Martine whispered to me that she had thought fit to augment Gwinny’s list in the interests of public relations for the family. As the party fare was a buffet and a barbecue, extra guests caused no panic in the catering van parked around the corner. I said a silent thank you to Felix for ridding the adjacent backyard of the horde of rats. The catering company wouldn’t have stayed long if they had seen so much as a whisker.
Soon the party was in full swing with the decibels soaring, happy laughter and new friends being made. With a great hooting Monsieur Bonhomie’s car arrived, stopping inches short of the trestles set up to demarcate the party area. The mayor was sporting his tri-colored mayoral sash — a great show of honor for our family. He lost his footing on the cobbles. Only his wife’s fast reactions saved him from a nasty fall. He had already been celebrating the locking up of the evil Keith Gardner, who had dared to threaten Beaucoup-sur-mer’s reputation as a safe place for a family holiday.
With his wife supporting him he stumbled into the center of the dance floor and drew his hand across his throat for the music to be cut. A mayoral speech. What an honor for a newly arrived English family. Someone gave him a chair to climb on and away he went: what wonderful people we were – smart, persistent and rich. Just the sort of people Beaucoup-sur-mer wanted living in their town.
The guests clapped wildly and thumped on the tables, shouting, “Vive L’Entente Cordiale.”
The Munro family had arrived. We were popular. People liked us. People liked Gwinny. They cheered her, too.
The band arrived and the celebration turned serious. Blues-rock French style. Everyone was dancing. Jimbo partnered Monsieur Brioche’s daughter. Sam buzzed about from one teenage girl to another. The smaller children jigged and bounced on the edge of the floor. Monsieur Bonhomie led me onto the floor for a lively waltz. The band’s conflicting rhythm didn’t bother him at all. It was like being jounced around by a large beach ball. For the first time in my life I found myself looking down at my feet to make sure I avoided my partner’s. I didn’t want crushed toes.
When I raised my head eyes of bright peridot met mine over the mayor’s shoulder. Felix had shifted up to human again and was tapping the mayor for an excuse-me.
“Are you sure I should be dancing with my bodyguard?” I asked Felix.
“Who better? I challenge anyone to try anything while you’re in my arms,” he answered as he swept me up in a night club shuffle.
Taking his arm away from around my waist he winked at the band leader and twirled his fingers for another slow number. I yielded. It was so pleasant. He smelled of wild sage that’s been dried in the sun. A warm sensual fragrance hinting at the African savannah with a spicy under note of danger.
We danced on and on. Slow, fast. It didn’t matter. We fitted together perfectly.
The lanterns flickered out one by one. The numbers grew smoochy as Felix held me in an ever tighter grip. We were cheek to cheek now with our eyes closed.
Suddenly, a brutish hand wrenched me from Felix’s arms and swung me round to face a glowering butch of a man.
“How dare you?” he screamed at me, great gobbets of saliva hanging out of his mouth.
I hadn’t the faintest idea who he was. Felix moved in at once to drag him off me, but a tall dark haired man beat him to it. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was Dubois rescuing me from the nasty gatecrasher. A Dubois done up in tight jeans and crisp white shirt, the cuffs bisecting a complicated tattoo on each arm.
As Dubois secured the man in a half nelson and hauled him off the dance floor, the man carried on yelling, “Where’s my wife? What have you done with my wife?”
I cast a startled look around in the dimness and spotted Audrey crawling under one of the tables with a child in each hand. When she saw me watching her she let go of the kids for a moment and put her finger to her mouth. I shook my head. I wasn’t going to give her away. Not to that brute. Not after I’d seen the bruises she had when she crashed into my car.
Felix followed the silent conversation between us and walked over to station himself in front of the table hiding Audrey. He could see Dubois didn’t need him. He rested his hips on the top of the table and raised his brows at me as if to say, “Well I never.”
I hadn’t expected Dubois to turn up but his presence was timely and added an official touch to the expulsion from the party of Audrey’s irate spouse.
With the danger taken care of the music started up again and the dancers resumed the floor. I approached Felix ready to continue our dancing — I was going to say our romantic interlude, but that’s probably wishful thinking. I took his hand, but his eyes opened wide fixed on someone behind me. As I turned my head to look, Dubois tapped me on the shoulder.
“Mine, I think,” he said removing my hand from Felix and twisting me round to face him. “So, Madame Munro, we meet in more pleasant circumstances. Thank you for your invitation, by the way. It was generous considering how little co-operation I have been able to afford you in the matter of the Edna Yardley murder.”
Another point to clock up against or for Martine. I wasn’t sure which at the moment. I hadn’t invited him.
Dubois was a good dancer, like most of the French guests. Being held in his arms was strange. I had for so long considered him to be the enemy, but had to admit he had only been doing his job to the best of his ability under the constraints he faced. He did listen when we offered him a string of alternative suspects even if he couldn’t follow them up.
“Madame Munro,” he said breaking into my thoughts. “Would you like to come out to dinner with me some night? We could smoke a pipe of peace?”
I looked up at him. His eyes were earnest, his posture stiff while he waited for acceptance or rejection of his invitation. What had I to lose? As if he sensed my attitude soften, he smiled at me, a smile of great radiance which reached right up to the corners of his eyes making them flash blue lights at me. Wow! I wasn’t expecting that.
“Ahem,” said a deep voice in my ear.
Felix, of course. He wanted his partner back. After all, he had to guard my body. Or he was my bodyguard. Somethin
g like that. Watch the wine, Penzi.
There’s such a thing as being in too much demand. For the next hour Felix and Dubois shared my dancing skills, turn on turn, until I cried, “Stop, enough.”
The caterers had long since packed away their van which they would collect in the morning. The guests were straggling away. Dubois took his leave complete with a courtesy kiss. The dogs had collapsed in the gutter. Audrey had taken her children to bed. Jimbo and Sam were sitting on the doorstep attended by a bevy of maidens. It was time for bed.
Felix led me into the house stepping between Jimbo and Sam who regarded him with curiosity. How was I to explain Felix to them? Should I even try?
Audrey was sitting in the kitchen with her head on her hands sobbing softly.
Felix put his arms around her and gave her a hug and then sat down beside her. I put the kettle on for a cup of tea. Sam and Jimbo came in followed by the three tired dogs who made straight for their baskets after giving Felix a good sniff.
I made the tea while everyone waited for Audrey to stop crying. Jimbo and Sam joined us at the table. Gwinny had gone up to bed much earlier, tired out after her stay in prison.
“Good party,” said Sam.
Jimbo rubbed his eyes, trying to stay awake while we talked things over. “I made lots of friends, Penzi. It won’t be so strange when I start my new school next term.”
I ruffled his hair ignoring his look of disgust. “That’s good then.”
Audrey dried her eyes and sipped her tea. “I think I could get used to English tea.” She said with a smile. “Thank you for covering for me with my husband. It was kind of you but I can’t stay here forever.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” I said. “You need your own home. First thing tomorrow — well, first thing after we’ve all had a long lie-in — we’ll set about finding you some protected housing. And we must settle Gwinny back in her cottage.”
“Ah, can’t Mum stay here?” objected Jimbo.
“Gwinny needs her own place. It wouldn’t work for the two of us to be here in the same house long term. I’ve forgiven her for leaving us, but I can’t pretend that we can turn the clock back. She’ll always be welcome here but not to live.”
Sam drained his tea and put his mug back down on the table. “I agree.”
Felix had said nothing. The two boys now looked at him and then at me.
“This is Felix, the guy who saved me. You’ve seen him around, no doubt.”
Jimbo giggled. “What the same name as our cat?” he bent down to look under the table. “Where is the cat? I haven’t seen him for ages.”
Sam grinned. “Looks as if you pulled big time tonight, Penzi. Felix here and Dubois there. France is good for you. You’re learning to have fun.”
Audrey hadn’t understood what we were saying as she didn’t speak much English. “I’m going up to bed now. Good night everyone.”
As soon as the door closed Sam turned to Felix and me. “What aren’t you two telling us?”
Chapter 26
I wasn’t sure what the rules were about shape shifters and their close human friends and so I gave Felix the nod. “Over to you.”
“Do I look familiar?” he asked them turning his head this way and that and running his hands over his ears. I hadn’t noticed before but his ears were rounder than human ears.
Sam scratched his head and scrutinized Felix from head to toe. “I thought I’d met you before the first time I saw you.”
Jimbo, being younger, was closer to the possibility of all things magical. He scrunched up his eyes. “It sounds ridiculous — please don’t all laugh at me — but I think you look like Felix our cat. You have the same colored eyes and you are — what’s the word, Penzi?”
“Feline?”
Jimbo nodded his head slowly without removing his eyes from Felix’s face.
“I can show you, but I can’t tell you. Those are the rules. Are you ready?”
The boys whispered a yes.
“Watch my eyes.”
The air round Felix shimmered yellow and black. His chair toppled over tipping him out onto the floor. Two hundred pounds of furry muscle and sinew. A seamless metamorphosis from man to….
“A leopard,” shrilled Jimbo jumping up onto his chair. “You’re a leopard?”
Sam hadn’t said a word. He watched in wonder as Felix padded slowly round the table towards him, his great haunches undulating with every step and his long tail counterbalancing his forwards movement. Sam shrank back a little in his chair as Felix approached him. Felix rubbed his head against Sam’s arm and began to make a chuffing sound, like a cat’s purr but disjointed.
Sam’s free hand hovered over Felix’s head. “Can I touch him?”
“Gently.”
Sam stroked Felix’s beautiful spotted coat. The chuffing grew louder.
Jimbo found his courage again and leapt onto the floor crying out, “Me, me, too.”
Both boys stroked Felix’s back and tickled his ears for a minute.
Felix shook them off and padded round to me, resting his head on my lap and gazing at me with his green eyes.
“I can’t believe it,” said Sam.
“It’s magic,” Jimbo said. “You know Penzi’s a witch.”
Sam looked across at me for confirmation, and I nodded. I hoped that wasn’t going to put me in bad with the Guild.
Felix shook himself and sauntered back to his chair. There before our eyes he shifted down to being Felix the cat and jumped up onto the chair and began to groom himself.
Jimbo followed him and caressed him under his chin.
“Now I understand how Felix killed all those rats. I feel safe with him here as our bodyguard. Dad was wise to send him to us.”
“Time for bed, boys. Tomorrow we begin our new life here in Beaucoup-sur-mer. No dead bodies. No baddies. And the whole of the brocante to explore.”
As we set foot on the bottom stair Felix came running over to follow us upstairs.
“No,” I said pointing at him. “I’m not falling for that one again. You sleep down here or in the corridor upstairs, not in my bedroom.”
“Deal, I’ll take the piano,” he said turning on his paws and stalking back into the living room.
BOOK TWO
THE WITCH WHO LOVED ÉCLAIRS
Chapter 1
“We must visit the cats in the library tonight, Penzi,” said Felix coming up behind me and laying his hands on my shoulders as I sat at my desk. I was sifting through bills and quotes with the help of my eighteen-year-old brother Sam. I couldn’t do it without Sam as reading is not my strength.
A week had passed since the end of what I think of as the fridge murder. The police had performed their reconstruction of the crime in our back yard and had taken the ancient chamber of death away with them. My brothers, Sam and nine-year-old Jimbo, aided by our house guest Audrey and our long lost mother, Gwinny, had cleared up the smaller items of rubbish that had escaped the hands of the dumpster men. Neat piles of coiled wire, old pots and pans, and indeterminate shanks of metal stood against the seawall at the side of the property awaiting transportation to the recycling center. The prospect from my window was improving daily as we worked on the tidy-up operation. It had been a shock when we arrived from England at our new home in Beaucoup-sur-mer in France to find the garden choked with ancient kitchen machines and barrels of goodness-knows-what lurking in the corners.
“Penzi, did you hear me?” asked Felix giving my shoulders a squeeze with his powerful hands.
Felix was my bodyguard. My father, Sir Archibald Munro, world famous anthropologist, had sent Felix to me as his dying wish when my father failed to return from an expedition to the jungle of the Middle Congo. Felix arrived as a Savannah cat, the most expensive cats in the world and the most beautiful with their leopard spotted coats. Therein lay the clue. What a surprise Felix had given me when I’d walked in on him one night to find he had shifted from cat to man, a man to take one’s breath away – over six foot, tawny
locks, businesslike muscles and his signature peridot green eyes that followed him through all his feline manifestations, for he could morph into a leopard, too. He had only been with us for a fortnight and already he had saved my life. Fortunately for me, he took his duties seriously.
“Penzi?”
“Yes, what?” I asked tearing my thoughts back to the present.
“The cats. The library cats. We have to visit them.”
I turned in my chair and looked up at Felix. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why do we have to visit the cats in the library?”
“I made them a promise when they helped me. We owe them. They want to see you.”
“I’ve all this paperwork to sort through. I can’t spare the time.”
“We have to go at night, not now. You can’t afford to upset them, Penzi. You’re a witch and they want to meet you. You know, it’s this thing about cats and witches.”
I sighed as I scrabbled all the pieces of paper up together into a rough pile and handed them off to Sam who had been listening to our conversation with his eyes wide.
“You can talk to cats?” he asked Felix.
“Cats, dogs, you name it. It’s all part of being a supernatural being. I always knew I could talk to other animals when I was a cat, but I hadn’t known it worked when I was in man mode until I met the cats in the library.”
“What did they do?” asked Sam.
“They helped us solve the murder and all they asked was to meet Penzi. Of course, I had sold her to them as my boss, a beautiful redheaded witch.”
Sam pulled a face. He was having as much trouble getting used to all this magic stuff as I was. It was harder for him as he had to take it all on trust because he wasn’t a witch or a wizard.
“I guess you’d better go then, Penzi. We’ve only been here for two weeks and we need all the friends we can get, even if they’re only cats.”
“Never say only when you’re talking about cats,” I admonished him. “Cats are special.”
