Just Pardon My French (Hetta Coffey Series, Book 8)

by Jinx Schwartz

"Good grief. I know Rhonda's about as sharp as a marble when it comes to common sense, but she's well-educated and not stupid. How can she be so dumb in the face of all this glaring evidence that that man is isolating her? Lemme guess, she can't use Rousel's phone either."

  "You nailed it. He says it is only for company use."

  "Oooh, reeks of rat."

  "No shite, Sherlock."

  "I'm surprised he lets her take walks by herself."

  "Why shouldn't he? Her French is crappy, he has her credit card and passport, and he doesn't know we're on his ass like buzzards on guts."

  "Is she going to tell him she saw you? And where we are?"

  "No way. She's afraid he'll think she planned to meet up with us." I stuck out my lower lip and whined, "It might hurt his widdow feelings."

  "This is worse than I thought. He's got her...Svengalied. Surely the sex can't be that good."

  "No, it isn't."

  Jan's eyes widened. "He's no good in bed, to boot?"

  "Au contraire, y'all. He ain't in her bed. I saved the best for last. No. Sex."

  "He's cut her off?"

  "Never happened. They have what he calls a pure love."

  "Pure BS, if you ask me. I'll bet he's a gay gigolo stringing her along to get to that dough. That does it! Saddle up, Trouper Coffey, the cavalry is goin' in."

  Jan chewed on a mouthful of omelet and chased it down with coffee as we were enjoying a second breakfast for lunch. "So, I guess the big questions of the day are, how does one go about saving someone who doesn't want to be saved, and why are we doing it?"

  "Cuz we are stoopid? Deep questions for so early in the day."

  "I have another one."

  "What?"

  "Why am I drinking coffee from a friggin' bowl?"

  "Because we are embracing the true French experience."

  "It's stupider than Rhonda. S'il vous plaît passer le pain et le beurre."

  "Very good. However, we French do not butter our bread."

  "And we Texans do not ask for anything politely twice," she warned.

  I reached for the breadboard. It was empty.

  Jan and I scowled at Po Thang. He stuck out his tongue.

  I broke out laughing. "That's new."

  "I taught him that on the plane. Only took half a jar of peanut butter."

  "You are a very bad influence, Aunt Jan."

  "I can see that. Okay, I'm gonna wire that little bread-stealing turd-dropper right now."

  "I'll get the critter cam. I was going to put it on him anyhow. We are, after all, sending Agent Thang on recon this morning, as Rhonda and I arranged."

  Chapter Twenty

  Rhonda and I had agreed to meet on the path again the next morning. She didn't even question that we knew where she would be, she just wanted to have a few minutes of chit chat. She was in a foreign country with a man who was keeping her off balance and isolated. Finding out we were nearby was reassuring for her, even if she refused to pick up on what we were trying to tell her.

  Jan and I talked about this before I left for my rendezvous. "Men, no matter where in the world they are, don't have a clue about women's relationships, do they? The pompous patootie thinks he has Rhonda under his spell, which is somewhat right, but has no idea he can't completely control her need to talk with friends. Well, short of tying her up on the boat."

  "Don't forget, he also thinks he's ditched us, his only threats. I cannot wait to see his reaction when he learns otherwise. Are we gonna tell Rhonda about the camera?"

  "I don't think so. She is too emotionally fragile and might spill the beans."

  Jan tightened the vest and critter cam on Po Thang, we tested it, and I left for my rendezvous about a quarter mile away, around a bend. I had sneaked down earlier to make sure they were still parked and saw Rousel on deck with a cup of coffee. He didn't look like he was ready to pull up stakes yet, but just in case, I pocketed the tracker.

  I kept Po Thang on a leash until I saw Rhonda coming our way, then let him go. He bounded toward her and circled happily, tail going crazy in his joy. Rhonda, although she'd been expecting him, seemed overwhelmed with happiness herself. When I caught up to them, she was hugging him tightly. "I had to stall Rousel this morning, because he wanted to leave early, but I told him I really wanted a walk before we left."

  "Well done. Didn't have to go to plan B."

  She laughed. "My goodness, all those years I was fossilizing in singledom, I thought I wanted someone to love, but I had no idea having a boyfriend could make life so complicated. Are they all this difficult?"

  I wanted to say, "Honey, you're still single, and no, you have landed yourself a world-class control freak," but I actually said, "Some of them can be. He seems to want you all for himself." Major understatement there.

  "You don't think he'll, like, be too upset when you guys turn up, will he?" Her fear of annoying le bâtard was so tangible I wasn't sure whether I wanted to slap her or him. Or maybe her dead mother, who set her up to be subservient.

  Rhonda, with her sweet nature, and unreasonable need to please a man she was in love with, was her own worst enemy right now. Luckily Rousel was unaware he'd acquired his own new worst enemy. Two, in fact. Three if you count the dog.

  "I promise, if he's really that pissed off, we'll slow down and stay out of sight, but we can still meet and chat, like today. Okay?"

  She beamed.

  I activated the critter cam, gave Rhonda a handful of dog treats and a five-minute start down the path, and encouraged Po Thang to follow her.

  Running as fast as I can, which isn't very, I wheezed onto Sauzens to find Jan already monitoring the critter cam on her computer.

  At first Po Thang stood still, slightly confused by which way to go, turning to look back at me, then back at Rhonda. But then his little puppy brain must have registered, bifteck haché! and he loped off after Rhonda and the bag of mini-hamburger patties in her jacket pocket.

  "How many does she have left?" Jan asked as Po Thang loped down the path. Twice he stopped and sniffed a tree, but the call of ground and grilled filet mignon took over, and off he went again.

  "Think she'll save us some for dinner?" I joked.

  "Not if Po Thang has anything to do with it. Oh, look, there's the boat. This should be good."

  Po Thang had stopped again and was looking back where he came from. We held our breath, hoping his homing instincts didn't overcome his nose. His head swiveled back and we saw Rhonda sitting next to Rousel, then she stood, said something like "Oh, look, isn't that Po Thang?" and went to meet him.

  With her back to Rousel, she squatted down, dumped the rest of the hamburger on the grass, and stuffed the empty bag in her pocket. So much for leftovers.

  A pair of shoes appeared in the camera and Po Thang looked up into Rousel's glowering face. For a moment I was afraid he'd kick my dog, but Po Thang scooted back and Rhonda stepped in to pet him.

  This was our cue. We had rigged Jan with a mic and she took off on the run.

  I knew Rousel would be much happier to see Miz Jan in her ever so short and tight running shorts than me or my dog. Besides, Jan actually runs.

  "Well, that went, uh, not so well," Jan said when she returned to our boat.

  "Yeah, I saw and heard. And au contraire, I thought it went quite well. I had a hopeful moment there when it looked like Rousel was gonna have a coronary. And I don't think it was only over those shorts of yours."

  "True, that. I guess we do have to go to Plan B, after all. We'll stay behind them, well out of sight. It's all too clear he doesn't relish our precious company."

  "Yep. So be it. We will lag behind but keep an eye on Rhonda."

  "However, he can't do a danged thing about us when we pass through locks at the same time. That way we have eyes on him at least part of the day. Then we'll leave the love-nesters on their own for the night. If we don't show up to borrow a cup of sugar every night, he should be all right."

  Jan nodded, then frowned. "Here we go
again, obsessing about that creep instead of enjoying the trip for ourselves. What's wrong with us?"

  "I like to think we have a strong sense of loyalty to our fellow woman."

  "Or an even stronger dislike of rats?"

  "There's that." I tapped the calendar on the dining table. "Only three more days, anyhow. Once they turn in the boat, Rhonda's on her own. We'll have to take any and every opportunity to somehow make her see what a horrible situation she's gotten herself into."

  "No phone, no credit card, no passport, no Internet, and she steadfastly refuses to put two and two together. She's..." I took two spoons and began a drum beat on the table before leaping to my feet and grabbing a ketchup bottle for a mic. Jan joined me and air- strummed a guitar as we both sang and danced to the lyrics of "Addicted to Love" by Robert Palmer, our 1985 favorite.

  Thinking this dancing and singing thing great fun, Po Thang howled along. When we finally collapsed to the settee, I put my arm around him and said, "We're gonna have to face it, Furface. Just like the song says, Rhonda's lights are on, but there's no one home. She's addicted to love."

  Like a cocklebur under his saddle, we aggravated Rousel just enough to make us happy, only catching up with them in time to clear a lock or two, then letting them get ahead and out of sight. Once a day, however, we let Po Thang go to meet Rhonda, always out of Rousel's view. He had to realize she was seeing us during her daily walks, because even though Rhonda didn't say so, we got the definite feeling we were making life difficult for her.

  She hardly ever smiled anymore and exuded tension, so I finally whispered, as we both squatted to pet Po Thang while waiting for a lock to open, "Rhonda, if you want us to leave you alone, we will. You seem so unhappy."

  Tears sprang into her eyes. "Oh, no. Having you two around is good. I'm the problem. I just always say the dumbest things to Rousel. He's so nice to me, and then I blurt out dumb stuff."

  "What kind of dumb stuff?"

  "Well, last night I mentioned how I wanted to call Rhea, my friend he met who went back home, and he got his feelings hurt."

  "Why?"

  "He said if he wasn't enough to keep me happy, then maybe we'd just better cancel our plans together. Then he wouldn't speak to me for the rest of the night."

  I took a deep breath, and took a chance I felt necessary. "Rhonda, surely you must realize this is a form of abuse, right?"

  "Don't be silly. He's just sensitive, that's all," she protested, but then shifted her eyes away from mine.

  Did I get through, just a little bit? Not wishing to overstress my point, I raised a shoulder. "I'm sure that's it. Anyway, once you get to Paris things should lighten up. When do you meet the family?"

  Jan and I had penned and practiced a list of probing questions, like the family thing, to throw into conversations with Rhonda that might snag her attention and shake her up a bit. This one got a reaction, all right.

  "I have to go now," she said, standing abruptly.

  I stood as well, and Po Thang scooted behind me as Rousel stormed toward us.

  "Rhonda," Rousel barked, "you need to get back on the boat, right now. They'll be opening the gates any minute."

  Po Thang barked back, and I cooed, "Oh, and a fine morning to you, too, Rousel."

  He glared at Po Thang and me and with an abrupt jerk of his head, grabbed Rhonda's arm roughly and marched her meekness away.

  Jan, who had miraculously watched the whole thing without decking Rousel, shook her head and huffed in disgust.

  Back on the boat, I told Jan we really had to back off, lest Rhonda, in her fear of losing Rousel, refused to talk with us anymore. Matter of fact, we got up early the next day and by-passed them, honking and waving as we cruised by and out of sight.

  We made it to Negra that day, got the car, hightailed it to the nearest Super U, and checked on Rhonda's boat on the way. They were waiting a couple of locks back, which meant they could catch up with us later in the day.

  However, on the way back we saw them staked up a few miles back, probably for the night. We double-checked the GPS reading and continued on to our boat.

  After our run into town, we settled in for a sandwich. I'd picked up cold cuts and a fresh baguette from the Super U. And a good thing, for last night's baguette, even though we'd hidden it in the oven, had gone missing.

  "I'm gonna eat this sandwich and then we're going to watch our entertainment of the day. I turned on the critter cam when we left and someone furry and larcenous is gonna get busted," Jan said, pointing at our number one suspect.

  Po Thang pulled his head-on-the-paws-I'm-so-precious-you'll-forgive-me-anything move and left it there until we started clearing the lunch dishes. Unable to resist, he dove in and snagged a small piece of pâté from a plate before I could wrap it for the fridge.

  "That, my thieving friend, might be your last supper. I'm giving you one final chance to come clean before we roll the evidence. Where's the bread?"

  He turned his head.

  "Okay, then. Auntie Jan, let the incriminating video roll."

  The camera boggled as Po Thang jumped up on the settee and watched us walk away earlier that day. He sat very still until the car rolled out of sight, then all we saw was settee fabric as he lay down as if for a nap. This lasted a good ten minutes and we were getting bored when the camera jumped and, once again, we could see out the window

  "Holy crap, would you look at that?"

  We were eye to eye with Odette, easily recognizable by the markings on her beak. "Hetta, she's on the boat!"

  "So I see. Let's see what happens."

  The swan waddled around the boat, Po Thang following and jumping up at each window to watch her. She pecked on the glass, and my dog shook his head. Morse code between a dog and a swan?

  It seemed so, for Po Thang padded over to the oven, pawed the door down, took the baguette and then jumped back up onto the settee. Pushing a sliding window with his head as far as the stop allowed, he dropped the baguette on the deck. Odette picked it up and tossed it overboard to Siegfried before semi-flying back into the water herself.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  When Jan and I finally quit howling after watching Po Thang feed our daily bread to the swans, I posted the video on Facebook. "If I hadn't seen it myself, I wouldn't have believed it. No wonder the freakin' swans are following us."

  "This might go viral, you know."

  "I'm already getting lots of hits."

  We'd spent the afternoon finalizing our last-ditch shot to save Rhonda. The line in the sand was drawn. We were failing badly in our quest to make her see the light and our patience, which had been tried beyond endurance, had flat run out. As Jan said, "Sometimes you just can't fix stupid."

  "Agreed. Enough is enough. We'll sit here until they leave for Toulouse, then it's out of our hands."

  "I guess we could offer to drive them to the train station, or even Toulouse?"

  "Let's see what happens. If our latest idea fails, there is really no reason to stay here at all. We're throwing the ball squarely in Rhonda's court."

  The Trob called as we were making canapés for Happy Hour, tiny open-faced crème fraîche and black radish sandwiches. We were now keeping the bread in the ship's safe. Po Thang did not have the combination.

  "Hey, Trob. How's things?"

  "Okay, everyone's a little on edge, but we all got a laugh from your Facebook post today. That dog is really smart."

  "Too smart for his own good, I'd say. But hey, never a dull moment, right? I just want to thank you for making this trip possible. Of course, I'd much rather have Jenks here than Jan, but you take what you can get."

  Jan threw a radish at me, but Po Thang caught it in mid-air. He bit down, looked startled, and spit it out.

  "I guess getting a call from Jenks any time soon is out of the question?" I asked the Trob.

  "Sorry. He sends his love."

  "Guess that'll have to suffice for now. Give him my love back."

  "I will. He'd like to kno
w your schedule for the next week or so."

  Did this mean Jenks might miraculously materialize? "Luckily, we just worked one out. I'll email it to you tonight."

  "That's good. Bye."

  As always, Wontrobski is a man of few words.

  After dinner—we'd splurged on Lobster—I sent our schedule to the Trob, read tons of comments on our Facebook post out loud to Jan, and checked the GPS for Trebés, which still hadn't moved. My guess is Rousel was well aware we couldn't go any farther on the canal and was hanging back.

  Jan unearthed an old flip cell phone she'd thrown into her bag when she left Mexico, just in case her smart phone wouldn't work in France. She'd spent the evening clearing all but a few numbers from the phone the night before, and we'd had a SIM card added on our trip to town. She activated it and called my cell number as a test, then added her number and René's to the contacts list.

  René called to make a lunch date, and we told him we'd be more than ready for a diversion in two days, once we bid adieu to our friend, Rhonda. Of course we didn't tell him our concerns over Rousel's intentions yet, saving it for great gossip over lunch. By then either the couple would be gone, or Rhonda would have had an epiphany and dumped him.

  "Yeah, right. Wanna make some odds on that one?" Jan asked after we discussed it.

  "Nope. Okay, Chica, once Rhonda's off, let's go back to Castelnaudary and then head for the Med. This area," I pointed to a map of the Canal, past Argens, "is all virgin territory for us."

  "Speaking of virgins, ya think Rhonda is?"

  "I have no idea and didn't think it polite to ask."

  "You? Polite?" Jan scoffed.

  I ignored that. "And you want to know this, why?"

  "Just wondering. I've been researching Rousel's control techniques, and oddly enough they mimic those used by pedophiles. Befriend, tell them they are loved, shower with affection, but no sex. Yet. Also a favorite with human trafficking recruiters."

  "Oh, come on. I detest Rousel and I'm convinced he's a gigolo, but Rhonda is hardly white slavery material."