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

by Jinx Schwartz

  "That's for sure. They like 'em young. The whole thing just bugs me and I'm trying to put a name on it, I guess. Just what is the bastard up to?"

  "Jan, that's brilliant."

  "Huh?'

  "I know we agreed that planting a bug on their boat was way too intrusive, but now that we know they don't do the nasty, I think we should have a listen. Wanna take a walk tomorrow morning? Po Thang needs a good run."

  We timed it so Trebés was in a lock and offered to take lines from Rhonda, who gladly handed them over, even though Rousel was not a happy camper.

  "Gosh," Rhonda gushed, "I thought I'd never see you two again. We'll be in Negra tonight. Will you still be there?"

  "Yes, we sure will."

  This also didn't set well at all with Rousel, but he bit his lip. I knew poor Rhonda would get an earful later.

  "So, Jan what are the chances of rigging a lasso and snagging Rousel around his chic, turtleneck-clad throat?" I snarled quietly.

  "Oh, no. That would be so wrong."

  "Yeah, I guess so. Too many witnesses."

  "Really, Hetta," she huffed, "who cares about witnesses? That turtleneck is obviously an Armani."

  When we finally assisted Trebés into the last lock Jan broke all yachting protocol and stepped, uninvited on deck. Waving her water bottle she, said, "Hope you don't mind if I get a refill before they close the gates? We're gonna walk back to Negra, and I'm empty."

  Rousel, who had come out on deck once they were secured to the bollards, turned to follow Jan inside, but was knocked aside and blocked by Po Thang, whose growl backed the man up.

  "Oh, so sorry, Rousel," I said, not sounding very sorry. "How very rude to growl at you on your own boat. Po Thang, you get your furry butt back on this quay."

  Po Thang obeyed, much to my surprise, and sat between me and Jan, who had her water and was back by my side. Despite my reprimand, he didn't look all that contrite. Maybe the dog cookie I slipped him as a reward had something to do with it.

  Once Trebés cleared the dock, Jan and I took off on the path toward Negra. Rhonda waved as they cruised by. She'd offered us a ride, but we demurred, figuring we'd more than worn out any welcome we might have had with Rousel.

  "Get it planted?" I asked in a low voice, just in case my voice carried.

  "Yep. Under the table, far enough in, but not too far to catch a knee."

  "They'll be settled in when we get there, so I'll activate the system. We can watch the boat and if they leave, I'll turn it off to save batteries. Or I can just reset it to voice activation, but that burns power and sometimes all you get is someone's music playing. We'll just have to wing it."

  Jan rubbed her hands together in pure joy.

  That girl is such a snoop.

  How very unfortunate for Rousel that there was only one empty spot on the quay, right behind us. Gee, wonder how that happened?

  I boiled shrimp for a Louie for dinner, and while they chilled, we poured a glass of wine, activated the bug and waited. And waited.

  "Crap! What happened?"

  "I don't know. It was working this morning. We'll have to give it a test. Go knock on the hull. Ask to borrow a cup of sugar."

  "That's lame, Hetta. Take Po Thang out and throw his ball for him. He'll bark."

  He'd heard "ball" and was already yipping and circling. I threw his tennis ball six or seven times, right next to Trebés. After a few minutes, Rhonda stuck her head out. "Jeez, Hetta, I was trying to catch a nap here."

  "Ooops, sorry. Come on Po Thang, let's quit disturbing the peace." I waved at Rhonda and went back to my our boat. "They were asleep."

  "I heard. Well done, you two," Jan said, giving me a high-five and Po Thang a paw-five. "Shhhh."

  I grabbed my earphones just in time to hear Rousel say, "I cannot wait for us to get away from those Americans. They are so loud."

  "They're just being friendly. Why don't you like them?"

  "I do not think they like me."

  Jan and I bobbed our heads. I mouthed, "Ya think?"

  "I like you," Rhonda said, sounding shy.

  "And I you. You are everything a man wants in a woman. Not a...I do not know the word in English...salope. "

  "Jan, I do believe that man just called us sluts."

  "How does he know that?"

  "Shhhh. Gotta listen."

  "Oh, Rousel, you say the sweetest things."

  "I mean each one. You have nothing in common, save your nationality, with those two."

  Jan whispered, "He's got that right."

  I made a zip-it sign as Rhonda said, "They seem to enjoy life. I've never really done that."

  "You will. That is my promise. I think perhaps we should leave in the morning, get away from those annoying women and that bad-tempered dog. Why don't you pack tonight?"

  "Can I at least say goodbye?"

  "I think it best if you do not."

  "If you say so, my love."

  "Gag me!" I spat, pulling the earbuds free.

  "Wanted to, many a time."

  "Very funny. Okay, so now we know. I have to get to her for at least a few minutes before they leave, even if you have to hogtie that SOB."

  "Atta girl."

  Chapter Twenty-two

  We were up before dawn, ready to move. Since they were behind us, they had to pass our boat to get to the office and check out. I tied Po Thang outside to sound the alarm in case our bug crapped out.

  Jan and I took turns listening in on their boring business of packing, eating breakfast, and then Rousel calling for a cab.

  "He must have somehow checked out yesterday. The office doesn't open until nine. Good thing we bugged 'em or they might have slipped away."

  Around eight, Po Thang set up a ruckus as a cab pulled into the parking lot and honked. Rousel and Rhonda, loaded with bags, left their boat and headed our way.

  Luckily, Rousel led the way, leaving Rhonda to walk a few steps behind, another thing that pissed me off. Jan reached out and unhooked Po Thang, then stepped off the boat with him. I went to our aft cockpit, and as they passed, intercepted Rhonda and gave her a big old goodbye hug.

  "Oh, you're leaving already? Here, let me help you with your bags."

  I heard Jan engaging Rousel, throwing out a barrage of questions as a distraction.

  "Rhonda, listen to me," I whispered. "Take this phone and do not tell Rousel you have it. Do this for us and for yourself, just in case something doesn't go right and you need to talk. Jan and I are the only people in the entire world who know where you are and what you plan to do." I refrained from adding, And who you're with.

  She started to protest, but then nodded and tucked the phone into her pocket. "Can't hurt, I guess."

  "Exactly. Please, let us know where you are, when you can. We wish you only the best of luck."

  Tears filled her eyes, she put down her bags and returned my hug. Po Thang, spotting this bit of dogless frippery, ran to us and got his own good-bye hug.

  Jan followed Po Thang and then we let Rhonda go, keeping our distance from the obviously annoyed Rousel. When Rhonda caught up with him, he roughly grabbed her arm and she reacted by jerking it away.

  Shocked at her resistance, he let her go and stormed to the taxi.

  When she hesitated to follow, I held my breath, thinking for a couple of hopeful seconds that Rousel's pugnacious behavior might have rattled her cage and shaken loose a modicum of common sense. Evidently Jan was on the same page, because when Rhonda trotted to catch up and jumped into the taxi, she hissed, "I thought we had her for a minute there, but as granny used to say, I reckon there just ain't no fixin' a bad case of the dumbs."

  As soon as they were out of sight, I boarded their boat through an unlocked slider and retrieved our bug before the cleaning crew showed up to prepare the boat for the next renters.

  A low fog layer made for a dreary day, matching our sentiments. Even Po Thang seemed down in the mouth.

  "Well, that's that. We gave it a good go," Jan said.<
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  "True. The ball, or phone in this case, is in her court. At least we know she can call if she gets cold feet. I told her we'd come get her." I sighed. "I need a bowl of strong coffee."

  "I need a mug."

  "Barbarian."

  I called René to see if we could do the lunch thing a day early and then spent the rest of the morning trying to reverse the damage resulting from days of personal neglect. We'd barely taken time to slap on sunscreen and run a brush through our hair, so there was major work to be done.

  "It ain't Elizabeth Arden, but we have all their stuff," Jan said as she applied what looked like red mashed potatoes on my head. "While you're marinating I'll get out the manicure kit."

  After three hours of overhauling, we had sugar-shined faces, perfect makeup jobs, bouncy tresses, and had donned pressed slacks and real shoes. Po Thang, watching these goings on, got nervous. His humans were up to something and he didn't like it one little bit.

  He, too, got a hot shower and a blow dry, much to his chagrin at the time, but when I added his cravat, he perked up. Whatever was happening, he knew he was included.

  Charles bounded up on deck at noon and he and Po Thang took off running up the path, yipping greetings and running in circles. The swans followed, probably hoping their bread winner would find more to share. They weren't counting on the boat having a safe.

  We went out to greet René and André, inviting them in for a glass of iced tea before we took off for lunch. They politely sipped their drinks, but I could tell they were not thrilled with this American way of ruining perfectly good tea.

  Lunch was at a nearby vineyard/winery/restaurant and it was obvious by his hearty greeting that our host knew René well. Fat and juicy scallops steamed in white wine, more white wine to wash them down, the best frits I've ever tasted, especially when dipped in a to-die-for béarnaise sauce. Turns out the owners were Belgian, so we had something in common: we both agreed the Belgians were better cooks than the French, which of course, set off a hearty discourse.

  During lunch Jan and I shared our worries over Rhonda, and all agreed her amour had all the makings of a first class roué. "But, hey," I said, throwing up my hands, "she's a grown woman, albeit a naive one."

  André nodded. "Yes, American women are no match for a determined Frenchman." After he said it, he got flustered and added, "Sorry, mademoiselle Coffey, I was not thinking."

  I waved away his concern. "Ancient history. You're right. We aren't. I sure learned that lesson the hard way."

  René cleared his throat. "Jean Luc would like to see you."

  Jan's mouth dropped open, as did mine. "Say what?" we both drawled.

  "Jean Luc—"

  "I heard you, René. I'm just in shock. Why on earth would I ever want to see that man again? The, the...nerve!" I slugged down half a glass of wine.

  "Oh, I dunno, Hetta," Jan said with an evil grin, "seems to me like he deserves seeing you again."

  I glared at her. "What the hell does that mean?"

  "Just that I think if he met the grownup Hetta—and I use that term in the loosest possible way—he'd see what he's missed all these years."

  The past twenty years of my tumultuous life flashed through my mind like a surreal version of Absolutely Fabulous and I guffawed. Evidently having the same thoughts, Jan joined in.

  After letting us have our moment of levity, René said, "And, I must add that Jean Luc has his finger on the pulse of Paris. The least he can do to make amends for his scurrilous past is to help us learn who this Rousel fellow really is."

  "Help us?"

  "Of course. It will give two old men like me and André great pleasure to mount our chargers and, like the knights of old, come to the aid of a damsel in distress. Right, mon amie?"

  "To a Crusade!" André toasted.

  Back on the boat after saying our goodbyes, Jan and I were jacked that we had a team to help us find out who, or what, Rousel was. Our gloomy morning of helplessly watching a friend we felt was in peril walk away suddenly didn't look quite so hopeless.

  René was delighted when I produced our photos of Rousel's driver's license and credit card, as well as a business card we found in the wallet. "Send me the photos in an email. And I might add, if I ever need a friend I would hope to 'ave two like you ladies. You 'ave gone well out of your way to help a stranger. Not many would go to such lengths."

  "Awww, hell, we just don't have anything else to do," Jan said.

  I shook my head. "True enough, but it's time we turn in our Superwoman costumes and start our vacation instead of chasing someone else all over the Canal. We'll head the boat back your way, René, but slowly."

  "I am sure you will be very much in demand as you travel. I forgot to tell you that the Facebook video of your bread thief and his swan friends was on television last night. Then they showed the prior video of the roping. I should think you are celebrities by now."

  Jan fluffed her hair and vamped. "Our public awaits."

  René laughed and left.

  "Won't be the first time we went viral," Jan said.

  "At least this time we aren't being accused of being involved in anything shady."

  "Oh, I'm quite sure someone will come up with something. I long for the good old days when not everyone had a camera. Your dog even has one."

  "It's the age of technology and the Internet. Everyone's a star," I said, then had a jolting thought. "Oh, dear. I hope Rousel doesn't see Rhonda on the tube. He doesn't know she deceived him and went with us to Argens."

  "I hadn't thought of that. Oh, well, it is what it is. And speaking of what is, what are you going to do about Jean Luc?"

  "Nothing."

  "Good. For once I agree with you. He's a jerk."

  "That, of course. But the truth is, I'd feel, I dunno, disloyal to Jenks, meeting up with an old boyfriend during a trip Jenks arranged for me. It just wouldn't be right."

  "Dang, you suddenly got scruples? Where's the fun in that?"

  At least twice a day I left messages and sent texts to the phone I'd slipped to Rhonda, but she never responded. I also called her own cell phone, in hopes she had it working again, but no luck there, either.

  We left Negra and took our time getting back to Castelnaudary, where we decided to stay a few days. I tried wiping my worries over Rhonda out of my thoughts, but not very successfully. I could have kicked myself for not getting her schoolteacher friend's last name and contact number.

  Meanwhile, I reluctantly agreed with René we should use Jean Luc's extensive connections in Paris to get information on Rousel le Roué, so long as I did not have to talk with, see, or anything else with Jean Luc.

  "Ya know, Hetta, there's something downright upright about one rat ratting out another rat."

  "I shall refrain from calling the grammar police on that one. Besides, he hasn't gotten anything on Rousel as yet."

  "Betcha he will. In the meantime, we can spend a little time learning more about Rhonda and her friends. Where was it she said she taught school?"

  "Ummm, somewhere in the Midwest?"

  She mimicked making a phone call. "Hello? It this the Midwest? I'm looking for a teacher named Rhonda."

  I laughed. "Okay, let's put our heads together and see if we can come up with one brain."

  We both turned on our computers, and Po Thang sighed and curled up for a nap. He knows when we're on those dastardly machines we are no fun at all.

  I reached over and gave him an ear rub. "I think we'll make a play date with Charles soon." At Charles's name, he opened an eye, thumped his tail and sighed again.

  "Yeah, I know, pup, things have been way too quiet in your world for a few days. Well, except for people stopping by to get your autograph."

  It was true. Almost daily someone recognized us from our videos and asked for a paw print. I'd purchased a basic, non-toxic finger painting set in town and kept it and a roll of paper towels handy. After a few disastrous attempts requiring a major cleanup, we had it down.

  "
Okay, Chica, let's get to it. But where to start?"

  "Last night I had a three o'clock epiphany. Rhonda said something about a Facebook page for traveling teachers. "

  We both went to work, putting in key words, like Teachers, and going back through posts during the past months. Jan suddenly yelled, "Bingo!"

  "Which site?"

  "Teachers Who Travel. Here's her friend, Rhea, posting a photo of herself and Rhonda in Cannes."

  "Okay, going there," I found the site, clicked Rhea's photo, which took me to her personal Facebook page. Rhonda was listed as a friend, and one more click led me to her page. "I'll dog Rhonda, and you go back to the Teacher's That Travel site for more postings, okay?"

  Jan looked up. "Who."

  "What?"

  "Teachers Who Travel. Grammatically correct, and these are teachers, ya know."

  "Since when did you...oh, never mind. I'm on Rhonda's, and oddly enough I can see her entire timeline. You would think she'd be more careful and restrict her postings to friends she'd vetted. I certainly do."

  "She probably has nothing to hide."

  "Har, har. But, really, she needs to be more careful."

  "Are you kidding me? She's shacked up with a guy she hasn't vetted."

  "Not in the true sense, but point taken."

  I hit the ABOUT button on Rhonda's site. "Fifth grade teacher in the Jefferson, Missouri, school system. Got her degree in Education from Lincoln University. Of course she did. God forbid she should escape her mother's needy clutches. And, of course, she still lives there. Now, let's Google her."

  Within seconds we were reading Rhonda's mother's obituary, and what with Mom having lived in the same place for-ever, we got the home address. Just for fun, I put the address into Zillow to see what it was worth and was surprised to find it on the market already. "Jan, I'm sending you a link on email. You gotta see this."

  She fiddled with her keyboard. "Just under two hundred thou. No great shakes there."

  "Look at the date it went on the market."

  Jan grabbed our timeline calendar we'd made up when stalking Trebés to Negra. I'd made notes of things Rhonda told me along the way, and Jan stabbed a day. "The day after she lost use of her phone and WiFi."