by Ruby Loren
Lowell tipped his head from side to side. “Perhaps, but people do have plastic surgery. It might also have been years since they saw their target. A lot of things could change and if I were after revenge, I know I’d want to make damn sure I got the right person,” he finished.
I kept my face blank, hoping he wouldn’t see the little flash of worry that had entered my mind. Lowell had sounded awfully passionate when he’d made that statement. He’d also had past dealings with the man who’d died and the agents who were in town right now. What if he was more deeply involved with the case than I realised? Could someone to whom Lowell owed revenge be in the village right now, living their life under a false identity?
I collected Lowell’s dirty plates from the table where he’d left them, taking a moment to turn away and start the hot water running to do the washing up. Sure, I didn’t know Lowell incredibly well, but he’d never seemed to me to be someone who would hold grudges. But what if I’d misjudged him?
I sprayed some washing up liquid onto the plates and dunked them in the sink. I was jumping to conclusions. Lowell definitely had a shadowy past I didn’t know nearly enough about, but he wasn’t the second paraglider. I’d thought back and had realised that the paraglider who’d sabotaged the ‘chute and jumped free had been slighter than Lowell’s large build.
I breathed a sigh of relief and watched the iridescent bubbles float upwards into the air, bursting and spreading their lemony scent. Lowell was not responsible for this man’s death.
“Huh!” Lowell said, in-between drying plates.
“You’d better not be trying to get out of drying duty,” I warned him, seeing him look at his phone.
“I swear I’m not,” he said, flashing me a grin. He picked up his phone anyway. “I shook down some local sources… mostly private detectives who’ve retired to their place in the sun. One of them has a contact in the local police force who feeds them any info they want to know.”
I shut my eyes briefly, wondering at all of the shady deals and corruption I’d been introduced to since Lowell had entered my life.
“This guy says that his informant’s been working on the Devereux case. They’ve found out that the paragliding gear was rented from a local place and they’re investigating that,” he said.
I frowned, remembering the village woman’s surprise that Pascal had been paragliding. “Do you think Pascal himself hired it?”
“They didn't say. After what you said you saw, it doesn't sound like the excursion was voluntary on Pascal’s part, but who knows?”
I nodded but the fact that the gear had been hired was interesting. Had someone persuaded Pascal to take a jump with them, for old times’ sake? Or had he never known that he would end up airborne?
I was uncomfortably reminded of Lowell's shared past history, both with Pascal and the mysterious Ms. Borel. I wondered if the agents really had only just arrived.
“But why the zoo? Why the tiger enclosure?” I mused out loud.
“Do you think it was picked on purpose? The killer might not have had a clue and could have ended up above the zoo purely by chance. Who knows who they rent gear out to?” Lowell countered.
Yet again, I was forced to scour my memories. I slowly shook my head. “No way. They knew how to sabotage the ‘chute and they didn’t look like they panicked, even for a second, when they did manage to jump clear. Then they steered themselves away from the crime scene and clearly packed up and disappeared before the police could find them. This person knew what they were doing.”
I chewed on my lip for a second as a fresh thought occurred to me. “What if it was a threat? The killer could have aimed for the zoo on purpose, knowing that the person they wanted to reach would see. You know, ‘Here's a body, now we’re coming after you’ type of thing.”
“Could be,” Lowell admitted. “Then the question is… just how good was their aim?”
“Hmmm,” I acknowledged, thinking about Adele’s encounter with Pascal just a week ago. What if it had been more than just a parking ticket that been exchanged? Might someone have seen them talking and realised… something? I shook my head and sighed. If there was someone in witness protection, it could be anyone in the village. There simply wasn't enough information to draw any conclusions. I strongly suspected that whoever had dropped Pascal’s body had been targeting someone in the zoo, but I didn’t have a clue who that target might have been.
Lowell opened the fridge and pulled out a beer, pausing to offer me one. I shook my head but got him to pass me the milk. I upended the carton into a pan and began heating it on the stove. Whilst in France, I’d found a new brand of hot chocolate that I absolutely adored and I was determined to make the most of it. I tried not to think about all of the food I’d already consumed that day. My waistline wasn’t going to thank me. Oh, but it’s so worth it! I thought.
Lowell let out a big sigh from where he’d flaked out on the sofa. “I’m sorry Madi. This is all happening again, isn’t it? I know I joked about you being a magnet for murder, but this one’s on me.” He ran a hand through his dark hair and looked pensively at his beer can. “I can’t help thinking that my coming here has somehow triggered this whole thing. I mean, a guy I haven't seen in a decade suddenly winds up dead one week after I come into town? I’m actually surprised the police didn’t lock me up when they had the chance.”
I sat down next to him and patted his leg. “I know it wasn't you, Lowell,” I reassured him.
“I guess that’s something,” he said. “I’ll be sure to let you know if I ever have the urge to go on a murder spree.”
“How thoughtful,” I said with a smile, resting my head on his shoulder and smelling the scent of holiday sofa. There was always something different about the furniture in rented properties when you stayed abroad. Perhaps it was the cheap materials, but it reminded me of being on holiday.
“Hey, Adele was acting a bit weird today,” I said, snuggling into Lowell’s neck.
“She’s probably in shock. What you witnessed was pretty harrowing,” he gently reminded me.
“Luna seems okay,” I said, not really thinking. I frowned into my hot chocolate. “I guess we all deal with it in our own ways.”
“Exactly,” Lowell said, lifting a hand and lightly stroking my wavy, blonde hair. I adjusted my glasses and smiled up at him, feeling tiny sitting next to him.
“Do you wanna go to bed?” I asked.
His own smile turned a little more wolfish. “Take the drinks up there? I don’t want to wait,” he told me, a familiar spark igniting in his eyes. I felt a shiver run through my body. For once in my life, I was actually anticipating finishing my hot chocolate.
* * *
The sun shone through the thin curtains the next morning. I glanced at my phone and realised I’d woken up early, despite not setting an alarm. I clearly hadn’t got used to the idea of having the weekend off again.
“Oh well, the best baguettes always go to those who buy them early!” I said, peeling myself away from the still sleeping Lowell.
Despite it being Saturday, the other villagers still rose early. Many of the zoo staff were working today and there was always the daily rush to get first pick of the fresh bread at the boulangerie. Lowell had once paid them a visit close to midday and had reported back that they had nothing more than a few stale sourdough loaves in stock. I’d laughed and explained the truth to him. Since then, I’d been the one to get the bread every day. He was now in charge of making sure we had any essentials we needed to tide us over until market day rolled around again on Monday.
“Bonjour, Madi!” One of the girls who worked in admissions at the park said. I waved to her and she and her friends waved back.
“Bonjour, Madi. There’s still some good bread left, don’t worry,” the friendly baker told me when I reached the front of the queue. “Anything special today?” he asked.
I thought about it for a second, reflecting that it was the weekend. The idea of a picnic lunch sprung into my he
ad. “A baguette, two slices of that quiche and…” I eyed up a couple of severely tempting choux pastry buns. “Two of those please,” I said, caving. I knew they wouldn’t travel well as part of my picnic lunch but to be honest, I wasn’t even sure they’d make it back to the cottage…
On my way back, I happened to glance at the headline printed on the board outside of the convenience store. My French really wasn’t brilliant, but even I could figure out it said ‘Death at L'airelle Zoological Park’.
“Great,” I muttered, knowing what that was going to do for the zoo’s attendance. Couldn’t they have been a little more specific?
I picked up a paper and glanced at it, but the article was lost on me. I decided to buy it anyway, thinking I’d figure it out with Lowell over breakfast.
When I arrived back at the cottage, Lowell already had a pot of coffee on the go. He’d also got out the jam and butter, ready for breakfast.
“That’s presumptuous! I might have just brought back some cereal,” I joked, but he pointedly looked at the long loaf I was carrying. “Bit hard to hide,” I admitted with a smile.
“You’ve got that Skype meeting with the agent today, haven’t you?” Lowell asked.
I nodded, doing my best to look like I hadn’t forgotten about it. How had it come around so soon? I would have to hustle in order to get my notes ready right after breakfast. Perhaps the picnic would have to wait until tomorrow after all, I realised, with a slightly sinking heart.
My webcomic, Monday’s Menagerie, had attracted a reasonable amount of attention online and my fans had been dedicated enough to set up a crowd funding campaign for me. They’d wanted a paperback copy of the comics and had been willing to pay for it. At first, I'd said yes because I hadn’t really believed that people would be interested enough in the comic to fund a project like that. I’d costed it all out, doing my best to account for the hours of time it would take me. The final figure had not been small. However, we were now two weeks into the campaign and the funding was already at 170%. If it reached 200%, I would have to include some stretch rewards, although I had no idea what to offer! I’d definitely have to put my thinking cap on.
The campaign had attracted the attention of more than just the usual fans of the comic. A publishing agent had contacted me, wishing to pitch me to publishers for future work. Despite my misgivings that I might not have the time for it, Lowell had encouraged me to hear the agent out. When I’d got back in touch and explained the nature of my job and how I moved around a lot, they’d said we could talk on Skype and today’s meeting had been scheduled.
I still wasn't convinced I was going to accept anything that was offered to me, but that didn’t stop me from feeling a few pre-job interview butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. I smiled and poured myself a cup of orange juice. It would be nice if all of my worries were as simple.
“Hey, I bought a copy of the paper. I thought we could look through the article and see what’s been said,” I told Lowell, unrolling the local rag and placing it on the table. We both looked at the picture of the tiger enclosure, taken after the body had been removed. The man-shaped dent in the ground was still visible.
“Not the kind of publicity the zoo’s hoping for, am I right?” Lowell said.
I nodded, bleakly. I may not be in charge of PR, but my job often influenced the success of a zoo. Improvements to habitats tended to result in better breeding and more active, happy animals. Visitors liked to see that. If there was a sudden dive in attendance, I hoped I wouldn't become the scapegoat.
“I’ll get the dictionary out,” Lowell said, reaching behind him for the little blue book. The rest of breakfast was spent in near silence as Lowell hovered a finger over nearly every word, flicking back and forth through the pages of translations.
By the time we’d both finished our jam and baguette, he’d done.
“From what I can gather, it doesn’t say anything we don’t know. It names the victim and reports that they died in a tragic paragliding incident and that enquiries are still ongoing. Most of the article is basically an obituary for Pascal Devereux. It lists his job in security and as a parking warden and his local renown for growing pumpkins.” He raised a dark eyebrow at me, both of us wondering what it would be like to merely be remembered as a pumpkin grower. I supposed that it really amounted to what you were most passionate about. Perhaps those pumpkins had been Pascal's pride and joy.
"Then it offers condolences to his widow and that’s it,” Lowell finished.
“Nothing about the agents who’ve turned up out of the blue,” I said, voicing what we were both thinking.
“Nope, but it’s not surprising. They have a fair whack of power. I’m sure the local press have been advised exactly what they can and can't print,” he said, knowingly.
I shook my head, not wanting to dwell on it. We were already too far into a situation that didn’t concern us.
“I wanted to go on a picnic today. I even bought food for it, but I'd forgotten about that Skype thing,” I admitted with a sigh.
“It’s at lunchtime, right? How about we have dinner at lunch and go for an evening picnic?” Lowell suggested.
“The locals will think we’re crazy," I said with a smile.
I’d noticed that several of the villagers had started wearing jumpers, despite it still being warmer than it often was at the height of British summer. There was probably already a lot of talk around the village about the crazy English couple who liked to eat outside most nights.
“Let’s do it,” I decided. I tilted my head at Lowell. “Hey, wasn’t it going to be your turn to cook dinner tonight?”
“Drat, I was hoping that the picnic idea would distract you,” he admitted, standing up and gathering our breakfast plates together. “How about you take a nice relaxing walk while I get started on a gourmet feast… the likes of which you’ll never have tasted before.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I hope it’s better than the microwaved pasties you tried to pass off as your own last time.”
He winced. “Definitely. It’s definitely better than the pasties, which were actually homemade. But, you know - in a factory.”
I raised the other eyebrow.
“It said homemade on the packaging!” he argued, the grin growing on his face.
“Are you sure I need to take much time on my walk?” I said.
He pretended to frown. “Have some faith! I swear this time I'm going to cook you a masterpiece. It just er, might take one or two goes. Which is why you need to leave right now,” he said, shepherding me to the door.
“Okay, fine! But after all of this build up, it had better be good,” I teased.
“I’m sure the result will surprise us both… one way or another,” he admitted. “How does lunch at two sound? Your meeting will have finished by then, right?”
“Sure! I guess I’ll take my laptop,” I said, a little nonplussed. “Lowell, what exactly are you planning to cook?”
“You’ll find out,” he promised, opening the front door and handing me my laptop case on the way out. “Go and have some fun. It’s time you took a holiday!”
I walked through the sunny village, reflecting that the agent would probably think I was showing off when the time came for our meeting. There was wifi at the boulangerie, but if I bought coffee and sat outside at their table, my picturesque surroundings would be all too apparent during the Skype chat.
I adjusted the strap of the laptop bag, so that it sat comfortably over my shoulder. My eyes scanned the mountains that surrounded the valley village of L'airelle. Although I was supposed to be planning a walk that would while away the rest of the morning, I couldn’t help but wonder where Pascal had rented the paragliding gear from. Also, where had the killer jumped from in order to end up at the zoo? I didn’t know a thing about paragliding, but from the naked eye, I thought they could have jumped from any number of cliffs and peaks. The village was completely surrounded and I was certain that not every mountain was a tourist trap
. Even from where I stood, it was clear that some presented more of a challenge than just a gentle hike.
I’d looked up for so long my head was starting to spin. I blinked and focused on something closer to home, which just so happened to be Adele. She was sat on a bench next to a fountain. I noticed her hands clasping and unclasping - the same way they had the day after the incident.
I decided it was time I got to the bottom of Adele’s worries. She was my friend and I knew something was wrong.
“Did you have the day off, too?” I asked, sliding onto the bench beside her.
She jumped when I sat down and I realised she must have been deep in thought.
“No! I mean… yes, I suppose,” she fluttered and then frowned.
I waited a beat before I asked. “What's the matter Adele? Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’ve seen and heard more than you’d imagine,” I reassured her. “Is it about what we saw when Pascal fell?” I prompted when she didn’t respond.
She looked at me in surprise. “No, it’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” I asked.
She moved to shrug but then sighed. “It’s Justin’s dog… I’m really worried about her. I left this pot of prescription medication pills on the counter, and then they vanished. Not just the pills - the whole pot! I didn’t really think too much of it, but Jolie, his Labrador, started acting strangely yesterday. She’s practically dragging herself around the house whining all the time. I think it's because she might be in pain. I feel terrible! I know I should have done something sooner. I should have taken her to the vet yesterday but I just thought I'd find the pills under a chair, or something. She can't have got the lid off…” Adele put her head in her hands and looked up at me, tears glistening in her eyes. “What if it’s already too late? What if I've killed her? Justin is never going to forgive me.”
