In the Shadows (The Outsiders Book 1)

by Susan Finlay

  Out of their view, he carried the mouse outside in the backyard and placed it in an empty planter to dispose of later. He went back inside and washed his hands in the kitchen sink. Before he turned off the water, he splashed some water onto his face, blotting it off with a paper towel. Reluctantly, he went back into the living room.

  Maurelle was standing next to the clock, her face bleak with sorrow. Dave walked over to her and hugged her. Simone, who was holding Bono, was sitting on the edge of the couch. “I’m probably the world’s worst chef. I won’t blame you if you decide to bail on lunch,” Dave said, “but, if you’re willing to brave it, lunch is ready.”

  To his surprise and dismay, both women followed him into the kitchen. He had hoped that Simone might tire of the present company and leave to visit friends or family, but she also had a stubborn streak.

  During lunch, their conversation was awkward, making Dave as uncomfortable as he’d expected. On several occasions, he noticed Maurelle looking embarrassed, Simone looking pouty, or the dog looking ready to leap onto someone’s lap because no one was paying him attention. At least no one was feeding their food to the dog.

  He was not cut out to play host. While married, his ex-wife had thrown parties and dinners which were always successful. But Dave had never bothered after the divorce, convincing himself that it was out of laziness, and not out of lack of know-how. Eventually, he’d discovered that hosting was a learned skill or a natural talent, and for the first time, Dave wished that Fabienne had been here to chatter happily. He wouldn’t even have minded her gossiping in this situation because she could have turned the whole affair around and made it fun.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Standing in the kitchen, Maurelle smiled politely. “Au revoir. It was nice to meet you, Simone.” Normally, she would have added that she was looking forward to getting to know her better, but she couldn’t bring herself to say those words.

  Simone nodded and smiled. Taking hold of Dave’s hand, she said, “You are going to walk me to the door, aren’t you?”

  After a glance at Maurelle, Dave escorted Simone into the living room. Bono ran ahead, yapping excitedly. Maurelle breathed deeply, and slumped back down onto her chair.

  Throughout the afternoon Simone had delivered subtle jibes and sneers that were obviously meant to diminish Maurelle in Dave’s eyes. The only thing that prevented Maurelle from despising Simone was that the derogatory comments were deserved for the most part. She’d already sunk about as low as she could go.

  “I’m sorry about Simone,” Dave said as he returned to the kitchen.

  Maurelle looked up and tried to smile.

  “She can be sweet, but she can be difficult, too.” He sat, leaned toward her, and placed his hand over hers. “I hope she didn’t give you too hard a time.” He paused, as if waiting for her to fill him in on the highlights of their conversation. What was she supposed to say? The sophisticated and beautiful Simone had talked about her life before she’d moved to Reynier; an amazing life as a fashion model in Paris and married to a prominent photographer. Maurelle’s ordinariness had been so obvious that it might well have been stamped on her forehead.

  She shrugged finally. “She talked about Paris, mostly.”

  Dave raised his eyebrows. “Apparently, from what I gather, she had a pretty good life there when she was younger.” He paused, studying her with a curious intensity. “Did she tell you why she left Paris?”

  “No.”

  “Her career took a nose dive when she reached her early thirties. Models that age aren’t in high demand. When her career turned sour, I guess her marriage did, too. So, a year ago, she moved here and bought my grandmother’s café.”

  Maurelle looked at Dave, pondering the implications of this new revelation. “I didn’t know that. She made it sound so—different.”

  Dave nodded knowingly. “She doesn’t want people to know those details. She only talks about the good times and the glamour. I only found out about them from bits and pieces I gathered during conversations.”

  “I wish I’d known that sooner,” Maurelle said softly. “Knowing the back story might have made listening to her success story a bit less brutal.”

  “Well, if it helps any, I think she’s jealous. She’s threatened by you.”

  “But she shouldn’t be,” she said. “I could tell that although you’ve only known one another for a few weeks, you have a bond due to your families’ connections.”

  Dave sighed. “You’re right about the family connections. Our grandmothers have been lifelong friends. They grew up together in a small village, and moved to Paris together as teenagers. They moved to Reynier a few years later when they were both married and starting families. I suspect they want Simone and me to marry and, of course, live here. I guess I went along with it for a while. Not the marrying part, but the dating. But —”

  “Are you in love with her?”

  “No. I am definitely not,” Dave said, quietly. “It would be great if I was because it would make everyone happy. But I’m not.”

  “But she’s in love with you.”

  “I’m not sure about that. Simone is lonely, and doesn’t have many candidates for a boyfriend or husband. You’ve been here long enough to see how few available men there are in this town. Anyway, I’ve involved myself in a situation that doesn’t have an easy solution.”

  “Maybe if you go on that trip around France with her, you’ll feel differently.”

  “I don’t think so,” Dave said. “I told her upfront that I didn’t want a long-term relationship. She and I went out a few times and enjoyed each other’s company. I never expected anything more. Besides, right now I intend to see what I can do about your situation, if I can.”

  “What can you possibly do about it?”

  “I thought I could travel to England and poke around a bit. Maybe I can find out what’s happened in the investigation. I might even figure out what really happened.”

  “Don’t you have to get back to your work? I’m keeping you away from that, too.”

  “No, I’ve finished my latest book. It’s in the publisher’s hands, so I have time off for a while. I started my next book but have plenty of time to work on it.”

  Memories of the conversation she’d overheard two nights ago flashed through her mind. “I—I overheard you talking to your grandmother about your . . . disillusionment.”

  “You heard that?” He said, looking sharply at her. “That must have been when you came back to the house to look for your bags.”

  She nodded.

  He remained silent for a few moments, and finally shrugged, suddenly looking like his grandmother. “I can’t promise anything, but I’m willing to go to England and see if I can help—if you can look me in the eye and swear to me that you are not a killer and not in any way connected to his murder. Can you do that?”

  She nodded, looked him directly in the eye and repeated his words, denying any connection to the killing.

  “Okay. I’ll do what I can, but I’m warning you now that I’m going to be objective and keep an open mind. We’ll discuss the case in detail before I leave and I’ll take thorough notes that I can use once I get to England. There, I’ll investigate as much as I can. I won’t ignore evidence if I find something that proves you’ve lied to me. Is that understood?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t expect you to do otherwise.”

  “I need you to stay here with my grandmother while I’m in England. I don’t want to go there and put myself in jeopardy, only to have you running off again.”

  “Would it be better if I went with you and turned myself in? You could investigate properly, and it would put you at less personal risk, wouldn’t it?”

  “It might. I admit I considered that option, but that could easily prove disastrous. My trust in the U.S. justice system is on shaky ground, and I’m not certain the U.K. system is much better. For now, I’d rather keep you here out of harm’s way, as long as you can promise me you’ll stay put u
ntil I return.”

  “I promise. And Dave, thank you for believing in me.”

  DAVE SAT NEXT to Fabienne on the couch, filling her in on what had transpired during her four-hour absence. He told her about his morning talk with Maurelle and the awkward visit and luncheon with Simone.

  “I wish I had been here for the luncheon,” Fabienne said, nervously rubbing her hands together. “A man should never get himself caught like that, between two women. At least if I had been here I could have turned it into a lighter affair.”

  “I agree. I missed you more than you know. I really stepped into that one.”

  She gave him a sly smile. “Well, sweet boy, you certainly have gotten yourself into a mess. You didn’t want to listen to me, did you? Thought you knew everything. But you didn’t really know what getting yourself mixed up with two women meant. Ha!” When he didn’t comment, Fabienne pursed her lips and sat back against the cushions with her arms folded.

  “Oh, and by the way,” Dave said, suddenly remembering the dog’s encounter, “there’s a dead mouse in one of your containers in the backyard.”

  Fabienne looked at him puzzled.

  “Simone’s dog killed a mouse underneath the grandfather clock.”

  She shook her head. “That little mouse has been giving me grief for months. Good dog and good riddance.”

  Dave said, “I’ll dispose of it later. And, you might want to watch what you say about it around Maurelle. She was quite upset about the mouse being killed and wants me to bury it.”

  Fabienne suddenly leaned forward and looked squarely at Dave. “It’s time you choose between those women. It’s obvious you can’t keep sleeping with both of them.”

  “Grand-mère! Shame on you. I’m not sleeping with either of them!”

  “Mon oeil,” Fabienne said as she pulled her lower eyelid down slightly with her index finger, indicating that she didn’t believe him.

  Dave stood up and towered over her. “I have never slept with them.”

  Fabienne smoothed her dress and pulled a loose strand of hair out of her eyes before continuing. “Well, I hope you’re telling the truth.” She paused, looking down at her hands that were now resting in her lap. “I’ve come to like Maurelle, as far as I know her, but you must realize you can’t expect a real relationship with her. Even if you help her and she is found not guilty, can you ever really be sure she didn’t kill that boy?”

  “Did I say I wanted a relationship with Maurelle?”

  Fabienne didn’t answer. He turned toward the stairs.

  “Where are you going? We aren’t finished talking, are we?”

  “We can continue this conversation later, Grand-mère. And you owe me an apology. Right now I need to talk with Maurelle.” He moved toward the stairs, but stopped at the foot of the staircase. “Please don’t talk to Simone about any of this, okay? Things are complicated enough right now.”

  Fabienne nodded, raising both of her hands up in the air in a gesture of defeat.

  Upstairs, Dave knocked on Maurelle’s door. “May I come in?”

  She stepped back, holding the door open for him to enter.

  “I need to know something,” he said. “What do you intend to do if you are cleared of the charges?”

  Her eyes widened. “I don’t know. I never allowed myself to consider that possibility.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I didn’t think it was possible. I’m innocent, but I never expected anyone would believe me or help me.”

  “You didn’t expect me to save you?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Why would I expect that? I was trying to get away from you because I thought you would be horrified if you found out my secret. I thought you would turn me in. Isn’t that what police do, even if they are no longer police?”

  He didn’t answer, but stepped forward and slowly pulled her close to him, clasping her body against his and kissing her. When he finally moved his lips from hers, he gazed down into her surprised eyes. She didn’t back away. Without thinking he pulled her roughly against him, causing her to cry out in pain.

  He let go, and looked at her in surprise.

  “I’m still quite sore from yesterday.”

  “Oh, God. I’m sorry. I forgot about your bruises.” He hesitated. “Before I go to London, I’ll call some friends back home. Maybe they can help. Anyway, I don’t want you to give up. We’ll figure this thing out, together.”

  Maurelle wiped away tears that had suddenly formed in her eyes.

  “I’ve got a lot to do to get ready,” Dave said, “and I’ll need your help. As I said earlier, we’ll need to make a list: names, addresses, anything that might be useful, okay?”

  “It’s not too late for you to get out of this.”

  “That’s not going to happen. I believe you and I’m too damned stubborn to let it go. You shouldn’t waste your breath trying to talk me out of it.”

  “But—”

  Dave smiled. “Don’t even try. Once I’ve made up my mind, there’s no turning back. You can ask my grandmother about that. I’m more stubborn than she is.”

  Maurelle frowned. “Take some of my money. You’ll need it.”

  Dave’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Oh yeah, I completely forgot. I’ll give you your things back before I leave, but you have to promise you won’t run away again. I don’t want to do all of this for nothing. Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “But I don’t need your money,” Dave said.

  “Please take it. I already owe you so much. Besides, it’s already in pounds which will save you a lot of trouble.”

  “Well, I guess that’s true. We’ll figure out the details before I leave.” He paused, suddenly thinking about her duffel bag. “I am curious about something. Two things, actually. First, the large amount of cash, but second, I can’t figure out why you’re carrying around an expensive-looking man’s watch.”

  Maurelle squared her shoulders. “I withdrew the money from my accounts right before I ran. I didn’t know if I would ever return, and I needed money to survive—until I could get a job. I didn’t realize how difficult it would be to find work without proper identification.” Her voice cracked suddenly. “As for the watch, it’s a woman’s watch. It belonged to my mother. It was her only gift from my father. She held onto it until the day she died. I guess now I hold onto it in her memory.”

  Dave nodded. “Don’t you think she might have considered you also a gift from your father?”

  She shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her feet. “If she did, I can only imagine that she wouldn’t feel that way now.”

  He wanted to say something supportive, but he was at a loss. Finally, he pulled her into an embrace, and whispered, “Why don’t we see if we can change that, okay?”

  She nodded, and he leaned back, looking into her eyes. “I guess we’d better get to work.”

  AS DAVE LOOKED through the case notes on his computer and the newspaper articles he’d printed out, he still wondered if he was making the right decision. Did he really want to take on a case that he had no business getting involved in? Didn’t he have enough problems of his own? Then he thought about his kiss with Maurelle. What had possessed him to do that? Of all people, he should know that wasn’t a good idea.

  He sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe what he should really be doing is going back to Chicago before getting further involved. But in his heart he knew he could not let it go.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Dave tried to resist second-guessing the rightness of his decision to go to London. He’d made the decision and would follow through on it. He simply had to know the truth, but he wondered what he would feel and do if the truth turned out to be other than he expected. After what had happened in his police career, he knew he was pursuing this in part to prove to himself that he could still read people. And he needed to verify his own good judgment He also knew that this obsession was more than just proving his capabilities. There was a heavy emotion
al investment. If Maurelle indeed killed Jared Raybourne, his faith in himself, in humanity, and especially in women, would be shattered, not to mention how it would affect his growing feelings for her. Could he love a murderer?

  Fabienne and Maurelle kept saying they were worried about him getting into trouble in London. All he could do was assure them he would be cautious. He just hoped his investigative skills weren’t as rusty as he expected.

  “Let’s go over the names again,” Dave said as he and Maurelle sat together on the sofa. “Tell me about the next door neighbors. How well did you know them?”

  “Mrs. Rickards was sick and was in and out of the hospital. I think we only spoke to each other once or twice. Mrs. Winston, on the other side of the Raybourne house, was a retired widow, and from what I gather, was fairly well off. She was gone quite a bit, traveled often. It’s funny. When she was home, she was interested in another retired neighbor, the man across the street, Ian Waitley. Spent a lot of time preening, getting her hair done, putting on makeup, that sort of thing, trying to get him interested. But he would run and hide whenever he saw her heading his way.”

  “Why was that?”

  “He told me she was too old, which was comical, actually, because he was a year older than her, and he knew it. A few of his neighbors, including Mrs. Winston and I, attended his sixty-first birthday party a month earlier—and at the time she’d announced that she was about to celebrate her sixtieth birthday. He was sometimes forgetful, and people thought he was bit batty. I thought he was funny and nice, just eccentric.”

  “How do you know she wasn’t lying about her age?”

  “Because later someone tried to deliver flowers to her, but she wasn’t home. The delivery man brought them to the Raybourne house. I was the only one home. I accepted them, and watched for her to come home. When I carried them over to her house, she told me the flowers were from her grandson and she showed me the card that came with them. It said “Happy Sixtieth Birthday, Grandma.”