by Susan Finlay
Dave laughed. “Okay. What about the Hallowells?”
“Nick and Jenny Hallowell were good friends with Peter and Elizabeth Raybourne, from what I heard—at least, before the Raybournes divorced. Jenny would sometimes invite them over for dinner or drinks and to play cards, but Elizabeth would trash Peter, or Robin, or both of them all evening.”
Dave jotted down notes on a pad of paper. “Who is Robin?”
“Oh, she’s Peter’s girlfriend.”
“Did she have an affair with Peter? Is that what caused the break-up of the marriage?”
“I don’t know.”
“How did the Hallowells react to Elizabeth’s negative talk about her ex-husband?”
“I heard them trying to defend Peter one night, which made Elizabeth angry. They tried to tell her that they were still friends with him. She didn’t seem to want to hear it.”
“You mentioned Rob Carsters and Sally Kavanaugh.”
“They were both around Elizabeth’s age. I think Rob was interested in Elizabeth after her divorce. He would drop by the house and invite her out to dinner or a movie sometimes. She always said no, that she wasn’t interested in dating. Then he would say that he was only being neighborly, that he wasn’t making a move on her. I think he was. It’s a shame she wasn’t interested. He seemed like a nice man.”
“Was he a family friend? Did he know Peter and Elizabeth?”
“I don’t know.”
“And Sally Kavanaugh?”
“She was a friend of Elizabeth. Sally would come over sometimes to try and cheer her up. Most of the time Elizabeth would say she didn’t feel like talking, but once in a while they would go out for the evening or Sally would eat dinner at the house. Usually, if she did, they would order take away because Elizabeth hated cooking.”
After each of their talks, Dave transferred his notes and the pointers Maurelle was giving him into his laptop computer and studied them. The more details he got, the more he wondered how he would accomplish all the work, especially in a short period of time. Thorough investigations could take months, even years. Investigating in a city that was unfamiliar to him would be difficult, but doing it alone, especially when he’d always worked with a partner was daunting to say the least. He wondered what his old partner, Greg Saunders, was doing. Greg was one of the few people he still trusted. The last time they’d spoken, Greg had complained about lack of adventure in his life. Dave dialed Greg and they chatted for a while, catching up on what they’d both been doing lately. Finally, after talking for an hour, Dave told him he was going to England to do research for a book.
“I’m jealous,” Greg said. “France, and now England. Why do you get to go on all the exciting trips?”
“Well, that’s part of the reason I called. I was wondering if you have any vacation time coming. I remember you saying how bored you were and how you needed a good vacation.”
“Yeah, I have three weeks of vacation available. The boss has been pushing me to use some of it. Just don’t have any place to go or anyone to go with. How pathetic is that?”
“How would you like to go to England as my guest?”
“Your guest? Does that mean you’re paying?”
“Yeah, it does.”
“What’s the catch?”
“As I said, I’ll be doing research, and I’d like your help with it. I’m sure there will be time for sightseeing, too. The other thing, it would need to be now. I’m getting ready to leave in a few days.”
“Why do you need me? What kind of research is it?”
“I’m unofficially looking into a murder case that’s similar to what I have in mind for a mystery novel I’m working on. I’m out of practice investigating. You might see something that I overlook. Besides, we always worked well together. You were my right-hand man.”
”Are you considering going back into police work?”
“No. I’m strictly a writer now. I’m hoping to get some realistic details for my book, and to tell you the truth, it’s a good excuse to visit England. Always wanted to visit.”
“Me too. Okay. I’m in. Well, assuming I can get the vacation time quickly. I’ll have to talk to the boss and get back to you.”
Two days later, Greg called back. “It’ll be great seeing you again and seeing England. I still don’t know why you’re interested in investigating a case you aren’t getting paid to investigate, but that’s your choice. Personally, I get enough of this stuff. I wouldn’t do it for free.”
“Would you rather not be involved?”
“No, I wasn’t saying that, buddy. Hey, I get a free vacation out of it. You’re paying, you said.”
“Yeah, I’m paying. You’re sure you’re okay with working on your ‘vacation’?”
“Sure. As long as I get to do some sightseeing, too. And some nights out in the pubs.”
“It’s a deal.”
Dave made reservations for himself and Greg at the hotel Maurelle recommended, bought airline tickets, and called Greg to give him the details.
Knowing that he would have help in London assuaged his worries, but not entirely. His main concern, he told Fabienne and Maurelle, was that he not let anyone, including Greg, become suspicious that he was in contact with Maura Barrington.
On the last night before his flight to London, Dave took Maurelle back to the bistro for dinner. While they dined, they each talked about their childhoods, their schools, their parents. When he told her that his parents had sent him to visit his grandparents in Reynier every summer when he was young, she said, “Didn’t they come with you?”
“No. They would put me on an airplane with a flight attendant to look after me.”
Her eyes widened. “Weren’t you frightened?”
He shrugged.
“How old were you when you started coming here?” she asked.
“Well, I must have been about six. I’d finished kindergarten. Now that I think about it, the first visit was scary, not because anything bad had happened, but because my parents had argued for days before they put me on the airplane. My mother cried, and said flying was dangerous. She didn’t want to put her only child in harm’s way, but my dad said it was perfectly safe. In his words, ‘the boy needs to learn to be a man’.”
“Oh, that sounds tough. What did your father do for a living?”
“He was a police detective. I guess that’s part of why I became one. What about you? You said your mother was a professor, and you became a teacher? Did she push you into it?”
“No. I naturally gravitated toward teaching, though it wasn’t easy for me because I’m somewhat shy. Are you and your father alike?”
“I suppose we are. Although I’m not sure I would put my own child on an airplane alone at such a young age. It was a good flight. I remember staring out the window at the clouds and at the miniscule farms and roads. The stewardesses talked with me, gave me headphones to use for listening to music and watching movies. One thing that was a bit scary was meeting my grandparents for the first time.”
“You didn’t even know them?”
He shook his head. “They picked me up at the airport. It took a few days for us to get acquainted, but by the time I returned home, I felt as if we’d always known each other.” He stopped suddenly, nearly adding ‘until she lied to me and I found I couldn’t trust her.’
The following morning Dave gathered his things together and prepared to leave. Maurelle, watching him as he opened the door, said, “Be careful. I’m worried about you.”
He kissed her gently on the lips and pulled her close to him. When he let go of her, he reached down, picked up his duffel bag, and looked over at his grandmother who was standing in the kitchen doorway, watching him anxiously. He strode over to her, and gave her a big hug. “Take of yourself, Grand-mère. I love you.”
“You keep out of trouble, dear boy. We don’t want you getting yourself arrested over there.”
“I’ll be careful. And remember what we discussed. Don’t tell anyone about Ma
urelle’s situation. Promise?”
Fabienne nodded, wringing her hands nervously. “You can trust me.”
Dave nodded and looked at one woman and then the other. “Don’t tell anyone anything about where I’m going or what I’m doing. I can’t stress that enough. If anything goes wrong on either end, we could all be in serious trouble.”
Maurelle said, “It’s not too late for you to change your mind. You don’t have to go. You don’t have to jeopardize yourself or your grandmother.”
“I told you I’ve made up my mind. Grand-mère and I have talked it over. She’s willing to take a chance, too. I’m only trying to reiterate to both of you the need for secrecy.”
Fabienne said, “We’ll be careful. Promise.”
A car horn sounded outside. Dave dashed to the front door. He opened the door and picked up his bag. “My ride’s here. I guess I’ll see you both as soon as I can. Take care of each other.” He waved and started out the door to where the taxi was waiting.
Maurelle rushed over to him and gave him a quick kiss.
She and Fabienne stood together in the open doorway, waving as he climbed into the taxicab.
After he left, the two women strolled to the general store to buy groceries. After taking their purchases home, they headed out again. This time, Maurelle went to the cheese shop while Fabienne visited with her friend Jeannette. Maurelle had offered to buy the groceries earlier but Fabienne wouldn’t let her. Now was her chance to surprise her with a gift basket of cheeses and crackers. She entered the cheese shop and greeted the clerk. While she waited in line, she studied the assorted cheeses within the glass case.
“Well, hello there, Maurelle,” a voice from behind said.
She turned around abruptly and found herself face to face with Paul Lepage.
“Bonjour,” she said.
“I’ve been hoping we might bump into each other again,” Paul said. “Maybe we can have lunch together.”
Her face grew hot. “Oh yes. I owe you a debt of gratitude for giving me a ride. Unfortunately, I’ve already made plans for lunch.”
“All right. How about dinner? Tomorrow, around seven o’clock?”
“I—I can’t,” she said.
Paul stared at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he got a chance, the clerk said, “May I help you, Mademoiselle?”
“I think he’s talking to you,” Paul said. “It looks as though we’ll have to continue this some other time.”
Maurelle nodded. She whirled around and promptly stepped toward the glass case.
That evening, when Fabienne went into the kitchen to prepare dinner, Maurelle followed. While she watched, Maurelle would gather up things that Fabienne asked for. It made Maurelle feel better and made her feel as though she wasn’t entirely a useless burden.
“How did you learn to cook so well?” she asked as she stirred a pot.
Fabienne looked up at her and gave her a rare smile. “I’ve always loved cooking. My mother and grandmother were the best cooks I’ve ever known, and they taught me, as I taught my own daughter, Eloise.”
“Eloise? Is she Dave’s mother?”
“Yes, she is,” Fabienne said as she kneaded soft dough. “She met an American in Paris while she was attending the university. She married him after a couple of months. It was much too soon, and I tried to tell her so, but—” She gave Maurelle a sideways look.
“Did it work out?”
She shrugged. “They’re still married after all these years.”
“Then why do you think they moved too fast?”
Fabienne didn’t answer right away. She kneaded the dough harder now, pounding it with her fists. When she finally spoke again, she sounded sadder.
“Eloise gave birth to Dave while she and her husband Edward were still at college. She had to leave school to take care of the baby. It wouldn’t have been so bad if they’d moved here. Claude and I could have helped. But no. Edward wouldn’t hear of it. He wanted to return to the U.S. Wanting to be near his own parents, he packed up the family and moved back. St. Louis,” she said, pronouncing it as though it was French.
“Do you see her often?” Maurelle asked, taking a bite of cheese from a dish on the countertop.
“No. Never,” Fabienne said, wagging her hand. “Once Dave was old enough, she and her husband would send Dave back here to spend his summers with us.” After she placed her ready dough into a pan and shoved it into the oven, she turned to face Maurelle. “I shouldn’t have let her see that wretched man. He turned my Eloise against me, he did. All I have now is my grandson.”
“I’m sorry. Is that why you want him to move here?”
Fabienne stopped in the middle of kneading dough. “Where did you get that idea?”
Maurelle felt her face flush as she said meekly, “From Dave.”
“He told you that?” Fabienne asked as she stood there, now with her hands on her hips. “Did he say anything about Simone?”
She didn’t answer.
Fabienne smoothed her hair back out of her face, and finally said, “Simone is the granddaughter of my best friend, Jeannette. Simone is pretty. I thought Dave would like her. Jeannette’s daughters are here. Coralie in Reynier, Brigitte in Orleans. Both of her grandchildren live in Reynier, too, now.” Fabienne looked suddenly sad and tired, making Maurelle want to hug her; she didn’t dare risk it for fear the woman would push her away. “They all include me in their family activities, almost as if I were one of them, but it’s not the same as having your own family,” she continued. “I was hoping Dave and Simone would make a good match because it’s easier to be in-laws with friends than with strangers. I thought that Dave would move here with her, instead of whisking her away as his father did with my Eloise.”
“I know what it’s like not having a family around,” Maurelle said. “It’s the saddest thing in the world.”
Fabienne’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. Maurelle decided to take a chance. She moved closer to Fabienne and wrapped her arms around her. To Maurelle’s surprise, the older woman squeezed her gently and stroked her hair.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been a good hostess to you.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” Maurelle stepped back and looked Fabienne in the eye. “I really didn’t think I would ever again be among friends, that I would be able to trust people. You and Dave have made that possible.”
Fabienne turned her head and studied Maurelle. “Why didn’t you seek help from your friends and family when you got into trouble?”
“My best friends, from my school days, moved away—one to Japan, one to the Australia, and one to the U.S.—within a few years after we all graduated from university. My newer friends were closer to my former boyfriend than to me, so when we broke up, I drifted away from them. As for my family—my father actually lives in Paris with his wife and their children. At first, I thought I might go to him for help. But—”
Fabienne looked at her questioningly, prompting her to continue.
“He didn’t marry my mother. He didn’t want her or me.” She paused as emotion shook her voice. “My mother died two-and-a-half years ago. Cancer. She would have been horrified at my . . . situation. I could never have imagined I’d be glad that she isn’t here to see what’s become of me.” Her voice cracked again with emotion as she whispered, “I miss her so much.”
Now Fabienne reached over and hugged Maurelle, patting her on the back as if she was a child.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dave threw his carry-on bag over his shoulder and strode through the crowded Heathrow terminal, looking for signs that would direct him to public transportation stations for the London Underground, overland train, or city bus. Maurelle advised him that any of those would be preferable to renting a car and trying to maneuver on his own through London.
Finding the Tube turned out to be relatively easy since the underground system was linked to the terminal by moving walkways. But reading and understanding the underground map to where
he wanted to go proved more difficult. He finally figured it out and from Terminal 2 he took the Picadilly Line to King’s Cross and walked the rest of the way to the Hallworth Hotel where he and Greg would meet. He found it without problem and checked in. Entering his room, he dumped his bag onto the bed. The room, while rather old and perhaps not top of the line, appeared to be spotless and well appointed. He sat down on the edge of the bed. It was perhaps a bit too soft, but okay. He got up again and checked the TV, which also seemed in good working order. Time for a shower and change of clothes. He took a leisurely shower, dressed, glanced at his watch, and called down to the front desk to inquire if Greg Saunders had checked in. The clerk put his call through to Greg’s room but there was no answer. He lay down and closed his eyes. A few minutes later, his telephone clanged so loudly that he woke up and nearly fell off the bed onto to the floor.
“Hello,” Dave said.
“Cheerio, mate.”
Huh? What the hell? Dave sat up, rubbed his head.
“I’m glad to hear that you made it here, old man,” the voice said again.
“Is that you, Greg?”
“Were you expecting someone else?”
Dave laughed, stretching and relaxing his shoulders, and realizing that the trip had created a bit of stress. “It’s good to hear your voice. I take it that you’re here in London, too.”
“Yep,” Greg said. “Ready to meet for drinks and dinner?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve already checked around,” Greg said. “The pub across the street looks good.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you there—in say, fifteen minutes.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Dave stepped into the pub and stopped for a moment, glancing around in the dark for his friend. The pub was rather charming with bare stone walls, large open hearth fireplace, intricate stained glass windows and lamps, and massive wooden beams overhead. In fact, he mused, it looked a bit too charming, like some film set in a spy movie, but the atmosphere was definitely a big draw; the place was packed.
