by Katie Penryn
“We had a strange teacher from another school take our class. No one knows when Madame Marin is coming back.”
“What about Marcel?” I asked him.
He sighed and scuffed his new trainers along the cobbles. Seeing he was upset, I didn’t rebuke him but waited for him to answer me.
“What about Marcel?” I repeated.
He glanced back and decided we were far enough away from the other kids for him to take my hand without peer censure. I squeezed it back.
“He didn’t come to school either. Everyone said he was a coward and the son of a killer. Even if his father is the murderer, it’s not Marcel’s fault, is it?”
I looked down at my little brother who was more of a son than a brother to me. I hugged him tightly against my side so that we stumbled like people in a three-legged race.
“Of course, it isn’t anything to do with Marcel. People are cruel sometimes. In three months’ time they will have forgotten all about it. You’ll see. We’ll go round to the Marin’s house as soon as you’ve had your tea. I’ll take them something for supper.”
The smile he gave me made up for the leisure time Felix and I would be giving up.
*
The carriage doors of the brocante stood wide open. I let go of Jimbo and told him to run in to Gwinny. Felix and I popped in to be met by four hot and dusty workers. Both the girls had their hair tied up in scarves. They had emptied and sorted a third of the treasure from the main brocante.
They all stopped work at our interruption.
“It’s time to call it a day,” I said. “You’ve done wonders in here.”
“I hope it’s worth it,” said Garth brushing his hand across his dust laden hair. “I’ve been breathing in the dust of centuries all day long.”
I walked down the line of stacked paintings.
“The quantity is certainly here,” I said, “but I have no idea of the quality. Anyone else?”
Garth said, “As if.”
Sam and Emmanuelle shrugged in unison.
That left Izzy who had already told me we should ask her friend to appraise the stock.
“I studied the History of Art at college,” she said. “The paintings are too dirty for an amateur like me to be sure, but some of them give me a little tingle at the back of my mind.”
Sam snorted whether from the dust or from teenage derision, I didn’t know.
“The frames will fetch a good price even if the pictures are rubbish,” he said.
“Enough. Come inside and clean up. Drinks all round, and I’ll tell you about our visit to the mayor.”
“What’s Papa done now?” Emmanuelle asked as she rolled her eyes.
“Nothing he shouldn’t have done.”
“Ticked Penzi off, is all,” said Felix with a laugh.
Chapter 17
“We have to visit Bella Marin today, boss,” Felix said as he brought me my morning tea the next day. “We’ve left it long enough. We can’t wait until after the funeral. Anyway, maybe she’ll appreciate some sensitive questioning after the police.”
I agreed with him, but felt bad about leaving Izzy and Garth alone to work on the brocante again. I couldn’t ask Sam and Emmanuelle to give up another day of their school holidays together.
“Okay. Please find and dial her number for me. I’ll see if she can see us this morning. If so, I’ll put Izzy and Garth off until this afternoon.”
Bella Marin answered straight away and said she would see us at eleven. Izzy said she’d been on the point of calling me to postpone their visit until the afternoon. Felix went downstairs to tell Gwinny our plans and offered to do the weekly shop at the supermarket to fill in time before our appointment with Bella Marin.
“Why did you do that?” I asked him angrily when he told me.
“Because it would reduce the pressure on Gwinny. Boss, you are in danger of taking advantage of your mother’s desperation to please you. With everyone else you are thoughtful and kind, but with your mother your attitude touches on the unappreciative at best and on the vindictive at worst.”
I reared back and hit my head on the headboard. Ouch. Was I really that horrible to Gwinny? I didn’t love her, true. And whenever her past behavior came to mind, I tried to forgive her for the years she was missing in our lives, but I wasn’t doing very well.
Felix continued. “What do you expect her to do? She can’t wind back the clock. No one can. And Jimbo finds your attitude puzzling.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because he’s asked me.”
My shoulders heaved and I sighed. “There’s this knot of resentment deep inside me,” I said holding my hand on my belly. “It’s childish, but it’s real to me.”
“Try putting yourself in Gwinny’s place. She’s looking after the house. She’s taken over the cooking since Audrey left. She’s company for Jimbo when he gets home from school on the days when we’re not here—”
“And she was kind to me when I had that bad go of the blues.”
“So give her a little love now and then. Have you any idea how petulant you sounded when I told you I’d offered to do the shopping?”
I ran the scene over in my mind. Felix was right. I didn’t like the person I became when the memories of Gwinny’s desertion flooded through me. I had to change.
Felix left me to drink my tea, get dressed and, I’m sure, consider his lecture.
I made a resolution to say something kind to Gwinny every day. To my astonishment the knot in my stomach began to unravel.
When I entered the kitchen a few minutes later I approached Gwinny who looked up from her work at the sink with apprehension, like a servant expecting a telling off from her mistress. That expression appalled me. I put my arm around her shoulders and said, “Gwinny, in case I don’t tell you often enough, we all really appreciate what you do for us here. Thank you.”
I couldn’t go as far as to say I appreciate. Nor could I kiss her. But if I worked on it, perhaps I could one day.
She blinked and a tentative smile crossed her face. Felix gave me a wink.
As soon as Jimbo had finished his breakfast, Felix and I drove him down to the bus stop and continued on to the supermarket. We had a cup of coffee in the shopping mall, stowed our shopping in the back of the car and carried on to Bella Marin’s house which lay on the property next to the oyster farm. What a bleak place to live in the winter. Windswept by winter storms, devoid of flowering shrubs and garden flowers because the salt laden air killed everything except the straggling clumps of sea grass. Far from the town center. Right outside, a bus shelter marked the terminus of the school bus run. Her younger son Paul would be at school. Her older son, Oscar, opened the front door to us.
“Bonjour. Can I help you?” he asked.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said. “We liked your father.”
He half grunted, half smiled.
Felix repeated my condolences and said, “Your mother is expecting us.”
He held the door wide, closed it behind us and escorted us down the hallway to a door at the end.
“She’s in there,” he said.
I knocked on the door and entered a conservatory looking out over the flats towards the gray sea.
Bella Marin turned from her vigil at the glass windows and stared at us blankly.
“You may remember us, madame,” I said walking forwards with my hand outstretched. “Your husband showed us round your farm, and you served us with lunch. All of two weeks ago.”
“Oh, yes, of course, Madame Munro.”
She shook my hand and turned to shake hands with Felix.
“Please, asseyez-vous. Take the seats facing the view. I’ll sit here,” she said sitting in an armchair with its back to the sea. “I’m tired of looking out over the mud and the ocean. My husband loved the sea. He wouldn’t have minded dying out there, but to be stabbed to death….”
We sat where she suggested and waited for her to settle.
“You want
ed to talk to me about Joseph?”
“Yes. Just a few questions. We’re helping Inspector Dubois, a sort of back-up inquiry to his own official one. If you’re uncertain, you can check with the mayor,” I said knowing that we now had that base covered.
“I phoned Inspector Dubois after I received your call and he vouched for you but reminded me your questions would be unofficial, and I had the right to refuse to answer them, should I so choose.”
I nodded my agreement.
“Madame—”
“Please call me Bella. You’re trying to help me after all. Anyone who tracks down the man who killed my husband is all right with me.”
“Can you suggest anyone who wanted to murder your husband?”
She shook her head. “Joseph didn’t always get on with people, but I can’t say anyone wanted to go as far as killing him for it.”
She absentmindedly rubbed a scar above her left eyebrow.
“You have a headache, Bella?” I asked her.
She pulled her hand away.
“No, I fell a few years ago and cut my head on the corner of the kitchen stove.”
“Fell?” I asked allowing my skepticism to show on my face.
She looked startled.
“You know about that?”
“Yes,” I said. “Someone told us. I can’t remember who.”
“I didn’t think anyone knew about it,” she said.
We’d heard Joseph had beaten his wife sometimes, but I was surprised to learn he’d knocked her down.
“Did you yourself ever want to kill him when he mistreated you?”
She jolted and blinked rapidly.
“N-n-no,” she answered. “I’d never do that. It isn’t in my character. I’d never take my sons’ father away from them in that way. And he always had the power, you see.”
“What about a white knight? Do you have anyone in your life who would take it as his duty to protect you and avenge the wrong your husband did you?”
She cast her eyes about the room searching for an answer. What would she say? She shook her head again and whispered, “Non, personne. Nobody.”
“Bella, I don’t want to be unkind, but we’ve heard rumors that you have a lover.”
Bella slapped her hand across her mouth and widened her eyes in alarm.
I pursued the point, “A lover could feel strongly about your situation, couldn’t he?”
“Is it common knowledge?” she asked in a strained voice.
“It’s not general knowledge,” I assured her and asked, “so it’s true?”
Her shoulders sagged, and she didn’t respond.
Felix rose to his feet. “I’ll fetch you a glass of water.”
I left my seat and pulled a chair up close to her and sat down taking her hands in mine.
“Bella, it’s best you tell us so we can eliminate him from our list of suspects, if we can.”
“He didn’t do it. We were together all night.”
“Tell me,” I said as Felix came in with the glass of water and handed it to her.
She took a few sips before answering me.
“His name is André Preneur,” she said handing the glass back to Felix. “He’s one of our competitors. His business is more successful than our family business. He’s progressive and modern. André is buying up all the small businesses like ours as the older generation of oyster farmers dies off. Joseph would never change.”
“That caused friction between him and his brother Ben?”
“Yes. But Ben would never murder his brother if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“No, I’m not. I was taking diving lessons with Ben and I like him, but we have to keep him on our list of suspects because of his disappearance.”
Felix pulled a chair forwards and sat. He waited until Bella looked at him and asked her, “Can you confirm where you were between the hours of one and three on Sunday morning.”
“You mean do I have an alibi?”
Felix nodded. “Please.”
“That’s an easy question to answer now you know about André. As I said before, we were together at his house. Oscar is old enough to babysit his younger brother.”
I let go of her hands and leaned away.
“What would you say if I told you Monsieur Preneur said he was alone all night?”
“He’s being careful of my reputation,” she said.
“Of course, if Monsieur Preneur does give you an alibi, that leaves your son Oscar without one.”
“What?” she said leaping to her feet. “That’s ridiculous. He’s only a boy.”
“He’s eighteen and almost as tall as his father was.”
“That is too much. You must leave. Now. Isn’t it enough that I’ve lost my husband without your suspecting my son?”
Her mood had changed so rapidly there was no point in our staying any longer.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, Bella,” I said as we left the room.
*
Oscar came out into the hallway as we reached the front door.
“Your mother is upset by our questions,” Felix told him. “I suggest you go in and comfort her.”
“Oh no,” he said. “What did you say to her?”
“We asked her if you had an alibi for the night your father was killed?” I said.
“No wonder,” he said stepping back against the wall. “Don’t you think she has enough to worry about?”
“Of course, but the sooner we can cross you off our list of suspects the sooner we can pursue our inquiries into the real killer. So, where were you?”
“I’m sure my mother will already have told you I was here.”
“She did, but she told us she wasn’t.”
He pushed himself off from the wall.
“Don’t tell my mother, but I let Paul stay up with me and watch a late night movie. It was a horror film. Paul was so scared he wouldn’t go to bed in his own room, so he slept in my bed. What time do I need the alibi for?”
“From one until three in the morning.”
“I’m sure Paul will confirm I didn’t get out of bed.”
He opened the front door for us and suddenly shut it again, turned round to me with a look of defiance on his face.
“Just how am I supposed to have got all the way to the harbor from here without any transport? My mother had her car and my father’s was found at the harbor.”
“Right,” said Felix. “We’ll check with Preneur to make sure he didn’t collect your mother and then drop her back. Are you all right with that, by the way?”
“What? With my mother and André Preneur? I’d like to see her happy. Life with my father wasn’t a bed of roses for any of us.”
“Have you heard from your Uncle Ben?” asked Felix on the off chance.
Oscar shook his head.
“Not a word. And I can’t believe what the people in town are saying.”
I held out my hand, and he shook it.
“Take care of your mother, Oscar. We are doing our best to find your father’s murderer.”
We walked out to our car.
“What did you make of that?” asked Felix as we drove away.
“We move them to the bottom of the list. Preneur and Bella alibi each other. I’m sure Paul will vouch for his brother. We should concentrate elsewhere, but heaven knows where. Until Ben turns up or until a clue surfaces somewhere, we haven’t got anything to go on.”
*
Felix and I joined Izzy and Garth that afternoon and the following morning, Friday. We completed the work of transferring all the paintings and mirrors from the brocante to the storeroom alongside by lunchtime. We still had the objets d’art to move but that would have to wait until after the weekend as we were to visit Father Pedro on Friday afternoon.
Chapter 18
When Martine popped in for her usual coffee with us on Friday morning, she told us a storm warning had been issued for the following Sunday.
“How severe will it be?” I asked, worried
that our house would bear the brunt of it as it was the first one at the top of the crescent facing the open sea.
“We can never tell in advance. So far they’re saying moderate to severe, not as bad as une tempête.”
“A tempest?” asked Felix.
“That’s what we call the worst storms here in France, ones that are so bad they knock down all the electricity cables and hundreds of trees. We had one that blew in from the Atlantic at eighty miles an hour on Boxing Day 1999. We had no electricity for six weeks and no fresh drinking water because the pumps didn’t work. It took two years to clear up all the fallen trees. You should check your house.”
“Oh dear,” said Gwinny. “When I renovated and redecorated, I concentrated on the interior. We need to make sure the shutters close properly and that we don’t have any loose roof tiles.”
Felix walked to the back window and looked out over our soon-to-be garden.
“We’ll have to store everything that could blow away.”
I joined him at the window. The bees.
“What about the bees? Do we need to bring the hives into the kitchen?” I asked.
Zig whimpered and burrowed down into her blankets.
“I’ve never heard of anyone doing that,” said Martine. “Why don’t you ask Father Pedro? He’s an expert on bees.”
“We’re paying him a visit this afternoon about bees. We’ll ask him then,” I said.
“What about me?” asked Jimbo. “I want to go with you.”
“So you can. We’ll go to his house straight from your school bus stop when they drop you off.”
“Oh awesome.”
After Martine had left and Gwinny had taken Jimbo down the road to meet the school bus, Felix and I made a tour of the outside of the house. We put away the verandah chairs and table, lined the pot plants up in the shelter of the wall, stowed the dustbins in the brocante and collected up fallen branches. Several of the hinges for the shutters needed cementing into the wall and their fastenings lacked a full complement of screws. We made a list of the provisions we needed and added an extending ladder. I phoned Monsieur Bonhomie for the name of a roofer. He gave me five recommendations which was just as well as the first three were busy elsewhere. The fourth man agreed to call round at lunchtime. Felix and I left to buy what we needed from a local DIY store.
