by Nell Goddin
Josette shrank into the seat. She pulled her feet up under her and curled her body as small as she could make it, not looking at anyone.
“Come on, Josie,” said Julien, but his tone was hopeless. He could see she had no fight left in her.
“I didn’t really mean to do it,” said Josette, still not making eye contact. “Doesn’t that count for something?”
50
The next night, the entire wedding crew—minus Nico and Frances, who were off on their honeymoon to parts unknown—plus a number of other villagers, showed up at Chez Papa to get the full story and latest news on the mayor’s murder. Uncomfortably, Maron found himself the focus of everyone’s attention as he related what had happened on his visit to the Barbeau farm the day before.
“I heard they were halfway to Brive, making a run for it!” said Claudine Brosset, who was drinking a beer with Annette. “And she used a curtain pin, of all things!”
“They are awfully sharp,” said another woman who worked at the mairie.
“Come on,” said a fellow who had been tirelessly working to get Lebeau elected to the council. “We deserve to know the details, the mayor was a public figure, after all.”
“Hear hear!”
Maron put up his palm to quiet everyone. He couldn’t help wishing he were about to tell the story of his own accomplishment, instead of Molly Sutton’s. But he took a breath and soldiered on. “I was given some information by someone I’m sure most of you know, at least by reputation, Madame Sutton.” He nodded in Molly’s direction and she could not stop herself from blushing, though it made her feel ridiculous.
“I went to the Barbeau farm and undertook a thorough search. What you may not realize is that the investigation into Coulon’s murder uncovered a number of other crimes that had taken place or were still ongoing. I’m afraid our mayor was something of a fraud. He was involved in money-laundering and taking kickbacks from various sources, and this sort of thing takes time to investigate. With only two officers, you can understand—” Maron paused and took a sip of his wine. “Anyway, it turned out that the corruption was not the central part of the case and had nothing to do with his murder. After receiving Molly’s tip, I found several pieces of evidence at the farm that had not been suspected previously. That is all I am free to say at this point. The trial, obviously enough, is still a ways away.”
Molly took Ben’s hand and smiled. Of course she was thrilled that Maron had found a bag of La Perla underwear hidden in the barn, but by that time she and Ben had already caught up with the Barbeaus on the train and heard Josette’s confession. Besides the bag in the barn, Josette told Molly and Ben, there was a pair of frilly pink panties and a camisole at the bottom of the pond. Maron had waded in and ducked under the water to get it, and though it had been underwater for many days, the bloodstains were unmistakeable.
Also included in the new evidence was a silver sugar bowl that had been stuffed under the seat of the truck.
“What about Julien?” someone called out.
“I’m afraid we had to take him in as well. He drove her home after the murder and was trying to help her get out of the country, though they had not yet managed to get passports. Allow me to interject here that I’m disappointed in all of you that not a single person saw either of the Barbeaus the day of the mayor’s murder. The investigation would have gone much more smoothly if her alibi had been shaky from the beginning,” he said, sending a quick dirty look in the direction of Rémy, who looked down at his shoes.
“I guess we can forget the Bresse chickens,” Molly heard someone say, and she felt another stab of sadness about the young man, who seemed like the one Barbeau with a truly kind heart, and who was getting dragged under because he had tried to help his sister.
“I can’t help thinking of Stendhal,” said Lawrence quietly.
Molly gave him a questioning look.
“A famous quote of his, that beauty is ‘la promesse de bonheur’—the promise of happiness. I think I might say that the promise is very often not realized. Josette’s loveliness was her undoing, don’t you think?”
Molly shrugged. “I don’t know. Lives are complicated. You can’t boil things down to their essence quite like that, I don’t think.”
“Hm,” said Lawrence, musing.
Malcolm Barstow caught Molly’s eye and winked at her. She grinned and nodded. For an inveterate thief, he had turned out to be quite helpful, even if he had acted at least somewhat out of guilt for not coming to Molly’s rescue when she was attacked by Vasily Vasiliev. He had been hanging out at the train station looking to pick a few pockets of the evening train travelers, and overheard Josette and Julien talking quietly about how they could get passports before Maron caught up with them—and he figured that was a conversation Molly might be very interested in.
Ben squeezed her hand, and with the case finally disposed of, Molly was lit up once again with the memory of the night before and Ben’s blurted-out proposal by the grill. When they had returned to La Baraque after leaving Josette and Julien in the care of Monsour, the wedding guests had all gone home. They decided to leave the mess of the party for the morning. Ben had taken Molly in his arms and explained that when he saw Vasily holding her wrists and trying to wrestle her into the forest, he had realized with perfect clarity that he did not want to live without her. And Molly, despite (or perhaps because of) all of her moaning about being sick of the subject of marriage, did not need any persuasion.
They agreed to keep the news just between themselves, for a little while, enjoying the pleasure of a shared secret, and Molly grinned hard there in Chez Papa, knowing what a juicy tidbit of gossip they were holding back from everyone.
“But what I want to know,” said Madame Tessier to Molly, “is why didn’t you ever ask anyone about the La Perla underwear, if you’d been wondering about it all that time?”
Molly shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess…Castillac is my home now, and I feel like I’ve been given a very warm welcome. But maybe if I started asking what kind of underwear everyone’s wearing, that might be going a little far, even for an American?”
Madame Tessier laughed. She admired Molly’s investigative skills, and always felt a little envious that she herself had never pulled off the solution to a crime.
“What about all the rest of it?” an older man asked from the bar, his tone on the unfriendly side. “Why has Castillac suddenly become the center of all this corruption and drug-dealing? We used to be a quiet, peaceful community.”
Others murmured agreement.
“It will help when we have a mayor who is not involved in these sorts of things,” said Monsour, happy to pipe up about his own contribution. “He was blocking business permits both for his own vendettas and for kickbacks. We’ve opened an investigation into his connection to the black market as well. Is it any wonder that a pair of thugs like the Vasilievs—and Lebeau too, let’s be honest here—would choose such a village to start up their business? They probably believed the mayor could be bought off and they could skate along doing whatever they wanted. And they nearly got away with it, too.” He was about to add that Dufort/Sutton Investigations had helped to crack that case as well, but decided they’d gotten enough credit for one evening.
Lawrence watched Molly with Ben. He noticed that she looked pleased when Maron gave her credit for catching Josette, but also that she looked a little distracted, as though her mind was somewhere else. She leaned back into Ben and he wrapped his arms around her.
Something’s going on, Lawrence thought. And somehow, I’m going to find a way to get to the bottom of it. But first, another Negroni to celebrate the end of a very long week.
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THE END
Also by Nell Goddin
The Third Girl (Molly Sutton Mystery 1)
The Luckiest Woman Ever (Molly Sutton Mystery 2)
The Prisoner of Castillac (Molly Sutton Mystery 3)
Murder for Love (Molly Sutton Mystery 4)
The Château Murder (Molly Sutton Mystery 5)
Murder on Vacation (Molly Sutton Mystery 6)
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Want a free short story? Click HERE!
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www.nellgoddin.com
Glossary
Chapter 1: gîte…rental unit, usually by the week
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Chapter 2: mairie…city hall
VAT… Value-Added Tax
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Chapter 5: chérie…dear
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Chapter 7: pâtisserie…pastry shop
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Chapter 10: épicerie…small neighborhood grocery
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Chapter 11: au revoir…goodbye
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Chapter 12: brébis…sheep’s cheese
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Chapter 13: les femmes…women
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Chapter 15: apéro…cocktail
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Chapter 18: terroir…territory, specifically a region where a particular product is grown or produced
ma beauté…my beauty
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Chapter 23: centime…cent
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Chapter 25: comme ci comme ça…so-so (literally, like this like that)
Acknowledgments
Once again, truckloads of thanks to Tommy Glass and Nancy Kelley. You are the best.
About the Author
Nell Goddin has worked as a radio reporter, SAT tutor, short-order omelet chef, and baker. She tried waitressing but was fired twice.
Nell grew up in Richmond, Virginia and has lived in New England, New York City, and France. Currently she's back in Virginia with teenagers and far too many pets. She has degrees from Dartmouth College and Columbia University.
www.nellgoddin.com
[email protected]
