86 Avenue du Goulet (A Samantha Jamison Mystery Volume 3) (8 page)

Chapter 33

Face-To-Face Innuendo & Inferences

We wandered down to the lower gardens and sat on a shaded cement bench out of earshot of the others. But even at that distance I could still hear a lot of friendly arguing going on. I smiled, and then turned to Luc, giving him my full attention. “What did you really want?”

“You are wondering why I asked to speak privately.”

“That thought had crossed my mind, since I don’t know much about these gardens
…yet.
”

“I wanted to tell you I have overheard that some neighbors are suspicious of you and your questions. But you must keep trying to detect what is behind their uneasy words and actions.”

“I
was
given a somewhat cold reception.”

He laughed. “Do you think a few interviews are enough to give you all your answers?”

I sighed. “I was hoping for more favorable results.”

Luc smiled. “In time they might let slip up something the will help you. Don’t be intimidated by their gruff manner. After all, they have lost a member of their family. Like you Americans, we French also love our pets.”

“I don’t know how to probe further without appearing somewhat rude.” Eyeing Luc, I half smiled. “But then again, I am an American, aren’t I? They’ll expect it.”

“Maybe Jean can help regarding that time when these houses were first built. Once, a long time ago, they were all good friends, until that episode with the brooch. What a shame.”

“Well, Jean is out of town on business right now, but I will do that. It might give me a better perspective.”

“Oh, I am sure in time you will find out many interesting things about all of them. But be skeptical about what they might say regarding each other.” He stood to go. “I must get back to work. If you will excuse me, Madame?”

“Of course. I appreciate your comments and will keep them in mind next time I speak to the neighbors. Merci.”

Luc nodded, gave me another wink and walked away.

Maybe I wasn’t paying close enough attention to their subtle body language and should dig deeper like Luc implied. Hey, that’s what worked before, right? Asking the uncomfortable questions others
wouldn’t or couldn’t?

I would have to rethink my strategy and revisit all of them, and one way or the other, try to somehow get more details. Playing one off the other wouldn’t work. What would? Could I actually get someone to trust me?

I sat there thinking over Luc’s inferences and innuendo.

Were they meant to be helpful hints or subtle warnings?

Chapter 34

Getting My Money’s Worth

The French ATM machine had become my best friend lately, especially since my three houseguests had more than a healthy appetite. They also loved French wine. So there I was at Géant Supermarket in Fréjus, loading up on enough supplies to get me by for a while.

The place was enormous. I gave up counting at the twentieth cash register. I headed straight for the wine section, figuring I might save a euro or two buying some there instead of going to a smaller store. I grabbed whites, reds and everything in between. The boutique wine shops and their expensive prices were killing me. Maybe I would try a local vineyard or two for their wines when I ran out.

Ten minutes later, I was in the cheese aisle, already salivating in anticipation at the choices that were waiting. I was about to grab some French Brie when someone else grabbed it instead. Put out, I looked to see who had violated my personal cheese space.

“Oh! Madame Toussout. What a pleasant surprise! Please, go right ahead. I will take another one.”

Flustered by my gracious greeting, and startled to see me, she cautiously stepped back, saying, “Oh!” herself.

I didn’t want the moment to escape and decided to take advantage of us being alone without her husband.

“How nice to see you again!” I greeted warmly. “I love this store.”

She gave me a guarded smile. “It is also good to see you again. Yes, I agree. It is a nice store.”

I sighed, trying to appear frustrated. “I need your advice. There are too many choices. I am overwhelmed.”

Well, she spent the next ten minutes pointing out the best cheeses to try, some brands that were bad, and a few that were too pricey to even bother experimenting with.

“Why, Madame Toussout, thank you so much! I can’t tell you what a life saver you have been for me.”

She became flustered by the compliment.

“Oh, it was nothing at all. What would it say about my country if I could not help you in some small way?”

I moved in for the kill, shaking my head sadly. “I just wish you could have also helped me in some small way regarding any unusual information about what is going on at Curat’s property. No one is being very helpful. I know Martine will be so disappointed in me for coming up empty-handed.”

She looked both ways and said in a hushed tone. “The truth is, I have heard something, but have been reluctant to seek you out. Can I confide something only between us?”

I couldn’t believe my luck. “Why of course! I would never let on that you said anything to me at all.”

She stepped in closer. “Late one night, I heard a truck stop and a door shut. I went outside to listen. There was a scraping noise, then a flashlight shining, and then a click. I quietly walked over and listened from below the wall to Curat’s villa. Then I could swear I felt a vibration come from the wall itself. Crazy! No?”

Chapter 35

Questions Leading To What?

While driving home, questions lingered about Madame Toussout. What had she heard that night? None of it made sense. Nothing else was found or dug up other than the bones and tags, and they were discovered by accident.

Plus, it didn’t appear she had a personal agenda, so I pushed that to the side. Was it her imagination that night? It didn’t seem so, because she was completely earnest in trying to describe exactly what she heard.

Maybe that was what Monsieur Toussout did not want me to find out. Since her nervous breakdown, maybe he thought people would think she was crazy, too. Besides, why would he confide in anyone, especially the neighbors? Luc mentioned that Toussout was still sensitive about the brooch episode when no one tried to defend his wife, or believe her denial. Had Toussout heard the noise, too?

Perhaps he knew exactly what it was and by dismissing what his wife heard, hoped that she would eventually dismiss it, too. If so, why? For what possible reason would he want it disregarded, except for his own benefit, or possibly someone else’s? Too many questions were still out there.

I remembered Mademoiselle Forniet mentioned seeing a truck across from her house and in front of Curat’s. Could that be the vehicle that Madame Toussout heard? If so, whose voice had Dominique Forniet heard?

What could the scraping noise be that Tissout heard? Was it a shovel? Then why wasn’t something else found? Or was it the actual burial of the pets taking place when she heard it?

I was getting creeped out just thinking about it.

What was so unique about Curat’s property other than it was vacant? Was I going about this whole thing the wrong way? What was the other missing connection sitting out there?

After arriving home and starting to unpack my car, I stopped and pivoted in place in the courtyard, looking all around me, trying to figure out what did or didn’t happen.

Now, who had the one advantage on seeing what was going on, as well as not having to fear being caught? Who could have used that opportunity? To what gain?

…Madame Sorrell!

I stopped in place and turned to stare up at the one house that had an eagle eye view of most of Curat’s property, day and night, and in it, a person who once held power over the others in the past. I smiled at the notion this presented.

What if she saw something? Would she risk using that information for extortion, power and control? Her social position was slipping now that her influential husband, Henri, was dead. Why give up all that power?

Chapter 36

Sidelined By Solicitous Salutations

Making up for lost time was my number one priority for the day. I mean, after all, if she slammed the door in my face, at least I’d feel I had tried to accomplish something rather than sitting out on the terrace and trying to figure out who knew what. I had to go to the source, but in a round about way, and worm some information out of her.

Sorrell’s gate was already open, so I climbed her drive and upon reaching the entrance, hit the doorbell, hoping for the best. Ordinarily people in my situation had a plan of action. Not me. I usually let things play out, grabbing at whatever I could. Sometimes it worked.

I’m not discussing when it didn’t.

I took a deep breath as the door slowly opened. I was about three feet lower on the bottom step and already felt at a disadvantage by her towering figure staring down at me.

“Madame Sorrell, do you have time to talk?”

Surprisingly, she gave me a smile. “Of course. Please come in and share some tea with me.”

Up till now, not one person in this neighborhood had been pleased to see me. Why the change in attitude? Was this a new tactic they were trying on me? I thought it was supposed to be me who was trying out new game plans and was thrown by Sorrell’s unexpected greeting.

“It’s very generous of you to see me without prior notice. I appreciate your time. I know how a woman of your stature has more important matters to tend to.”

She stopped and turned to face me in the entryway. “I think we both know why you are here, so let us both get straight to the point once we are seated. Oui?”

Well, I was sort of nonplused for something to say as a retort, so I kept quiet and just nodded, and then followed her down a darkened hallway that opened up to her kitchen.

“Wow!” was all I said. It had a rough-hewn wood floor, iron and copper pots hanging everywhere with a huge wood fueled stove against one wall, and a rectangular old large farm table right in the center of it all.

The fireplace off to the side had two comfortable leather chairs facing each other with a small table in between. She pointed for me to sit by the window. I stared out at the sea, and then turned back to her. “This is beautiful.”

She prepared the tea. “I thought we would dispense with the formalities of the living room, so you could ask me what you really need to know. No polite games. I am only interested in clarifying any misunderstanding on your part.”

I wasn’t expecting her to be so straightforward. It was unusual for the French to be confrontational. I recovered and said, “Merci, I like you getting straight to the point.”

“As you yourself already know, being a widow has its learning curves.”

Chapter 37

Reading More Than Tea Leaves

What was she trying to convey, that we had something in common, or we both understood the reality of the moment? Just because I was a widow, it didn’t make me feel any closer to what she was going through. I could relate on some level, but I was extremely suspicious of this woman, especially after hearing what the others said about her unforgiveable behavior.

I stopped myself mid-thought.

Were they telling the truth?
This was exactly what Luc had warned me against, prejudging anyone by other’s previous comments. What if there was more to it? What if this woman never got to explain the whole story? Maybe Madam Toussout wasn’t so innocent, but was just playing a role to get everyone on her side and against Sorrell?

No, it didn’t make any sense, because if that were true, it clearly didn’t work. No one was on friendly speaking terms with each other.

When she sat down with tea, I came out with it.

“Since we’re dropping all pretenses here, why didn’t you ever apologize for jumping to conclusions and causing the infamous rift with the Toussouts? There was no proof.”

She barely blinked in response. “Why should I? That woman should have apologized to me long before that.”

“Whatever for? She seems like a shy, quiet woman.”

“Ah, don’t let that façade of hers fool you. She can be quite treacherous, ruthless too. Both of them.”

“Why do you say that?”

Her eyes narrowed in anger. “What would you do if one of your neighbors publicly accused your husband of running around with a woman with a known reputation?”

I didn’t get where she was going with this line of conversation. “What are you talking about?”

“Monsieur and Madame Toussot’s actions killed Henri.”

“Wait. What evidence do you have to back that up?”

“The Toussouts! So righteous!”

“But how did the Toussouts kill your husband?”

“They both spread rumors of my Henri going to a house of ill repute!”

I didn’t get it. “Why would they do that?”

Madame Sorrel sighed. “To get back at me.”

“For your accusation and her ultimate embarrassment?”

Sorrel nodded. “Yes. My Henri spent years dealing with those ridiculous rumors. Finally they disappeared.”

“But how did the Toussots kill your husband, now?”

“It all resurfaced in an anonymous note to Henri. Once again those ridiculous rumors were circulating about Henri, now a respected businessman. The stress, and the possibility of blackmail, finally killed him with a heart attack. Those two are the only ones who would have a motive for retaliation and public humiliation.”