In the Shadows (The Outsiders Book 1) (16 page)

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.

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.

Greg sat at a corner table
, waving his hands to get Dave’s attention. Dave smiled, nodded, and made his way through the throng of tables and patrons. When he reached the table, Greg stood and greeted him with a handshake and a quick hug.

“Good to see you, buddy. It’s been a while.
” Apparently noticing that Dave was looking at the other guy sitting at the table, he added, “This is my old friend, Nigel James. He’s a local. He and I lost touch with each other after he moved back here. But after I talked to you, I decided to call him up.” 

Nigel stood and shook hands with Dave
. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Greg has told me many stories of your adventures on the force. Sounds like you two had some good times.”

“We sure did,” Dave said.

Nigel said, “Greg started without us. I guess he can stay and guard our table whilst you and I go up to the bar to order.”

When they returned, a brunette woman was leaning her arms on the back of their booth, talking with Greg. She flashed a smile at them when they approached,
handed a piece of paper to Greg, and left.

Dave said, “What was that? Did she
already give you her phone number? You know what, you’re still as much a hound dog as ever.”

Greg grinned and stuffed the paper into his shirt pocket.
“Are you seeing anyone? We didn’t get around to discussing that sort of thing on the phone last time we talked.”

“Well, I’ve been writing, traveling, visiting family.”

“Uh huh, and?” Greg asked. “Come on. Involved with anyone?”

“I’ve been seeing someone,” Dave said. He told him briefly about Simone, hoping that would satisfy him.

Greg said, “Why is it that you have all the luck with women?”

“Huh,
look who’s talking,” Dave said, “Are you trying to say you don’t, after the little incident we just saw? You jump around from woman to woman. You always have, as long as I’ve known you.”

Greg laughed. “I recently broke up with someone so of
course I’m already looking around!” He glanced after the brunette, who was now sitting at a table with two other women.

Dave and Nigel
chuckled, then Dave asked the question he’d been wanting to ask. “So, how do you two know each other?”

Nigel said,
“What? You mean Greg didn’t tell you? I lived in the U.S. for two years and worked with him.”

“Yeah
,” Greg said. “He joined our precinct about a year after you left. He suckered me into introducing him to my sister, Kelly. You remember her, don’t you?”

“Sure.”

“It was love at first sight, me and Kelly,” Nigel said. “Before long, we were living together. We even got engaged.”

“What happened?” Dave asked between sips of beer. “Did she move here with you?”

“No. She came to her senses and dumped him, that’s what happened,” Greg said, patting Nigel on the back.

“
Sad but true. After that, I came home and asked for my old job back.”

“He’s a
police detective here,” Greg said, “but he isn’t working on the case you’re interested in.”

Dave nearly choked on his drink. He’d told Greg not to share anything about their plans with a
nyone. So much for trust. Regaining his composure, he said, “Do you have any connections with the inspectors on that case?

Nigel said, “No. My dad’s been a detective for forty years. I may be able to inquire through him.”

Dave nodded.

“I don’t mean to put a damper on things, but I still don’t know why you’re interested. Greg couldn’t really explain. If you want my help, I need to know why you want the information and what you plan to do with it.”

“I’m exploring the case as part of research for a novel I’m writing.”

Nigel sat back against the pub bench. Finally, he said, “Do you expect me to believe that?” Nigel shook his head and in a coolly impersonal tone said, “You’ll have to do better than that. I’m not stupid and I’m certainly not inclined to help someone who can’t be straight with me.”

THE DAY AFTER Fabienne began teaching her how to cook some of her best French dishes, Maurelle felt as though she had gained not only a cooking instructor, but also a friend. After her latest lesson, the two women munched on the scrumptious creations together, chatting and laughing like old friends. Afterward, Fabienne suggested they plant flowers around the site where Dave had buried the mouse a couple of days before, endearing herself even further to Maurelle. They spent the entire afternoon procuring suitable plants at the town garden shop, planting the flowers, and puttering around the backyard garden.

“You’re good at this,” Fabienne said. “Have you done
much gardening?”

“My mother had a lovely garden when we lived
near Oxford. I would help her plant flowers and shrubs. We put in paths and fountains and benches. I started helping so I could spend more time with her, but I discovered that I really enjoyed the work.”

“You lived
near Oxford? Did you attend Oxford University?”

“No,
but my mother was a lecturer at one of the colleges there for many years. She eventually accepted a position at London University, and we moved. I was twelve at the time. Being in the city, we had a smaller home and not much yard for a garden.”

“Was your mother sad about that?”

“Not really. She soon met a man, a semi-retired professor, and he got her interested in travel. They took long trips over the summers to Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Denmark, and weekend trips to the countryside or to Scotland. I’m glad they had that time together. He passed away from leukemia six months before my mother died. A month after he died, she learnt she had cancer, too. So I’m very glad they had that time together.”

“Did you travel with them?”

“Not usually. I was at boarding school, at first, and then at University. After that, I was working.”

When they finished with their gardening and went back inside the house, the telephone was ringing.

“That must be Dave,” Fabienne said as she rushed to answer the phone, with Maurelle following closely.

After hanging up, Fabienne shoulders sagged. “That was Jeannette calling to remind me that we’re invited to a dinner party at her house tonight. I’d completely forgotten.”

“You mean you are invited, don’t you?”

Fabienne shook her head. “She said both of us.”

“I can’t go. If Simone is there, it will be miserable. She and I don’t really get along.”

“Don’t worry about Simone. Jeannette knows you two don’t like each other. She’s assured me that Simone has other plans for the evening. You’ll like Jeannette once you get to know her. Why don’t you go upstairs and do whatever you need to do? While you’re doing that, I need to run to the store to get a small gift for our hostess. I won’t be long.”

“What should I wear?”

“I’m changing into my best dress when I return from the store. You should wear that lovely skirt and blouse you wore the other day.”

“Hello Fabienne,” someone
called from behind her. “I’ve missed seeing you in the café.”

Fabienne swung around as Simone stepped onto the sidewalk near the doorway to the florist shop, apparently having crossed the street moments earlier.
“Oh, yes, I’ve been quite busy lately. Sorry.”

“Grand-mère misses you, too.”

“I know. I talked to her earlier today. I’m going to her dinner party tonight. That’s why I’m out and about. I need to buy a gift to take.”

Simone nodded and looked as if she wanted to say something; then she shrugged.

“Well, good day, Simone.”

Fabienne turned to go into the shop.

“Wait. How is Dave doing? I haven’t heard from him recently.”

“He’s fine. Very busy. You know how it is.”

Before Simone had a chance to answer, Fabienne waved, smiled, pulled open the door, and dashed inside the florist shop. She wished she didn’t have to be curt, but she was afraid the younger woman would engage her in more conversation. Gossip was a hard habit to break, she’d discovered, and Fabienne worried she wouldn’t be able to control her tongue if Simone managed to get her caught up in some juicy chitchat.

Maurelle dressed in
her best skirt and blouse, and went downstairs to join Fabienne, who had already changed clothes and was fussing with a bouquet composé.

“What do you think of this?”

“It’s lovely. I’m sure she’ll be pleased.”

As they headed out the door, Fabienne said, “The guests will be Jeannette’s daughter and her boyfriend, Jeannette’s grandson, and a few friends of the family. Be friendly but it’s probably best if you let me do most of the talking. I know how to deal with
them, especially with Jeannette.”

Maurelle nodded. Keeping quiet suited her fine.

Along the brief walk to Jeannette’s house, Maurelle enjoyed the light evening breeze and the smells of foods that drifted through the open windows of neighboring homes, making her grow hungrier by the minute.

When they arrived, Fabienne handed Jeannette the gift, which elicited the inevitable
“
Oh, il ne fallait pas
”,
which Maurelle translated as, “Oh, you shouldn’t have.” Jeannette, dressed in an expensive looking dress that made everyone else look under-dressed for the occasion, ushered her guests into a sitting room that almost made Maurelle gasp. She would never have expected such a luxurious room from the outside appearance of the house.

Jeannette offered them an aper
itif while she placed the bouquet of mixed flowers into a waiting vase. Then, looking around, she leaned in and asked, “Where is David? Didn’t he come with you?”

“No. The dear boy is away on business. He had to meet with his editor or agent, I’m not sure. Something about his latest book. I’m sure he wouldn’t have missed your dinner party if he could have avoided it. You understand, yes?”

“Of course,” Jeannette said, motioning toward the couch, her diamond-studded bracelet dangling from her wrist for everyone to see. “Please, please sit. I’m glad you and—what was your name, again?”

“Maurelle Dupre.” 

“I’m glad you could come, too, Maurelle.”

A moment later, Paul Lepage, along with a
tallish middle-aged woman whom Maurelle didn’t recognize, came out of the kitchen.

“Oh, you’re here,” the woman said, rushing over to Fabienne. Bending down and kissing
her on one cheek and then the other, she said, “Bonsoir. I’m so glad you could come.” She turned, straightened up, and looked down at Maurelle. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”