In the Shadows (The Outsiders Book 1) (22 page)

She nodded, her posture easing a bit.

“The police reports indicate that you discovered your son’s body?”

She nodded again, placing her hand on the top of her desk. Dave noticed that her nails had been chewed down to the point they were probably painful.

“You found him on his bedroom floor. You had come home late the night before, but didn’t find him until morning. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“The post-mortem indicates he had been dead for hours before you found him. How is it that you didn’t see him when you arrived back home?”

Elizabeth sighed. “I’ve already been through all this. As I told the police I went along the hall directly into the kitchen and made tea, then went straight up to bed. It was late—and quite dark.” Her shoulders slumped. “I was tired and wanted to go to bed since I had to get up early for work in a few hours. I didn’t bother turning on lights.”

“You didn’t check on your son?”

“He was sixteen. I didn’t think it necessary, and he would have been furious. There was no sound, so I knew . . . guessed he was asleep.”

“What happened in the morning?”

“I followed my normal routine.” She paused and looked at Kate. “I got up, took a shower, and dressed for work as usual. After that I went into Jared’s room to make sure he was up and getting ready for school before I made coffee and toast. But . . . he wasn’t in his bed. His bed hadn’t been slept in either. That’s when I looked round his room and saw him . . .” She stopped, swallowing hard, “. . . lying on the floor in a pool of blood.”

Kate nodded and glanced over at Dave. “Were you and Peter getting back together before the murder?”

Elizabeth looked surprised.

“Why would you think that? I wouldn’t get back with him. He’s not good enough.”

“Why was he spending a lot of time at the house? He spent nights there.”

“Who told you that?”

Kate shrugged.

“
It’s wrong. We weren’t getting back together,” Elizabeth said, straightening her back.

“Then why was he there so often?” Dave asked.

Elizabeth turned so that she was facing Dave, a faint look of puzzlement on her face as though she hadn’t expected the question to come from him in such an assertive way. She sighed. “He was Jared’s father. Of course he would visit.”

“At your home? Didn’t Jared spend time at his father’s new home?”

“Sometimes. But Peter was living with someone.”

“Did Jared get along with his father’s girlfriend?”

Elizabeth tensed her shoulders. “You’ll have to speak with Peter and Robin about that.”

“Did Peter ever spend the night at your house after the divorce?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“
Sorry, how did Jared deal with the divorce?”

“He didn’t like it. Most children don’t, and I suppose he had the usual reactions—anger, aggression, fear, confusion . . . hurt. He complained sometimes.”

“Did he act on those feelings?”

“Jared had changed drastically over the last year. He did get very down and seemed to obsess about things sometimes. He had an argument with another boy at school, and Jared kept on about it for weeks. Then all this with . . . her . . .
. He sometimes did mean or hurtful things, too.” She glanced from one to the other.

“Like what?”

“I forget. It’s not really important anyway.”

“It could be. Try to think of some of the things he did.”

She hesitated, looking angry briefly. “All right. After Jared’s girlfriend broke up with him, he would call her sometimes in the middle of the night and hang up. It was a childish prank. He didn’t mean any harm. I found out when her father called me and complained.”

“What did you do?”

“I talked to Jared and he stopped the calls. Really, this is not important, unless you think Penny murdered my son. She doesn’t seem capable of murder, if you ask me. Besides, she broke up with him, but I don’t think she hated him in the end. They were just kids and made foolish mistakes.”

“Are you sure he stopped?”

She nodded.

“Did Peter help you with your son?”

“Not enough.”

“Why do you say that?”

“This is all Peter’s fault. If he hadn’t had an affair, none of this would have happened!”

“None of what would have happened?”

“All of it! The divorce, the woman renting a room from me, Jared’s problems. The murder.” She glared at Dave. “If it hadn’t been for him my son would still be alive!”

Maurelle woke up
as the first hints of morning sun peeked through her bedroom window. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was and believed herself at home, her childhood home. The moment soon passed as remnants of sleep faded and everything returned to her. She stretched and sat up, then tossed off her covers. A shiver followed. Apparently, it was downright chilly in the morning at this altitude. She sprang out of bed and rushed to her duffel bag to get out clean clothes, but stopped short, remembering she’d unpacked the bag last night.

She dressed
warm and went into the narrow hallway, hoping that Fabienne and Jeannette were still asleep. As she padded down the hall passing each of their rooms, loud snores escaped through both open doorways. She snickered to herself and carefully tiptoed on down the creaking stairs.

Strolling along the village’s main street toward the bakery she’d glimpsed the night before,
she breathed in the sweet scent of mature trimmed bougainvillea hugging intricate arbors, enticing entrance to mountain cottages. Outside the bakery, the sweet scents of cinnamon, bread, and coffee drew her in. A stout elderly woman with platinum hair and a heavily flour-stained apron covering her checkered dress looked up at her, startled.

“Bonjour,” Maurelle said. “Are you open for business?”

“But certainly,” the woman said. “What can I get for you?”

Maurelle studied the assorted breads and pastries, which looked wonderful,
making her mouth water, especially since dinner the previous night had consisted of an unsatisfyingly miniscule quantity of fruit, crackers, and juice they’d bought along the way to snack on in the car. “I would like three each of your croissants, and un chausson aus pommes?”

“May I get you anything else?” the woman asked.

Distracted momentarily, Maurelle studied the baker, wondering her age. The woman’s face was plump, with skin pulled tight, resembling animal skin stretched over one end of a bongo drum. Even without wrinkles, though, faded blue eyes, dark age-spots on her skin, and knotted veins in the backs of thick legs suggested an age close to Jeannette’s and Fabienne’s.

“
Oh, I want a loaf of your pain de compagne. Three large coffees, too.” Maurelle smiled and pulled out her wallet.

Moments later, the woman filled
three paper coffee cups, and wrapped up the bread and pastries, all the while stealing peeks at Maurelle. “What brings you to our little village, if you don’t mind my asking?” she asked, carefully placing the cups in a tray and food into a sack.

“Uh . . . my family owns a house on the edge of town,” Maurelle said. “They haven’t been back here and years and
, well, they figured it was time to visit again.”

“The Laurent house?” the woman asked, eyeing Maurelle curiously.

“Yes, that’s it. How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on me. Is Fabienne with you?”

“Yes, she is. She’s sleeping and I wanted to surprise her and Jeannette with breakfast.”

“Jeannette is here, too?
How splendid! After their breakfast, would you please ask them stop in to see me? We must catch up.”

“I will. And thank you
so much for these. Who should I say sent them?”

“Oh
,
pardon. I am Nathalie Bardot.”

Maurelle departed the shop and rushed back to the house. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been gone, but figured no more than half an hour. When she opened the front door, she was startled to see Fabienne standing at the top of the stairs, looking
sternly down at her.

“Oh, there you are. We thought you’d run away again.”

Maurelle held out both her hands, one with a tray of coffees, the other with a bag. “I’ve brought breakfast. I hope you’re hungry.”

“What a dear girl you are,” Fabienne said, clapping her hands together
, traces of her former stern demeanor disappearing. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she said, “Did you see that, Jeannette? I told you she wouldn’t desert us.”

Maurelle spun around
. Jeannette stood in the kitchen doorway, pouting and with her arms folded.

“You should have waited for us,” Jeannette said. “We would have liked to go out.”

“I’m sorry,” Maurelle said as she walked over to the couch. “I wanted to surprise you both, to do something special because you’ve both been so good to me.”

She set the items down on the coffee table. “I brought your favorite—un chausson aus pommes.”

Jeannette’s face warmed into a smile. Uncrossing her arms, she glided over to the couch. “I do love those, you know, although no one makes them as good as our Fabienne.”

Maurelle nodded. “Oh, I nearly forgot. I met an old friend of yours, a woman named Nathalie Bardot. She gave us all of this at no charge. She
said she’s looking forward to catching up with you.”

“She’s still here?” Jeannette asked. “I hadn’t really expected that our old friends would still be around. I thought practically everyone we knew back in those days would have moved away or passed on, didn’t you, Fabienne?”

“Oh, I do hope that Cecile and Vincent are still here. Do you think we could look them up later?”

“Well, I don’t see why not,” Jeannette said. “We should talk to Nathalie first
though. She can catch us up on village gossip, to be sure.”

Fabienne, who sipped her coffee, set the cup down at looked at Maurelle. “What did you tell Nathalie about us
, dear?”

“I told her that my family owns a house on the edge of town and that they haven’t been back here
in years. From that, she figured out that I was with you, Fabienne. I hope you don’t mind my calling you my family. It was presumptuous, but I thought it would sound believable.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Fabienne said. “When we talk to the locals, we’ll use that. We’ll tell them that you’re my grandson’s wife.”

At the unexpected words, Maurelle’s hand involuntarily jerked and coffee splashed over the cup’s edge. She was getting to know Fabienne, certainly, but the older woman could still surprise her.

After
the delicious breakfast, the women made a list of things they needed from the store and headed out together. They bought groceries, more cleaning supplies, and candles. After they took those back to the house, they went back to buy more things. When Fabienne and Jeannette found some of their old friends, Maurelle offered to continue the shopping alone, giving them time to visit. She didn’t mind being on her own a bit. In fact, although she enjoyed their company, at times she also found them a bit overmuch.

For a time s
he sat on a bench beside the stream that ran through Saint-Julien and breathed in the scent of flowers and fresh mountain air while she listened to the rippling water and thought about her strange, almost surreal situation. London seemed a long way away and with each passing day that distance grew somehow. Dave would be finding his way around the city by now. Was he enjoying the Tube, the pubs, and the local food? She glanced at the hill and was reminded of Reynier. What was happening back there? Were the gendarmes now swarming the area? What had Simone told them?

How
otherworldly these small villages were compared with London; quiet, calm, peaceful. So why did she miss home? She looked toward the road that led out of town and part of her wanted to go, and yet at the same time she didn’t. Was it England she missed, or Dave? What? Now where had that thought come from, foolish girl? She found she wished she could show him around the places where she’d grown up, her mother’s former home and grave site. She closed her eyes, and tried to picture her mother’s face. Instead, she involuntarily saw Jared’s. She shivered, and stood up abruptly, shaken. 

Continuing her walk,
Maurelle found the general store and bought a phone card and more essentials for the house, careful to buy no more than she could carry each trip. She didn’t want to use the car unless absolutely necessary.

Late in the afternoon, Maurelle, Jeannette and Fabienne strolled
out of the town’s one café after eating a sumptuous dinner. They strolled across the street to a pay phone, where Jeannette called Coralie at Brigitte’s house.

“Well, what did she say?”
Fabienne asked. “Did she have any news? Has she heard from Dave?”

“Coralie couldn’t talk. I don’t know what’s going on, but before she hung up, she whispered that the gendarmes are looking for us and for the car.”

Fabienne raised her eyebrows and glanced over at Maurelle. She put one hand on her forehead and the other on her chest. “Tant pis! We’ll cover our tracks, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll hide that damned car so they won’t find us.”

Maurelle nodded, and the three women hurried back to the house. After looking around the grounds, they found a
good hiding spot amid some wildly overgrown bushes behind the house.

“Who would have thought it would pay off to let the bushes grow wild?” Fabienne said. “I used to worry about neglecting this place.”

Maurelle moved the car into place and covered it with additional branches. Fabienne and Jeannette carefully erased the car’s tire tracks in the dirt with brooms.

Toddling back inside the house, Fabienne grabbed onto Maurelle’s arm for support
. When Maurelle glanced at the older woman, she saw how pale her face was and that she was huffing and struggling to catch her breath.

Fabienne said, between breaths, “I haven’t been this happy in years. Let’s pray the gendarmes don’t go and ruin it.”

“Are you all right?”

“
Yes dear, I’m fine. These bones are just not used to this much excitement is all,” Fabienne said, not convincing Maurelle at all.

Dave and Kate
left Elizabeth Raybourne’s office in Soho, walked to the train station, and boarded a train that would take them to Euston where Peter Raybourne and Robin Sutcliffe lived. Dave followed Kate to seats in the middle of the car. As the train began moving, Kate said, “What did you think of Elizabeth?”

“She was lying, or at least hiding something. She
at least knows more about her son’s activities than she was letting on.”

Kate smiled. “She answered too much and seemed mainly keen on attacking her ex-husband.”

“I agree.” Dave paused a moment, reflecting on points of the interview with Elizabeth, then continued. “After we talk with the ex-husband, I think we should talk with her again, in her home this time. I really need to have a look inside the house. I doubt we’ll see much, but at least we’ll get a second chance at her, and you never know, maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Departing at
Euston station, they walked several blocks to Peter and Robin’s house. After introductions, Robin Sutcliffe showed them to the living room and sat down in a stuffed chair across from Dave and Kate who were sitting on the sofa. Robin had neat straight brown hair down to her waist, parted in the center. She had brown eyes behind wire-rim glasses. Her eyes reminded Dave of an ex-girlfriend, eyes that were intelligent and watchful. She told them that Peter wasn’t home from work yet, though she expected him momentarily.

Kate said, “We know you’ve already given a statement to the police, but we’d like to ask a few questions. First, could you tell us about your relationship with Jared? Did you two get along?”

Robin shrugged. “We didn’t really talk much.”

“Why is that?”

She fidgeted,
seemed nervous, twisting strands of her hair between her fingertips.

“He blamed me for his parents’ divorce. It’s understandable, I suppose.
But I didn’t seduce Peter. It just happened. I tried to convince Jared of that. He wouldn’t listen.”

“How did you and Peter meet?”

“We worked together at Castle Magazine. It’s a publishing company. Peter is an editor. I was his assistant. I primarily researched and verified data.”

“You used past tense.
Does that mean you are no longer working there?”

“That’s right. Our personal relationship was against company policy.
Either Peter or I had to quit.”

“Were you involved while Peter was still married?”

“Yes, but that wasn’t the problem. He couldn’t be my boss.”

“How did they find out about your relationship?”

She shrugged.

Kate glanced at Dave. He said,
“Did Elizabeth or Jared tell them?”

Robin
took a cigarette out of a packet on the coffee table, lit it up, and took a puff.

“I can’t really say.”

“Did you and Jared ever argue?” Kate asked.

She lowered her eyes, then said, “
No.”

“What about his mother, Elizabeth? What’s your relationship with her?”

Robin looked up, her eyes full of anger, taking the cigarette and placing it on an ash tray. “It’s no secret that she and I don’t like each other. I’m sure you’ve already heard. Have you talked to her already? What did she say about me?”

“One of Elizabeth’s
friends told us that you and Elizabeth argued several times before Jared’s murder. Is that true?”