86 Avenue du Goulet (A Samantha Jamison Mystery Volume 3) (21 page)

Chapter 96

Jumping To Conclusions

I sat there stunned. “But I thought she fell accidentally.”

“She did,” said Luc.

“How could that be? Can you please explain?”

“I used to sleep over the garage back then. Curat flew out on business often and felt it would be safer if someone stayed on the property to watch over Sabine after Sophie died. I agreed to stay. It was very difficult watching her day in and day out dragging herself through her pain.”

“And it wasn’t your place to talk to Curat or to Sabine.”

“No. I was a simple gardener who loved her from afar.”

What was this?
“You loved her?”

“Yes, but I knew my place and remained silent.”

“Did Sabine know of this?”

“No!”

“Did anyone else know this?”

“No!”

“What about that night she died? What happened?”

“I was asleep in my bed and thought I heard footsteps on the roof overhead.”

“Was it her?”

“Yes. She was drunk again and unsteady on her feet. I approached slowly so I would not startle her. My breath caught when I saw Curat’s gun in her hand. She must have sensed my presence because she spun around waving the gun in the air, laughing and crying at the same time.”

“What was going through your mind?”

“I had to disarm her and try to talk her out of doing something that would never bring Sophie back. She would not listen to me. I tried to distract her with stories of little Sophie, while slowly edging closer and closer to her.”

“How did she react?”

“Not well. When I reached out to grab the gun, she pulled away from me and fell to her death.”

By this time, his tears fell. I didn’t know what to say. What could I possibly say under those circumstances?

“I would have given my life to save hers.”

“What about the gun?”

“In a rush, I threw it in the storeroom, then when Alain was at her funeral, I secretly returned it to his study.”

“So Curat had no idea about her attempted suicide?”

He shook his head. “Why put him through more pain?”

“So you are the only one who knows this? Could anyone else have seen what happened?”

“…No”

I didn’t believe him. Too many of the neighbors had the opportunity to take advantage of the situation and exploit it and twist the facts. The question was for what purpose, an opportunity for blackmail, or a gentleman’s agreement?

What was the ultimate prize for silence?

I needed to rattle more cages.

Chapter 97

Locking & Unlocking Secrets

I knocked on the door, but wasn’t expecting much. I mean, after all, their inconsistent behavior always threw me. Plus, they didn’t seem to fit into any type of formulaic mold, you know, a slot you pegged them for; a strange couple I couldn’t quite get a handle on.

The door swung open and Madame Toussout looked out unwelcomingly. “I don’t think this is a good time.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“I have said all there is to say. Now go.”

The door slammed in my face.

Determined not to get discouraged, I marched up the hill to Madame Sorrell’s. The gate was closed, and so I waited after ringing the intercom at her gate, and then heard, “You have done enough damage. Leave us alone.”

I hesitated.
What was going on?
Then I swung around and headed over to Dominique’s. I knew at least she would see me, regardless of what had happened.

I was wrong. No one came to the door, or responded to the intercom at her gate. I had a sneaking suspicion that something had transpired that changed the whole dynamics of the situation.

Angry and frustrated, I headed back to Curat’s villa, trying to figure out why I had been shut out. Nothing came to mind.

I slammed the foyer door as I entered. Well, I tried to slam it. With all the weight of the glass and iron, I wouldn’t exactly say that was accurate. Let’s say I made an attempt at it, and it finally whispered to a close. But nevertheless, my intention remained the same.
I was upset.

Who did these people think they were? Like in the past, who was fooling who? I have to tell you, I felt like spitting nails from sheer frustration.

Forty minutes later, I was still stewing as I reached over to eat one of Clay’s French Twinkies.

He watched in fascination, while I wolfed it down.

“If I’d known you were this hungry, I’d have brought reinforcements.”

“It’s nerves.” I explained, licking my fingers.

“Okay, spill,” he ordered, draping an arm around me.

I leaned into him. “If you were confronted with an impossible task, knew your instincts were spot on, but still held out hopes you might be wrong, what would you do?”

“Wow, that was a mouthful!”

“So?”

He wrapped his arms around me tightly.

I forgot to mention, we were testing my king bed again.

“Samantha, sometimes you overthink situations.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You need to catch the one who holds the key. Think abstractly. Who had ties and access to them all?”

Chapter 98

Goodbye, But Hold On A Minute

I was disheartened. It was our last weekend and Friday night. We were all going over to Martine’s for drinks one last time and I still hadn’t dug up anything, but a history of grievances, past deaths, obscure petty differences, gossip and hearsay, and still minus the final whodunit.

Since the ladies were with us, we decided to take the street route. It was a beautiful evening with a slight breeze in the air, while the moon guided our way. Martine, as usual, had set up a feast waiting for us when we arrived.

I chose a strategic seat to keep one eye out for Curat’s gardens, just in case I spotted something. Of course, I only had a partial view of the upper gardens because of the hedge and the house blocking the rest, but at least I might hear something. But with my noisy crew, it was unlikely.

I knew it was wishful thinking, but I still clung to the slim chance something might materialize before we left on Sunday.

Jean entertained everyone with one story after another, while mildly flirting with the ladies. They ate it up, just hearing his French accent and the occasional French word, accidentally on purpose slipped in for good measure. They were enthralled with the Riviera and reluctant to leave, too.

Crystal was just as enamored with Jean because he owned a Harley himself. When she heard that, she was all over the guy, asking about his road trips and what equipment he had on his bike.

Meanwhile, Clay and Martine were in deep discussions about French wine versus American, with verbal jabs coming and going about who had the best grapes.

Me? I was enjoying watching everyone having a good time, but still stewing over the lack of finality on this one. My eyes drifted to Curat’s house, and then over to his garage deck that bordered Martine’s hedge. My breath caught when I realized I had a clear view of that roofline.

Now, why didn’t I ever notice that before?

Knowing Martine was decades younger that Jean, he was the one I’d ask. So when Jean paused to refill my wine glass, I dove in. “Jean, do you remember when Sabine fell from that roof?” I asked, pointing over to Curat’s garage.

Conversation came to a standstill. You could have heard the clichéd pin drop, as all eyes traveled from me to Jean.

He took a slow sip of wine. “…I could tell you I was away on business, but I wasn’t. I was right here at home.”

I could tell by the way he looked at me he already knew what was coming next.

“Did you hear exactly what was said that night?”

“…No, not really.”

I smiled. “But you did see something, didn’t you?”

Chapter 99

A Discourse And Demonstration

Chairs were dragged closer to the table, while Jean poured more wine, the food forgotten. Everyone was glued to the topic at hand between the two of us, especially Martine, whose expression said it was news to her, as well.

“Why didn’t you ever tell what you saw?” she asked.

“Because, cheri, it might be misinterpreted.”

“I think you should explain, now,” she said firmly.

“I will not only explain, I will show all of you. Come.”

Among whispers, we all walked over, via the street, to Curat’s villa, and then one by one climbed the spiral staircase after Jean unlocked the padlock.

He had a key? How symbolic!

When the last one made it up, Jean said, “According to Luc, Sam, you already know what happened when he tried to stop Sabine from killing herself with Curat’s gun.”

I nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“There was one other detail that Luc left out.”

“And what was that?” I asked, somewhat taken back.

“There was another woman who stood next to Luc.”

“Who?” I asked, caught by surprise.

Jean paused. “…Partially in shadow, at first I thought it was Sorrell, but remembered she was in Paris. The only other person that came to mind was Madame Tousout.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Dominique’s mother, Sabine, had gone to Paris, too.”

“What happened next?”

“This other woman said something, pointing to Simone, who turned, as well as Luc. I thought I saw a gun in Simone’s hand, and later found out from Luc, it was.”

Clay, just as intrigued, asked. “What happened then?”

“Knowing of Simone’s roof visits, Luc told me Toussout finally had to confess. Madame Toussout saw Sophie going beyond her barrier when she passed their gate, but said nothing. Feeling guilty, she came over the next day to warn Simone, but by then, Sophie had already drowned. Sobbing, Toussout said it was her fault that Sophie died.”

“He had to make a choice, didn’t he?” Martha asked.

Jean nodded. “One grieving woman or the other.”

“Luc was going to stop Toussout from jumping, but changed his mind, and lunged for Simone, instead.”

“Because he loved her, right?” I asked.

Jean looked startled. “Yes, but he wasn’t fast enough.”

Betty asked. “What happened to Toussout?”

“She fainted, and then had a nervous breakdown.”

“Did anyone ever tell Curat the truth?”

“No. Luc took care of everything, including hiding the gun and bringing Toussout back home in a mental stupor.”

There was one more thing. “What was with the burials?”

“That I know nothing about, but I always…”

I spotted a small light up the hill. “Hey, the cat lady!”

Chapter 100

A Close Shave

In a flash, Martha raced down that stairwell and up the hill at a fast clip. For a woman in her seventies, she sure could move. Clay was on her heels. We all scrambled after them. I heard yelling up ahead as bodies were tackled with dirt flying everywhere. When we arrived, Clay held her upper torso and Martha had her by the legs flat out.

All we heard were muffled moans as Clay pressed her face into the ground. There was no way for her to escape. We all formed a ring around the disheveled and rumbled, clothed cat lady.

Martha yelled, “What the hell? Who the heck is this?”

Clay looked over to her. “What?”

“I heard rumors of some European women not shaving, but this is the hairiest woman I have ever come across.”

Clay quickly flipped her over, shocked at who it was.

I stepped forward for a better look. “…Luc?”

Martine looked ready to faint. “…Oh my God!”

Hazel choked out, “Why, you’re not the cat lady!”

Luc actually laughed. “That is correct.”

At that point, I was pretty sure Martha wanted to smack him right there on the spot. “Why you crazy bast…”

“Martha,” I yelled. “We got the message you’re upset.”

“You’re damn right! All this time we thought he…”

Shaking his head, Jean finished. “…Could be trusted.”

When they brought Luc to his feet, he said, “And to think, this was the last hole to empty.”

“You can say that again,” said Martha, pointing to a dug up portion of the garden. On the edge of it was a sack.

I stooped down and opened it. “It’s jewels!”

I picked up a piece and turned to Luc, the scam finally clicking in my mind. “All those robberies we read about. You were stealing valuables from other neighboring houses and burying them here in these gardens, weren’t you?”

“How very clever of you, Madame.”

“And all your talk about closing doors and shutting windows was merely talk. As a gardener, you had total trust and access to all these houses and many more, I bet.”

Martha smacked him. “You’re a real piece of work!”

Luc smiled. “It was a very lucrative affair.”

Martine stepped in. “Sorrell’s brooch!”

“Ah, Madame, it was so easy to switch it for a fake.”

Betty said, “You merely walked in and out of open doors freely because you knew when people were home.”

He smiled once more. “Correct.”

“How could you do it, Luc? We trusted you,” said Jean.

“Ah, trust is fleeting when all these riches of the Riviera tempt you and you are very poor,” said Luc, laughing.

Gripping Luc, Clay said, “I still don’t understand…”

A shocked Crystal pointed. “Hey, another cat lady!”