The Provence Puzzle: An Inspector Damiot Mystery(13)

“And the murder weapons? Were they found?”

“I believe not.”

“Where were these young women killed?”

“The first—the one who remains unknown—was found in a field surrounded by forest, across from the Chateau de Mohrt.”

“I know that field.”

“The second body, a local girl, was discovered in an alley directly behind the town hall. This, of course, has caused the villagers to make jokes about our local gendarmes.”

“Naturally! Did you know this local girl?”

“Not really.” She hesitated. “We would speak when we passed on the street or happened to meet in some shop. She was a femme de chambre at the H?tel Courville. Everybody knew her.” Her needle continued darting. “These murders have caused a mood of fear and suspicion to infect the entire village. No young girl will venture out after dark. Many accuse our gendarmes of incompetence!”

“That frequently happens. Even in Paris! I suppose both these young women were attractive?”

“The local girl was extremely pretty. The other one I never saw.”

“How old were they?”

“Nineteen and twenty, according to the newspapers. The local girl was supposed to be nineteen, although I had thought she was somewhat older…”

“Is there much talk about the identity of the murderer?”

“Oh, yes! I see people, when I’m shopping, standing in groups. Men huddled together in the cafés, women gossiping on the streets. They usually stop talking when they notice me. I’m not really on speaking terms with many of the villagers. I’m still an intruder here and, I suppose, will remain one for many years. I do hear fresh rumors, every morning, from my staff. The waiters and kitchen help all come from the village or nearby farms. And, of course, many of the diners who drive here from a distance question me about the ‘Courville monster.’ I try not to discuss the murders but it is unavoidable…”

“What do the villagers say about this killer in their midst? Who do they think it is? People usually have their own theories, and even though they may be wrong, there can be a core of truth in what they think.”

“They are confused…” She glanced at him, frowning, then lowered her eyes to the needlepoint again. “In the beginning, they said the murderer was someone from outside. That was after the first victim was found. It was thought she had been killed by a transient—we get many of those through here—but the discovery of a second body changed that way of thinking. For a time, many of the villagers believed it must be a madman who had escaped from some nearby clinic. That theory had to be abandoned when no such person was reported missing.”

“And this is all the villagers are saying?”

“Not quite…” She hesitated again, needle moving in and out. “Some are saying that there is, vraiment, a monster. They say he prowls the countryside at night. Curiously, he doesn’t seem to seek a victim in bad weather. Each of the nights when he killed, the weather was fine.”

“Was there a moon?”

“I asked that myself. There was no moon, either time. Always a clear sky with stars.”

“And what do the local gendarmes say?”

“I’ve no idea. They’ve brought an investigator here from Arles, but the villagers treat him as another intruder. Avoid his questions and make jokes about his intelligence behind his back.”

“When was the last murder?”

“Three weeks ago.”

“And now everyone’s waiting for the next?”

“I’m afraid so. Yes… Some of the villagers seem close to panic.”

Her hair, in the firelight, was like a bronze helmet. A genuinely handsome woman. Healthy looking. His eyes lingered on the firm weight of her breasts under the soft material of the dress. Strong, capable-looking hands. A simple gold wedding band… “What is your own theory, Madame?”

“My theory?” She didn’t look up from her needlework.

“About this ‘Courville monster’…”

“I have no theory, Monsieur. None at all!”

He saw that she had turned slightly, toward the windows, as though listening to some sound from outside.

Fric-Frac growled softly.

Damiot stroked the dog’s head. “Fric-Frac hears something.”

“My kitchen staff may be leaving. Or the villagers could be passing on the road. They go up to the Chateau when the weather is clear.”

“But it’s raining tonight!”

“Not at the moment. I glanced outside, as I showed our last guests to the door, and the stars were shining.” She shrugged. “Everyone is nervous as a result of these murders. The slightest sound in the night, I am out of bed and at my windows. Fortunately Michel, my chef, remains here at night. He has an apartment over the garage. The other staff members go home, so it is a great comfort to have Michel on the premises.”

“You say the—monster only kills when there is good weather.”

“So I’m told.”

“Then he may be prowling tonight!”

“That’s why the villagers go up to the Chateau. Hoping to see him again.”

“Again?”

“They’ve seen him several times. Or so they claim…”