The Provence Puzzle: An Inspector Damiot Mystery(37)
“Forget everything I’ve said about Marc Sibilat!”
“Let me assure you, I’ll not repeat it to anyone.” He reached across to set his empty glass on the bedside table.
“Another Calvados?”
“Not just now…” He placed his hand on her thigh, feeling the solid flesh under the satin robe. She leaned closer, touching his cheek lightly with her lips.
“Aurore…” He took her in his arms and kissed her on the mouth.
“How did you learn my name?” she whispered.
“I have learned many things.”
“I’m sure you have…”
As he loosened her robe, searching for the invisible buttons, he realized that she was wearing nothing underneath.
“Let me.” She pushed his hand away, gently.
“You are very beautiful…” He stretched out beside her, accommodating his hip cautiously to her warm flesh.
Her body was reacting. Rhythmically, spasmodically.
Damiot sighed, releasing his worries and tensions of the last weeks. Her body felt firm and warm against his. This woman was more real—more satisfying—than any woman he had known in Paris.
Afterward, relaxing, they drank another Calvados, sipping it slowly.
Aurore was the first to bring up the subject of the murders again. “There must be something that connects those two young women! Lisette and the other one…”
“I’ve known cases where several people were killed and their only link was the killer. None of the victims knew the others but all of them, unfortunately, did know their murderer. If these two met theirs by chance, your Courville monster may never be found!”
“I saw you this afternoon, in the H?tel Courville.”
“I went there for lunch with a friend, but neither of us could eat. He had no appetite because of a cold, and I had none because of the food.”
“Their food is unmentionable! I lunched with two businessmen from Paris, and we had so many things to discuss, fortunately, that we barely tasted the miserable food. I saw you and your friend going into the brasserie, but you didn’t notice me in the dining room.”
“I saw you when I was leaving.”
She laughed, throwing her head back, bronze hair flowing over her shoulders. “Perhaps you recognized my companions? I’m told they’re well known in Paris.”
“Afraid I didn’t notice their faces. Only yours.” He reached across to set his empty glass on the bedside table.
“Those gentlemen represent an international hotel chain that has bought the H?tel Courville.”
“I see!”
“There’s been no announcement because they hope to purchase several adjoining properties, and if word got out prematurely, prices would soar!”
“Naturally.”
“It’s to be an enormous hotel de luxe, as in Cannes or Monte Carlo. With a first-class restaurant and a swimming pool. Of course, this should bring new business to all the shops in the village.”
“Why did they select Courville for their new hotel?”
“Because of the traffic on this highway. They had surveys done which show that in the summer there’s a constant flow of tourists through the village, between Paris and the Riviera. I’ve told you, I’m always booked for the entire season. They naturally want no other restaurants in Courville—except those two cafés for the locals—so they’ve offered me a small fortune for this property.”
“Are you going to sell?”
“I have a month to decide. Next week I must drive to Lyon and discuss everything with my attorney.”
“Tell me…” He found it difficult to ask his next question. “What would happen to this building?”
“They plan to tear it down.”
“Mon Dieu!”
“I know. The house where you were born…” She sighed. “And the restaurant Julien and I created. Where we were so happy!”
“Do you wish to sell?”
“The money will make me independent. Julien would want that.”
“You should sell.”
“Is that your advice?”
“Whatever pleases you.”
“You are a very kind man.”
“Nobody’s ever accused me of that before!”
“Nonsense! You’re kind and…”
“I am a policeman. Obstinate and frequently unpleasant. Always searching for the truth.”
“And have you ever found the truth?”
“Once or twice, perhaps…”
She leaned closer and kissed him, lightly, on the shoulder. “One thing more, about the new hotel…”
“Yes?”
“They want me to take complete charge of their restaurant and advise the architect who is designing the kitchens and dining rooms. Seems for some time they’ve been hoping to find a woman manager for one of their restaurants.”
“That should certainly make you decide.” He slipped his arm carefully under her head.
“They had planned to bring a famous chef from Paris to supervise the menus and food, but…”
“What about your chef? Giroud’s first-class.”
“I’ve discussed Michel with them each time we’ve talked, and they are very interested. They’ll be having dinner here tomorrow night. I’m telling Michel that they’re friends of my husband’s and I want him to give them a perfect dinner. I will select the menu, some of the dishes he does best. Michel won’t know he’s being considered for such an important project. If he suspected the truth there could be scenes in the kitchen, and dinner might be a disaster! I’ve made only one demand of these people. They planned to call their restaurant the Relais de Provence, but I told them that if I do sign their contract they must call it Relais Julien. They’ve agreed to do that. So it would be Julien’s restaurant, as well as mine. Our restaurant!”