The Provence Puzzle: An Inspector Damiot Mystery(54)

“Yes. Take off his leash.”

Pouchet bent to unfasten the leash from Lautrec’s collar. “Would you care for a drink, Monsieur Inspecteur?” the Comte asked. “Calvados, perhaps?”

Damiot laughed. “How did you know I prefer Calvados?”

“I too have been learning things, Monsieur.” He pressed another section under the arm of his wheelchair.

“Yes, M’sieur le Comte?” A woman’s voice, coming out of the air.

“A bottle of our best Calvados, Madame Léontine. And a bottle of whisky for Monsieur Tendrell.”

“Right away, chéri!”

“Madame Léontine Guibert?”

“Grand-mère brought Madame Léontine to Paris after my accident, and she’s been with me ever since. Feeding me. Always complaining because I never put more flesh on my bones, in spite of her cooking. She even makes these robes I wear…”

He looked across the room. “Here she is!”

Damiot struggled up from the fauteuil as he saw the aproned figure, short and plump, bearing a tray with bottles and glasses. “Madame Léontine…”

“If it isn’t young Damiot!” Her eyes danced as she came toward them. “As handsome as ever! The last time I saw you, you came to sing carols for the old Comtesse. I gave you an almond cake and hot cider.”

“I remember your almond cake. That was in the yellow salon…”

“I’ve had the yellow salon restored,” the Comte interrupted. “All grand-mère’s furniture and her favorite paintings. I sit there many evenings, in the twilight…”

As Madame Léontine rested her tray on the desk, Damiot saw that she was wearing an old-fashioned shawl. It was the color of that strand of crimson yarn Fric-Frac had picked up yesterday. “You look the same, Madame.”

She laughed. “The hair is white and the legs aren’t so good…”

“My doctor keeps an eye on her.” The Comte was uncorking the Calvados bottle. “Madame Léontine took care of me day and night after I was released from that last hospital in Paris.”

“I’m still looking after him, grace a Dieu!” She stood, hands folded over her apron, watching the Comte with obvious adoration as he poured two drinks. “I’m seventy-eight but strong as I was at forty!” She picked up a glass of Calvados and presented it to Damiot.

“Merci, Madame. Your cooking smells delicious!”

“How could you know that, M’sieur?”

“Yesterday afternoon you were preparing something with herbs and truffles. Was it chicken?”

“Two chickens! For dinner.”

“Smelled incredible…”

“And it was!” The Comte laughed, filling the third glass with whisky. “Although Madame refuses to go near the electronic ovens I’ve had installed for her…”

“Food tastes better when it’s cooked over a wood fire.” She picked up the glass from the desk and turned to face the dark entrance passage. “Whisky for the English M’sieur!”

“Just in time, am I?”

Damiot looked around to see Tendrell materialize from the darkness.

“Monsieur Inspecteur—we meet again!” The Englishman accepted his drink from Madame Léontine. “Thank you, Madame.”

Damiot rose from the armchair to shake his hand. “You knew all the time that the Comte was here!”

“I also knew you were coming closer and closer to the truth. That’s why I told you to stay away from the Chateau.” He sat on a sofa near the desk, facing them. “It could only be a matter of time before you discovered my young friend.”

Damiot sank into the armchair as Madame Léontine left the room.

Tendrell raised his glass. “Cheers!”

“Sami!” the Comte responded.

“Sami…” Damiot took a large swallow of Calvados as he turned to the Comte. “How long has Monsieur Tendrell known you were here?”

“More than a year,” Tendrell answered. “I trespassed one day to have a closer look at the castle, and Nick tried to kill me.”

“Nothing of the sort!” The Comte laughed. “I sometimes hunt in my wheelchair along the edge of the forest, with Pouchet and Lautrec in attendance. But I only hunt for food—rabbit, wild boar, or pheasant. I stun them with another device I’ve invented. Lautrec guards them until Pouchet ties them up. One day I very nearly got an inquisitive Englishman!”

“Frightened the devil out of me!” Tendrell gulped his whisky. “We became friends after Nick almost bagged me that day.”

“I desperately needed someone new I could talk to evenings. I’d seen Allan drive past the gates many times and watched Jenny on her black mare. Pouchet had told me that she was his daughter. I was a complete surprise to Allan, but he was already like an old friend.”

Damiot glanced at the artist. “So you’ve known all along about the monster?”

“And begged Nick repeatedly not to continue with his little joke.”

“Then you did see it Friday night from that hill?”

“Of course! But I’ve denied seeing anything when it appears. Even to Jenny! I hope, Inspector, that you will persuade Nick to put an end to this ridiculous charade.”